We had a wonderful trip to Chicago this week. We took advantage of our flexible hours as realtors and had a mid-week getaway with the children. We went downtown one day to the Shedd Aquarium, Grant Park, Lincoln Park and the general downtown district. We stayed in Woodstock and took the Metra train downtown on Tuesday morning. We woke the kids up in time to catch an early train, so we were downtown by 9:30. It was worth the effort of having our sleep-until-8-am children up early because the next train from Woodstock would have had us downtown almost two hours later. I must say that the train is the only way to go downtown. It was so nice not to have to deal with traffic or parking, and the cost was less than gas would have been and certainly less than parking. We will certainly do that again.

From the Metra station, we took the free trolley to Shedd Aquarium. Personally, I wanted to go to the Art Institute, but common sense took over and I realized that the kids would enjoy the Shedd much more. We had to start our Shedd visit with the obligatory picture of the family with the giant man and fish fountain.

We lucked out with our timing, and they happened to be feeding the fish in the giant Caribbean Reef, so we were able to immediately listen to the talk about that. The kids were in awe of the giant tank teeming with animals, and Vincent really liked seeing the diver up close. Though the kids were disappointed that the belugas were not available to the public due to a new calf, they still loved the Shedd. The dolphin show awed them, and they were amazed at the variety of sizes and colors of fishes (a word I always thought was grammatically incorrect, but if the aquarium uses it, I suspect I was taught wrong).


After the aquarium, we took a walk through Grant Park past the Field Museum and along the shore. There is a fascinating display of globes there, each detailing a different aspect about the planet or some other educational concept. Plus they are quirky dotting the landscape like they do. On our walk, we were tantalizingly close to the Art Institute, but still I resisted. I wanted to take pictures with the lions, but no one else was game for that. The kids wanted to get to the fountains in Millennium Park so they could splash around. We did walk through the peaceful garden next to the Art Institute, a little oasis on Michigan Ave.

After a long break splashing around in the fountains, during which the children somehow managed to keep most of their clothing dry, we journeyed over to The Bean. Now, I'm not sure if that is its official name, but this strange sculpture is simply fascinating. As you approach it, you see a distorted reflection that is interesting, but once underneath, it becomes intriguing. It was impossible to capture with the camera. We spent a long time there looking around at the myriad reflections the angles of The Bean create. When Luis said he wanted to stop to see it, I thought "how goofy", but it was beguiling. I am really happy we stopped.

Following The Bean we had a long walk down Washington back to the train station with tired children in tow. They were troopers, and I think they were a little awed by the towering buildings around us. Simon did wonderfully all day, hanging out in the mei tai and the sling. The train back to Woodstock was an express, so it was only an hour back. Even so, Vincent quickly fell asleep, and even Isabella and Luis dozed on the train. All in all, it was a great day trip that must be repeated.

The second day was spent as Six Flags Great America's homeschool day. It was an amusement park, so obviously there was a great deal of riding rides, playing in kiddie areas and eating cotton candy. I must say that we are now spoiled for any other day at an amusement park after this experience. Most of the time we had to wait 2-3 minutes for a ride, even on the hugely popular roller coasters. In 6.5 hours we managed to do 5 roller coasters, 8 rides, spend time at all three children's areas, have a picnic lunch and a cotton candy break, and see a show. It was exhausting and tons of fun.

When did it become acceptable to have one's bra straps or more on display for the world to see?

I do not think that I am that old, but call me old fashioned on this. If my bra strap or the top the cup accidentally shows for a few moments, eh, no big deal. Lingerie is not something to be embarrassed about, but I do believe it is private clothing. Underthings belong under our clothing.

I do not feel it is acceptable to purposefully wear a bra with a shirt that does not cover it. I was hoping the trend of young women wearing spaghetti strap tanks with bras on display would be short-lived, but it seems to be getting worse. Recently I saw a lovely young women looking completely trashy by pairing a darling halter top with a strapped bra. Put on a strapless bra, my dear, or if you are perky enough and the shirt is not sheer, go without. Neglecting to wear underthings appropriate to your outfit is déclassé.

May the pendulum swing back to covering up lingerie again soon. Backless shirts need backless bras, thong sides and backs belong underneath the waistline, and bra straps belong inside of shirts.

This morning, the children and I were all up by 7, rather early for us. Actually, Simon and I were up by 6:20, but I digress. Since Luis was already out at the carwash supervising the final renovations before we reopen on Monday, the children and I laid in bed snuggling and talking. I forget what the conversation started with, but I made the mistake of telling Abigail that she was getting big. Suddenly she was almost in tears.

I rearranged a few small bodies and snuggled Abigail close so we could quietly talk about why she was so upset. She is worried that time is going too quickly. As she said "It is my last single digit year. I'm not ready to be double digits yet." She isn't ready to grow up, and she is worried about it. It led to a long talk about how we age and mature at just the right rate for ourselves. A few years ago, she wasn't ready to be nine, but now that she is, it is okay, and by the time she is 16, 18 or 20, she will be ready for that too. We talked about how she will always be my baby and how I'll still be able to snuggle her even when she is grown up, if that is what she wants.

All in all, it was a good conversation, and she seemed to feel calmer afterwards. However, the entire time we were talking, one thought stayed in the back of my head. Who is going to talk me through her becoming "double digits?" Regardless of what I told Abigail, time is going too quickly.

Three years ago, even two years ago, I wasn't sure if I wanted a fourth baby. I felt very done after three children in four and a half years. I wasn't sure I could parent another baby the way I feel is right.

Obviously my thinking changed, as Simon is such a part of our family now. He is such a gift, my little chubalicious darling. Looking back now, I realize that my concerns weren't about having a fourth baby, but rather about having four babies in, say, six or seven years. I was burnt out on babyhood and toddler years. I needed the larger gap, the four and a half years that separate Simon and Vincent, to get my feet back under me and to recenter my life.

In many ways, Simon is like having a first baby again. With Abigail, Isabella and Vincent being older and capable of more independence, I can focus on Simon's babyness. I can spend more time having raspberry blowing contests and kissing baby toes. I will never regret having the older children so close together. That was an amazing experience, a wonderful parenting journey. Their relationship is so neat. It was exhausting to parent through, though, and if I had had Simon sooner, I believe that I would not have been able to be the parent I would want to be for him.

I am so thankful that Simon is here with us, and that I am able to find such joy in him being with us. He is a darling with a deep belly laugh. I know he will bring our family much laughter in the coming years.

I do love this handsome baby boy!

Saturday means the farmer's market. We had a late start this morning, what with watching a friend's son while she worked out, and it started raining. Who am I to let a little rain stand between me and garlic, onions, green peppers, beets and (bestill my beating heart) butternut squash? With Simon in the mei tai and a couple of umbrellas, the kids and I set off, squelching all the way in our flip flops.

I have noticed that there are two types of people that venture out in gentle rains. One type is only out because they need to be. They cower under their umbrellas, looking down as they quickly dash from car to office building or store. The other type embraces the water as they laugh along, doing their tasks without measureable increase in speed. We had fun chatting with some of the second type today at the market, laughing as the tarp over one of the vendors let loose a small deluge onto Abigail's sweater and talking about the unusually shaped eggplant.

Now I don't pretend to never be the type who does dash around cowering under my umbrella. It happens, especially on days when I have my suede laptop case with me or good shoes on. I prefer the days like today where we can enjoy the music of the drops falling on the umbrella and actively look for puddles to stomp in, though. It is much more fun. We need more simple fun in life.

During the most intensely hot week of August of every year, I end up having the kids go through all of their fall and winter clothes to see what still fits. It never fails. It will be 95 degrees and muggy, and I will have them trying on their turtlenecks.

