Cameron's Eagle Ceremony

We held Cameron's Eagle Ceremony yesterday afternoon and there were only two minor glitches. I think that's incredible because we didn't rehearse beforehand. About a week ago, I gave the major players a copy of the script with their parts highlighted but we didn't do a run-through before the real thing.

I think the reason it went off so well without the rehearsal is because Cameron is the twelfth Eagle Scout from our troop; four ceremonies held in the past eighteen months. I guess you could say that they've rehearsed four times for Cameron's!



Not quite sure why the boys are looking so grim. Richelle must have caught them just at the wrong moment. Something I never thought of until the Scoutmaster mentioned it was that Nick and Cameron are the only brother Eagle Scouts in the troop. That got us to thinking about how many brothers are Eagles in our district and came up with only three other families. The rank of Eagle is elite anyway so having two in one family is pretty special.



Mike and I with Cameron getting ready for the presentation of the mother's and father's pins and of Cameron's Eagle pin. Cameron has just taken the Oath of Eagle.



The Scoutmaster and Assistant Scoutmaster with nine of the twelve Eagle Scouts from the troop. Nick is second from left in front row, Cameron is third from right in back.

Our troop tends to have boys earn Eagle in bunches. One earned his in 2002, two earned theirs in 2003, three in 2006, one in 2007, and two in 2008. To finish the roll call, there was one in 1999, one in 1997, and one in 1995. It'll be a couple of years before we have another one but there are three boys in reach of Eagle in that time frame.

I have more pictures coming and I'll post them when I get them.

Teamwork pays off

Back in September, Richelle joined a FIRST Lego League team and I was catapulted into becoming a coach through no desire of my own.

Well, our team of five girls worked hard on learning enough about computers to run the programing software, researching a climate-related problem in our area and the solutions used to combat it, finding another area in the world with the same problem and what their solution is and coming up with a way to present their information to others. The final part of the project was to come up with an innovative solution but they didn't get that part done. They also problem-solved how to earn the most points off the board by completing pre-set missions with the Lego robot they had programmed.

They also learned about teamwork, stress management, working on their own with only guidance from adults, time management, and understanding gracious professionalism and friendly competition.

Saturday was our qualifying tournament. There were supposed to be thirteen teams competing from Klammath Falls area, Coos Bay area, Roseburg area, and the Eugene area and one from as far away as Bly but because of the inclement weather there were only eight.

The teams are scored in four areas: teamwork, technical, the project, and the missions. The scores are tallied and trophies awarded at the end of the competition but no one except the judges and Tournament Director know what the scores are. This is to foster the idea of Friendly Competition and Gracious Professionalism.

There are several categories for trophies. Champion's Award, a Champion's Runner-Up Award, Young Team Award, Rookie Team Award, and Honorable Mention Award. The first three awards advance to the State Championships in January. A team wins only one trophy regardless of the score. For example, if a rookie team scores the highest overall, they only get the Champion's Award; the Rookie Award goes to the next-highest scoring rookie team.

Our team won the Young Team Award. The girls were so shocked and excited! Their smiles stretched from one side of their faces to the other and it was great to see them enjoy the fruits of all their hard work.

On to the State Championships January 17 and 18!

High Achievement

ANNOUNCING
the
EAGLE SCOUT COURT OF HONOR
for
CAMERON MILLER

Sunday, 21 December 2008
2:oopm

at the

SUTHERLIN COMMUNITY CENTER
SUTHERLIN, OREGON

Cameron officially achieved the rank of Eagle Scout on April 29, 2008 but it's taken this long for us to pull the ceremony together. You can read about and see his project in the May archives.

Pass or Fail

Schools used to bring in a trailer once a year and test the sight and hearing of grade school kids. They may still do it, I don't know; I homeschool my kids.

Each year, I'd enter the trailer with fear and trepidation. I was frightened that I'd fail the eye test. I was more confident with the hearing test but I was so afraid of some unknown thing because I couldn't read the eye chart. There was such a relief in passing the test and being allowed to return to the classroom with the others!

In fourth grade, things got a little worse when Mom took me to an eye doctor. It was bad enough worrying about failing the eye test in school, now I was faced with failing it at the doctor's office. The only comforting thing about failing it at the office was that the doctor fixed the machine in a way that I could pass the test in the end. It meant getting glasses but at least I could see!

Mom took me to the eye doctor every year after that and every year I tried to pass the test and every year I failed and had to get new glasses with a new prescription.

Now let's jump ahead about three decades to last Monday when I took Cameron and Richelle in to get their eyes checked.

I suddenly realized that as an adult I've always referred to these appointments as getting our eyes "checked" and not "tested". For a split moment I wondered why, tasted the phrase "get your eyes tested," and a faint memory of anxiety returned. Knowing the kids would love the story, I told them about my pass or fail anxiety and how each year I would be disappointed at failing yet again. They thought it was the funniest thing ever.

Richelle had her eyes checked first (see? I still do it!) and her prescription (reading) hadn't changed. She was so disappointed because she wanted new frames. We were in the waiting room while Cameron was getting his eyes checked, Richelle trying valiantly to control her disappointment, when a thought struck me.

"Richelle!" I exclaimed sitting straight up, eyes wide.

"What?" she replied warily. The waiting room of a doctor's office is hardly the place for excitement and, besides, she was familiar with that particular tone of voice.

"You passed the eye test!" I shrieked in a hoarse whisper.



The post script to my childhood story is ironic. About twenty years ago, I asked Mom why she decided to get my eyes checked in fourth grade. Was it her personal policy to have us kids' eyes checked at that point?

She looked at me rather oddly and said, "No, I took you in because I got a note from the school saying you needed to see the eye doctor."

Veteran's Day Parade

The scouting thing to do in our county is to participate in the Veteran's Day Parade. I have done so every year but one since 1992 when I first joined Cub Scouting. I have marched or ridden in the hot sun, the cold and windy rain, and everything in between. This year it was rain. Everything from drizzle to downpour. Most of the girls had umbrellas but all that did was divert the water from their heads down the backs of the girls behind them so I had them put the bumbershoots away. We're from the Pacific Northwest after all....a little rain doesn't bother us. Much.

You can't see Richelle or me and probably half the girls on there are from three other troops but this is what we looked like Tuesday.

Skating

Again, I haven't posted in a while but that doesn't mean nothing's happening around here!

Yesterday, Richelle and I attended our monthly homeschool roller skating event. This is nothing outstanding, just a day out of the month when the homeschoolers converge on the local skating rink for a couple of hours. Some parents are out on the rink with their kids, some (most) sit at the tables and kibbitz while obeying the command of "Mom! Dad! Watch this!!"

Richelle was given a really nice pair of rental skates that she described as "so smooth you don't even feel the floor!" Evidently, they were so smooth that she couldn't feel to stop, either, because I heard a "Hey, Mom!" and looked up just in time to see her come flying off the rink, bounce against the padded opening, narrowly miss a little boy, dodge around a young girl, brush past an adult, and come to a crashing stop against a table and two chairs....all in about one second and ten feet.

How to make pudding

I made a banana cream pie without bananas yesterday because that's how Melissa liked it and it was her birthday. I asked her once why she didn't just call it a banana pudding pie and she said it wasn't banana pudding pie, it was banana cream pie without bananas. Not sure what kind of odd logic she was using. Anyway, I was making the pudding and remembered our good friend Joy.

Joy was at our house for a few days three years ago and I'd made tapioca pudding as a dessert. She enjoyed it and thanked me for the hard work I did to produce it. I replied that it wasn't hard work, exactly, just boring to stand there and stir until it boiled. I explained that to combat the boredom I stir with one hand and hold a good book with the other. She clearly didn't believe me.

