For the past few years, our daughter and family have invited us to join them for a couple of days of their vacation at a condo on a lake. It's always fun, and we usually do something special while we are there, such as going to the wildlife sanctuary or visiting the diosaur tracks in the river nearby.
This year, because I am still not as strong as I hope to be eventually, we just hung out at the condo. The condo has two decks; one is at the level of the sliding glass door, and is lovely for sitting outside and watching the moon come up.
The lower deck, down a flight of steps, has a boat slip, and plenty of space for chairs. The kids spend a lot of time there, swimming and fishing.
Jeana's husband told the kids to keep the small fish they were catching, and later they would use them for bait.
Lolly was excited about catching fish, even tiny ones, but when it came time to cut them up for bait, she got a little teary.
Since I still have trouble with stairs, Scott brought one of the little fish up to show me. As he stood over me (he was standing, I was sitting), the little fish, which we thought was dead, suddenly leaped out of his hand and went right down my cleavage.
Predictably, I squealed and started digging for the little fish, which was squirming his way right down my shirt.
Scott, Jeana, and Wick were laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes.
I finally had to go take a shower and change clothes, because I was so certain I smelled like fish.
I'm telling you, I couldn't make this stuff up!
Showing posts with label vacation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vacation. Show all posts
Friday, September 18, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Summer Is Here
Three weeks ago, we bid adieu to the r.v. park, hitched up the fifth wheel, and came home to the lake for the summer. The days have been warm and sunny for the most part, with a good breeze blowing most of the day.
Since my heart med was increased again, I have been feeling a little under the weather, and have been spending a large part of each day sitting on the shady deck, enjoying the breeze, watching the ducks, geese, herons, egrets, bluebirds, and squirrels.
Sunday was the first day of summer, but since one day has been much like another, it barely made a ripple in my mind.
Most mornings, Wick and I sit out on the back deck, drinking coffee, and talking about what he has accomplished working on the cabin, and what is planned for the next day.
This morning, the breeze died. At 9:00 it is already nearly ninety degrees. Summer is here with a vengeance.
I scan the sky hopefully, looking for rain clouds, but there isn't a cloud in the sky. The only thing that makes the deck bearable is the fact that it is so shady most of the day, and that Wick plugged in a fan to create an artificial breeze.
Even the duck and geese have abandoned our little piece of shoreline, clinging to the shade and staying in the brush most of the day.
This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.
Even if it is already summer.
Since my heart med was increased again, I have been feeling a little under the weather, and have been spending a large part of each day sitting on the shady deck, enjoying the breeze, watching the ducks, geese, herons, egrets, bluebirds, and squirrels.
Sunday was the first day of summer, but since one day has been much like another, it barely made a ripple in my mind.
Most mornings, Wick and I sit out on the back deck, drinking coffee, and talking about what he has accomplished working on the cabin, and what is planned for the next day.
This morning, the breeze died. At 9:00 it is already nearly ninety degrees. Summer is here with a vengeance.
I scan the sky hopefully, looking for rain clouds, but there isn't a cloud in the sky. The only thing that makes the deck bearable is the fact that it is so shady most of the day, and that Wick plugged in a fan to create an artificial breeze.
Even the duck and geese have abandoned our little piece of shoreline, clinging to the shade and staying in the brush most of the day.
This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.
Even if it is already summer.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Dinosaur Tracks
Our daughter Jeana(daystocome) and her family invited us to spend a couple of days with them during their vacation. She said the kids wanted to go to Glen Rose to see the dinosaur tracks.
We had never been there. Neither of us is fond of being hot, and we had visions of clambering around a bunch of rocks, probably on a small mountain, in the broiling sun of August in Texas. But we do love our grandbabies, and we love being with daughter and son-in-law, so we said, sure, of course, count us in.
What we didn't say to them, but did say to each other, was, "Well, we can't all go in one vehicle so we will take our car, and if it is just too unbearable hot, we'll be able to leave them there and go find some place air conditioned until they are done looking at dinosaur tracks."
Having paid the day use fee (very reasonably priced at $5 per adult, $3 for seniors), our first stop seemed to confirm my worst fears. We walked to a pile of rocks that gradually sloped down to a river bed, and a sign with a piece of pipe to look through pointed the way to the first set of tracks.
I slathered on my sunscreen, adjusted my sun visor, put on my sunglasses, and trecked over to the sign amid the rocks. I dutifully looked through the little piece of pipe to zero in on where the tracks were, exclaimed at how many and what varied sizes and types, and politely declined an invitation to get up close and personal by hiking down the rocks in the sun.
I sat on a big rock, chatted with other visitors to the spot, some of whom were from England and Australia, and waited for my darlings to return.
We visited another spot, almost interchangeable with the first, as far as I could tell. Again, I perched on a big rock, swigged water from my bottle, and visited with passing visitors until my family came back.
My dear son-in-law said he thought we should go back to the first place, set up our day camp, and go swimming.
Swimming? My ears perked up a bit, since cold water sounded like a great idea on that hot day.
We gathered up the ground blanket, coolers, food, chairs, and assorted paraphernalia for enjoying a day on the river, and hiked down the rocks. Scott found a level spot in the shade, and we unloaded our burdens.