The intense heat always makes me realize that fall is just around the corner. I know it will be sweltering for one or two weeks, almost unbearable, then the weather will break. The cool nights will come back, and in the morning the grass will stay wet with a heavy dew for hours. The glory of lightening bugs fades away, and a chorus of crickets takes center stage instead. In the garden, berries finish their season as the tomatoes and summer squash are ripening in waves, and the fall crop of spinach is starting to sprout.

So last week the children slept naked in the heat, and I pulled hoodie sweaters off of sweaty torsos as they tried on all their winter clothes. This week, the pajamas and nightgowns are again being worn at night, and a new shipment of pants and long sleeved shirts is on its way from Old Navy. Pretty soon we will be hearing the rustle of drying leaves singing as fall starts.

I do love the change in seasons.

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.
~ Albert Camus

I am seriously in love with my new camera. I have only touched the tip of the iceberg with it so far, but I like my pictures better already.

I took this one of my mother-in-law with Simon today. She would absolutely hate it if she saw it because she looks her age in it, but I love it. It is my favorite of all the pictures I have taken of her with any of the kids. It is simply her radiating love as she kisses her darling grandbaby. Part of me wishes that I had caught Simon's face in this one, but I had framed it this way on purpose and I think I am glad I did. I wanted the focus to be more on Carmen and her expression, and I think my sweet Simon's eyes would have detracted from that.

Simon enjoys playing rougher than the other children did as babies. Consequently, he adores playing with my father-in-law. I can also tell that Jose has relaxed over the last 9 years and is more comfortable playing with the babies. He has a really special spot for Simon, and I think he actually spends more time playing with Simon that Carmen does. For the first time with any of the kids, Jose will grab the baby away from Carmen to play with Simon himself. Simon lights up with a smile when Jose is around and interacting with him.

Since I'm sharing Simon photos, I must share some of the other kids too. Softball and baseball are now over for the year, but the kids had a great time during the season and are already looking forward to next year. I can tell that Abigail is getting older. She is becoming more serious and focused during the games, starting to lead off base and trying to score runs or make outs. She is paying attention to what is happening on the field, rarely waving to us in the stands. I had to call her name in order to take this picture. She glanced back at the batter a second later.

Isabella is my wannabe model. If the camera comes out, she must get her pictures taken. If I am shooting a picture of anyone, she wants to be in the shot too. She thrives on me focusing the camera on her and immediately strikes a pose. It can be frustrating when I am trying to catch her in action because if she sees the camera, she loses all ability to be natural and ignore it.

Vincent is the polar opposite these days. He used to love to have his picture taken, but lately he has been shying away from it. I have to catch him off guard or he may run away or hide. Of course, he'll shock me sometimes and demand that I take his picture, but that is usually only for action shots, things like him riding his bike. Of course, that is an extension of who he is right now. He doesn't want me calling attention to him when other people are around unless he is doing something he feels is "macarena cool" (he picked that up from the movie RV, much to our amusement).

I have been studying for my EcoBroker designation for real estate. It is simply amazing how much I am learning. There is so much information out there if only we know how to access it. The EPA has pamphlets on so many different topics, and then there is the information available from Energy Star. It is amazing.

One thing I came across today in my reading had to do with small things that can make a big difference. Did you know that the average home in the US is responsible for twice the greenhouse gas emissions as the average car? Unless you are using renewable energy sources, every time you flip on a light switch or turn on your computer, and electrical plant somewhere has to produce your electricity, and much of the time this is done by burning fossil fuels. Kudos to our electrical provider Alliant Energy for offering their Second Nature program. If you enroll, they guarantee to purchase energy from renewable sources in amounts equal to or greater than your usage. There is an extra cost for this program, but it is small (about $15/mo for us), and in my opinion it is a small premium to pay to protect the world for our grandchildren.

Change five lights. Change a light and you help change the world. If every American home replaced their 5 most frequently used light fixtures or the bulbs in them with ones that have earned the ENERGY STAR, we would save close to $8 billion each year in energy costs, and together we'd prevent the greenhouse gases equivalent to the emissions from nearly 10 million cars.

Heat and cool smartly. Improve the performance of your heating and cooling system. Have it serviced annually by a licensed contractor, and remember to clean or replace air filters regularly. To avoid heating or cooling an empty house, use an ENERGY STAR qualified programmable thermostat. And when it’s time to replace old equipment, choose an ENERGY STAR qualified model, and make sure it’s sized and installed properly. If just one household in 10 did this, the change would prevent more than 17 billion pounds of greenhouse gases.

I have said it before and I'll say it again - Small Things Make a Huge Difference IF We All Do Them.

To continue the campground theme, even tangentially, I was listening to a piece on NPR yesterday about sleep away camps. Apparently the rise of the internet has led to some interesting changes in the traditional camp experience.

The days of parents only knowing what is happening via hastily scrawled notes back home are disappearing. Many camps offer secure sites to parents where they will upload pictures of the children throughout the day, every day. One interviewee said that parents enjoyed seeing their children and feeling part of their child's time at camp. However, the comment was made the some parents are using this to micromanage. It has led to communications from the parents to the camp on things as small as "I saw a scratch on Liza's arm; what happened?" or "Owen was wearing the same shirt two days in a row!" One camp leader indicated that there is a rise of separation anxiety, not on the part of the kids, but rather on the part of the parents. In this age of digital and cellular communications (it seemed that most camps also ban cell phones), parents are accustomed to being able to contact their children anytime, anywhere. When they are completely out of touch with their children during camp times, it is difficult for some.

It was interesting food for thought. Statistics show that the world around us is no more dangerous than when we were kids, but the perception of many people is completely different. Luis and I have been talking about this since the new year. How much independence should we give to our children and when? Granted I was a responsible and level headed child, but at age 10, I was biking 4.5 miles in the country during the summer to get myself to band practice. We struggle with whether or not to let Abigail (age 9) walk 4 blocks to art class by herself or stay at softball practice alone and walk home afterwards. We have given her a two block range and let her go to the library or run small errands alone, but how do we expand that freedom while feeling comfortable?

I can understand now why some parents are giving cell phones to their upper elementary school children, even though I may not agree with it. The idea that even if our kids are away from us, tasting that independence, we can still contact them to make sure they are safe is tantalizing. It truly does nothing to make our children more safe, but it gives us the parents the illusion of control. When we first starting letting Abigail wander farther from home, we would send her with the two way radio. It felt wrong to me to use the radios around home like that for some reason, and I soon stopped. {We do use them when camping or at festivals without compunction though} I speculate that part of the growing process for our children involves our learning as parents to let go of control. Perhaps we need to learn to hand that control over to our children in order for them to learn to manage independence responsibly.

We went camping this weekend with family and had a very nice time. The campground we went to is one of the amusement-park campgrounds, one that has about fifty-three different activities catering the the children. It is great fun for them, don't get me wrong, and we enjoy the swimming pond that is filled with giant floating equipment. It certainly isn't as peaceful and calming as some other places we have camped, but it is fun.

One thing I have noticed as we have been camping in the last four years is starting to bother me. What is the deal with all of the golf carts? Campgrounds, at least around here, are filled with people zipping around on golf carts. I can understand someone who is disabled using one; some of the campgrounds are large or hilly, and it might be difficult to get around if one has a disability. However, there is no reason that an able bodied person needs to ride on a golf cart to go to a bathroom that is a 3 minute walk away or to get to the swimming pool that would only be 10 minutes away on foot. Last year, Luis and I saw someone get in their golf cart to drive less 100 feet to the bathroom. I am not kidding. The sheer absurdity of it had us snickering all evening.