"You think I'm joking?" I exclaimed, "I'm serious! I stand there with a whisk in this hand and a book in this hand," motioning with right and left hands, "and stir while I read. The kettle spins as you stir unless you hold it so if you put the tea kettle on the burner behind, your kettle will spin a full circle and then stop when the handle hits the tea kettle."

Joy began to smile.

"And,' I continued, "I speed things up a bit by setting the burner almost to 'high'. That means it cooks faster but I also need to stir faster to keep it from scorching. So I'm stirring like mad with one hand and enjoying my book in the other," demonstrating in the air for her, "until the pudding comes to the boil and I'm finished."

Joy started to laugh.

"Now tapioca is a little different," I went on. "If I cook it too fast, the tapioca doesn't soften as it should and, instead, sinks to the bottom of the dish as it cools in the fridge and congeals in a rubbery mass. So I have to stir a little longer but can go a little slower. That means," I added, tipping Joy over the edge, "that I have to make sure my book has enough pages left for me to read. I don't want to finish the book just as the pudding starts to thicken."

I promise my mother and sisters that I'm ever so much better at this stirring and reading combination now than I was at age ten when I was supposed to be churning butter.

So thank you, Joy, for making me smile first thing yesterday morning.

A week

I have never heard anyone complain that their life is getting less and less busy. Ever. That is because if a person's life becomes less busy, they cherish the fact. They revel in a second cup of tea and embrace an evening with nothing more strenuous on the agenda than a good book and an early night.

There are those who have learned to say "no". These people know their limitations and aren't embarrassed to stick to them. I, on the other hand, tend to see a block of time as an opportunity to wedge yet another thing in.

Take last week, for instance~

Monday was so far in the past that I can't remember what I did. I know I didn't go to Boy Scouts that night but I don't know what I did do.

Tuesday was Lego Robotics after which I went straight to a friend's house to help prepare for a Girl Scout outing that weekend. We got back home around 10pm.

Wednesday, our GS troop made about 90 dozen cookies for a local fund-raising effort to help pay for summer camp for children with cancer. We raced back home in time to go to Bible study.

Thursday was my Ladies' Tea. I had invited a number of ladies to my home for tea that afternoon. We had a wonderful time nibbling goodies, sipping tea, and visiting. No, we did not gossip! This day was made complicated the day before when Mike told me that whatever I had scheduled to do Thursday morning, I'd better get it done Wednesday (as if I had time!) because he needed me up on the tractor cutting a ditch for the water lines he had to get in before going to work. The short version of the story is that he'd cut the line inadvertently while trying to locate it for the new water line and the house was waterless until he fixed it. And ladies coming for tea!!

Friday the GS troop went on a Leadership Training weekend. We camped indoors so that made things a little easier but we had the girls cook Saturday supper using the Dutch oven (lasagna), the box oven (crescent rolls), and foil (brownies cooked in an orange peel).

To top everything off, my glasses broke Sunday morning right after we got up. I reached up to adjust them and the ear piece came away in my fingers. I did some swift thinking and asked the girls if anyone had some fingernail polish. One of them had some glow-in-the-dark polish that she let me use to sort of glue the fishing line stuff to the lens to hold it in place. I then reinforced it with a thin strip of Duct tape and got home in one piece. I was able to see the eye doctor Monday but I won't get my new glasses for ten days to two weeks. Richelle dug out my old pair from about six years ago and they suffice for now.

A cup of tea, a good book, and an early night sound wonderful!

A Trip Down Memory Lane

Cameron and I got to reminiscing this evening and there were a couple of stories in particular that I enjoyed telling.

My oldest brother got married in June of 1988 in the great state of Texas. My dear, sweet, kind, loving, thoughtful husband suggested that since I was already over halfway there, I might as well go on to Florida and take Melissa and Nick to Disney World. Dutiful wife that I am, I didn't argue.

We flew to Texas accompanied by my youngest brother (who had a massive growth spurt those two weeks as only a teenager can and I could have set my watch by his four-hour eating schedule but that's another story) and was met by a sister who lived between Dallas and Fort Worth. I rented a car and the five of us drove to Orlando.

We were traveling east against the time zones so each day we drove longer into the night. The second night I think it was, we stopped just outside of Mobile, Alabama to gas up the car. The kids and I wandered around, stretching our legs at the edge of the lights and someone, I don't remember who but probably Nick since at age three he was closest to the ground, found a very interesting bug. I can't describe it because I don't really remember other than that it was about a couple of inches long but it looked quite odd and unlike anything we have here. Melissa, Nick, and I circled around it, trying to figure out what it could be without being able to see it very well. Steve saw us crowded around and sauntered over and then Rhonda came to see what was holding us up. Finally, the attendant arrived to see what the problem was.

"This bug." we ask him, "What is it?"

"That?" he points. "Oh, that's a moe cricket." (You have to imagine a thick Southern accent.)

Steve, Rhonda, and I look at each other thinking, "A Moe cricket? As in Larry, Curly, and -?"

"A Moe cricket?" I verify.

"Yeah, a moe cricket." He looks at our confused expressions. "You know. They call it a moe cricket 'cause it digs in the ground like a moe." (Remember the accent).

"Oh, a mole cricket!" we exclaim in unison.

"That's whut Ah said." It was his turn to look confused. "A moe cricket."

"Yes. Yes, you did say that." I assured him.


Somewhere in Louisiana we were in a McDonalds having lunch. I will admit right here and now that I eavesdrop when people are talking in an ordinary voice. It drives Mike nuts but I do it. If they're speaking low or whispering, I ignore it but if they're in a public place and speaking normally, I'll often listen. This conversation was between the woman taking a drive-up order and the woman in the car giving the order.

I didn't pay attention to the exchange until a note of confused exasperation crept into the employee's voice. I'm going to type the words spelled properly; you have to translate it into Louisiana Southern.

"Ma'am, could you repeat that again?"

"Blah, blah-blah, blah-blah."

"I still didn't understand you. Could you please speak up?"

"Blah, blah-blah, blah-blah."

"Uh, how about if you speak a little more slowly."

"Blaah, blaah-blaah, blaah-blaah."

"Thighs? Ma'am we don't carry thi-"

"Blah, blah-blah, blah-blah!"

"Ma'am, this is a McDonalds. We don't carry thighs. There's a Kentucky Fried Chicken just down the road a pi-"

"Blah, blah-blah, blah-blah!"

"Ma'am, how 'bout you come on down to the window here and tell me what you want?"

Small pause.

"All right, ma'am. Now what was it you wanted?"

Other woman replies...

"Oh, a small fry!! Yes, ma'am! I can get you a small fry!"

I almost spit soda across the table I'm laughing so hard and turning red from trying to hold it in. Rhonda's looking at me oddly. Steve's hungrily eyeing the kids' hamburgers, wondering if they're going to eat all their lunch.

"Didn't you hear them?" I wheezed. "They can't even understand each other!"

"I don't listen to private conversations." Rhonda said primly.

"Well, your missing a lot of fun," I retorted, "and it wasn't private!"

That bird

I think it's a Red-Breasted Nuthatch. The information says that it lives in this area year-round but it's just now appeared in my front yard. It's a pretty little thing.

Birds

This is the second year I've had bird feeders and I thoroughly enjoy watching the exuberance of finches that they attract. By far, the most common bird is the goldfinch (they call them wild canaries here) but I also have purple finches, black-headed grosbeaks, evening grosbeaks, Oregon junkos, towhees, mourning doves, and every once in a while we see a bluebird.