When I saw where we had to hike down to get to the river, I almost backed out. Having suffered a concussion not so long ago, I was reluctant to take a chance on falling and banging my head again. But Wick and Scott went before and after me, guiding me to the easiest path, and steadying me on the steepest parts.
What awaited us was a sort of paradise. Plenty of shade, water shallow enough to wade in, dropping down to chest-deep at a rocky dam, with places to sit on the rocks, get into deeper water, or wade upstream to search for more dinosaur tracks.
Scott brought us watermelon, bottled water, and even our lunch sandwiches, so I wouldn't have to struggle back up the rocks. As the shade moved over the water, he brought down canvas chairs so we could sit in knee-deep water, in the shade of the overhanging trees, and watch the grandbabies swarming up and down the river, finding tracks, dragonflies, minnows, small perch that nibbled on bare toes, and a variety of flora and fauna.
Occasionally a cool burst of water flowed through the natural limestone dam, keeping us quite cool, despite the sun flashing on the slow-moving water.
Other groups came and went, lingering briefly, then moving on to other overlooks, constantly looking for bigger and better .... bigger and better what? I wondered as I lazily swirled the water with my feet, watching the little ones digging in the sand, or befriending other children who came to the river to dig in the sand and paddle in the water.
After all my apprehensions, it was one of the most perfect days of my life, surrounded by loved ones, enjoying the bounty of nature and the beauty of God's creation.
We had never been there. Neither of us is fond of being hot, and we had visions of clambering around a bunch of rocks, probably on a small mountain, in the broiling sun of August in Texas. But we do love our grandbabies, and we love being with daughter and son-in-law, so we said, sure, of course, count us in.
What we didn't say to them, but did say to each other, was, "Well, we can't all go in one vehicle so we will take our car, and if it is just too unbearable hot, we'll be able to leave them there and go find some place air conditioned until they are done looking at dinosaur tracks."
Having paid the day use fee (very reasonably priced at $5 per adult, $3 for seniors), our first stop seemed to confirm my worst fears. We walked to a pile of rocks that gradually sloped down to a river bed, and a sign with a piece of pipe to look through pointed the way to the first set of tracks.
I slathered on my sunscreen, adjusted my sun visor, put on my sunglasses, and trecked over to the sign amid the rocks. I dutifully looked through the little piece of pipe to zero in on where the tracks were, exclaimed at how many and what varied sizes and types, and politely declined an invitation to get up close and personal by hiking down the rocks in the sun.
I sat on a big rock, chatted with other visitors to the spot, some of whom were from England and Australia, and waited for my darlings to return.
We visited another spot, almost interchangeable with the first, as far as I could tell. Again, I perched on a big rock, swigged water from my bottle, and visited with passing visitors until my family came back.
My dear son-in-law said he thought we should go back to the first place, set up our day camp, and go swimming.
Swimming? My ears perked up a bit, since cold water sounded like a great idea on that hot day.
We gathered up the ground blanket, coolers, food, chairs, and assorted paraphernalia for enjoying a day on the river, and hiked down the rocks. Scott found a level spot in the shade, and we unloaded our burdens.
When I saw where we had to hike down to get to the river, I almost backed out. Having suffered a concussion not so long ago, I was reluctant to take a chance on falling and banging my head again. But Wick and Scott went before and after me, guiding me to the easiest path, and steadying me on the steepest parts.
What awaited us was a sort of paradise. Plenty of shade, water shallow enough to wade in, dropping down to chest-deep at a rocky dam, with places to sit on the rocks, get into deeper water, or wade upstream to search for more dinosaur tracks.
Scott brought us watermelon, bottled water, and even our lunch sandwiches, so I wouldn't have to struggle back up the rocks. As the shade moved over the water, he brought down canvas chairs so we could sit in knee-deep water, in the shade of the overhanging trees, and watch the grandbabies swarming up and down the river, finding tracks, dragonflies, minnows, small perch that nibbled on bare toes, and a variety of flora and fauna.
Occasionally a cool burst of water flowed through the natural limestone dam, keeping us quite cool, despite the sun flashing on the slow-moving water.
Other groups came and went, lingering briefly, then moving on to other overlooks, constantly looking for bigger and better .... bigger and better what? I wondered as I lazily swirled the water with my feet, watching the little ones digging in the sand, or befriending other children who came to the river to dig in the sand and paddle in the water.
After all my apprehensions, it was one of the most perfect days of my life, surrounded by loved ones, enjoying the bounty of nature and the beauty of God's creation.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Spring Break 2008
No, we are not at Padre Island, or on a cruise, or skiing. We are at home. Home is our cabin on the lake, where we are building a cabin.
So far this week, we have:
Sat on the dock.
Watched the ducks, geese, and swans.
Leisurely drank coffee and read the paper.
Been to town twice, to pick up groceries, go to CVS to catch the specials, and get a pickup load of insulation and a door for the bathroom.
Stayed up late watching movies on tv.
Slept late.
Sat in the cabin looking at our view of the boathouse, lake, trees and sky.
Swept the cabin twice, trying to get rid of the sawdust, dead ants, and dirt.
Put up some insulation.
Installed a door on the bathroom.
Washed all the sheets and towels.
Stood on the dock and watched the clouds dissipate and the sun peek through.
Enjoyed the extremes of Texas springtime, from freezing at night to shorts weather in the daytime, from fog and rain to bright sunshine.