Personally, I enjoy the walk to get places at a campground. It is a nice change of pace to walk to the bathroom in the early morning hours, listening to the birds or to stroll around the grounds in the evening with the crickets chirping away. It is fun to take a family walk to gawk at other people's campsites, see what creative things people do to their campers and wave hi or make conversation with others. I truly do not understand why someone would want to hop on a golf cart to speed around when putting one foot front of the other takes just a fraction more time and brings such contentment to me.

I said I wouldn't be posting much for a little bit, but obviously, I lied.



Vincent playing baseball makes me think of the song "I play right field; it's important, you know." He loves it and has the best time, but he is thrilled just to be out there. A few of the other little boys are already leading off base and actually getting outs. Vincent, on the other hand, is one of the boys who are busy dumping sand into his glove and grinning as they shout "Hi!" towards the bleachers.

And a quick shot of Simon sleeping. I can't believe how big he is getting!

It is here! Woohoo! My digital SLR is here! I had a really nice closing last week, and the Sony A100 is now mine, complete with a lovely little accessory kit. *happy dance* Now, to see how much I have forgotten and how much I still remember. Methinks I should look for a free online photography course or a book from the library.

I have also enrolled in a course to earn my Eco-broker designation for real estate. I like to cruise through coursework at a good clip, so between studying, playing with the SLR, the kids and work (two more closings in the next 3 weeks to finalize), I am not sure how much I'll be around online.

Are you in the upper Midwest? Come to the Kickapoo Country Fair this weekend. Amy, pull Phil out of the house and come up for a day or weekend. It isn't too far from LaCrosse! Tell Shelley to come; I'd love to meet the baby and see her again. {Okay, enough being pushy...}

We went a few years ago and had a wonderful day. We will be there again this year along with our friends who will be conducting the Approaches to Sustainable Living; Independence 101 workshop. We will also be staying at their cabin in the woods, enjoying a peaceful weekend. We spend time there every year and always have a relaxing time.

Every night, after the kids have been asleep for a while, I will check on them, retuck them in and kiss them. I never quite know how I will find Vincent.

First, he is such a wiggler in his sleep that I have found his feet on his pillow. I have also found him sideways, head against the wall and his feet and legs draped over the edge. He is almost 5 now and we still keep the bedrail up most nights because he can wiggle right out of bed without it.

Then there is the question of what did he stash in his bed this time. He tends to slip out of bed after being tucked in, grab something to play with and fall asleep with it. I'll often find his flashlight clutched in his hand, sometimes with a stack of books underneath him. I have found his wrench and pliers under his pillow on multiple occasions; thanks goodness there were only screws with them once. When Simon was newly born, I found Vincent sound asleep with his paper and glitter St Patrick's Day crown on his head. Last night I found him snuggling with our missing cordless telephone. In the morning, he questioned me accusingly about its whereabouts.

Tonight, I found him sleeping with his lower half inside of his pillowcase like he was in a potato sack race. I so wish I had a camera to take a picture of this one. I called Luis to tell him about it, and we had a good giggle over it. Vincent is such a little goofball.

Things that made me smile today:

~ Abigail's look of concentration and pride as she steered the boat in the river today. She even successfully navigated through some trees without any help from Luis.
~ Simon leaning forward to reach for Luis, a huge grin on his face, when Luis came into his field of view.
~ Irish cream iced mocha
~ Vincent looking like a little surfer dude. He was wearing green abstract print swimming suit, olive green flip flops and a candy necklace with his hair a little long and a heck of a tan (he has Luis's skin tone and tans so easily).
~ spending time with my family with no one else around.
~ Isabella deciding to create a "star chart", essentially a reward chart. She heard about them from a friend. She drew one up, told me how it worked and said it would be for her not waking me up at night. Um, no. She has only woken me up a handful of times in the last 6 months. We decided that it would be for hissy fits. If she goes half a day without a hissy fit, she gets a gold star. She can earn two stars a day. If she gets 14 stars in a row, she'll get a nail polish, and if she gets sixty stars in a row, she'll earn $20 to spend any way she wants at Old Navy. We are 3/4 of the way through day one and hissy fit free. Considering her behaviour as of late, this is a Good Thing.
~ Riding the moped. I always feel about 14 years old again when I get on the Spree. It's fun to ride around town, wind in my hair.
~ My decision that our trip to Great America's homeschool day will be a two day get away. We'll take the kids to Shedd Aquarium, ride the metrarail and free trolley, splash in the fountains, walk the shoreline downtown, stay in a hotel. It should be a great time. I'd like to go to the Art Institute, but they would probably like the aquarium more, and I don't want to squish too much into a day. Maybe I should push Luis for two days downtown plus Great America...

I have decided get rid of our front yard. It is small anyways, only about 20 feet by 10 feet. I'm going to put in a path and landscape it with perennials, herbs and bushes. This will be a long term project, but phase one will start next spring. Maybe I'll do away with the terrace grass too. I always love the look of yards that consist of landscaping like this when I see them in magazines or real life, and there is simply no reason I cannot create this. It will be a work in progress, and I have given myself permission to have it take a few years to get established. My perfectionist tendencies get in the way of things like this sometimes.

About 5 years ago this time of year, I was driving in the country and had to stop because I happened upon a vista that was a living definition of deep summer. That image has been in my head ever since, and I revisit the mental snapshot every so often.

It was hot, so hot that the heat made the air visible as it shimmered in waves. The girls and I were driving along a quiet country road, one of those narrow roads that you drive down the middle of because is really only one and a half lanes. We rounded a corner by an abandoned pasture bordered a three strand barbed wire fence, and nature murmured “summer” in my ear. I stopped the van and just sat there, soaking up the image, storing the mental postcard. The wildflowers were in full bloom; the bright bands of color snaked through long grasses that were bending slightly under the weight of full seed heads. Ancient trees with gnarled branches stood sentinel by a meandering creek. There was no noise from traffic, nothing from the human world hit my ears except the quiet breathing of my napping girls, yet the air was alive with sounds. It actually hummed. There was a cacophony of buzzing and singing from the bees, field crickets and grasshoppers. I sat as long as I could, listening, smelling and watching.

I have been reminded of that afternoon often in the last few days as I have been in the car much more than usual. The country roadsides and wild areas I have been driving past are alive with wide swaths of color – purple and white phlox, orange ditch lilies, white queen anne’s lace, bright yellow rubeckia, dry yellow-brown seed heads on the grasses and about a million shades of green. How to describe summer green? It is the brilliant green of the soybeans, the dry green of the underside of the reaching corn stalks, the yellow green of the grasses and drying oats, the deep green of oaks and maples, the silvery green of birch and aspen all blending together like daubs of paint in an Impressionist painting.

Each season, each moment, in the natural world has a way of reaching out and assaulting my senses. I often say that I favor spring and fall, but there is something amazing about abundance and overload of deep summer. Lay back in your hammock, drink a cool lemonade with fresh mint floating in it, and be part of the natural world. Soak in the sights, sounds and smells that make this time of year unique. I am.

I took a photo essay that other day, before my camera broke, for a website I frequent. I thought I'd share it here. It was supposed to be a day in my life, but thanks to the camera breaking, it is 23 hours in my life.

A Day in My Life

Some of the lighting is wonky because the flash was broken on our camera already before I dropped it. I lightened the pictures up when necessary, but that made them grainy.

I am not a mother who will give my kids the last bite of my food. No, not going to happen.