Here is a new bird I can't identify. He showed up here just a few days ago. Maybe migrating? I've made the mistake before of trying to identify a juvenile on a website that only describes adult males and I wonder if that's what I have here. He's awfully clear of color for him to be a juvenile, though. The streaks on his head are either a very dark blue or black, his back and wings are a blue or slate-blue, and his beak is a little longer than the all-purpose beak of the robin. More like a woodpecker. Anyone have a clue? I'm surprised I got a picture of him because he doesn't stay in one place long. He just flits down, pecks on the ground a bit and darts away. I've not seen him eat from the feeder, just on the ground under it. It's quietly driving me nuts!


This picture is a common sight. These goldfinches are waiting for me to leave so they can swarm the feeders.


The finches wait on the power line and in these trees next to our house. I count about twenty in the picture and six or seven had just flown away as I snapped. That makes about thirty-five finches impatiently waiting for me to leave.

Check out the clouds in the pictures. They were the reason I was outside with the camera in the first place and they covered the sky. The new heading picture was taken at the same time.

*Shriek*

So I'm not the sort of loving, caring wife who gets up with her husband at 4:45am and keeps him company over a plate of breakfast before he goes to work. I'm also not the sort of loving, caring wife who packs her husband's lunch for him and haven't done so since about six months into our marriage when he alternately whined about not having enough to eat ("Are you trying to tell me I need to diet?") or complained I'd packed too much (How in the world did you expect me to eat all this?")

Instead, I doze while he gets himself breakfast (cold cereal) and rouse enough for the good-bye peck. I can't see but a shadow in the dimness of the bedroom and couldn't see him in full light without my glasses, anyway. He could go to work dressed in a kilt and turban with a sword at his side and I wouldn't be the wiser.

It's how he comes home that I see.

He came home today without his mustache.

~Shriek~

When I exclaimed, he said he'd had it for thirty years and he was tired of it. I told him that it's only been a little better than twenty-six years. When he disagreed, I reminded him that early on in our dating days he'd shaved his mustache and I'd told him that I liked his mustache, ordered him to grow it back, and threatened to shave my head if he shaved it off again.

"No," he chuckled, "you said if I shaved it off again, you'd leave. Now you need to live up to your end of the bargain!"

Bargain, hah! It was supposed to be a threat!

His naked upper lip unnerves me in two ways. One, I really liked his mustache. Two, I can now see that his lip is identical to his younger brother's and I have the uncomfortable feeling that I'm kissing the wrong guy. Yikes!

New Experiences

Richelle and I spent last weekend with a niece and her family in central Oregon. We got there Friday afternoon and came home Sunday afternoon. I spent the bulk of Saturday in a training seminar but Richelle had great fun with her cousins.

I did remember to bring my camera but as I was four hours from home when I remembered, it did little good. I was so bummed! I even had opportunity to get a stunning shot of a full moon rising and framed by juniper trees. Then there was the cute opportunity of the three girls waking up on their couch-cushion beds in the front room. And there's when they put on their swimsuits, filled the horse trough, and went "swimming". Let's not forget the "fashion show" two of them put on. Of course, even a camera can't capture the giggles and quips they passed back and forth or the uncouth sounds of the "squashoons".

Richelle learned how to change irrigation pipe, water the garden, make and play the "squashoon" and tend to the chickens. She helped her cousins with a labor-intensive fund-raiser, picked strawberries, and we had a particularly toothsome fresh strawberry milkshake.

I love going east of the Cascades. I love the high desert, the smell of junipers, the straight roads, being able to see the horizon, the mesas, the lack of blackberry or poison oak underbrush..or much of any underbrush for that matter.....

The good times and laughter with family made it extra special.

Long time

It's been weeks since I last posted and much has happened but of little earth-shaking magnitude.

Richelle and I went to Saginaw convention August 20-24. We went the week before, also, but I'm glad we were able to attend both. They were very good for the soul. Kimberly with her girls and Andrea with her family also attended the second week. The funniest things were whispered in the dark after the lights went out in the dorms:

Me: "What?"
Niece #1: "Huh?"
Me: "I thought I heard my name called but I can't hear because I don't have my glasses on."
Niece #1: "SNORT! Giggle, giggle, giggle"
(Those who are hampered in vision as badly as I am can't hear the person next to them without our glasses on. We can hear the person in the next room just fine.)
Me: "Don't tell me you've never heard your mom say the same thing!
Kimberly from four mattresses away: "What?"
Me: "Huh?"
Kimberly: "I thought I heard someone call me."
Niece #1 and Richelle giggling away.
Me: "I was telling your daughter that I'm sure she's heard you say that you can't hear because you weren't wearing your glasses."
Kimberly: "Snort! I just said the same thing not five minutes ago!"
Niece #1 and Richelle laughing hysterically into their pillows.

And...

It's dark. Perhaps ten minutes after the lights have been turned out, maybe fifteen. The girls have stopped whispering three minutes ago...
Niece #3 quietly whispering: "Is anyone still awake?"
Richelle, softly: "I am."
Niece #1, quietly: "I am, too."
Me, just as softly: "I'm not."
Silence.
Niece #1 slightly louder: "You are, too!" Muffled explosions from three pillows.

And....

Lights have just been turned off but there are three or four girls who come into the dorms making a small bit of noise.
Richelle whispers: "I know of a good way to block out the noise."
Niece #1 snapping upright and on the edge of laughter: "So do I! Like this!" She jams her fingers in her ears and then falls backwards giggling uncontrollably.


Schooling ~
We started school this week because I got Richelle's books ordered late and didn't get them until last Thursday. Instead, last week we deep-cleaned the family room, dining room, and computer room (formerly known as the school area). She's enjoying full days of school instead of full days of washing walls, oiling woodwork, dusting everything, moving furniture, washing windows, etc.

My new hat ~
Richelle's newly involved in a Lego Robotics team that meets just three miles away. Each team needs a Mentor and at least one Coach. The lady helping the mentor start the team up knows me from Boy and Girl Scouts so approached me to be a coach. As if I can say "no" to something like that. Perhaps I ought to take lessons from Kimberly! So now I'm a Coach for our team and am traveling to Bend this weekend for training. The team competes in December at UCC. Instead of me repeating what's already been written, go to ortop.org or firstlegoleague.org if you want to know more.

Warm days, cool nights, shorter daylight hours....must be autumn.

A Dull Excitement

Yes, I know that my title is an oxymoron. But what else do you call it when something has the potential to be exciting but in reality is quite dull?

Yesterday, we heard a helicopter fly over the house. At this time of year we always run out to see if it's carrying a bucket and we ran out yesterday. First, I saw the helicopter. It was carrying a bucket. Then I looked around and saw a plume of smoke rising from the mountain northwest of us about three miles as the crow flies. If you look at the picture at the top of my page, imagine you can see a low ridge to the right of the tall cedar. That's where the smoke was. Pictures? You expect me to remember to grab the camera?

There had been so many lightening strikes the last 36 hours that I didn't know if the chopper had been on that fire or another one so I called and they said they knew about it. Okay, so I'm not all that worried about it because they're on top of it, right? I kept checking the smoke all afternoon and evening and it didn't seem as if it was getting a whole lot larger or thicker so I went to bed. Okay, okay. I sacked out on the couch fully clothed until Mike got home.

I checked the smoke when I got up and it was a little bigger and a whole lot thicker. Shortly after that, we heard the chopper and a spotter plane. We watched the chopper drop at least six loads of water and by noon the fire was pretty much out. I don't think they had men on that fire. I think they used only the chopper and plane because the terrain is so steep there. In fact, they have to log that area with choppers.

If I'd sat down and thought about it, I wouldn't have worried at all because:
#1. The ridge runs east-west.
#2. Fire runs faster uphill - in this case, north.
#3. We are south of that ridge.
#4. There's another ridge between us and it.


