It's been 18 years today since 2 a.m. on March 23, 1995 when I was awakened by a phone call from a Dallas Deputy Sheriff telling me that the father of my children had been killed in a car wreck--a drunk driving accident, no less, though Dave was neither drunk nor the driver--and that there would be news coverage about the horrible-ness of the accident, as there were two other passengers killed as well, and the driver literally walked away from the accident, and I might not want to watch it. I kept the very nice deputy on the telephone for about two hours trying to find out as much of the truth as I could, especially the names of the other two killed in the car, since I was supposed to have been one of those people, and thought I knew who one of the others might have been. After I hung up the phone with him, I lay there...dreading the arrival of morning, and the rest of our lives.
There are things you know that are going to hurt your children--immunizations, spankings, things of an emergency-medical-procedure nature--but there is nothing worse than the news that a very much loved father is gone forever. The grief and dread I felt before they woke up, knowing that what I was about to tell them was going to change the rest of their lives--I thought it would kill me. I wanted to run away, disappear, die myself. I didn't think I could do it. Thank God for my loving parents and my loving brother, who stood outside while I told my sweet children, privately, that there had been a terrible wreck and that David had been killed. I don't know how the children bore such news. We adults were devastated. After I saw the news coverage at 6 a.m. we unplugged all the televisions in the house, so that the kids wouldn't accidentally see what I saw, which was their father's body draped in a sheet, being carried away on a gurney. He was still wearing his trademark Converse hi-tops. The accident scene itself was so terrible that several of the first responders had to seek counseling afterwards.
That terrible day, and the days and weeks that followed, are never far from my mind, even 18 years later. There was a trial for the driver, who killed three people in a car he was driving too fast while under the influence, and the first trial was for Dave's death. At the end of it Robert Allan Bryson was found guilty but given probation, because the jury said he had "suffered enough" over the deaths of his friends. Fortunately, he was tried for the second person's death a few months later, and since he'd already received probation for a felony he did go to prison for 7 years. SEVEN YEARS. This man killed his friend Ted Berry, a nice guy with two little kids; a young woman named Lucia whose awful luck it was to have agreed to a date with him that night, and David--who was only in the car because he needed a ride back to his own car. I remember Rob's ex-wife coming out of the courtroom in angry tears after the second trial, asking aloud how she was going to explain to their little girl that she had to go visit daddy in a jail. Though I've never charged a stranger before in my life, I wheeled on her like a crazy person and told her that she was lucky...because my own children had to visit their daddy at the cemetary. I can't even say if my words made an impression on her.
But life goes on, and we put one foot in front of the other and lived through the awful first year, and then the second, so on and so on, up till today, 18 years later. My children were 12, 11 and 6 the morning their father died. Today they are 30, 29 and 24. One is a college graduate, one is about to graduate from college, one has made a name for himself in the small world-wide community of whitewater rafting. It's a hard fact that we suffered through some awful, awful adolescent years, particularly the boys, who lost their dad at a time when boys need a dad much more than they need a mom. Their sister, who was only 6 when he died, grieves as an adult that she doesn't remember Dave at all, and worries that talking about him with us will make us sad, so she doesn't. There are two nephews, one named after him, and a niece, who know Uncle David in the stories that their mom and dad tell them. Every birthday and holiday, his mom puts flowers on his grave, and on his father's grave--his dad joined him there seven years ago. His sister and I laugh and cry over old times and old stories, and share with each other dreams in which he appears and talks to us.
Life has gone on. We've had sad times, but we have good memories. God has been good to us, and has healed our hearts. Eighteen years ago today, that healing didn't seem possible.
David Darrold Locke, you are missed and loved and remembered every day, even after all these years.
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Bad Fences Make Good Neighbors
I was working in my yard yesterday when a stray dog ran up to our beagle, Dirk. The dog had tags and was recently groomed, but wouldn't let me come close. As it ran off again, I made a quick mental inventory of the dogs in our neighborhood (all small and well-groomed), and finally decided he might belong to a couple around the corner from us. So I left my gardening and walked down to inquire.
I'd met the lady before and remembered her dog's name was Khaki. Khaki was home, but the neighbor lady said "let's go down to see if this is Jerry's dog!" So off we went through the neighborhood. We walked and talked, found the dog's owner in record time (not Jerry, but another neighbor's college kid home with the dog, which promptly escaped under the fence). However, my new friend and I weren't done talking...so she came back to the house with me to see the chicken ladies. The dogs all came out to investigate her and we sat and talked a while longer, then looked at my garden, admired the flowers, and she invited me down to see HER garden, her dobro-playing husband and her 25 year old cockatiel. Off we went, talking all the while.