When I enjoy a meal, I will eat in a way that saves the best bits for last. I like to leave my meal with the Perfect Bite, the bite that combines the best of the dish. It might be a bite of peach pie that combines the fruit and filling with the perfect ratio of crust. It could be a bite of sandwich that has a crusty edge of the bread, lettuce, tomato and the roast beef all in proportion or a few noodles covered in alfredo with a small broccoli floret and a single scallop. It is the bite that sums up the meal or the dessert perfectly. If the entree and sides are both wonderful, I will rotate eating them, leaving a bit of my favorites to end with and mentally plan out the order to eat the final bites in.

Reading this, I sound completely compulsive and absurd, but really I am not. Life is okay if I do not get my Perfect Bite, but I do enjoy finishing with it. The kids had better back off though, because I will not share it. If they ask early enough in the meal, I will share a bit, but that last bite is mine.

{If I hadn't broken my camera, I would have included a picture of the final bite of a dessert here. Use your imagination. Hey, since you are imagining, why don't you picture a piece of lime green Fiestaware (I love that stuff) scattered artfully with pie crust crumbs and just one remaining bite of blueberry pie (the blue would look so nice with the lime of the plate) with a heavy silver fork perched next to the bite. Maybe imagination is a good thing!}

A few entries back, I mentioned that I have a bee in my bonnet for a digital SLR camera. Guess what I did today. Dropped the point and shoot, breaking the LCD screen. I swear it was an accident, really!

Strangely, I am sad. I cannot take any pictures until we do buy the SLR. I will miss how compact the point and shoot was; being able to slip it into my pocket or the sling was nice. We had also intended to give it to Abigail once we bought the SLR. Her camera takes awful pictures, even accounting for her age. Now, we cannot do that.

The bigger issue is that I am afraid. It has been so many years since I took pictures with a real camera. Seriously, it has been close to two decades. I was just a kid last time I played around with lenses, light readings and film speed. What if I do not remember how?

What if we chose the wrong camera? The digital SLR cameras cost quite a little chunk of change. Can I be certain I'm getting the best camera for me money? I have it narrowed down to three choices (I think), but deciding will be hard.

What if my pictures are terrible? I am scared that something that has always brought me joy will now bring stress and disappointment.

Fear. Joy. Sadness. Who could have guessed that dropping a little two inch by three inch gadget could trigger so many emotions?

A few weeks ago, I started writing an entry that took on a life of its own. Every once in a while, that happens. I start writing about one thing and before I know it, the entry morphs into something completely unintended. This one was about my sister, and I hesitated to post it because I know she reads my blog. I saved a copy of it, and skipped posting an entry that day.

Today I was talking with Luis about something altogether different when I thought again of that unposted entry. I realized I was being stupid. Why on earth would I not want my sister to know the things I wrote about? It was deeply personal, but I would have posted it without a second thought had I not known that she reads this blog. If I am able to tell the internet world that I love my sister and am proud of her, I should be able to tell her.

I love you, Squirt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My relationship with my sister has evolved over the years. When we were kids, I’m certain she thought I hated her. I was cruel to her in the way children and siblings are to each other. To be honest, I was jealous of her. She is naturally athletic, coordinated and socially at ease, all things I never have been. In school, I saw her interacting easily with her peers and I had to bear the gym teacher’s constant comments, things like “Your sister did 100 sit-ups in the (presidential fitness) test; how many will you do?” Looking back, I realize that she probably had crosses to bear of her own with following me academically, but I never thought about that back then.

With a three year age difference and four years between us in school, we have often been in different stages of life. I was in college when she was in high school. When I was a newlywed and young mother, she was in college herself and doing internships. In the last few years, we are finally in similar places – working, married, home owners, settling in to our community. In short, adults.

Our relationship has matured along with us. My sister is a valued friend. I enjoy spending time with her, and I hope she enjoys being around me too. She is still athletic, coordinated and more social than I am, but I am at peace with that. I know my talents lie elsewhere, and I am thankful she is around to teach my children to bump a volleyball. I am proud to call her my sister. She helps people both in her occupation as a therapist and in her business. She uses that outgoing, social manner to make a difference in people’s lives and for the earth.

I really love the adult she has become and I am so thankful she is in my life.

My mother recently invited me to hear a guest speaker at her library. She thought the speaker, John Francis, was someone I would enjoy hearing. After she told me about him, I agreed with her, but I was unable to go that evening. Mom went to his lecture, and she bought a copy of his book, which she lent to me this week. I started reading it earlier today.

Mr. Francis lives on the coast in California. He was deeply affected by an oil spill in the early '70s, and he made a decision to stop using transportation methods that rely upon petroleum. Instead, he began walking everywhere. It started out with only one day, but it ended up being for twenty-two years. Along the way, he decided to stop talking, again just for one day. He remained silent for seventeen years.

Have you ever spent a silent day? I actually have. It is an experience that opens oneself to the world around.

Back in college, before getting married, I would have many days where I'd be driving home from school and realize that I hadn't spoken with anyone all day. I always took morning and early afternoon classes, so I would be up and gone before my mother. If my sister was at our father's home, I often would not talk before leaving the house. Being a shy person, I didn't make friends in many of my classes until my degree program started in my junior year. I would sit silently though lectures, enjoy my lunch in peace in the Union or the upstairs lounge in the Educational Sciences building, working on the Daily Cardinal crossword puzzle. I listened to others talk as I walked from class to class or waited for lectures to start. Every once in a while, schedules would work out in a way that I didn't connect with my family or Luis, and I ended up not talking at all in a day.

I enjoyed being alone with my thoughts. I was more aware of the world when I was silent. Don't get me wrong, talking with a friend during a walk is enjoyable. However, you don't notice as many things as you do when you are silent. The sights, sounds and texture of the world are different when you interact with it quietly. It is like the difference between snapping a picture and taking a photograph. The latter requires you to slow down and take more notice of the subject and surroundings.

Nowadays, I have four children clamoring for my attention and responses during the day and a career that sometimes glues a cell phone to my ear. I occasionally long for those silent days. I imagine that is part of the reason I enjoy the quiet alone hours after the kids are in bed. This blog is even part of that quiet. It is a conversation I can have without any spoken words, a place for me to share thoughts that I never would or could share verbally.

I wonder if the children are old enough to spend part of the day in silence? I suspect Vincent would still jabber away, but I think the girls could do it for a couple of hours. It could be interesting to open up their eyes to a different facet of the world around them.

We had such fun at The Reunion!
The little electric CitiCar is a hoot! I swear there are golf carts larger than it is. Can you imagine driving this around the city? Our friends found it for sale last year, brought it home and have been fixing it up with help from other friends. It will soon be making regular trips to our town with our friends behind the wheel.

Every year, there is a project to be completed. In previous years, it has been installing a composting toilet, building an arbor, putting up the solar shower. The project for the year was putting up an array for recharging the battery of the CitiCar using solar power. It will also be backup for the electrical systems in the strawbale greenhouse, where some of the only paypaya trees in Wisconsin currently grow.

The kids had a great time catching up with friends they only get to see once a year. Even though some of them hadn't seen each other in about 360 days, they were all running around together playing within about 30 seconds of arrival.

We always picnic at a park in the woods near our friends' home. The kids play bumper cars on the tire swings, jump over the little creek and whack at a pinata. To our eternal amusement, the candy always is collected in old Johnny Walker Black Label bags. Adults lounge around, play frisbee or (new this year) horseshoes, swing on the bench swing and nap in the shade.

Not for the faint of heart is the outdoor shower heated by the sun. As you can see, strategic towel placement may be necessary when taking a solar shower, but it works and is quite fun. It is a refreshing way to clean off during a summer day. If you have never taken a shower outside, try it sometime. There is nothing quite like it. Pulling the handle unleashes the light rain to sluice off dirt and sweat on a hot day as you look out onto the vivid summer world and hear the birds in the distance. I wonder what the neighbors would say if we installed on in our back yard?