No. No need to worry. So it ended up being a dull sort of excitement. It was very cool watching the chopper dump the water bucket, though. I think they carry about 300 gallons of water and when they open the flap at the bottom it looks like a waterfall.

A Special Supper

My birthday came on Wednesday this year. Mike and Cameron are on opposite shifts from Nick so to do anything as a family, we have to do it on the weekend. Besides, Richelle and I left for convention Wednesday afternoon. So the boys took Mike, Richelle, and I out to supper Sunday. The last two years we've gone to the Mexican place here in town where the food is good and the service is...well...fun.

I assured the boys that they didn't need to tell the waiter it was in honor of my birthday but of course they didn't listen. They only get to see their mother wear a sombrero and be sung to in both Spanish and English once a year. Of course they're going to tell the waiter.

The waiter called everyone amigo/amiga/compadre when taking their order until he got to Richelle who he called Princess. Threw her off so badly that she started giggling and almost couldn't get out 'quesadilla'.

He brought Mike's order first and then came with Richelle's and Cameron's. He set Cameron's down and said, "Beef for you and chicken for you, amigo," he looked at Nick, "is coming."
"Uh," Nick stammered, "we both ordered beef."
"Too bad for you," the waiter replied nonchalantly. "It's already cooked."
Mike laughed so hard he nearly choked.

By the time my plate came, we realized we were a tableware setting short so Nick asked the waiter for a fork.
"A fork? You need a fork." Turning to the table across the aisle from us, he asked them, "You're finished with this? You finished eating?"

The highlight of the evening for everyone else was when they brought me the sombrero. Mike plopped it on my head, and the waiters sang in Spanish and then got everyone in that part of the restaurant to join in in "Happy Birthday". A part of the whole birthday thing there is that they bring the person a shot of some kind of drink. They told me it was tequila and Dr. Pepper. A slammer? I don't know except they slammed the little cup on the table and it fizzed. Last year, I only took took a sip and was heavily teased so this year I decided to try to down the whole thing. I mean, you only do this once a year, right? It was three nasty swallows. I do believe I'll pass from now on. I had to eat three chips to get feeling back in my throat and I can do without the small but potent burps I had for the next two hours.

Drinking certainly isn't something I'll be doing in the near future. Or the far future. Or ever.

Nick received the beef enchilada that he'd ordered, we got a new table setting, and the waiter got a fairly large tip.

A new addition

No, it's not a baby.

Well, not a human baby, anyway.

A couple of weeks ago, Nick was given a puppy that was being neglected. Evidently, a brother of a friend bought this puppy and then after a few weeks, left it at his parents' house. His mother didn't want it and wasn't inclined to make sure it was being fed properly, so Nick's friend asked him if he wanted it.

Yes, for those of you who know dogs, she's a pit bull. He named her "Kalohi" which, I guess, is Hawaiian for "trouble". Not sure why he gave a pit bull a Hawaiian name.

Here are some pictures of Kalohi staying cool under a patio chair.

That's about as cute as you can get.


Tired little pup. Nick had taken her and Emo for a long walk before they came out here.


Richelle finally woke her up. Evidently, the wide-set eyes would be a deduction if she were to be shown. Nick's friend called it a "deformity" which Nick didn't particularly care for.

I was and still am a little apprehensive about pit bulls given all the news about them but Kalohi is so little that she's far more cute than frightening. We're making sure she knows who we are so we become one of her "pack" and Nick's very good at following through on training. He says she's a good little pup and is fully house-trained to the point of waking him up in the middle of the night to go out.

He brought her over yesterday and had a full-grown pit in the back of his truck named Emo that he wouldn't let out. Not that it's aggressive, but because he'd take off for the wild blue yonder and be a pain to get back. Emo isn't his. He belongs to a friend of Nick's that's doing military training right now and Nick's taking care of him. He doesn't respond as well to Nick's voice as he'd like so Nick made him stay in the pick-up bed. He's trained to the point that Nick left the tailgate down and Emo never made a move to jump out. Instead, he laid his head on the edge of the bed with his tongue hanging out and drooping across the bed-liner. He was the most un-fierce looking pit bull I've ever seen. He straightened up when Richelle tried to get a picture so I can't share the goofy look.

You know....of all the pit bulls in the world, very few get in the news. I'm thinking that they're just like any other dogs in that their training and owners contribute a lot to their disposition. I know of two rotweilers that played with young children of the family and allowed the kids to ride them like horses but they were dangerous to anyone trying to come in through the (high and solid) fence.

If it sounds as if I'm trying to reassure myself, you're right. I'm trying to reassure myself. Kalohi is a cute little pup and I'm trusting Nick to make sure she grows up into a well-behaved dog.

Camp Low Echo

Girl Scouts don't usually attend resident camps as a troop like Boy Scouts do. They usually sign up and attend as individual girls or two or three together and are sent off by themselves for the week but this little camp in the Cascades offers a weekend troop camp at the end of their season. Isn't it beautiful? There's a Boy Scout camp across the lake but they were smart enough to keep the length of the lake between the two camps.

So our troop attended with fourteen girls and four adults and had a great time in spite of the latrines. You know, there has to be something bad at a camp in order for it to be remembered. Last time it was the mosquitoes and the lightning storm. This time it was the latrines.

How can I describe the magnificent odor of our latrine? Perhaps I can quote Pat McManus; "It would give an otherwise indiscriminate hyena a fit of the dry-heaves." They said they'd limed it a number of times but one dad suggested in a phone consultation that they needed to add yeast and sugar. The lime will work on the smell, but yeast was needed to break the stuff down.

The adults' tent was quite nearby but, thankfully, the odor didn't penetrate the canvas much as long as the door was kept zipped and body spray was liberally released into the air. We overheard one girl whisper to her buddy late the first night, "I'm going in....wish me luck!"

The swim area with the tip of Mt. McGloughlin in the background. They had the usual swim area divided into three sections and the obligatory canoes but they also had some leg-powered paddle-boats that the girls enjoyed immensely.

One of the crafts they did was learn to weave some gimp into a lanyard. Some of the girls already knew how and were able to help those who didn't. Here's Richelle working on hers while wearing her brand-new camp hoody that she'd bought earlier at the trading post. Another girl also bought a hoody and didn't take it off until sometime after her mom picked her up when we got back Sunday afternoon.


Hauling the luggage up to the parking lot. Neat little carts and we had no trouble getting the girls to pull them.

It was a three-hour drive each way plus time to let the restless natives out to run off energy but it's an experience I'm game to do again. As long as the latrines smell better. And the girls fall asleep before 1am, preferably before 11pm. And our little Vesuvius goes dormant - that's the fourth time and her mom's coming next time; we can't find a common denominator and are wondering if it's a mental thing. She's perfectly fine the next day, eats a hearty breakfast and participates fully in all the activities but the evening or night before she has a migraine and then throws up.

Yup. You never know what's in store when you take fourteen assorted girls camping for two nights.

The project

I've mentioned a few time about the Eagle project I've been helping with. Well, the project is nearly done and I thought I'd post a few pictures. This young man was told that the City of Sutherlin was wanting tables for the park. Right now, they have four tables total, with only one in the pavilion. The city was wanting a minimum of six. After sitting down and working out a budget with his adviser, our Boy Scout approached different businesses in town and asked them to sponsor a table for $125. The board of our Blackberry Festival sponsored two tables and added $25/table to have them painted purple. Other businesses heard about that and added their dollars for specialized painting. The end results are thirteen very colorful tables.


I don't have a finished product picture but here's what most of the frames look like. Most of them are all one color but some of them have different colored boards bolted on. Two of the purple ones have yellow boards, one blue one has red boards, and a red one has a blue top and white benches.