Bemoaned the accumulation of dirt and grime on our boat over the winter.
Discovered that a wind storm carried off some shingles from our roof and a panel from the deck roof.
Chased the neighbor's chickens, shooing them back to their home.
Thanked God for this place and this time to be here.
Enjoyed.
So far this week, we have:
Sat on the dock.
Watched the ducks, geese, and swans.
Leisurely drank coffee and read the paper.
Been to town twice, to pick up groceries, go to CVS to catch the specials, and get a pickup load of insulation and a door for the bathroom.
Stayed up late watching movies on tv.
Slept late.
Sat in the cabin looking at our view of the boathouse, lake, trees and sky.
Swept the cabin twice, trying to get rid of the sawdust, dead ants, and dirt.
Put up some insulation.
Installed a door on the bathroom.
Washed all the sheets and towels.
Stood on the dock and watched the clouds dissipate and the sun peek through.
Enjoyed the extremes of Texas springtime, from freezing at night to shorts weather in the daytime, from fog and rain to bright sunshine.
Bemoaned the accumulation of dirt and grime on our boat over the winter.
Discovered that a wind storm carried off some shingles from our roof and a panel from the deck roof.
Chased the neighbor's chickens, shooing them back to their home.
Thanked God for this place and this time to be here.
Enjoyed.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Cruising Along
Wick & I just returned from a 7 day cruise with Royal Caribbean's Rhapsody of the Seas. We have sailed on this ship four times. She is not the largest cruise ship, but has the most repeat cruisers of any of Royal Caribbean's ships, due to the wonderful service and friendly staff.
Sadly, this will be our last cruise on the Rhapsody. She is being sent to Australia for several months, then will be reconditioned, and sent to Asia.
One of the things we like about the Rhapsody is the size. With about 2500 passengers, it is possible to get acquainted with other passengers, and to feel a part of the shipboard community.
On this cruise, we traveled with a family group, 15 other cruisers related to us by birth or marriage. We enjoyed their company, and shared many meals, on board activities, and excursions.
If you have never taken a cruise, be prepared for a whole new world of experience. For us, it is a week of feeling like royalty. Someone else cooks, serves and cleans up after 5 course gourmet meals, including lobster, escargot, prime rib, shrimp, and the most luscious desserts I have ever dreamed of. Someone else makes up the bed, cleans the shower, puts out clean towels, and picks up the wet washcloth I dropped in the shower. Someone else plans the daily activities, serves an endless stream of drinks with chunks of fruit and little umbrellas, and washes up the glasses afterward.
The biggest decision on a day at sea is which of a half dozen appetizers to order, or whether to read in a deck chair on the promenade deck, or in the solarium.
It's a week of luxury, of being pampered and cosseted, of being made to feel that life is truly just a bowl of cherries---piled high with whipped cream.
Try it. I think you'll like it.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Gone With the Wind
As I said in my last post, during the early years of our marriage, when we camped, we slept in a tent.
Which was an improvement over sleeping on the ground.
Or on a concrete picnic table.
or on a wobbly Army surplus cot, which I had to share with my baby sister or brother.
Wick and I both grew up richer in family and love than money, and for entertainment, our families camped out. We continued to camp out, because we enjoyed being with our families, and wanted our kids to grow up with similar memories to ours.
As if we didn't get enough of tent camping at Toledo Bend, we continued to tent camp.
Admittedly, we would have preferred a nicer accomodation, but hey, the tent was available.
And free, since we were borrowing it from his parents, who had moved up to a small camp trailer, with one real bed, and one that folded up against the ceiling when not in use.
We lived within fifteen minutes of Lake Texoma, which at the time allowed free camping.
And on our budget, free was good.
So as I was saying, we went camping with our kids and parents and siblings and their kids and whoever else wanted to go. It often rained, but since we all had some form of shelter, we didn't let that stop us.
One evening as we were settling in for the night, my brother-in-law mentioned that it looked like it might rain. We glanced up, noticed the rising wind, and the streaks of lightning in the distance, and agreed.
Wick compensated for the threat of rain by tying the tent down more securely. Since the tent pegs had a tendency to come unstaked when it rained, he tied a couple of the tent lines to the bumper of our baby blue Volkswagen.
We settled the kids for the night, sat around our campfire and talked and sang until we were falling asleep, and then joined the kids in the tent.
About two hours later, we were awakened from a sound sleep by the rising wind, hard rain, and lightning striking much too close for comfort.
I reached out to grab Wick's hand in the inky darkness, and asked him if everything was okay. His voice, calm and low enough not to rouse the sleeping babies, reassured me that everything was fine.
I let my head fall back onto the pillow, listening to the gale winds flapping the tent vigorously. Suddenly, chaos.
The tent essentially turned wrong side out, turing our cots over, and scattering our possesions to the elements. Wick grabbed me just as Scott grabbed my leg, crying that the rain was getting his face wet. I shouted, "Where is Jeana?"
Over the roaring winds and rain, I heard her little voice crying for her daddy.
I could hear her.
But I couldn't find her.
My heart jumped up in my throat, choking off my breathing, as I started pawing through the stuff that our tent had vomited out, searching for my baby girl.
Wick too was searching, digging, throwing things right and left.