All from scratch, the food is fresh and delicious. Fresh garden salads, fluffy pancakes, delicious bread, fresh cinnamon rolls, just picked raspberries and more satisfied our hunger and tasted all the better for the conversations we enjoyed while eating them. Lisa has a true gift for desserts and this years lemon-raspberry trifle and chocolate torte were no exception, though the classic mocha cake was missed. Check out her new cookbook for inspiration! Speaking of cookbooks, this is another good one. One of our Reunion friends has recipes in it and introduced us to it a few years back.

The farm setting is beautiful with abundant flowers and greenery. There are large beds of perennial flowers mixed in with herbs, and the vegetable gardens spread out on either side of the raspberry patch. This year, the squash and gourd vines were taking over thanks to a five year old's enthusiasm while planting. It speaks volumes about our friends that instead of ripping out the excess vines spreading everywhere, they simply built structures to hold them and improvised twine supports to take them over the sidewalk.


Imagine chatting with old and new friends in the outdoor cantina after a wonderful dinner, sipping blackberry sangria and listening to live music played by a local quartet as night settles, the fireflies dance and lightening flashes in the distance. It was simple perfection that is not simple to pull off. I love my friends for taking the energy and time to organize this every year.

Every year in the beginning of July, an eclectic group of people from around the nation makes the journey to a small farmette in Wisconsin. For a few precious days, they live as a community. The children run free under the watchful eye of many adults. Meals are cooked communally with foods fresh from the large gardens and eaten in the open air cantina. Dishes are washed by people as they catch up on each others lives over the past year or get to know one another for the first time. One can enjoy a cup of coffee and conversation in the greenhouse, help install a composting toilet or refurbish an old electric CitiCar, build a hay bale igloo, shoot water guns and participate in a lively discussion on religion, politics or the environment all in the same day. Lay back in the grass under the trees while the kids play on the tire swing or in the creek or go pick blackberries to compliment the picnic in the woods. Clean off in the solar shower, just don't mind the fact the enclosure only has three and half sides. Hey, a towel hanging in the opening works pretty well. Sleep in a tent, a camper, a cot in the greenhouse or even, occasionally, a bed.

It is called The Reunion, and it is as idyllic as it sounds. It is the most relaxing vacation we take every year. I adore our dear friends for including us in the handpicked group of people they invite every year and for opening their home and their lives to the rest of us.

A glimpse of Isabella and Vincent's personalities



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Is it bizarre that I was outside repotting one of my succulent plants at 10:30 this evening?

I crave alone time. As an introvert, I need it to revitalize myself. With Simon being attached to me so much of the day, my only real chance for time alone happens when he is sleeping. Consequently, even when I am so tired that my eyes are burning, I will stay up doing things that I enjoy. I'll often water my garden at 10 o'clock in the evening, bake something once everyone is asleep or stay on the computer for far too long. My body may be exhausted, but my soul is invigorated during these quiet, contemplative hours.

I had a fairly horrendous day, thanks to a migraine I really wanted to sleep through when I had two real estate transactions I absolutely had to work today or they would be in jeopardy, so I need to focus on some positive things. It is time for another Things That Made Me Smile Today:

~ mango peach salsa
~ Vincent riding his bike without training wheels for the first time
~ Simon giggling while playing with Luis
~ an abundance of developing fruit on my tomato plants
~ hugging my husband
~ Abigail showing me that a boy from summer school (who has sent her two "check yes or no" notes) gave her his address
~ baby coos
~ Isabella spontaneously reading things to me
~ teeny, super sweet strawberries on our alpine plants

She stood over the pool in her chocolate and fuchsia swimming suit, poised on the front of the diving blocks, her toes curled around the edge. She clutched the lime green noodle around her middle as she looked down at her teacher beckoning her to jump. She shook her head and climbed down, shoulders slumped in disappointment.

She jumped off the side of the pool into the water and dunked her head under at her teacher's encouragement. Climbing on top of four kick boards, she found the courage to leap. Emboldened by this, she climbed onto eight kick boards. Taking a deep breathe, and with her teacher's coaxing, she jumped into the cool, deep water.

She eyed the blocks again and climbed up. Holding on tight to the noodle and to a second teacher's hand, she bent down to jump. Once. She straightened back up. Twice. No go. Her eyes fearful, she glanced over her shoulder at those of us watching her, smiling our encouragement. Taking a deep breathe and squaring her shoulders, she bent down again and took flight.

I am so proud of you for tackling your fear, my honey child!

When I was in eighth grade, my school received a grant to host a mini-museum. Our art teacher selected a photography exhibit, taking old black and white prints from a local bank and shooting the same locations and people in the current time. I was one of the principle photographers, and I was selected to be the curator for the museum exhibit. So began my love of black and white photography.

My parents supported my growing love for photography by purchasing a good starter camera for me, one recommended specifically by my art teacher. I was thrilled beyond words at their unspoken encouragement. However, photography was an expensive habit for a young teen, at least in the days before digital imagery. Film costs and developing added up. I knew our family wasn't wealthy, so I cut back on the number of images I shot. If our high school had offered a photography course, I would have taken it. It was a small school, though, and art classes meant all art media, at least for a freshman. I had no interest in drawing, painting or sculpture, so I never signed up for an art class. My parents divorced, and I stopped taking pictures all together. I didn't think my mom could afford to help me support my hobby, and though I was working, my money was spent on my car, insurance and the like.

Years passed, and I was busy being a college student, wife and then mother to three kids in less than five years. I still liked to compose an interesting shot, and digital made it easier, but I was so busy caring for everyone else that my hobbies and interests still fell to the wayside. I have been slowly getting back into photography for the last few years, and I feel the old passion and enjoyment returning with a vengeance finally. I've got a bee in my bonnet for a digital SLR camera; point and shoot just isn't cutting it anymore. The digital SLR has made it onto our priority purchase list, and I am excited.

It feels good to nurture something that is just for me again.

Posting this picture for Darla. This is the one I was talking about today:



Photoshop is so fun!

It is raining tonight, one of those steady, heavy, drenching rains that falls straight down from the clouds with no wind to blow it through the open windows. The parched summer earth is soaking it up. It's a Summer Solstice gift from the elements - streaks of fire occasionally lighting up the sky as water falling from air merges with earth to nourish the growing summer bounty.

I am sitting here listening to it fall, hearing it splatter off leaves, rooftops and pavement. I should go to bed so that I can follow Langston Hughes' advice and let the rain be my lullaby:

Let the rain kiss you.
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops.
Let the rain sing you a lullaby.
           ~ Langston Hughes

Over the course of my life, I have used about 6 different brands of unscented laundry detergent. I have hung clothing out to dry in the country, in the city and in small towns. My laundry has flapped in stiff breezes and hung limply on calm days. It has baked quickly in the heat of a July afternoon and spent all day getting dry in April or October.

Yet no matter what the weather, the location or the washing method, one thing has remained constant over all these years. The smell. How is it possible that the smell of line dried laundry is always the same? Sunshine is somehow captured in the fibers of the fabric, and try as they might, scientists can never duplicate it. The unique scent is one of the simple joys of living.

Let dreams take flight,
A flight of fantasy.
Through the day, the night,
Such golden majesty.
            ~ Todd A Wentworth

There is something magical about seeing these massive, fragile creatures take to the air. Hold your breathe as you listen to the dragon's roar unleashing the fire that floats them overhead. Watch them shrink as the currents carry them impossibly high, then grow larger again as they return to skim the tree tops.