Our scout had the name of the sponsoring company routered into the center board of the table. He knew Mike had cut the letters for Cameron's project, so asked him to cut his boards. Here, Mike is doing fine detailing on the logo for a local wood products company after free-handing the rest of the logo.


Our young man being shown by his adviser how to get the spacing right on the table boards. We were happy that this paint cured to a duller orange than what you see here!

He still has a couple of badges to earn before he can send in his application for Eagle rank but he's working on them right now and since his birthday isn't until February, I have no doubt he'll get it.

I Survived Day Camp

This must be my, oh, fourth year being a unit leader for Girl Scouts and I've been a volunteer at Cub Scout day camp for something like twelve years but each time I get through the week, I always feel as if I've survived something. One year I was even given an "I Survived Cub Day Camp" mug as a thank-you.

I've not helped at Cub day camp since I managed to convince people three years ago that since Cameron hadn't been in Cubs for three years, I needed to focus on Girl day camp and Richelle.

Usually, I have my child in my group but this year they needed me to be the leader of seven girls, six of whom were going into first grade and one into second. Sure was odd to see my daughter across the parade grounds with another group!

These little girls were so cute and said the most hilarious things such as:

"We screamed our EARS off!!" (loud singing contest between units)
"We're going to sit on the throne of wizz" (bathroom run)
"I don't like salad on my sandwich" (looking at my lettuce)
"Rocky-moley" for guacamole

And they hear things a little differently sometimes. The first morning, at opening flags, the camp director emphasized the need to drink water and reminded the girls to save the bottles and refill them. One of my girls heard "save the bottles" and not the "drink water" and "refill" parts and proudly showed her mom her unopened bottle of water that she'd saved. She'd had a bottle of juice with lunch and I wasn't on top of things that first day monitoring their water intake.

Another time, I spilled down my shirt getting a drink of water and murmured that I must have a hole in my lip. One little girl keep shooting me looks and after about ten minutes she leaned close and said, "I think I see the hole."

They were the best little girls, too. There were no fights or arguments until the last half of the last day when one girl managed to get two others mad at her at the same time. I'd hoped they would be able to straighten things out by themselves but after about half an hour and one of them coming to me saying they'd been pushed, I had to step in. All it took were a few gentle words and suggestions and they all became good friends and exchanged phone numbers.

The older girls, grades 4-6, camped overnight Thursday and since Richelle was one of them, I stayed, too. The campfire program was one of the best I've seen, mainly because those leaders were told they had to come up with skits that have never been done before. Campfires are so boring when the same skits and songs are done year after year. Out of the seven skits performed that night, I've never seen two and that's saying a lot after watching campfire programs for about fifteen years!

It was a great evening of fun and the girls were so tired that lights went out at 10pm and nearly everyone was asleep by 11pm. Even the dump truck's arrival at 5am didn't wake anyone up for more than a few minutes.

After so many years at day camps, I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Monday evening, I picked up some glow-in-the-dark beads and large safety pins without the spring and awarded each girl with a bead every time she drank all the water in her bottle. One bead-happy girl went home Friday with about twenty on her pins.

Another thing I did was pick up some UV-activated beads. These beads are a dull white until they're touched by UV rays and the beads rapidly change color. I gave those out each time they completed their camp-wide chores. Friday, our job was to pick up litter and I told the girls I would give them a bead for the first 30 pieces they collected and another one for each ten they picked up beyond that. Little first and second graders can't figure out how much litter they need to pick up for x-number of beads but they can figure out that the more they pick up, the more beads they'll get. One of the girls earned nine beads, three more earned eight, one earned three, and two earned one. There's lots of litter to pick up at day camp with all the crafts!

Tired as I am, I still enjoy day camps.

Things I learned this week

1. If you have trouble sleeping, quit drinking tea and soda.

2. Make sure your child knows what "off" is on the valve feeding the soaker hose so you don't have an unpleasant surprise four hours later.

3. A picnic and swim in the river makes a child's entire day.

4. Teenagers are quite hungry when they get home at 3am after a long day of work. Keep snacks on hand for them or there's no telling what they'll get into.

5. When your husband suggests you wipe down the computer chair with alcohol because he unthinkingly sat in it still wearing the same pants he wore in the poison oak, it's a good idea to remember to do that BEFORE you sit on it wearing shorts.

Cameron's arm

I wanted post a quick update about Cameron's arm. He says it still hurts quite a bit but he hasn't missed a day of work and even worked overtime six hours yesterday on the greenchain and eight hours over last weekend doing clean-up. He says clean-up is the easiest job ever and works eight hours overtime each week that he can.

He's not been to the chiropractor yet but has an appointment and is on the cancellation list. His appointment isn't until early September because he's limited to Fridays with his 10-hour shifts.

He's pretty careful of his arm but doesn't feel he needs the sling. Each time I ask him how it's doing, he says it still hurts so I ask him if it's getting better and he mumbles something. So like a man.

Flowers

Roses

Roses aren't my all-time favorite flower but I do love them. Richelle raced inside the other morning and grabbed the camera while yelling that I needed to "come look at something right now!"

What I needed to see was the dew still on the roses. She didn't know how to take a micro shot or she would have done it herself. I wasn't sure if I could take the shot without blurring and she was hoping the dew would show up. You have to look kind of closely to see the dew but it's there.

By the way, the shot at the top of the blogspot of the other side of our narrow valley is one that she took as part of her Camera Badge for Girl Scouts. She was pleased to see that I used it.



Lavender


I have one lavender plant and harvested the first crop a few days ago. Richelle and I had fun putting together bunches with ribbons and hanging them up all over the house. This one hangs above the coat closet in the front entry.

Although it's directly in line with the front door, my dear husband didn't notice it until I pointed it out. Cameron, the only male of my acquaintance to be able to find what he's been sent to get, noticed the lavender straightaway.

A long week

Whew! What a week we've had!! Mike and Cameron are on swing shift so I would do what house and yard work I could before about 11am and then fix lunch before going into Sutherlin for two-three hours to help one of our Boy Scouts work on his Eagle project. He's building picnic tables for the park in town. He started out looking for sponsors for six tables and ended up building eleven. With the help of a professional and a couple of fellow scouts, he bent, cut, and welded the metal frames. Others helped grind the welds and rough edges. I was put in charge of getting the frames painted. My main crew was Richelle and the Scout's little sister who is also in Richelle's troop. Others came to help now and then but it's been over a week and there's still one to be painted.

All of this in the heat. 100+ degree weather. We always get five days to a week of 100-degree weather in August and often a partial week in July but this year we've already had a couple of days that hot in May and now this week in July.

Global warming? Hardly. The Scout camp in the Cascades still has three foot snow drifts and they're not sure just when they can get in there and get the camp ready for campers in three weeks. There was so much snow that many of the wooden tent frames are destroyed. No, not global warming.

Added to working outside in the heat was the cold I had. It started in my head, then moved into my chest where it pretty much made itself at home for a while. All of that together made me tired, tired, tired. I also took the kids to the river to swim a couple of times and while the current isn't very strong there, it's strong enough to tire us out in little over an hour.

Stay tuned for next week's episode: I Was A Leader At Day Camp

Cute

Richelle is one of those people who talk rather rapidly but not always clearly. Mike's always asking her to repeat herself because she slurs words. I frequently ask her to repeat because she leaves out vital information by using all pronouns.

"Dad,doyouhaveanyelectritician'stapeinyourtoolboxIneeditformyproject."
"Richelle, slow down and enunciate!"

"Mom,whydidn'tshelikeit?"
"Why didn't who like what?"

Yesterday, we were at a family picnic with the Boy Scout troop and one of the younger brothers noticed that Richelle repeated a lot. This young lad doesn't use his lips much when he speaks. Here's the quick exchange I heard.