Finally, we found her, on the ground, under one of the cots, with another cot crossways on top of the first cot.
We hugged both of them close and started laughing, standing out in the pouring rain and howling wind.
Then Wick bundled us into the VW with whatever blankets he salvaged from the disaster, adn we slept the rest of the night in the car.
Next morning, we discovered that we were not the only ones who had slept in their cars, and that at least one family had utterly abandoned us and gone to find a dry motel room.
The tent was still tied to the bumper of the Volkswagen, rather the worse for wear and tear.
By the next camping season, Wick had managed to come up with a cute little cover for the bed of his pickup, so that we were no longer tent camping, but camper camping.
It's an ill wind that blows no good.
Which was an improvement over sleeping on the ground.
Or on a concrete picnic table.
or on a wobbly Army surplus cot, which I had to share with my baby sister or brother.
Wick and I both grew up richer in family and love than money, and for entertainment, our families camped out. We continued to camp out, because we enjoyed being with our families, and wanted our kids to grow up with similar memories to ours.
As if we didn't get enough of tent camping at Toledo Bend, we continued to tent camp.
Admittedly, we would have preferred a nicer accomodation, but hey, the tent was available.
And free, since we were borrowing it from his parents, who had moved up to a small camp trailer, with one real bed, and one that folded up against the ceiling when not in use.
We lived within fifteen minutes of Lake Texoma, which at the time allowed free camping.
And on our budget, free was good.
So as I was saying, we went camping with our kids and parents and siblings and their kids and whoever else wanted to go. It often rained, but since we all had some form of shelter, we didn't let that stop us.
One evening as we were settling in for the night, my brother-in-law mentioned that it looked like it might rain. We glanced up, noticed the rising wind, and the streaks of lightning in the distance, and agreed.
Wick compensated for the threat of rain by tying the tent down more securely. Since the tent pegs had a tendency to come unstaked when it rained, he tied a couple of the tent lines to the bumper of our baby blue Volkswagen.
We settled the kids for the night, sat around our campfire and talked and sang until we were falling asleep, and then joined the kids in the tent.
About two hours later, we were awakened from a sound sleep by the rising wind, hard rain, and lightning striking much too close for comfort.
I reached out to grab Wick's hand in the inky darkness, and asked him if everything was okay. His voice, calm and low enough not to rouse the sleeping babies, reassured me that everything was fine.
I let my head fall back onto the pillow, listening to the gale winds flapping the tent vigorously. Suddenly, chaos.
The tent essentially turned wrong side out, turing our cots over, and scattering our possesions to the elements. Wick grabbed me just as Scott grabbed my leg, crying that the rain was getting his face wet. I shouted, "Where is Jeana?"
Over the roaring winds and rain, I heard her little voice crying for her daddy.
I could hear her.
But I couldn't find her.
My heart jumped up in my throat, choking off my breathing, as I started pawing through the stuff that our tent had vomited out, searching for my baby girl.
Wick too was searching, digging, throwing things right and left.
Finally, we found her, on the ground, under one of the cots, with another cot crossways on top of the first cot.
We hugged both of them close and started laughing, standing out in the pouring rain and howling wind.
Then Wick bundled us into the VW with whatever blankets he salvaged from the disaster, adn we slept the rest of the night in the car.
Next morning, we discovered that we were not the only ones who had slept in their cars, and that at least one family had utterly abandoned us and gone to find a dry motel room.
The tent was still tied to the bumper of the Volkswagen, rather the worse for wear and tear.
By the next camping season, Wick had managed to come up with a cute little cover for the bed of his pickup, so that we were no longer tent camping, but camper camping.
It's an ill wind that blows no good.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Our First Family Vacation
Katherine at Raising Five
reminded me of our first family vacation. When we married, Wick was working construction. For those of you who have never had the pleasure of working for a construction company, I offer the following information:
1. Yes, the pay per hour sounds great.
2. Except that you have no benefits.
3. No insurance.
4. No sick leave.
5. And no paid vacation.
6. And when the job ends, you are out of work.
So, all the time you are working, you bring home a nice check, but you had better be filling your pantry and freezer, and saving up for the intervals between one job ending and the next beginning.
We had two babies in less than 3 years, and moved about 13 times. When I was pregnant with #2 (daughter Jeana), we finally settled down in a small Texas town, and Wick went to work at a foundry. Now if there is anything worse than working construction in the summer in Texas, where outdoor temperatures may reach 110 in the shade, it is working in a foundry. Imagine handling molten aluminum at a temperature of 2,000 degrees. In Texas. In the summertime. Sometimes for 10-12 hours a day.
And if there is anything Wick hates, it is being hot.
But he is and always has been committed to providing for his family, so he did what he felt he had to do.
After a year, he got a week's paid vacation. We were so excited! A week off, and he still got paid! Some of his buddies at work were planning a fishing trip, and invited him. He said only if the babies and I could go too. They agreed to provide all the food, if I did the cooking.
So off we went, with our babies and our German Shepherd Wolf packed up in our station wagon, with a tent and ice chests and suitcases and playpens and cots and fishing poles and bait boxes and cups and plates and pots and pans, and about a cajillion diapers. Have I mentioned we had two babies?
