retrospect

When my second brother ( I have 5) was about 2 or 3, he would repeatedly vocalize any action he was doing. You’d tell him to go hide for hide and go seek, and he’d put a couch cushion over his face and say “Hide, hide, hide, hide.” Not all the time, just often enough to make it a memory.

One day my dad took the first two boys with him to an estate sale to get some tools. He found a box of stuff, but didn’t want to carry it around while he looked, so he told Coloray and Trustin to guard the box for him so that no one else would take it. As soon as he left, Trustin hovered protectively over the tools and started saying “Guard, guard, guard…” so that everyone would know he was guarding the tools. Apparently Coloray got embarrassed and told him to stop. At which point, a man walked up and took the box of tools.

memories are important to write down; someday you will most likely forget them.

Once, Coloray and I had a conversation in which we both agreed that everyone goes through an ugly phase. For most people it is shortly after their adult teeth come in and they’re all gangly, big-toothed, and not old enough to be selfconcious enough to make sure they look ok. We were probably 13 and 11 when we had this conversation and we concluded that we were so relieved to have our “ugly years” behind us, but when I look back at our pictures from this age, we look every bit as awkward as we did in our “ugly phase.”

When my sister Angel was a little girl, she was convinced it was her destiny to be ballerina. I told her that every little girl feels this way, and that she’d grow out of it when she was as “mature” as me. She was very mad at me and pointed her tiny toes insistently as if their cuteness was proof of her destiny. She eventually grew out of it, which is good, because she’s way too short to be a ballerina.

Anyway, this post goes out to Trustin who will be 22 in a few short days. One more Trustin story.

When we lived in eastern washington, we had no running water or electricity. Plus, we lived “off the land” between farm animals and a huge garden. Needless to say, Jello was no everyday occurrence. Once for a special treat my parents got some jello from the store (or maybe someone gave it to us, I don’t remember which). Since we had no electricity and therefore no fridge, we decided to chill the Jello in a plastic milk carton. It was lime, I only remember because I was kind of cheated out of it, but I’m jumping ahead of myself. My mom and I poured the jello mix and water into the plastic jug. When it was done setting by chilling in the spring, we would cut the top half off the carton to serve it. I headed down the hill and tied the jug by the handle to a stick so it wouldn’t float away.

Four hours later, in eager anticipation Coloray and I headed down to the spring to get dessert. Too bad Trustin had been there first and had eaten it ALL when it was still soft enough to shake out the top opening. We didn’t think it was funny.

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I have 5 brothers

Say it with me people, Yikes.

The following is a list of injuries they have incurred in the past few years that I know of/remember. This list of course does not include the things they have blown up/wrecked/sunk/etc.

  • broken main wrist bone
  • blown off top of finger with a roman candle
  • black eyes
  • badly cut one finger and nearly lost another with a saw
  • broken collarbones
  • broken nose (i think)
  • debris in eyes
  • head injuries involving the emergency room
  • stitches for cuts
  • multiple injuries of varying degrees requiring emergency care from multiple motorcycle accidents.
  • some minor injuries from car accidents.
  • slamming a head into a dumpster via a longboard and no helmet.
  • (this doesn’t really count, but:) shot someone in the leg.
  • broken foot.
  • multiple fight wounds from multiple fights.
  • burns
  • back problems after  getting sat on by a fat man in a fight.

here’s the worst part: the vast majority of those accidents involved the two oldest boys. Translation: my parents are going to need a frequent flyer discount at the emergency room–it’s only just begun.

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Did you ever know you were my hero…

Ok, so first off, this is not a story I should be telling you. Secondly, if you get grossed out easily, please stop reading–that way you can’t complain to me when you realize that you will never swim in lake goodwin again.

All the characters will remain nameless. So apparently this happened like last summer or something. No, I can’t…I shouldn’t. Okay, super short version:

Imagine you are treading water in Lake Goodwin on a perfect summer day. Then imagine you are surrounded by turds…lots of turds. Now imagine your desperation as you try to swim away from the poop which also happens to be your own because you were out jetskiing in the middle of the lake and you got stuck and had to go bad. Imagine your two friends on the jetski are desperately trying to get it away from you because your poop got caught by the current and floated up on the foot boards of the jetski. Eventually they give up and swim away on their own. Imagine your shock and surprise at not realizing that if you pooped in the water, your poop would float up to the top…where your face is. Imagine trying to doggy-paddle with your own poop bumping against your neck. I’m done. I’m also done with ever swimming in lake goodwin.

In other news…completely unrelated, Violet and AJ gave each other the hiccups. I’m not sure how, but they were chasing each other around the room just now and then they each got hiccups.

This was a nice day. Great weather. Great birthday…incidentally, for the lake pooper himself.

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Texas to Secede

So apparently the governor of Texas was quoted as saying that Texas could(not necessarily would) secede from the union, during a speech at a tea party rally yesterday.

Dear Texas,

Please don’t secede. If ya’ll left us, we’d be screwed.

Much obliged, Pearl.