"Richelle, why do you repeat everything?"

"What?"

A couple of other parents me joined me in quiet laughter and the boy didn't repeat the question. Richelle grabbed the handful of chips she was after and ran off without pursuing the issue.

Memory is the first to go

We were sitting around the family room this afternoon talking about Cameron's arm and he mentioned that they saw the scar from the old break.

Whaa?

"When did you break your left arm?"

"Five years ago. A couple of weeks before Melissa died," he says. He thinks, "Mom, you're losing it."

"No, that was your right arm," I correct while struggling with memory.

We had a short discussion about how we know Nick broke his left arm because his Scoutmaster, missing his right arm from the shoulder, called Nick his "right-hand man" and we know that Nick's and Cameron's breaks were almost identical except for being opposite arms. We scratched our heads and dusted off memories and I finally asked Cameron if he remembered which side the casket was on when he was pallbearer.

"The left side.......oh. It was my right arm I broke."

So he did damage the bone when he walked in front of the jitney. The x-rays showed what was either a crack or an old, healed break and at 2am Mike and Cameron assumed it was his left arm he'd broken years ago.

Update...

It turns out he's only bruised. Pretty bad bruise, I'm guessing because it was just very red last night...uh, early this morning...and he's not gotten up yet for me to see. I have a tube of arnica cream and I'll have him apply it regularly.

First, I'd like to make clear that it was his own fault. Jitney drivers are supposed to take ordinary precautions but they do have the right-of-way. It's the responsibility of everyone else to keep their eyes peeled and stay out of their way. There are walking paths painted on the floor to get from one place to another and hysters are careful when they cross them but this happened right where Cameron works.

Cameron was headed to the bathrooms and didn't look around while a jitney was coming to get a load from the stacker. Mike told me that Cameron was in front of the jitney right in the driver's blind spot. The driver was raising the forks high enough to get the load from the stacker, about ten feet up. The fork hit Cameron at the top of his shoulder. Since the forks were rising, if the collision happened a foot farther on, the fork would have gotten him in the head. That's why he was so shaken last night but I didn't want to add that until I knew more.

His supervisor saw the whole thing happen. He yelled loudly and continuously but the noise is bad in the mill and everyone wears earplugs so neither Cameron nor the jitney driver heard him. Mike said, and I'll quote, "It scared Hell out of everybody."

He's going back to work today. It's his Friday so he'll have three days to heal before the next week rolls around.

Children.....

I was suddenly yanked from slumber by the shrill of the telephone. Like all mothers, I was on my feet and in the next room before my eyes opened, multiple thoughts racing through my head one after another as if they were playing tag, "Where's the phone? I have to answer before the machine picks up. Follow-the-sound-follow-the-sound. Please don't let me collide with a chair," and the thoughts we keep shoving away, "Who?" and "Why?" Not complete thoughts because we don't want them answered.

I answer the phone. A voice so upset I can hardly recognize it says, "Mom, I'm all right."

I'm a bit rattled. That's what Nick said four years ago when he rolled his Bronco but nobody should be driving anywhere at 11pm. I mean, they should be in bed or at work. Mike's shift ends at 11:30, Cameron's ends at 2am and Nick's shift starts at 6:30am. Mike sometimes works later and occasionally comes home earlier but this is Cameron talking to me.

"You're all right where?" I wondered, fumbling for reality.
"At work." Again, a voice fighting for control.

It turns out that he was hit by a forklift and injured his arm. They got on the radio and called Mike who was there in a few short minutes and took him to the hospital. He called me because we have a deal. When he gets hurt, he calls me. That way, when he's not home when I wander the house in the wee sma's, I don't worry.

So now I'm waiting to hear what the extent is of his injury. I'm waiting up, of course, but this is one of the few times I can't seek oblivion in a book. I keep making stupid mistakes in my Sudoku book, and my stomach isn't feeling the best either. Mike called from the hospital a few minutes ago to find out when his last tetanus shot was and his uneducated diagnosis was either a bruised or broken arm. Let's hope for just a bruise!

A Weekend To Remember

We got back Sunday afternoon from a Girl Scout camping trip in the mountains. Eleven girls and seven parents. We always have a high girls/parents ratio in our troop. It's a fun thing to watch the girls grow and learn and gain confidence.

We drove up Friday afternoon to a lovely campsite not too far from the lake but not within sight of it. I guess you could call the campground "partially improved" because although it had paved roads, a shower house and flush toilets, there wasn't a speck of grass anywhere within the group campsite area. There was bunch grass elsewhere, but the ground at our site had nothing but dirt, pumice, and lodgepole pine cones.

And mosquitoes. We can't forget the mosquitoes. They were large and plentiful. As they say, there wasn't a single mosquito there - they were all married with several hundred children. One dad told the girls that they were hired by Red Cross for a blood drive. And you had to be ready when you unzipped your tent because they just might shove you aside and enter first. We had repellent but the only one that stood a ghost of a chance against the thirsty little buggers was the one with 98% DEET content. Yes, I know DEET isn't all that good for you, but neither is slapping yourself black and blue and scratching until you have skin under your nails. Two girls got together and counted bites and came up with about one hundred each. Note to self: Do not, under any circumstances, camp at a high mountain lake in June when there's been a long spring.


One parent was coming late Friday night so we made up a scavenger hunt for the girls and then told "Your Most Embarrassing Moment" stories around the campfire while we waited. One girl told a story on her sister and was giggling so hard we had to have her repeat some of it. I don't usually remember embarrassing moments but I did tell of when I was a Senior in High School doing work study at the local clinic and managed to pass out when I was supposed to be assisting at a mole removal. At least I didn't wet my pants when I keeled over like a felled oak.

Late Saturday morning, the girls got into an all-out water fight using water bottles with wide necks, three-gallon buckets, and plastic dishpans. It started when one girl threw water on one of the dads and it quickly escalated. One table was the "dry" zone and the adults sat there watching and cheering. The water was ice-cold coming out of the faucet so there were a lot of shocked expressions and rigid postures.

We have a couple of girls who have a problem staying hydrated so I came up with a deal that each time they finished the 1/2 liter water bottle that the troop provided, they could get a small piece of candy, also provided by the troop. I got the (large) bag of candy out and transfered them to a zippy bag while one by one the girls gathered around me. I felt like Santa Claus. One girl's parents also brought her little four-year-old brother. He found out what the candy was for and promptly left with his water bottle. A minute later, I happened to look up and watched as he poured the water out behind a tent. Smart little guy. I told him I saw him pouring it out and that he had to fill it up and drink it to get a candy. So he filled the bottle and then stood right in front of my chair. Remember I mentioned the water was ice-cold. He'd gulp four or five times, his hand coming up to his throat and his feet beginning to dance. Then he'd stop drinking, clutch his throat and dance around for a few seconds making gargling noises. Finally, he'd come to a stand-still, burp, and eye the bag of candy. A second later, up went the bottle for the next round of gulping.

The girls took turns that afternoon going out on the motor boat to earn a badge and they came back into camp that evening tired and happy. They weren't so happy a few hours later when a thunderstorm took two hours to travel east to west almost right overhead. Three of the girls were downright scared out of their wits. We all sat under the awning of the trailer and I sat next to the frightened girls, talking to them and giving encouragement and started the other girls singing. Between "Pink Pajamas", "The Quartermaster's Store" and doughnuts being fried inside the trailer and passed around, all three of the girls pulled themselves together. We were lucky that the storm started at 8:15 and only lasted two hours. I'm not sure I want to imagine what would have happened if it started after the girls had gotten to sleep!