When we got to the lake, on the border between Texas and Louisiana, the guys said they had reserved a camping spot right on the water, with lots of shade, and close to the restrooms and office. It looked lovely when we arrived, in the middle of the night, to set up our tents and get the babies ready for bed. In the rain.
The next morning, I discovered that there was not a level spot as big as a card table in the whole place. The card table, which was my outdoor kitchen, had to be propped against a tree to keep it from falling over. When I started frying bacon and sausage, there was about two inches of grease on one side of the skillet, and none on the other side, because the Coleman camp stove was so unlevel.
I have to give the guys credit: we ate great. They brought all kinds of good stuff, like steaks and pork chops, stuff that we usually couldn't afford. I actually enjoyed cooking for them. They were very grateful and complimentary, no matter what I concocted, and helped with the cleanup after each meal, hauling water to wash dishes, heating water on the Coleman stove, and washing up.
Fortunately for me, the office/store/restroom area provided a clean place to bathe the babies, a small stock of canned goods and milk if we ran low on something, and wonder of wonders, a paperback library. Every morning the babies and I went to the showers to get cleaned up, rinsed out clothes, and picked out something for mama to read during afternoon nap times.
They guys fished. Every day. All the time.
The only problem was that they didn't catch anything.
But they had a great time fishing.
Oh. I forgot to mention that it rained.
Every day.
Every blooming day.
Now this may not have occurred to you, and it had not occurred to me, that when you are staying in a tent, on a slope, and it rains every day, the tent starts to fill up with mud. The mud flows downhill, into the tent, across the tent floor, and accumulates against the downhill wall. Six to eight inches deep. Inside the tent.
And although you can wash clothes in the nice clean shower house, and hang them inside the tent, they don't get dry.
They never dry.
They start to mildew.
And so did the babies and I.
Heat rash.
Diaper rash.
Mosquito bits.
So.
Here we are, on our first paid vacation in three years.
With two babies.
And a German Shepherd, with a tail as thick as a cable, and paws the size of saucers, and ticks as big as grapes from all the bushes he has been running through, and probably carrying about 5 pounds of mud at all times, because honestly, how do you keep a German Shepherd clean, when it rains EVERY DAY?
I thought I was bearing up well, until the last day before we were planning to leave. That day it rained all day long. No letup. I spent the whole day in the tent, with its muddy floor, and the muddy dog, and the babies who had by this time a major case of diaper rash because, have I mentioned, IT RAINED THE WHOLE WEEK?
So when the guys came in for lunch, I took Wick aside, and as nicely as possible explained to him that I had had all of the fishing camp fun I could stand for this year, and we were down to our last set of clean dry clothes, and if something didn't happen soon I was going out of my ever loving mind, and he, in the goodness of his heart, told the guys he was not going fishing with them that night, because his wife was going crazy.
He helped me bathe the babies and we all put on our last set of clean dry clothes, and he took us to town for dinner.
I don't remember where we ate, or what we ate. What I do remember is that he gave up his last fishing opportunity to take me somewhere clean, cool, and dry, and entertained me for two hours with stories of the size of the mosquitoes, the thickness of the mud, the lost lures, the hung-up hooks, and the big fish that got away.
When we got back, the guys were waiting to show us the fish they caught.
The only fish that were caught the whole trip.
And my darling missed out, because he took us to town for supper.
I felt just awful.
And so very thankful that I had married such a man.
He never complained, just laughed at the irony of it all.
And two days later went back to work in the foundry.
Love is patient and kind, and does not seek its own satisfaction. I'm sure he would much rather have been fishing with his buddies that last night. I' m also certain that going back to work in that foundry was not his first choice of how to spend his time, but he did it anyway.
4Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. 8Love never fails.
I Corinthians 13:4-8
When we married, along with the usual vows for better or worse, in sickness and in health, the minister read these verses. I had no idea at the time how well these verses described the man I was marrying.
Even on vacation.
reminded me of our first family vacation. When we married, Wick was working construction. For those of you who have never had the pleasure of working for a construction company, I offer the following information:
1. Yes, the pay per hour sounds great.
2. Except that you have no benefits.
3. No insurance.
4. No sick leave.
5. And no paid vacation.
6. And when the job ends, you are out of work.
So, all the time you are working, you bring home a nice check, but you had better be filling your pantry and freezer, and saving up for the intervals between one job ending and the next beginning.
We had two babies in less than 3 years, and moved about 13 times. When I was pregnant with #2 (daughter Jeana), we finally settled down in a small Texas town, and Wick went to work at a foundry. Now if there is anything worse than working construction in the summer in Texas, where outdoor temperatures may reach 110 in the shade, it is working in a foundry. Imagine handling molten aluminum at a temperature of 2,000 degrees. In Texas. In the summertime. Sometimes for 10-12 hours a day.
And if there is anything Wick hates, it is being hot.
But he is and always has been committed to providing for his family, so he did what he felt he had to do.
After a year, he got a week's paid vacation. We were so excited! A week off, and he still got paid! Some of his buddies at work were planning a fishing trip, and invited him. He said only if the babies and I could go too. They agreed to provide all the food, if I did the cooking.
So off we went, with our babies and our German Shepherd Wolf packed up in our station wagon, with a tent and ice chests and suitcases and playpens and cots and fishing poles and bait boxes and cups and plates and pots and pans, and about a cajillion diapers. Have I mentioned we had two babies?