My new friend's name is LaVada Partain. She and her husband Jim are retired and have lived in our neighborhood for 42 years. Like me, she is an animal lover, gardener and big talker. Despite our age difference, we have many mutual acquaintances and share a love of cooking and talking about cooking. She had actually saved the newspaper article I was interviewed for because she saw my recipe and wanted to try it. Was I ever flattered, and was she ever shocked to see me quoted in the article! And most amazing of all--her birthday is September 4th, same as mine.
I left LaVada's house with a handful of herb clippings to root for my own garden, a phone number and e-mail address so we can keep in touch better, and a huge smile on my face. Thank goodness for a fence that wasn't dog-proof...and for the unexpected Saturday blessing of a new friend.
I'd met the lady before and remembered her dog's name was Khaki. Khaki was home, but the neighbor lady said "let's go down to see if this is Jerry's dog!" So off we went through the neighborhood. We walked and talked, found the dog's owner in record time (not Jerry, but another neighbor's college kid home with the dog, which promptly escaped under the fence). However, my new friend and I weren't done talking...so she came back to the house with me to see the chicken ladies. The dogs all came out to investigate her and we sat and talked a while longer, then looked at my garden, admired the flowers, and she invited me down to see HER garden, her dobro-playing husband and her 25 year old cockatiel. Off we went, talking all the while.
My new friend's name is LaVada Partain. She and her husband Jim are retired and have lived in our neighborhood for 42 years. Like me, she is an animal lover, gardener and big talker. Despite our age difference, we have many mutual acquaintances and share a love of cooking and talking about cooking. She had actually saved the newspaper article I was interviewed for because she saw my recipe and wanted to try it. Was I ever flattered, and was she ever shocked to see me quoted in the article! And most amazing of all--her birthday is September 4th, same as mine.
I left LaVada's house with a handful of herb clippings to root for my own garden, a phone number and e-mail address so we can keep in touch better, and a huge smile on my face. Thank goodness for a fence that wasn't dog-proof...and for the unexpected Saturday blessing of a new friend.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Can I Get A Zzzz-Zzzz?
I REALLY love to sleep. I love my bed but actually, I love any flat surface...which is the only way I can sleep, flat somewhere...and I can fall asleep pretty quickly. I love naps, sleeping in, sleeping late, sleeping with a dog or a cat or a snuggly kid. Or even my husband (though he snores, which causes me to sleep with earplugs). You get the picture.
I come from a family of sleepers and nappers. My grandfather came in every day at lunch from his farming and ranching chores to eat lunch and nap on the couch in the front room (where the window unit was) for an hour. My aunt Charlotte was famous for taking a nap every single day--even with 3 kids in the house, who used a label maker one afternoon to create a sign for her door that said "day sleper". Even now, my own parents take an entire pot of coffee back to bed with them every morning and sit in the dark like vampires, drinking coffee till it's gone and they're awake enough to greet the day.
My mom had to practically manhandle me out of bed in the mornings to get me ready for the bus on time and even as a young mother, I felt like my brain was full of glue when I'd get up with the kids. My kids were the same way, to the point where I broke my little finger trying to get one of the boys out of bed for high school. Only my daughter could actually get herself up before 6 to get ready for Belles practice, then she'd have to wake me up so I could take her to the stadium.
In the past few years though I've noticed a trend to the other side....wakefulness. It's a new sensation for me and I don't know how to cope with it. Sunday afternoon naps are a thing of the past and I find myself waking up at 6:45 on mornings I don't work--and getting out of bed! I've discovered the distinctly old-lady pleasure of sitting on the deck with a cup of coffee, watching the chickens in the yard and hearing the birds sing. I can't remember the last time I slept past 9 a.m. Since my alarm goes off at 5:45 most mornings, I guess sleeping till 7 is practically 'sleeping in' for me. I enjoy the peace and quiet of the house in the mornings before everyone is up and moving around for the day, particularly those weekends when kids are home from college or in town for a visit. Sometimes I even have time to accomplish a project or task before everyone else is up. I try not to admit to myself that it IS an old-lady thing...but I know it is.
I smile when I read posts on Facebook about exhausted young mothers who just wish they could sleep in ONE MORNING...because I remember feeling the same way. Having grown kids is a strange business. THEY'RE the ones sleeping in when they're home now---even on Christmas morning, when I have to actually go wake them up to tell them Santa's come again. Long gone are the days when they'd be staring into my face at 7 a.m. on a Saturday, long before I was ready to wake up.
I do miss being able to sleep late...and take a long nap...and I am gradually coming to admit that it truly IS yet another "getting to be an old lady" thing. And I guess I'll admit...I'm kind of OK with it.