Life is better when it is full of activity and adventure, but how much can one person do? That is the question I am pondering these days.

Here is my current recipe for life:

Mix together summer school, daily swimming lessons, softball, baseball and girl scouts. Add in homeschooling, playgroup and storytime. Throw in a dash of doctor, chiropractor and dentist appointments. Stir that all together with working 20-30 hours a week and a spouse who is working 60-70 hours a week. Don't forget to sprinkle with housework, cooking, gardening, laundry and general errands. Bake on high for as long as it takes to nurse the baby through his growth spurt. Eat with gusto if you can find a spare moment.

Is it any wonder I am feeling like an overstretched rubber band?

I've been taking new photos of my sweet peas

How did I never notice how alike Abigail and Isabella look?

When we first bought our home, six years ago already, I always gardened with gloves on. The feeling of dirt on my hands irritated me. Dry dirt had a raspy feel, too hard and too crumbly. Damp dirt had a spongy feel, too moist and too clingy. Working in the earth without gloves left my hands feeling dry and rough.

I realized today that I have not been reaching for my gloves as often over the past few years. More and more, I dig into the garden with bare skin, reveling in the textures I encounter. I enjoy the connection to the earth as I work in it. The feeling of the gloves is irritating when I do put them on, and I discard them quickly.

My fingertips may be stained green, my nails may be broken, rough, and lined with black rims of dirt, but my senses have expanded and my enjoyment of the garden has grown. Like with knitting, it is now the process of gardening that I enjoy more than the product.

I have forged a deeper relationship with the natural world as the years have passed, becoming quietly passionate about protecting the earth and her resources as time has gone by. Perhaps there is a connection between the dirt on my skin and the passion in my soul.

I was washing dishes the other day, and instead of gazing out the window or talking with the kids, I started reading the back of the dishwashing liquid bottle.

If every household in the U.S. replaced just one 25 oz. bottle of petroleum based dishwashing liquid with our vegetable based product, we could save 81,000 barrels of oil, enough to heat and cool 6,800 U.S. homes for a year! ~ from the back of the Seventh Generation dishwashing liquid

What a small thing to do, but the results can be enormous. There are so many small steps that we can take in our daily lives, things that are painless for us, yet benefit the earth greatly.

It's not hard to grab a rag instead of a paper towel to wipe up a spill. Throwing leftover salad or rice into a compost bucket instead of the trash takes me only a few extra steps. Walking from one end of a shopping center to the other instead of driving takes only a little of my energy and time.

Signing up for online billing for the electric company or mortgage company saves me time in the long run and it saves all the paper and resources necessary to transport a paper bill to my door. Giving away on Freecycle something I no longer need makes me feel good, helps someone else, saves landfill space for the item I might have thrown away and saves the resources for creating a second item for the other person to purchase.

Put washable, reusable covers on a swiffer or dustmop. Use both sides of a sheet of paper. Borrow books from the library or share ones in your collection with friends.

All are small things that aren't hard to do, but the benefits can be huge if we all do them. What small thing do you do that others might not?

I don't want my children to be the people who refuse to touch a worm or a fish when they go fishing. We went camping yesterday, and the campground has a 60 acre private lake well stocked with fish. Naturally we took them fishing. Vincent has only a weight and bobber on his pole, but the girls get hooks. Since we actually wanted them the catch fish, Luis put live bait on their hooks.

He had run up to the camper to get something when Abigail lost her worm. She asked me to rebait it, but seeing as how I am one of those people who will not touch a worm or fish, I couldn't. I want to be able to touch them, but I have a major mental issue with it going back to junior high, and I cannot do it. No way.

However, if I have any hope of getting the kids to touch the worms, I can't let them know this. I told her it was time she learned to bait her hook and that I would instruct her how. Pretty tricky, I thought.

She got out the worm, broke it in half, and poked the hook through it once. Luis always likes the hook to be through the worm in two places, so I was telling her to poke the hook though again, but she wasn't understanding how. I actually grabbed the worm to show her how to position it to put the hook though again. I touched a worm. This is momentous.

Oh, the things we will do for out kids.

She grasped the concept and finished baiting her hook herself. She proceeded to do so for all of yesterday and today, and Luis taught her how to take her own fish off the hook too. Thanks to catching about 15 fish between yesterday and today, she now loves fishing and can't wait to go again. Maybe I can get her to bait my hook next time.

Things that made me smile today:

~ Simon doing the nursing in his sleep mouth movement as he napped in my arms
~ Luis picking strawberries
~ Isabella holding my hand as we walked to the park
~ Rhubarb dream bars
~ Abigail shimmying up a tree, then declaring it harder to climb than the one at home
~ Vincent decked out for his role as the dragon in Lion King (yes, the dragon) with glittery makeup around his eyes and cheeks and his hair funky with hairspray

Tonight's production of the Lion King was one of those plays that makes you know what being a parent is all about.

Homeschool art always end the spring semester with a play. The costumes are handmade, the children write the dialogue (if any) and choreograph it. This year, Isabella and Vincent's class were the actors, making costumes and doing choreography. Abigail's class was the orchestra, making drums and working on rhythms.

Abigail planned her outfit today carefully - a vaguely African print dress - to coordinate with the theme of the play. Isabella, playing Nala, requested a ponytail so her ears would stay in better and so that her hair would be out of her makeup. Vincent, with the aforementioned role of the dragon, bubbled over with excitement and anticipation.

The scene - the Swiss bandshell at a local park. Bench seating for probably a couple of hundred people is occupied by about 30 parents, grandparents, siblings and friends. A beautiful early summer evening.

The play - 8 kids from ages 9 through 14 seated along with upper stage sides, beating colorful handcrafted drums in an attempt at coordinating with a CD of music from the Lion King. About 8 more kids from ages 4 through 8 in cardboard, paper mache, cloth and duct tape painted costumes. The kind of costumes that make you tip your head and whisper to your spouse "What animal is that?" The younger children marched, danced and stood on the stage to act out the roles. There were no speaking parts, just interpretive movement and dance, performed by children whose faces were serious with the effort of concentrating on their parts while glowing with joy and pride.

It was a night for applause and accolades as well as quiet laughter and secret smiles over the costumes and acting. Outer pride mixed with a little inner sadness over the speedy passage of the years.

Foods do taste best when they go straight from the garden to the table

Shortcake still slightly warm from the oven. Vanilla sweetened whipped cream. Strawberries that were picked only 5 hours earlier. Thank you to whomever invented the strawberry shortcake.

Sometimes the universe has to smack me upside the head with a two by four to open my eyes. I should be sporting a goose egg from such a smack right now.

Simon despises the car. Trips in the car are never fun occasions for him, and long trips are torture. A homeopathic for motion sickness helps some, but it wasn't the cure-all I had hoped. I had to drive an hour yesterday, and I had been dreading it. Simon had not been himself for much of the week - irritable, grumpy, unusually attached. Deep inside, I knew this car ride would be especially wretched. It was.

We made it 20 minutes before he started crying. He nursed, calmed down, and we set off on our way. We made it a half mile. He became hysterical. He would not nurse; changing a diaper or snuggling made no difference. I spent 15 minutes trying to calm him without success.

I looked out the window, frazzled and desperate, and had a moment of clarity. We were one building away from a chiropractor. It was such a profound moment that there should have been a single ray of sunshine shining on the building, highlighting it.

The kids and I marched over.

"Do you adjust infants? Can you fit us in right now?"

I talked with the chiropractor and felt comfortable with him, his philosophy and his adjustment style. I actually liked him better than any chiropractor I have found since our friend moved away. He adjusted Simon, gave me his home telephone number in case we had any problems over the weekend, and we went on our way.