When we got to the lake, on the border between Texas and Louisiana, the guys said they had reserved a camping spot right on the water, with lots of shade, and close to the restrooms and office. It looked lovely when we arrived, in the middle of the night, to set up our tents and get the babies ready for bed. In the rain.
The next morning, I discovered that there was not a level spot as big as a card table in the whole place. The card table, which was my outdoor kitchen, had to be propped against a tree to keep it from falling over. When I started frying bacon and sausage, there was about two inches of grease on one side of the skillet, and none on the other side, because the Coleman camp stove was so unlevel.
I have to give the guys credit: we ate great. They brought all kinds of good stuff, like steaks and pork chops, stuff that we usually couldn't afford. I actually enjoyed cooking for them. They were very grateful and complimentary, no matter what I concocted, and helped with the cleanup after each meal, hauling water to wash dishes, heating water on the Coleman stove, and washing up.
Fortunately for me, the office/store/restroom area provided a clean place to bathe the babies, a small stock of canned goods and milk if we ran low on something, and wonder of wonders, a paperback library. Every morning the babies and I went to the showers to get cleaned up, rinsed out clothes, and picked out something for mama to read during afternoon nap times.
They guys fished. Every day. All the time.
The only problem was that they didn't catch anything.
But they had a great time fishing.
Oh. I forgot to mention that it rained.
Every day.
Every blooming day.
Now this may not have occurred to you, and it had not occurred to me, that when you are staying in a tent, on a slope, and it rains every day, the tent starts to fill up with mud. The mud flows downhill, into the tent, across the tent floor, and accumulates against the downhill wall. Six to eight inches deep. Inside the tent.
And although you can wash clothes in the nice clean shower house, and hang them inside the tent, they don't get dry.
They never dry.
They start to mildew.
And so did the babies and I.
Heat rash.
Diaper rash.
Mosquito bits.
So.
Here we are, on our first paid vacation in three years.
With two babies.
And a German Shepherd, with a tail as thick as a cable, and paws the size of saucers, and ticks as big as grapes from all the bushes he has been running through, and probably carrying about 5 pounds of mud at all times, because honestly, how do you keep a German Shepherd clean, when it rains EVERY DAY?
I thought I was bearing up well, until the last day before we were planning to leave. That day it rained all day long. No letup. I spent the whole day in the tent, with its muddy floor, and the muddy dog, and the babies who had by this time a major case of diaper rash because, have I mentioned, IT RAINED THE WHOLE WEEK?
So when the guys came in for lunch, I took Wick aside, and as nicely as possible explained to him that I had had all of the fishing camp fun I could stand for this year, and we were down to our last set of clean dry clothes, and if something didn't happen soon I was going out of my ever loving mind, and he, in the goodness of his heart, told the guys he was not going fishing with them that night, because his wife was going crazy.
He helped me bathe the babies and we all put on our last set of clean dry clothes, and he took us to town for dinner.
I don't remember where we ate, or what we ate. What I do remember is that he gave up his last fishing opportunity to take me somewhere clean, cool, and dry, and entertained me for two hours with stories of the size of the mosquitoes, the thickness of the mud, the lost lures, the hung-up hooks, and the big fish that got away.
When we got back, the guys were waiting to show us the fish they caught.
The only fish that were caught the whole trip.
And my darling missed out, because he took us to town for supper.
I felt just awful.
And so very thankful that I had married such a man.
He never complained, just laughed at the irony of it all.
And two days later went back to work in the foundry.
Love is patient and kind, and does not seek its own satisfaction. I'm sure he would much rather have been fishing with his buddies that last night. I' m also certain that going back to work in that foundry was not his first choice of how to spend his time, but he did it anyway.
4Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. 8Love never fails.
I Corinthians 13:4-8
When we married, along with the usual vows for better or worse, in sickness and in health, the minister read these verses. I had no idea at the time how well these verses described the man I was marrying.
Even on vacation.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Zebras and rhinos and ostriches, OH MY!
Last week daughter Jeana invited us to join her and her family for a couple of days of their vacation, which we were very excited about. I mean, really, how many people's kids actually *want* them to come along on vacation! We were delighted to accept, especially since it was the day on which they were going to Fossil Rim exotic animal park.
If you have never been to one of these places, it's sort of like a zoo, except that instead of the animals being in cages, they are running loose, and you drive your car through the park to see the animals. When you buy your tickets, you have the opportunity of also buying a bag of food pellets (they look like pressed cardboard, and smell vaguely like graham crackers--they taste awful--and yes, we did taste them).
As you drive through the park, you can entice many of the animals to come right up to the car, by offering them these pellets. Apparently they taste better to the animals than they do to humans.
Since there were too many of us for one car, we took two, and divided the kids between us. The girls rode with us, and we followed the car with the boys in it. A good deal of our time was taken up with the kids waving, shouting, and squealing at each other from one car to the other. This was a show in itself.
One of our first encounters was with a large ostrich. Ostriches tiptoe like giant, fluffy, feather dusters in toe-shoes. Their long, muscular legs are a sharp contrast to their dainty steps, like ballerinas on pointe.
This ostrich stood right by the road, exacting a toll from each car that passed. The girls told us to put the pellets in the groove of the window, and the ostrich would take the food from there. The girls were right.