I come from a family of sleepers and nappers. My grandfather came in every day at lunch from his farming and ranching chores to eat lunch and nap on the couch in the front room (where the window unit was) for an hour. My aunt Charlotte was famous for taking a nap every single day--even with 3 kids in the house, who used a label maker one afternoon to create a sign for her door that said "day sleper"
My mom had to practically manhandle me out of bed in the mornings to get me ready for the bus on time and even as a young mother, I felt like my brain was full of glue when I'd get up with the kids. My kids were the same way, to the point where I broke my little finger trying to get one of the boys out of bed for high school. Only my daughter could actually get herself up before 6 to get ready for Belles practice, then she'd have to wake me up so I could take her to the stadium.
In the past few years though I've noticed a trend to the other side....wakefulness. It's a new sensation for me and I don't know how to cope with it. Sunday afternoon naps are a thing of the past and I find myself waking up at 6:45 on mornings I don't work--and getting out of bed! I've discovered the distinctly old-lady pleasure of sitting on the deck with a cup of coffee, watching the chickens in the yard and hearing the birds sing. I can't remember the last time I slept past 9 a.m. Since my alarm goes off at 5:45 most mornings, I guess sleeping till 7 is practically 'sleeping in' for me. I enjoy the peace and quiet of the house in the mornings before everyone is up and moving around for the day, particularly those weekends when kids are home from college or in town for a visit. Sometimes I even have time to accomplish a project or task before everyone else is up. I try not to admit to myself that it IS an old-lady thing...but I know it is.
I smile when I read posts on Facebook about exhausted young mothers who just wish they could sleep in ONE MORNING...because I remember feeling the same way. Having grown kids is a strange business. THEY'RE the ones sleeping in when they're home now---even on Christmas morning, when I have to actually go wake them up to tell them Santa's come again. Long gone are the days when they'd be staring into my face at 7 a.m. on a Saturday, long before I was ready to wake up.
I do miss being able to sleep late...and take a long nap...and I am gradually coming to admit that it truly IS yet another "getting to be an old lady" thing. And I guess I'll admit...I'm kind of OK with it.
Monday, December 20, 2010
It's the most wonderful time of the year...
It's Christmas time again. A year ago right now we were debating whether to put up a tree because Britain was facing major surgery on the 22nd...which was cancelled on the 21st and rescheduled for the 28th, so on Christmas Eve Day we bought the scrawniest 'Charlie Brown Christmas' tree remaining at Home Depot and threw some decorations on it. This year we've done better by way of decorating but only because we were having a party (and not even a CHRISTMAS party) this month and felt that some holiday decor was in order. Thankfully, the house is now Christmasy and clean, sort of, and at least looking more like Santa might actually come.
It's a strange holiday season for us, though. Our Scott's been in Iraq since September and won't be home till April for Joey's wedding. Cameron called one afternoon in the fall to announce that he was moving to Costa Rica for the winter, and while he managed to make a quick trip home at Thanksgiving for turkey festivities and a big wedding, he will be surfing in Dominical for Christmas. Britain asked for his gift early--a plane ticket to Olympia, Washington for the holidays to visit family friends, and is leaving on the 22nd for an extended visit. My brother and his girlfriend are leaving on the 22nd as well--for Viet Nam, where both sets of her grandparents live. We will be a much-diminished crowd at our annual Christmas breakfast , as only Alexa, my folks and my nephew Logan will be here to open gifts. We'll see Joey and Natalie at my in-laws' house that afternoon but still...it doesn't feel much like Christmas.
I'm not complaining, though. This time last year, I had just gotten laid off from my job, and Britain was facing two major surgeries. We knew Scott would be returning to Iraq for a second tour of duty, and were concerned about that. Because of Britain's second surgery, he had to completely withdraw from his semester of college to recuperate. I would never have guessed that 2010 would turn out to be a year of blessings. Because I was laid off, I was able to be home with Britain and take care of him during his complicated recovery. I got to travel a LOT--much more than I anticipated, and definitely more than I could have done if I'd been working. Britain has made a complete recovery, has gone back to school and after reflection and consideration, has changed his major to one that suits him well and at which he is excelling. Scott is in a secure location in Iraq at a REAL base, with phones and internet access and fast food. Compared to his first tour, where he lived in a tent in the desert, he is living very high indeed! And after the scary uncertainty of being unemployed for two-thirds of the year, in September I got a phone call out of the blue (for a position I half-heartedly applied for online and promptly forgot about) and was ultimately hired for a position at a place I love, with people I thoroughly enjoy. God has been very good to us all.
And though this year's tree doesn't have as many gifts under it--because we're going to be short quite a few kids and other loved ones--I can honestly say that we've already received the greatest gifts of all, all year long--good health, good friends, loving family, true friendships, and opportunities laid out before us for our benefit. What more could we possibly need anyway?