I have no pictures because Mike took both the still and movie cameras with him to Christmas Valley. He went with Nick and Cameron, his dad, and two of his brothers to scout out their hunting prospects for their October hunting trip.

I love camping out. I love watching kids learn new skills. I love watching them build on what they learned last time camping. I could have done without the mosquitoes and thunderstorm but even those were very good learning opportunities.

Traffic court

traffic court \traf-ik cōrt\ n : That which inspires us to more closely follow the driving laws.

I had neglected to renew the tags on our Explorer and this was pointed out to me by a nice man dressed in a handsome uniform driving a car with pretty red and blue lights mounted on top.

I would like to point out right here and now that procrastination runs freely in my veins. Those tags were almost a year past expiration. My defense, which the judge thought was worth about two cents, was that at the time the renewal came up the truck's drive line was in pieces on the ground and there was some serious question if it was going to be put back together. When I was finally able to drive it about five months later, the minor detail of expired plates was far from my mind. It did occur to me a few times since then but usually at about 10pm or when I was in town for an evening meeting of one sort or another.

I thought the fine was pretty steep at $97 but after listening to the citations and fines levied on defendants A - L, I was quite happy that $97 was all I was fined. The judge reduced it to $73 which I cheerfully paid.

Some of those citations.......! Driving while suspended......driving without insurance.......no proof of insurance.......failure to obey traffic device......speeding...... Did you know that in the state of Oregon, driving without your license is a criminal offense?? The officer can cuff you and take you in! It makes no difference that you HAVE a license, you have to have it WITH you. I don't know what the fine is because the officer didn't cite the chap with it, only driving without insurance and for whatever he was pulled over for....I think illegal operation of a vehicle. He plead not guilty so the illegal operation wasn't discussed.

Don't EVER get your license suspended and if you do, NEVER, EVER drive. It's too costly besides going on your record. Nearly $400 for the fine plus about $200 for driving without insurance plus whatever it cost to get the car out of impoundment - between $300 and $600. As the judge pointed out, if your license is suspended, your insurance company automatically cancels you and if you're caught driving, the car gets impounded so the three all go together. Ouch!

I now have no desire to speed or try to beat the red light, nor will I wait until the last minute to renew either tags or driver's license.

Scouts

Another weekend spent with scouts, this time working to get the resident camp set up for the summer. Each June, there is a work party that hangs the canvas tents on the tent frames, spreads the mats out and puts the docks in the water at the waterfront, hacks back the vigorous growth encroaching on the many trails, and spreads bark, gravel, or sand wherever it's needed.

There are additional projects also going on. Last year I helped Mike build a three-stall changing room at the waterfront and the year before that, I helped a crew cut boards to length to replace about ten tent platforms. This year, the extra projects were splitting up about five years' worth of firewood in the form of trees that came down last winter (those trees had a diameter of 3 -4 feet), and placing a number of benches along the main trail all the way to the end of the peninsula (about 1/2 mile).

So which did I do? Neither. Mike did some finish work on the changing room and I helped "make" feathers. The feathers are a special award made of a turkey feather dyed to look like an eagle feather. They had to have a leather loop, some colored fluffy feathers, and red felt attached to the quill end. The trick was wrapping the leather loop in such a way that is doesn't slide off. Another woman and I worked on that.

And in spite of my lack of physical exertion, I was pretty tired Saturday night. Maybe that was because one of the six women in our cabin did as fine a job of snoring Friday night as I've heard in a long time. I thought I had successfully ignored it but I guess not. One poor woman took her sleeping bag and finished the night in her truck. I can peel the shingles from the roof myself but I've figured out a way that I don't snore while camping. I still breathe pretty heavily, I'm told, but I don't snore.

Sokki the Hamster

Now that the danger of Sokki's imminent death seems to be in the past, I'll post an update.

It really started when Richelle got him. We got back into the car and she wanted Sokki to go into the run-about ball she'd brought with her instead of traveling home in a little cardboard box. That way she could hold him in her lap and watch him. I didn't really want her to make the transfer because I knew he'd probably bite and when he did, I figured she'd let go of him. The car has far to many small places where a baby hamster can hide so I made the transfer. He clawed, bit, squealed, and wet all over my hand but I got him in the ball. I also managed to injure one little finger which is probably why he clawed, bit, squealed, and wet all over my hand.

Sokki's habitat. The look-out tower is his favorite place and is where he eats, sleeps, and ...um... smells up the place.

Okay, so now he's leary of me. I try to tame him by holding him for a few seconds at a time when he's still in the cage but he clearly doesn't like it. About a week ago, I picked him up again and he squealed and kept squealing. Then he went stiff - still squealing. I opened my hand to let him scamper off and he didn't move. I tilted my hand to encourage him and he rolled off my hand stiff as a board onto his back still squealing. I thought he was having a heart attack and seizure simultaneously. The thought screaming through my head was that I'd killed my daughter's hamster right in front of her. Suddenly, he stopped squealing, flipped himself over and scurried up a tube to safety. WHEW!


Stashing his food. He crams most of his food into his cheek pouches and hides it. At first, it was right here but now it's up in his look-out tower.


At about this point in time, I purchased a natural product that neutralizes the hamster smell in his body and makes him and his output production much less odorous. It works quite well but the little rodent had to get used to the altered taste of his water. He basically didn't drink for almost two days and I was getting very worried. He wasn't running around all that much and was sleeping quite a bit. I kept thinking sentences with no endings. "If that hamster dies...." "If he doesn't start drinking water...." "If I've killed Sokki....." "I wonder if I could...."

Finally, one night I just couldn't sleep very well. I kept dreaming of the little guy and the dreams ran the gamut of nothing wrong with him at all to dying in convulsions on the cage floor. I kept getting up and checking on him. At about 2am, I finally started reading Richelle's hamster book in the "Diseases" section. I knew that hamsters prefer a temp range from 65 - 80 but the book gave me the impression that the little buggers like it more constant with a variance of about three degrees either way. The bedroom was hovering around 66 at night and getting up to about 75 during the day so I hauled in the space heater and flipped it on low.

It worked!! When I checked on him around 6am, he was drinking water as if he.....well.....hadn't had any for a couple of days. Later, I heard him running in the wheel. He improved rapidly and in just a couple of days was pretty much back to normal and growing.

You can bet your last dollar that I haven't tried to pick him up since! He is taming down, though, getting used to our voices and we talk to him a lot. He sniffs at my hand instead of pinning back his ears and getting defensive.

The things Moms do for their kids.....

Let me tell you about the past 36 hours or so.

(At this point, Himself would moan, "And if I don't want to hear about it?"
To which I'd respond, "Listen anyway." In kind, loving tones, of course.)


Let's rewind back to early Tuesday morning.

3am ~ My alarm goes off. I hit it and it shuts off. It's somehow therapeutic to have an alarm clock that turns off by slamming.....um.....pushing a large button on the top. I stagger out of bed and check to make sure Cameron's awake and up. I hear the shower running. Good. He's up. I go back to bed.

3:10am ~ I think I hear a loud whisper. I look to the doorway of my bedroom. No blurry shape blocking out the dim light from the kitchen. However, being a mom, I get up again to see if I was hearing things or if Cameron really did need to talk to me.

He really did need to talk to me. As in, "Mom, I feel like I'm going to puke." Now my children don't come to me with that statement after about age twelve and he's eighteen. His problem was that he had to go to work. I mean he HAD to go. He's in his first-30-days-probation period and if he calls in sick, he kisses his job goodbye. He knew this and I knew this. He was asking for help in making his guts settle down. I made him sip peppermint tea and nibble saltines for about thirty minutes and then sent him to work with the tea and crackers, and with crossed fingers I went back to bed. It's 3:45am.