Simon made it all the way to my mother's without crying. He actually cooed. Cooed. In the car.

I frequently suggest chiropractic care for other people's children. Luis and I have been saying for over a month that we needed to get Simon adjusted, but we kept putting it off.

The universe decided to smack me into action.

I feel old tonight.

Tomorrow we are attending a high school graduation party of a terrific young man. I first met Cody when he was a week old and his parents were talking with mine about purchasing some land from us. How can he be graduating high school already? Wasn't it just last year that he was insisting on wearing his Elmo shirt two days in a row? Surely it was just last summer that I would babysit, and Cody and I would take walks on the pea graveled county road with his younger sister, stepping into the long grass every time a car went by.

Thirty three doesn't seem very old most days, but when I look back at all the years that have flown by since I first met that wiggly little baby who is now a gracious young man, I feel old.

What will I feel like when it is my own children who are on the cusp of adulthood?

Vincent is Luis reborn. Luis has a knack for doing anything after just watching it. Vincent inherited it. Vincent also has problem solving skills beyond the normal scope of a four year old.

He started putting up our pop-up camper today. Correctly. If I had come out five minutes later, I have no doubt I would have seen the top raised all the way and the bed partially out. He had to open up the door to get out the crank necessary to put it up. That door was locked, and the only key was with Luis all day. How does a four year old pick a lock?

After putting the camper back to rights, I noticed the garage door was open. It's an old fashioned one without an opener, but he's been able to open it since he was 3. The air pump was out and correctly attached to the fully inflated wheel of his bicycle.

He had been outside alone for a total of 10 minutes.

Can you imagine what he could do in a half an hour?

Summer means bare feet running through the grass.

It means dirty soles, stubbed toes and skinned knees.

Sandals are cast off, strewn around the yard, bright spots of color like flowers amidst the green of the grass.

Run quickly across the scorching pavement to feel the cool softness of the grass on your feet. Do that hop-run as you encounter the thistle papa missed.

Dip your toes in the wading pool, letting the water envelope your feet and lap at your ankles. Stomp in a puddle after an afternoon rain, sending droplets everywhere.

Look out for the rocks hiding in the yard and walk carefully over the mulch. Bandages tattoo small toes caked in dirt, and nails stay rimmed in black even after being washed.

Bare feet have returned to our neighborhood.

Welcome Summer!

Too often we have come to the end of the season and wondered to ourselves "where did it go?" We have driven by the same parks for years and each time commented that we need to stop in there someday. This year, it is someday.

A week ago, when driving by Donald Park and saying yet again that we needed to stop there, we finally turned the car around and stopped there. We then spent the next 90 minutes hiking the trail through the woods and open land. Luis and I talked about things that we hadn't made the time to talk about lately, the kids ran ahead, dawdled behind and threw pieces of grass into the Mount Vernon Creek. Simon looked in wonder at the sky and then napped in the sling.

We made the decision that for the rest of the summer and fall, we will hike together as a family at least once a week.

Today we visited New Glarus Woods state park. We parked the car in nearby New Glarus, then hiked the path over to the park. We watched red wing blackbirds and swallows dive in the prairie and listened to woodpeckers in the woods. At the ranger house, we met the ranger, who is also a non-Christian homeschooler. After an interesting conversation with him, we invited his family to join our homeschool group. We ate our lunch sitting on rocks and found a bench at the top of a hill to sit upon and talk. Abigail took pictures with her camera, and Isabella bounced down hills. Vincent ran down the path, arms flying out the side and his voice filled with joy as he spotted each marker, and Simon alternately napped and stared wide-eyed at the sun-dappled canopy of leaves as he hung out in the mei tai.

The guidebook for the trail was unique. Instead of pointing out various flora and fauna, it posed philosophical question about man's role in the natural world. There were discussion points, things to think about, quotes from people like John Muir and poetry. Much of it was over the children's level of thinking, but Abigail and Isabella did absorb some of it. It gave interesting food for thought.

Four miles and over three hours of living in the moment. It was time well spent.

Organic. It's a buzz word. What does it mean? It means that a food was grown without the use of certain chemicals or pesticides or the fabric material was grown and processed without certain things. That's all.

Organic does not mean healthier for the person eating the food or wearing the shirt. It does not mean that fewer resources were consumed in the making, transport and packaging of the item. It does not mean that the workers who picked the tomato were given a living wage.

I know that our local Sugar River Dairy yogurt is created with milk from a few herds of chemical-free local cows. It's not certified organic, but I know a lot more about it than I do about where Stoneyfield yogurt comes from.

I don't care if the person whom I buy my sweet corn from at the local farmer's market is certified organic because I can talk with her and find out how she grows her corn. I can go pick strawberries and build a relationship of trust the with the grower, knowing first hand how she cares for her plants. I can visit the farm where our beef comes from and see for myself how the cows are pastured and treated. By raising our chickens, I know exactly how our egg layers and meat birds were raised.

I'll take locally grown items over certified organic any day. Certified organic foods from the grocery store don't let me build a community with my purchases. By shopping locally, my dollars stay within our community, my relationships in the area grow and I save the resources it took to transport that strawberry from a continent away.

Nothing is better than the strawberry or tomato that only makes the 20' trip from the garden to our kitchen. Nothing else tastes that good or makes me feel as satisfied. But since that isn't an option for all foods thanks to a city yard, I'm happy to also shop local and so thankful for all the choices I have for non-certified organic foods locally.

Please keep supporting your local food vendors. Help the family farm evolve and survive in a new agricultural world.

Quick update on the last 18 months in case anyone is actually out there reading this. Life has changed a lot

Came back from sister's wedding in Mexico. Fabulous trip. The kids still ask weekly when we can go back.

Clearance sale for Peanut Butter Kisses about two weeks later. It was a quick decision that I'd been mulling over for a while.

About three weeks after deciding to shut down PBK, I decided to get my real estate sales license. Signed up for the class online and studied like crazy for three weeks. Took my test, passed on the first try and joined a local firm two blocks away from my home. I love working as a realtor! It's got all the flexibility I need, and with a cell phone and internet connection, I can do much of my work from anywhere.

Fast forward to summer '06. Decided to try for a fourth baby. Baby was conceived and I had a great pregnancy. I stayed active and watched what I ate, gaining only 20 lbs. Since I started off the pregnancy with extra weight, I wanted to limit my gain to 15-25 lbs.

January '07. Luis is laid off from construction for 1-6 weeks according to his company. We impulsively (long story) take up the carpet in our upstairs hall, living room and sitting room. Luis refinishes the hardwood floors. They look fabulous.

He finishes that and takes his real estate sales course. He passes his test and joins my firm. The construction company extends the layoff to 8 weeks, then 10. He's not going back.

March '07. Simon is born on Abigail's birthday. It was a wonderful, intense homebirth. Simon is amazing and we are so happy to have him with us. Our family is now complete in my opinion.

I was at a lecture at our local arts center recently. The subject was a poet, Lorrine Niedecker. I'd never heard of her before the lecture, but it was quite interesting. Her poetry was radically different from what I normally read; it was modern, sometimes minimalist, free-form poetry. I couldn't always understand what the point of the poem was or what the subject was, but still it struck me on a deeply emotional level. I found it fascinating how much emotion it evoked even though I couldn't understand it.

After the lecture, there was reception with the lecturer in the gallery. I found myself talking with the lecturer, and he asked if I was a writer. It's a logical question to ask someone who attends a lecture on a (nowadays) obscure poet. I wasn't quite sure how to answer; I said not really. I don't write poetry; I don't write books or articles. I have never been published and I know I never will be. Yet I couldn't simply answer his question with a no. I love the written word. I enjoy composing my thoughts and putting them down onto paper or the computer screen. I mull things over until the words overflow and must be written out. I like to take the time to find the right word, the perfect phrase.