Merry Christmas!
It's a strange holiday season for us, though. Our Scott's been in Iraq since September and won't be home till April for Joey's wedding. Cameron called one afternoon in the fall to announce that he was moving to Costa Rica for the winter, and while he managed to make a quick trip home at Thanksgiving for turkey festivities and a big wedding, he will be surfing in Dominical for Christmas. Britain asked for his gift early--a plane ticket to Olympia, Washington for the holidays to visit family friends, and is leaving on the 22nd for an extended visit. My brother and his girlfriend are leaving on the 22nd as well--for Viet Nam, where both sets of her grandparents live. We will be a much-diminished crowd at our annual Christmas breakfast , as only Alexa, my folks and my nephew Logan will be here to open gifts. We'll see Joey and Natalie at my in-laws' house that afternoon but still...it doesn't feel much like Christmas.
I'm not complaining, though. This time last year, I had just gotten laid off from my job, and Britain was facing two major surgeries. We knew Scott would be returning to Iraq for a second tour of duty, and were concerned about that. Because of Britain's second surgery, he had to completely withdraw from his semester of college to recuperate. I would never have guessed that 2010 would turn out to be a year of blessings. Because I was laid off, I was able to be home with Britain and take care of him during his complicated recovery. I got to travel a LOT--much more than I anticipated, and definitely more than I could have done if I'd been working. Britain has made a complete recovery, has gone back to school and after reflection and consideration, has changed his major to one that suits him well and at which he is excelling. Scott is in a secure location in Iraq at a REAL base, with phones and internet access and fast food. Compared to his first tour, where he lived in a tent in the desert, he is living very high indeed! And after the scary uncertainty of being unemployed for two-thirds of the year, in September I got a phone call out of the blue (for a position I half-heartedly applied for online and promptly forgot about) and was ultimately hired for a position at a place I love, with people I thoroughly enjoy. God has been very good to us all.
And though this year's tree doesn't have as many gifts under it--because we're going to be short quite a few kids and other loved ones--I can honestly say that we've already received the greatest gifts of all, all year long--good health, good friends, loving family, true friendships, and opportunities laid out before us for our benefit. What more could we possibly need anyway?
Merry Christmas!
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Chicken Business
In my last post, I alluded to the news that Beyonce was sitting on 15 fertilized Rhode Island Red eggs that I got from my chicken man, Don, at church. Mother's Day weekend was our D-Day...and Beyonce did herself proud! Our first chick hatched some time on that Saturday afternoon. It was so frustrating to hear little peeps and not be able to see anything other than our Big Mama--who had a pretty confused look on her face for about 24 hours. She would crane her neck to look around and underneath, to see what was going on--and every once in a while she would stand completely up in the nesting box and look under her petticoats between her legs. You could practically hear her thinking "What the.....??"
By lunch time on Mother's Day, the babies had all arrived. Of the 15 eggs we started out with, I broke one during the second week (and felt like a murderer) and she kicked one out of the nest early on. Of the 13 remaining, 10 hatched--though we found a dead baby in the nest--and there were 3 duds. As they were all hatched in a nesting box off the ground, we moved the entire family into our big Dogloo (moved into the hen house for the duration) so she could get in and out but the babies would be corralled. We called them the Gang of Nine, and took about 4000 photos. We even posed some in antique teacups for a real photo shoot!
Today, the Gang of Nine is the Gang of Eight--tragedy struck in the second week, and one of the babies drowned in the big girls' water bowl. Beyonce is a natural mother, protective and watchful of the babies, teaching them how to scratch in the yard for tasty things and take luxurious dustbaths by the fence. They are now 4 weeks old, and their original baby-chick down is fast being replaced by their big-kid feathers. They are not so cute, right now--Alexa says they look like awkward middle schoolers. They don't need Beyonce as much, and scatter across the yard during the day rather than following right behind her. However, when she clucks for them to come see what she's found to eat, they all come running. Her vocabulary of sounds is fascinating, and quite varied! We are getting pretty adept at understanding what she's telling them! At night they experiment with different places to sleep, and some have been so bold this week as to fly right up to the perch with the bigger girls, who promptly peck at them till they jump off...but they usually end up sleeping in the nesting box with Beyonce, or just out on the ledge past the door. In another week they won't all fit!
