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.