In other news, I went wine tasting today. For my brother’s birthday, we went out with him, his girlfriend and my parents to two different wineries in the area. Between the six of us, we bought seven bottles of wine. They were sogood! I really like sweeter wines and dessert wines, although sometimes drier wine is nice with some spicy Italian food. My personal favorite (which I didn’t buy because it was expensive) was this white dessert ice wine, where the grapes are left on the vine until the outside temperature drops to 15 degrees. Only at this point are the grapes harvested and pressed–still frozen. The two wineries we went to were the Carpenter Creek winery and the Pasek Cellars winery. Pasek Cellars is known for their fruit wines, of which they have an amazing selection, including everything from Pineapple to a Late Harvest Voignier–which is made of grapes that have been left on the vine as long as possible to get that vine-ripened sweetness (I bought a bottle of this). Carpenter Creek is more of a wine-drinkers winery with a mostly dry selection, but an amazingly fresh and crisp quality to the wine–not unlike drinking from a mountain spring. So, your task should you choose to accept it: Go on a wine-tasting tour.

Afterwards, we all went a local tavern and had some pan-fried oysters. Yum!

Last but not least: Easter candy is now 75% off. Yay!

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He is Risen Indeed!

Yay for Easter!

Not yay for having two Easter lunches and stuffing my fat face.

Yay for Violet in her cute Easter dress though.

again, not yay for having to go on a dry-bread-and-water fast next week.

One of the fun/not so fun parts of having a small house is periodically getting to play the furniture puzzle game, where everything gets rearranged  and shuffled in yet another attempt to pretend that our house is bigger than it is.

The Memory of the Day I’m Most Likely to Need Therapy For: getting mooned by two of my brothers. Thanks guys, I bet you didn’t know Dad was watching too. Ha! Joke’s on you.

Deep Thought: The more I watch free-will in action, the more I realize how awesome (as in freaking scary) of a gift it is. Sometimes life is like a desperate Shakespearean tragedy, where you understand just how bittersweet everything  is only after you’ve seen the part where you realize that even in the best-case-possible scenario–someone has to pay the price. For those of you just tuning in; we’re not talking about Free Willy.

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Here’s to my day

Here’s to my sibling that wrote “Hi” on my windshield with pieces of tortilla.

Here’s to the man out walking with a walkman and headphones.

Here’s to my daughter who stole her friend’s teething cookie and put the whole thing in her mouth till it dissolved.

Here’s to the little boy at the grocery store that made my daughter laugh.

Here’s to my husband who smacked his head on a doorjam today at work.

Here’s to my sister-in-law who named her son today; Ethan Pace.

Here’s to the cat my daughter loves.

Here’s to me holding Violet while I vacuumed to keep her from being scared of the vacuum cleaner.

Here’s to my brother’s girlfriend for forgetting her phone…again.

Here’s to friends at small group.

Here’s to family at small group.

Here’s to my life.

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Because, what else am I going to write about?

Once when I was young, I almost killed a greedy chicken.

Who: My brother, a goat, some greedy chickens, and I.

Where: In the barn at my childhood farm in Eastern Washington.

What: I think thats already been established.

When: 1995ish

Why? Well thats the best part. Milking time was always the most exciting time of the day on our farm. The goats knew they were getting grain, the sheep heard and were jealous, the horse hung his head over the fence in curiosity, the cat came running in hopes of a freebie, and the chickens and geese acted on their stealth attack plan. You see, in the life of an animal, food is everything–especially forbidden food, and unfortunately for us, all the animals knew that if one succeeded in stealing food–the rest of them stood a chance of scoring as well. Furthermore, there was no better time to try than at milking time. (Did I mention most of our animals were free-ranging in the summer?)

So, to make a long story short; Coloray and I head out to the 55-gallon grain bins holding a 5 gallon bucket. One of us would hold the animals at bay while the other one snapped the lid off the barrel and filled the five-gallon bucket. Then, we would race into the barn and slam the gate behind us to keep out the goats and sheep, although unfortunately not the chickens. Next, we would let the first goat in while trying to open the gate just wide enough to get one goat, and not all the goats. The ones outside would be craning their necks and standing on their hind legs to see what would come of that bucket of glorious grain.

Here’s where it went all wrong (or right, depending on who you ask). Since Coloray was milking the first goat up in the stanchion, I sat down on one of the open buckets of grain to keep chickens out while I kicked with my feet around the other bucket. Finally, there was such a cluster of chickens on the second bucket (and even one inside)’ that I decided to switch buckets. In fact, I decided to move fast enough to trap that chicken inside the bucket. I sat down fast and I could feel the chicken flapping around underneath me. I wasn’t squishing it–there was plenty of room, but I figured if that chicken wanted to be greedy, it could be greedy trapped in a bucket of grain–serve the stupid bird right!

It wasn’t long before I noticed the flapping and jumping slowing down, and when it stopped altogether, I decided to see what was going on. When I stood up, I realized the chicken had not been in the bucket after all. It had managed to get out quickly enough that it decided to get one last mouthful before I proceeded to sit down across it’s neck.

Mental Picture: White five-gallon bucket. Girl sitting on bucket. Chicken’s body on the outside. Chicken’s head on the inside.

Don’t worry, chickens are surprisingly resilient. It walked in circles the rest of the day, but after that it was fine.

 

Does this story make me a bad person?

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Sunday is a fun day for playing in the sun day

except that it rained as soon as we got out of church.

anyway. After church was over, AJ and I were planning on going out to lunch and wanted to see if any of my siblings wanted to come too. Funny thing–since my parents weren’t there and they would be paying for themselves, they weren’t interested.

side note: Coloray looks right at home in the drivers seat of a minivan, with a pretty girl next to him and a bunch of smelly kids in the back. hmmm…

Fun Fact: Violet stood on her tippy-toes to reach the cards we were playing with today.

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