Not to be outdone, Lady Gaga suddenly decided she would be broody. I knew John's patience wouldn't extend to another addition to our flock, so I did some research and tried to 'break her' of her broodiness. She is a stubborn girl, however, and kept returning to the nesting box. Two nights ago I got a message from my friend Andrea, who said they were having some chicken troubles and did I know anyone who could hatch some eggs for them? Boy, did I...and yesterday, Andrea and her son Frank brought over a dozen bantam Blue Orpington eggs overnighted from a breeder in Tennessee. Today we added one more egg that they didn't have room for in their incubators. Of his initial order (2 dozen, maybe?), some of the eggs are in 2 different incubators and the rest are under Lady Gaga, who is now sitting serenely on 13 tiny eggs. Now the hardest thing is to wait 21 eternal days for another exciting weekend of waiting, and listening and guessing and finally seeing the new little fuzzy faces peeking out from under their 'mama'. Andrea plans to blog about all the eggs' various accomodations and ultimately do a story for her radio show--Mother Earth News Radio--about how it all turned out. I can't wait to see how it all turns out, too!!
Here's to chicken friends--and new hens!
By lunch time on Mother's Day, the babies had all arrived. Of the 15 eggs we started out with, I broke one during the second week (and felt like a murderer) and she kicked one out of the nest early on. Of the 13 remaining, 10 hatched--though we found a dead baby in the nest--and there were 3 duds. As they were all hatched in a nesting box off the ground, we moved the entire family into our big Dogloo (moved into the hen house for the duration) so she could get in and out but the babies would be corralled. We called them the Gang of Nine, and took about 4000 photos. We even posed some in antique teacups for a real photo shoot!
Today, the Gang of Nine is the Gang of Eight--tragedy struck in the second week, and one of the babies drowned in the big girls' water bowl. Beyonce is a natural mother, protective and watchful of the babies, teaching them how to scratch in the yard for tasty things and take luxurious dustbaths by the fence. They are now 4 weeks old, and their original baby-chick down is fast being replaced by their big-kid feathers. They are not so cute, right now--Alexa says they look like awkward middle schoolers. They don't need Beyonce as much, and scatter across the yard during the day rather than following right behind her. However, when she clucks for them to come see what she's found to eat, they all come running. Her vocabulary of sounds is fascinating, and quite varied! We are getting pretty adept at understanding what she's telling them! At night they experiment with different places to sleep, and some have been so bold this week as to fly right up to the perch with the bigger girls, who promptly peck at them till they jump off...but they usually end up sleeping in the nesting box with Beyonce, or just out on the ledge past the door. In another week they won't all fit!
Not to be outdone, Lady Gaga suddenly decided she would be broody. I knew John's patience wouldn't extend to another addition to our flock, so I did some research and tried to 'break her' of her broodiness. She is a stubborn girl, however, and kept returning to the nesting box. Two nights ago I got a message from my friend Andrea, who said they were having some chicken troubles and did I know anyone who could hatch some eggs for them? Boy, did I...and yesterday, Andrea and her son Frank brought over a dozen bantam Blue Orpington eggs overnighted from a breeder in Tennessee. Today we added one more egg that they didn't have room for in their incubators. Of his initial order (2 dozen, maybe?), some of the eggs are in 2 different incubators and the rest are under Lady Gaga, who is now sitting serenely on 13 tiny eggs. Now the hardest thing is to wait 21 eternal days for another exciting weekend of waiting, and listening and guessing and finally seeing the new little fuzzy faces peeking out from under their 'mama'. Andrea plans to blog about all the eggs' various accomodations and ultimately do a story for her radio show--Mother Earth News Radio--about how it all turned out. I can't wait to see how it all turns out, too!!
Here's to chicken friends--and new hens!
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
It's pronounced "pro-kras-ti-nate".
Well, I just re-read my last post and realized it's been nearly 3 full months since I sat down and blogged. A lot has happened since then--at my last post, dated February 11, we were about to face Britain's second big surgery--and while I have certainly sat for hours at the computer since then, I have procrastinated about putting any of my thoughts down for posterity.
I am a terrible procrastinator. I just needed to put it out there.
Anyway, here's a recap of the past nearly-3-full-months. I will try to be concise...
February 11--big snow! Beautiful and perfect. We get between 10 and 12 inches, and it lasts nearly all weekend. Britain got to build an enormous snowman in our front yard--actually, a SnoMexican, since he was dressed in a serape and sombrero. Britain really enjoyed the snow. So glad it snowed when it did, so he could enjoy it. The following Tuesday he is scheduled for bone graft surgery.
February 14--Joey and Natalie get engaged! Joey gets down on one knee and gives her a gorgeous ring. They set a wedding date of April 9, 2011. It only took 7 years to get to this point!! We are so happy!!