The huge bird pecked the food from the window groove, bit by bit, and then looked for more. I reached into the paper bag for more food, but the ostrich was too impatient to wait for me to deposit it in the window groove. He stuck his whole head through the window, his huge shiny eyes intent on the bag of feed, and his huge hard bill much too close to my face.
When I reacted by screeching, waving my hands wildly about my head, and making shooing sounds, the little girls in the back seat dissolved into giggles.
Knowing that we had a couple more hours of animals to feed, we reluctantly left him waiting for the next car, and drove on.
We saw many kinds of small deer, antelope, kudu, gazelles. Many would come quite close to the car, waiting for us to throw a handful of food, which they eagerly lipped from the grass. Lolly worried about them getting bugs in their food, but as Katoushka pointed out, they probably eat a lot of bugs on the grass when no people are around to feed them.
One highlight of our drive was the giraffes. I had never seen these tall, graceful animals so close before. One, a baby, was probably only about six and a half feet tall, and was very curious about us, bending his long neck to peer at us through his amazingly long and thick eyelashes. They remind me of sunflowers, on long, slender stems.
Another was the zebra, who ate food pellets out of my husband's hand, and allowed him to pet his soft nose, just like a horse.
Just twenty feet before we saw the sign that said, "Warning. Do not feed zebras by hand. They bite."
About half way through our trip, we stopped at the gift shop/picnic area for lunch under the shade trees. Since we forgot paper plates, napkins, or paper towels, we had to make our sandwiches on our palms, and eat the chips directly from the bag.
For Big D, I think the highlight of our lunch was the grapes. He had been hungry for fruit the night before, and asked if he could eat some. Jeana told him no, the grapes were for our picnic. He asked if he could have some strawberries. Jeana said no, those are to put on Katie's birthday cake. And the bananas were for breakfast. Finally he sighed dramatically, and asked, "Is there any fruit here that I can actually eat?"
A-man, our budding naturalist, told us many facts about the various animals we had seen. Near the picnic area there were large open-air cages of birds, which were fascinating. We ate a leisurely lunch, looked at the birds in the cages and the ones flying free around the picnic tables, and toured the gift shop, which was filled with all kinds of stuff, ranging from hugely expensive wood carvings and decorated ostrich eggs to games that promised to add to our knowledge of the animals in the park. I looked at the walking sticks, and seriously considered buying one, which I thought was eminently sensible, considering my past history.
However, I just couldn't convince myself to spend that much money for what was, after all, basically a big stick.
Since we had to be back in our home town in time to pick up Frankie the Pomeranian, we had to take leave of our babies at that point, and finish the drive alone. We left the remains of our feed bag with them, so that they would have more to offer to the other animals they might encounter. We did not anticipate that either the ostrich from the beginning of our trip, or a close relative, would be waiting for us around the bend.
He was standing in the middle of the road, wings spread to make himself look even larger than he was already. The road is too narrow to drive around him, so we slowed....to a crawl.....and finally had to stop, because the ostrich clearly had the right of way.
He held his head high, making eye contact through the windshield, and obviously waiting for us to offer some food. Wick and I looked at each other and shrugged. We didn't have any food. So we sat there, waiting for him to move.
He didn't.
He bobbed his head up and down.
He examined each headlight.
He inspected the front bumper.
He looked over every inch of the hood, the windshield, and the wiper blades.
He made the kinds of noises a large, impatient bird makes when people don't cooperate by paying their toll of food pellets.
He did not move out of the road.
We had been warned not to honk at the animals, so we couldn't honk.
We couldn't drive around.
We couldn't take another road, since there was only the one.
We waited.
And waited.
Finally, I rolled down my window and waved my hand gingerly at the ostrich.
Who assumed that I must be offering food, finally.
He stuck not only his head but his whole impossibly long neck through the window.
My previous squawking was nothing to the panicked gestures with which I tried to shoo this bird out. Finally he stepped back and allowed us to pass.
As we drove past, I could see him staring us down, and muttering to himself about people who trick birds by making them think food is being offered, and then stiffing them.
That's the first time I have ever been given the bird by a bird.
If you have never been to one of these places, it's sort of like a zoo, except that instead of the animals being in cages, they are running loose, and you drive your car through the park to see the animals. When you buy your tickets, you have the opportunity of also buying a bag of food pellets (they look like pressed cardboard, and smell vaguely like graham crackers--they taste awful--and yes, we did taste them).
As you drive through the park, you can entice many of the animals to come right up to the car, by offering them these pellets. Apparently they taste better to the animals than they do to humans.
Since there were too many of us for one car, we took two, and divided the kids between us. The girls rode with us, and we followed the car with the boys in it. A good deal of our time was taken up with the kids waving, shouting, and squealing at each other from one car to the other. This was a show in itself.
One of our first encounters was with a large ostrich. Ostriches tiptoe like giant, fluffy, feather dusters in toe-shoes. Their long, muscular legs are a sharp contrast to their dainty steps, like ballerinas on pointe.
This ostrich stood right by the road, exacting a toll from each car that passed. The girls told us to put the pellets in the groove of the window, and the ostrich would take the food from there. The girls were right.
The huge bird pecked the food from the window groove, bit by bit, and then looked for more. I reached into the paper bag for more food, but the ostrich was too impatient to wait for me to deposit it in the window groove. He stuck his whole head through the window, his huge shiny eyes intent on the bag of feed, and his huge hard bill much too close to my face.