5am~ Mike's alarm goes off. His has a little push-button on the front and it's on the other side of the bed, anyway. I haven't done much for the past 75 minutes except doze and wait for a phone call.

5:30 ~ Mike leaves for work. I go back to sleep.

5:45 ~ I wake up feeling as if I've slept well for at least half an hour. I check the clock and give up on sleep. I get up and start to put together the last-minute stuff Richelle's asked me to take care of for her Girl Scout event she's putting on.

7am ~ I wake up Richelle and we run around like the proverbial chicken, getting showered and dressed, getting everything checked off and loaded up. We leave for town at 8am. (Breakfast? What's that?")

8:30 ~ My cell rings. It's Cameron. "Mom, I need you here."
"There? At the mill?"
"Yes. Here. Now."
"Why?"
"They found me in the bathroom throwing up during break and they're sending me home. They don't want me to drive myself."
I knew the policy had changed over the years with the company in regards to vomitus. Back in the dark ages twenty years ago, Mike would go to work with the flu. When I asked, he said that if he needed to throw up, he'd just head for the outside door and puke around the corner. The only time he'd stay home with the flu is if he had the trots. Can't very well head for the outside door with that condition.
Cameron wasn't being sent home because he was caught throwing up during break, he was being sent home because he was throwing up. Them sending him home is a different color of fish than him calling in sick. Newer policy having to do with bodily fluids. But to be told that they didn't want him driving himself home? Wow. He must have been white as a sheet. His boss offered to drive him home. The poor guy didn't know how long a drive that was. Cameron turned him down.
I, however, was between that well-known rock and the unyielding hard place. The rock was that I HAD to be with Richelle all day as her adviser and to meet the adult/youth ratio. The hard place was that my son was sick and needed me. Fortunately, his best friend's mom was willing to make a round trip of about 100 miles to get him and take him home. Lovely lady. I am deeply in her debt.

9am ~ The girls helping Richelle with her project begin to arrive. I'm going to skip the next six hours except for one darling funny story and a brief description of her project. Richelle is earning her Bronze award, the highest award available at her level of Girl Scouts (henceforth abbreviated as GS). Along with other requirements, she needed to think up, plan, and execute a community service. At this level, the service can be within GS. She chose to plan and carry out a Daisy (kindergarten level) bridging workshop - a program where the girls complete the requirements to earn a special badge worn on their Brownie uniforms (next level up). She also planned a ceremony for the girls to "bridge" from Daisies to Brownies. She has put in a total of 36.5 hours so far, six of which was the event itself, and not counting the follow-up paperwork.
The funny story: The girls were eating lunch and there were three little Daisies sitting across from me. The one in the middle had a little container of potato chips that got knocked off the table, spilling the chips onto the ground. She picked them all up, sat back down, and with the chips cupped in her hands stated, "Now I can't eat them." I don't think she was complaining, she was simply stating a fact and was uncertain what to do next. One sweet, helpful little Daisy next to her snatched a chip, blew furiously all over one side of it and then the other, handed it back and confidently announced, "Now you can eat it!"
I successfully swallowed my hysterical laughter.

5:15pm ~ We headed home after a brief stop at the grocery store where Richelle actually rode in the cart for a while she was that tired.

Sometime before 7pm ~ Discussion about how Cameron was going to get to work in the morning since his car is still in the parking lot. I offered to drive him but Mike said he could just as easily go to work early and take him. They work in the same mill. We eat supper, Cameron included.

9pm ~ House is quiet as a tomb with a hamster. Mike and Cameron are asleep and have been for almost two hours, Richelle is nearly so, and I'm dragging pretty hard.

3:15am ~ I jolt awake, not having any memory of smacking the alarm silent. I stagger out to the kitchen (deja vu) where Cameron is putting his lunch together. Cameron asks who's driving him. I shuffle back to the bedroom, wake Mike up, and ask him if he's going to be getting up.
"Yeah, but we don't need to leave until quarter after four."
"That'll put him at the mill at five." That's when his shift starts and they're both rabid about getting there half an hour early at least.
Long pause.
"Oh." .....slightly shorter pause.........."You're right." Deep breath and sigh..... "You can go ahead and take him," and Himself shifts to a more comfortable spot in the bed.

3:30am ~ I head out on a 90-minute round-trip drive. The trip down was fun with the chit-chat but the drive back.......do you have any idea of the totally off the wall topics discussed on radio talk shows at 4am? Discussing UFOs and Sasquatch quite matter-of-factly as if they're as real as jumbo jets and bighorn sheep? Cameron said one morning they were having a conversation with Jesus. Odd flock of ducks.

5am ~ I get back home, kiss Himself goodnight and goodbye, climb back into my lightly used side of the bed, fall asleep and don't wake up until 8am.

The rest of the day I have this nagging headache and feeling of lethargy. I manage to get five loads of laundry done, the kitchen cleaned, and the family and dining rooms straightened up but I copped out and picked up pizza for supper on the way home from the Oakland City Council meeting where...

...Cameron was given a commendation for his Eagle project! They are sooo pleased with that sign.

And now I see by the clock that today has become tomorrow. I'm going to bed.

Bits and Pieces

I felt like posting but there's not a whole lot to post about that's all that interesting......

Richelle's hamster is growing almost as we watch him. He drove her out of her bed and to the couch two nights in a row because his wheel was noisy. I put a drop of vegetable oil on the mechanism today and it quieted down considerably. We'll see how she does tonight. I told her it was like having a new baby - they keep you up until you're exhausted and then wake you up in the night. Richelle named him Sokki but Mike insists on calling him Stewart as in Little which annoys her no end. This evening he referred to Sokki as his grandchild (!!!). I never, ever thought he'd enjoy a hamster but he sure seems to.

Cameron's holding up under the strain of ten-hour days of hard labor. He was having a hard time with fatigue and even resorted to caffeine pills a couple of times. I remembered an athletic teacher from high school talking about how he made peanut butter balls dipped in chocolate for energy while cross-country skiing so Wednesday night (yes, night!) I made a search online for Buckeye Ball recipes and made a batch. They didn't look all that pretty because I didn't want to wait until midnight for them to chill hard before I dipped them but Cameron said they were quite tasty and did the trick nicely. He took six to work and ate four of them first break and the other two last break and had no trouble staying alert. I think I'd rather him eat a homemade candy like Buckeye Balls instead of pop a pill containing about 150mg of caffeine.

He's bulking out and I can see a difference just in one week. He's always been a solid boy but he's getting some serious muscles on him now. Look out girls........or maybe I should say, "Look out, Cameron!"

The flowers in the baskets are growing but with the cooler weather we've been having, not that rapidly. We had a decent June day today with clear skies and temps in the mid 80s. Himself has ceased complaining over their slowness and has resigned Himself to wait. I was given a basket of petunias that smell so delicious! I don't have it hanging, yet, but will get to that tomorrow.

We had our Girl Scout Court of Honor last night. We do this twice a year and it's a time where the girls' families come together at a potluck and witness the girls being awarded the badges they've completed, the honors they've earned, and the participation patches for the events they've attended. The parents who've helped in the troop are thanked and are usually given a small gift of appreciation. That's where I got the petunias. I have such a great leader to work with! I headed up the project to nominate our leader for Outstanding Troop Leader award for our area and of course she got it! How could she not with all she does? Fortunately, the awards committee is an intelligent group of women and agreed with us that she is a fine, outstanding troop leader.

Tuesday, Richelle holds the Daisy Bridging Workshop and Ceremony event that she's been working on so hard the last few months. This project completes the requirements for her Bronze Award, the highest award for her level of Girl Scouts. I am looking forward to next Wednesday morning because then the event will be behind us and only paperwork to finish!