February 16--Britain goes into Parkland for the bone graft surgery we didn't expect till summer. He is in surgery for 7 long hours, and in the hospital in terrible pain for 4 days. Huge incision on his throat that looks like he was in a knife fight and another long incision across the top of his pelvis, on his back, where they took the bone marrow. We only thought he was in pain for the first surgery, till he went through this. He actually fainted from the pain in the hospital. Also, his jaws are completely wired shut, making it possible for him to eat only through a syringe stuck between his gums where his back molars used to be. Hospital food makes him sick so I prepare meals for him in the 7th floor nurses' kitchen--tomato soup, liquid-y things from the grocery store that might tempt him. He falls in love with cran-grape juice and drinks gallons of it.
February 19--Britain is finally able to get out of the hospital bed and is discharged. He walks with the aid of a walker, rather than riding in a wheelchair to leave the hospital, all the way from the 7th floor out to the front doors of the hospital. Can't believe he is able to do it.
March 1-12--construction begins on our HEN HOUSE! John and Britain build a lovely hen house attached to the shed. Britain starts looking for chickens on Craigs List--brilliant! They finish a sturdy and attractive structure with 3 nesting boxes just in time for the weekend...
March 12-13--...when we get 7 chickens! Mom rides with me out to Elmo, Texas, where I buy 2 Dominecker pullets (Honeypie and Precious) and 2 Ameracauna pullets (Sally and Yvonne). Then we drive north of Fort Worth where we pick up 3 Silver-Laced Wyandottes. When we get there the lady has an 'extra'--she says she isn't sure if it's a hen or a rooster so she is throwing it in as a 'free bird'. Mom promptly names it "Stan Freebird" after the 50's comedian, Stan Freberg. When we get them home, the Wyandottes (who are a few weeks older) starting picking on my little girls. Grant is in town, so I give them to him. The next day (Saturday 13th) we drive to Denton and pick up a 1 year old French Marans hen, Beyonce. She is simply gorgeous, and a true diva, just like her namesake. The Wyandottes go to Coyote-town with Grant. They are not missed! Now we have 5 chickens.
March 14--Alexa gets home from Tech for Spring Break and falls in love with the chickens.
March 16--Beyonce seems a bit lonely, since the little girls are intimidated by her. Hannah and I make arrangments to drive back to Denton and purchase her friend, Lady Gaga, who is also a French Marans hen. Lady Gaga makes herself at home, laying an egg within an hour of arriving at the Palais de Poulet. Now we have 6 chickens and John tells me "no more." I say OK, but I have my fingers crossed behind my back.
March 19--Friday of spring break. Gorgeous warm weather. I am barefoot and in a t-shirt, covering up my garden and tarping the hen house, because the forecast calls for freezing weather over the weekend. John makes fun of me and tells me they've taken the freezing temps out of the forecast.
March 20--Saturday. The temperatures fall and I move John's big halogen work lamp into the henhouse to keep the girls warm. It rains and gets colder through the day.
March 21--Sunday. We wake up to SIX INCHES OF SNOW on the ground! It is gorgeous and unbelievable. Alexa didn't bring home any winter clothes from LBK, so she is a bit chilly going to church. It all melts by the end of the day but it was sure pretty while it lasted. By the afternoon of Monday, March 22, I am back out in the yard in shorts and bare feet, uncovering plants and un-tarping the hen house. The girls survived, and so did all my vegetables!
April 6--Britain turns 28. He was supposed to get his wires off on April 5 and they actually DID cut the wires...then came back in the room and the doctor said "Dude, you are going to hate me--but these have to go back on for 2 more weeks." I don't know who was more disappointed, him or me. But he got some gifts he liked--a new Blackberry phone, and an aquarium and a gift certificate from a specialty pet shop for something to put IN the aquarium. Just no cake. :(
April 7-12--Cameron and Kaycie come from Colorado for a nice visit. It is our first time to meet Kaycie, and her first trip to Texas. We enjoy having them. On April 10, Trish and Les host Joey and Natalie's engagement party, and we all go. Miss having Alexa there, but she has sorority commitments that she can't avoid. We enjoy meeting Natalie's family for the first time, and have a lovely dinner prepared by Les.
April and warmer weather--I decide to divorce my clothes dryer and hang out all our laundry on the line out back. I enjoy it--though I certainly wouldn't do it if I was still working. The only thing I dry inside are our towels, which get as hard as corrugated cardboard when hung outside! As I hang clothes I remember my grandmother's clothesline, and how she looked standing in the wind with sheets flapping around her. I have so many questions for her!
April 17--Beyonce has been broody for a week, and after much debate I decide to let her try to hatch a little family. I acquire 15 fertilized Rhode Island Red eggs from Don Heironimus, and put them in her nest. When she gets back into it, she settles down on them like she laid them all herself! Now the countdown begins--by Mother's Day we should have baby chicks!
April 19--Britain gets the wires cut again--this time for real!--and comes home to begin eating everything he can get in his mouth. After being hungry all the time for 2 months and eating nothing but homemade potato cheese soup, blueberry yogurt and chocolate Cheerios run through the blender, everything sounds and tastes good to him!