When I reacted by screeching, waving my hands wildly about my head, and making shooing sounds, the little girls in the back seat dissolved into giggles.
Knowing that we had a couple more hours of animals to feed, we reluctantly left him waiting for the next car, and drove on.
We saw many kinds of small deer, antelope, kudu, gazelles. Many would come quite close to the car, waiting for us to throw a handful of food, which they eagerly lipped from the grass. Lolly worried about them getting bugs in their food, but as Katoushka pointed out, they probably eat a lot of bugs on the grass when no people are around to feed them.
One highlight of our drive was the giraffes. I had never seen these tall, graceful animals so close before. One, a baby, was probably only about six and a half feet tall, and was very curious about us, bending his long neck to peer at us through his amazingly long and thick eyelashes. They remind me of sunflowers, on long, slender stems.
Another was the zebra, who ate food pellets out of my husband's hand, and allowed him to pet his soft nose, just like a horse.
Just twenty feet before we saw the sign that said, "Warning. Do not feed zebras by hand. They bite."
About half way through our trip, we stopped at the gift shop/picnic area for lunch under the shade trees. Since we forgot paper plates, napkins, or paper towels, we had to make our sandwiches on our palms, and eat the chips directly from the bag.
For Big D, I think the highlight of our lunch was the grapes. He had been hungry for fruit the night before, and asked if he could eat some. Jeana told him no, the grapes were for our picnic. He asked if he could have some strawberries. Jeana said no, those are to put on Katie's birthday cake. And the bananas were for breakfast. Finally he sighed dramatically, and asked, "Is there any fruit here that I can actually eat?"
A-man, our budding naturalist, told us many facts about the various animals we had seen. Near the picnic area there were large open-air cages of birds, which were fascinating. We ate a leisurely lunch, looked at the birds in the cages and the ones flying free around the picnic tables, and toured the gift shop, which was filled with all kinds of stuff, ranging from hugely expensive wood carvings and decorated ostrich eggs to games that promised to add to our knowledge of the animals in the park. I looked at the walking sticks, and seriously considered buying one, which I thought was eminently sensible, considering my past history.
However, I just couldn't convince myself to spend that much money for what was, after all, basically a big stick.
Since we had to be back in our home town in time to pick up Frankie the Pomeranian, we had to take leave of our babies at that point, and finish the drive alone. We left the remains of our feed bag with them, so that they would have more to offer to the other animals they might encounter. We did not anticipate that either the ostrich from the beginning of our trip, or a close relative, would be waiting for us around the bend.
He was standing in the middle of the road, wings spread to make himself look even larger than he was already. The road is too narrow to drive around him, so we slowed....to a crawl.....and finally had to stop, because the ostrich clearly had the right of way.
He held his head high, making eye contact through the windshield, and obviously waiting for us to offer some food. Wick and I looked at each other and shrugged. We didn't have any food. So we sat there, waiting for him to move.
He didn't.
He bobbed his head up and down.
He examined each headlight.
He inspected the front bumper.
He looked over every inch of the hood, the windshield, and the wiper blades.
He made the kinds of noises a large, impatient bird makes when people don't cooperate by paying their toll of food pellets.
He did not move out of the road.
We had been warned not to honk at the animals, so we couldn't honk.
We couldn't drive around.
We couldn't take another road, since there was only the one.
We waited.
And waited.
Finally, I rolled down my window and waved my hand gingerly at the ostrich.
Who assumed that I must be offering food, finally.
He stuck not only his head but his whole impossibly long neck through the window.
My previous squawking was nothing to the panicked gestures with which I tried to shoo this bird out. Finally he stepped back and allowed us to pass.
As we drove past, I could see him staring us down, and muttering to himself about people who trick birds by making them think food is being offered, and then stiffing them.
That's the first time I have ever been given the bird by a bird.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Starting a blog
I have had a personal website at geocities since 1998. I didn't design it myself--I had a lot of help, some better, some worse. . . the most I can take credit for is the content--that is, the writing. Other people, who know more than I do about html, whatever that is, added all kinds of graphics, music, pictures, and colors, for which I do not chose to take credit. My daughter Jeana (daystocome) introduced me to the blog concept, and I love the idea of people being able to respond to what I write. After all, writing is a kind of conversation, and if no one responds, how can I know if what they read is what I thought you said? After all, what you thought I said may not be what I meant at all. To get back to daughter Jeana, she helped me name this blog. I sent her a list of possibilities, and she said this one made her laugh, and sounds just like me. As my husband will tell you, I am totally random and abstract. Whereas he is just the opposite, totally sequential and concrete. So we sort of complement each other. Jeana has four young children, and home schools, and is of necessity one of the most organized people I know. I think my mind works sort of like what she calls rabbit trails--I write in more or less stream of consciousness, which is always random, usually abstract, and almost always abstracted--that is, I get side-tracked easily, and forget what my point was. But I usually do have a point, and eventually I remember what it was--most of the time.
I plan to gradually move the contents of my website to this blog, so just imagine what you have to look forward to, if you are still reading.
I plan to gradually move the contents of my website to this blog, so just imagine what you have to look forward to, if you are still reading.
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