No, I'm not a writer. Yes, I am a writer. Both would have been correct answers to that simple question, yet neither would have conveyed the full story. Verbal communication being a weak point for me, I settled for an answer that was less honest and less complete than either of these would have been.

The simple question he asked me lead me to come back to this blog that I abandoned nearly two years ago. I enjoy writing down my thoughts. I hope I will continue to do so rather than abandon this blog again.

My heart aches for the people of the Gulf Coast whose lives have been radically altered by Hurricane Katrina. However, as I read news stories about the event, one statement in many different articles keeps catching my eye. People who stayed to live out the hurricane say that the hurricane passed, things seemed like they would be all right, but then the levees broke and the worst devastation came.

The worst devastation came not from nature, not from the storm, but from man's interference with the natural order of things, from our desire to make homes and cities in places that they have no business being. We have the scientific knowledge to do things like cloning, but the moral implications are tremendous. We have the knowledge of how to make areas best suited for low-density living accommodate large urban and suburban communities, but we need to consider the not only the environmental but also the moral implications. Is it right to invest millions or billions of dollars of construction, infrastructure and consumer goods in an area that is routinely devastated by nature? If the areas didn't have a false sense of security from the leevees, would there be the large cities and urban environments that suffer greater devastation from the environment (devastation in the loss of life as well as loss of property and infrastructure that will need to be rebuilt)?

Part of me feels cruel for voicing these thoughts. I do not blame these people for their suffering. I do believe that the army corp of engineers felt it was doing good with the levee system and the work they did over the last century restucturing the Mississippi River (that is a subject that fascinates and horrifies me). However what are the long term ramifications? Is it right for us to attempt to control our environment to a minute degree, then be surprised and horrified when nature throws off these shackles?

I've finally clarified my thoughts on having a fourth child. I want another child. I do feel that there is another member of our family that should be here. I do not want another baby. I have no desire to be pregnant again, give birth again, breastfeed for another 3 years, change diapers for another 2 years. I'm enjoying being at a different stage of life, one where we can drop all the kids of with grandparents for all afternoon while Luis and I go off by ourselves, one where I can work on the computer or sew for an hour without having to supervise a toddler closely, one where I know that I'm on the tail end of my breastfeeding career.

Unfortunately, you can't get a child without a baby unless you adopt, which is something we've never felt called to do and is something I doubt we'd do.

So, even though I've clarified my thoughts, and after discussing it depth with Luis found out he feels similarly, we are no closer to deciding if we should try for number 4 than we were last spring.

Over the last few years, Luis and I have been changing the way we eat. It started with gardening. Eating vegetables or tomatoes picked fresh in the garden that day is such a delicious way to live. Then Luis saw "The Meatrix" and was finally ready to purchase natural beef rather than support factory farming. We purchased some laying chickens for fresh eggs daily. In the last year, our push has been to eat more local foods and more seasonal foods. Fruits and vegetables purchased from a farm stand or picked ourselves at local U-Pick places put the taste of store bought foods to shame. We will not purchase strawberries, watermelon or peaches from a supermarket anymore. As part of our push to eat local and support small businesses, we decided to stop eating at fast food and chain restuarants. Part of this decision had to do with our other eating changes as well. Once you develop a taste for fresh foods, fast food and chain restuaurant foods don't taste nearly as good as they used to. We'd end up feeling sick to our stomachs and generally ugh if we ate fast food, regardless of which brand. This summer, we decided to raise a flock of meat chickens. I've missed the flavor of chicken, but have a hard time spending $2+ a lb for naturally and humanely rasied stuff. They are growing right now, and we will be butchering them in fall.

It's been a series of small changes, but what a difference each has made, both in the way we live and the way we enjoy our food. Not eating fast food and selecting small businesses to support instead means we travel differently. We enjoy more of each town we visit, meet people and learn more about the community than we would if we just picked up some fast food burgers. We travel at a different pace; even if we are just passing through a town, we are forced to drive through it to find that little diner or restuarant, thereby seeing more of the town and learning more about it. It makes our trips feel more relaxed; we take longer for lunch and enjoy it more. Such a small change makes such a big difference. We are more apt to stop in at a farmer's market for quick snack on a Saturday morning. We are more likely to try regional specialties. Our relationship with our food has changed too. We value each steak, roast and hamburger more when we know the farmer who raised the cow we eat. We savor the flavor of the tomatoes, broccoli and spinach more when we know how much work we did growing, harvesting and storing it.

Life is better when we can slow down, taking the time to appreciate and savor every flavor that comes our way. Supporting the independent business and regional differences, taking time to see more than just the highway, connecting with our foods and communities, these are Good Things.

So I heard on NPR today that studies have shown that Echinacea does not work to prevent colds. They interviewed some doctors about these studies and all the doctors were saying how some people will still take Echinacea because they have given themselves the mental illusion of Echinacea working. The medical professionals were extremely condescending. Before I will believe three scientific studies over centuries of folk wisdom, I want to know what form of Echinacea the subjects were given and a few more details about the studies. Excuse me for not ditching my herbals in favor of allopathic meds just because a scientific study says I should.

Abigail has been at my ILs since Sunday. We were in there for dinner and I asked her if she'd like to spend the night. She did and asked MIL, who of course was thrilled. Luis and I told her if she wanted to spend a second night, she could. She called yesterday and asked to spend a second night. They went to the zoo and out to eat yesterday, and I'm sure she has been having a great time. Luis is picking her up after work today. I told her last night that if she wanted to spend a third night, just let me know, but she didn't.

We have a set of stores in southwestern WI called Bargin Nook. They are a charity store, but the interesting thing about them is that Lands' End donates their unsellable stuff there. Things that have been returned, maybe things that have small tears or monograms. Old catalog lines or items from the outlets that haven't sold. Things like that. I stopped by the closest one yesterday looking for a winter coat for Isabella and some backpacks. The big LE warehouse sale is this week, and these were the main things the kids needed. I figured if I could get them at the Bargin Nook 20 minutes away, I wouldn't have to drive an hour to the warehouse sale. I found Isabella a Squall Parka, a backpack for each girl, a shirt for Abigail and a pair of water shoes for Vincent. Every thing was LE; everything was in perfect condition. The grand total? $29. Woohoo! I adore bargins like that. The kids still need some snow pants, but I'm not driving all the way to Dodgeville just for these.

BTW, I have no idea why there is this huge blank gap under my last post lately. I haven't changed my template or anything. It's really strange and bugging the beejeeebees out of me.

It was a hot one here today. The temps were in the upper 90s easily. We spent the day at the lake of a nearby state park with friends. It was a glorious day to be at the lake. The wind is always zippy up there, and the water felt wonderful. We played for hours, and Abigial discovered the joy of being tossed up into the air by the papas, then splashing down into the water. Unfortunately I wasn't as vigilant with the sunscreen as I thought I was, and I'm paying the price. My back is rosy and my shoulders are a bit sensitive. I did better on the kids thankfully; Vincent is fine and Abigail and Isabella only have rosy cheeks.

I'm still plugging away on the stole for my sister. There are about 6 weeks until the wedding, and I have about 125 rows to go. If I do about 8 rows a day, I can have it done in less than 3 weeks. Lace is not very fun, nor is knitting alpaca in the heat of summer. I wish I'd been more diligent last spring!

I just finished a very interesting book. It was called Braving Home, and it is about people whose homes are in tenous or unusual places, but who like it there and have no desire to leave. It was fascinating and many parts of it resonated deeply with me.