A lot has happened in just a few months, and even the short version is long. That's what I get for putting it off till now, and having to tell it all at once. Reading over all the events of the past 12 weeks, I realize again how very blessed we are. I'm glad I sat down and caught myself up!
However, the basket of wet clothes at my feet isn't going to hang itself on the line...
I am a terrible procrastinator. I just needed to put it out there.
Anyway, here's a recap of the past nearly-3-full-months. I will try to be concise...
February 11--big snow! Beautiful and perfect. We get between 10 and 12 inches, and it lasts nearly all weekend. Britain got to build an enormous snowman in our front yard--actually, a SnoMexican, since he was dressed in a serape and sombrero. Britain really enjoyed the snow. So glad it snowed when it did, so he could enjoy it. The following Tuesday he is scheduled for bone graft surgery.
February 14--Joey and Natalie get engaged! Joey gets down on one knee and gives her a gorgeous ring. They set a wedding date of April 9, 2011. It only took 7 years to get to this point!! We are so happy!!
February 16--Britain goes into Parkland for the bone graft surgery we didn't expect till summer. He is in surgery for 7 long hours, and in the hospital in terrible pain for 4 days. Huge incision on his throat that looks like he was in a knife fight and another long incision across the top of his pelvis, on his back, where they took the bone marrow. We only thought he was in pain for the first surgery, till he went through this. He actually fainted from the pain in the hospital. Also, his jaws are completely wired shut, making it possible for him to eat only through a syringe stuck between his gums where his back molars used to be. Hospital food makes him sick so I prepare meals for him in the 7th floor nurses' kitchen--tomato soup, liquid-y things from the grocery store that might tempt him. He falls in love with cran-grape juice and drinks gallons of it.
February 19--Britain is finally able to get out of the hospital bed and is discharged. He walks with the aid of a walker, rather than riding in a wheelchair to leave the hospital, all the way from the 7th floor out to the front doors of the hospital. Can't believe he is able to do it.
March 1-12--construction begins on our HEN HOUSE! John and Britain build a lovely hen house attached to the shed. Britain starts looking for chickens on Craigs List--brilliant! They finish a sturdy and attractive structure with 3 nesting boxes just in time for the weekend...
March 12-13--...when we get 7 chickens! Mom rides with me out to Elmo, Texas, where I buy 2 Dominecker pullets (Honeypie and Precious) and 2 Ameracauna pullets (Sally and Yvonne). Then we drive north of Fort Worth where we pick up 3 Silver-Laced Wyandottes. When we get there the lady has an 'extra'--she says she isn't sure if it's a hen or a rooster so she is throwing it in as a 'free bird'. Mom promptly names it "Stan Freebird" after the 50's comedian, Stan Freberg. When we get them home, the Wyandottes (who are a few weeks older) starting picking on my little girls. Grant is in town, so I give them to him. The next day (Saturday 13th) we drive to Denton and pick up a 1 year old French Marans hen, Beyonce. She is simply gorgeous, and a true diva, just like her namesake. The Wyandottes go to Coyote-town with Grant. They are not missed! Now we have 5 chickens.
March 14--Alexa gets home from Tech for Spring Break and falls in love with the chickens.
March 16--Beyonce seems a bit lonely, since the little girls are intimidated by her. Hannah and I make arrangments to drive back to Denton and purchase her friend, Lady Gaga, who is also a French Marans hen. Lady Gaga makes herself at home, laying an egg within an hour of arriving at the Palais de Poulet. Now we have 6 chickens and John tells me "no more." I say OK, but I have my fingers crossed behind my back.
March 19--Friday of spring break. Gorgeous warm weather. I am barefoot and in a t-shirt, covering up my garden and tarping the hen house, because the forecast calls for freezing weather over the weekend. John makes fun of me and tells me they've taken the freezing temps out of the forecast.
March 20--Saturday. The temperatures fall and I move John's big halogen work lamp into the henhouse to keep the girls warm. It rains and gets colder through the day.
March 21--Sunday. We wake up to SIX INCHES OF SNOW on the ground! It is gorgeous and unbelievable. Alexa didn't bring home any winter clothes from LBK, so she is a bit chilly going to church. It all melts by the end of the day but it was sure pretty while it lasted. By the afternoon of Monday, March 22, I am back out in the yard in shorts and bare feet, uncovering plants and un-tarping the hen house. The girls survived, and so did all my vegetables!
April 6--Britain turns 28. He was supposed to get his wires off on April 5 and they actually DID cut the wires...then came back in the room and the doctor said "Dude, you are going to hate me--but these have to go back on for 2 more weeks." I don't know who was more disappointed, him or me. But he got some gifts he liked--a new Blackberry phone, and an aquarium and a gift certificate from a specialty pet shop for something to put IN the aquarium. Just no cake. :(
April 7-12--Cameron and Kaycie come from Colorado for a nice visit. It is our first time to meet Kaycie, and her first trip to Texas. We enjoy having them. On April 10, Trish and Les host Joey and Natalie's engagement party, and we all go. Miss having Alexa there, but she has sorority commitments that she can't avoid. We enjoy meeting Natalie's family for the first time, and have a lovely dinner prepared by Les.
April and warmer weather--I decide to divorce my clothes dryer and hang out all our laundry on the line out back. I enjoy it--though I certainly wouldn't do it if I was still working. The only thing I dry inside are our towels, which get as hard as corrugated cardboard when hung outside! As I hang clothes I remember my grandmother's clothesline, and how she looked standing in the wind with sheets flapping around her. I have so many questions for her!
April 17--Beyonce has been broody for a week, and after much debate I decide to let her try to hatch a little family. I acquire 15 fertilized Rhode Island Red eggs from Don Heironimus, and put them in her nest. When she gets back into it, she settles down on them like she laid them all herself! Now the countdown begins--by Mother's Day we should have baby chicks!
April 19--Britain gets the wires cut again--this time for real!--and comes home to begin eating everything he can get in his mouth. After being hungry all the time for 2 months and eating nothing but homemade potato cheese soup, blueberry yogurt and chocolate Cheerios run through the blender, everything sounds and tastes good to him!
A lot has happened in just a few months, and even the short version is long. That's what I get for putting it off till now, and having to tell it all at once. Reading over all the events of the past 12 weeks, I realize again how very blessed we are. I'm glad I sat down and caught myself up!
However, the basket of wet clothes at my feet isn't going to hang itself on the line...
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Maybe it's spring....
I woke up this morning to the rarest of sights in North Texas--snow on the ground, snow in the air and nothing but snow in the forecast. It is so beautiful that I resent the dogs tracking it up when I let them outside. We already have a couple of inches on the ground and the weatherman is saying we could get nearly half a foot. Maybe not much in the national view...but to us, it's a major weather event, y'all.
Obviously it's not REALLY spring yet. It's not even Valentine's Day yet. Punxatawny Phil saw his shadow last week, so I KNOW we're getting six more weeks of winter. But lately I've been so optimistic and full of ideas that I can't really attribute to anything else but the idea of spring. Because right now--before everything starts to grow and the weather starts to get warm and life kicks into high gear again--anything seems possible. Yoga classes? Sure. Lose thirty pounds? Absolutely. (This seems to be a recurring theme with me.) Build a hen house and have city chickens? Why not? Make a rag rug out of our cast-off clothing? Let's do it! I feel like Jim Carrey's character in the movie "Yes Man" who is spell-bound to say 'yes' to every opportunity that comes along, whether he wants to or not. For Jim, it all turned out good. For me, who knows? How can it not?
Usually I have this burst of energy and optimism around the New Year, when everyone is full of the can-do spirit. However, as I've mentioned before, it doesn't take long for the 'new' to wear off the year, and pretty soon I'm just the same old me again. I've wondered if I have "Delayed New Year's Resolution Syndrome" because I was busy taking care of my post-op patient in those first days and didn't really have time to think about anything else.
Nope, don't think that's it. This feels different to me. And exciting!
Pretty sure it's spring.
Obviously it's not REALLY spring yet. It's not even Valentine's Day yet. Punxatawny Phil saw his shadow last week, so I KNOW we're getting six more weeks of winter. But lately I've been so optimistic and full of ideas that I can't really attribute to anything else but the idea of spring. Because right now--before everything starts to grow and the weather starts to get warm and life kicks into high gear again--anything seems possible. Yoga classes? Sure. Lose thirty pounds? Absolutely. (This seems to be a recurring theme with me.) Build a hen house and have city chickens? Why not? Make a rag rug out of our cast-off clothing? Let's do it! I feel like Jim Carrey's character in the movie "Yes Man" who is spell-bound to say 'yes' to every opportunity that comes along, whether he wants to or not. For Jim, it all turned out good. For me, who knows? How can it not?
Usually I have this burst of energy and optimism around the New Year, when everyone is full of the can-do spirit. However, as I've mentioned before, it doesn't take long for the 'new' to wear off the year, and pretty soon I'm just the same old me again. I've wondered if I have "Delayed New Year's Resolution Syndrome" because I was busy taking care of my post-op patient in those first days and didn't really have time to think about anything else.
Nope, don't think that's it. This feels different to me. And exciting!
Pretty sure it's spring.
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