Garrison Ghost Walk

Pap came up for Liam's birthday weekend and we took the opportunity to tour Fort Meigs on Halloween weekend. Our tour didn't leave until 7 PM and flash photography is forbidden; it had been pretty rainy and gloomy in the days previous, so I apologize for the terrible pictures. They capture the essence of the spookiness, however. We followed our tour guide's single lantern around and heard ghostly tales told at various spots throughout the fort. Since Damon had studied some of the battles in Social Studies last year, it was more engaging than it may have been otherwise, but overall the boys both really enjoyed it. I had a fantastic time. Two thumbs up if you're ever there for Halloween, but they don't sell those tickets at the door so plan accordingly. Wear rain boots so you can muck about freely AND pretend you were a soldier back in the day!

To learn more about it, including the volunteers who put the work in, click here

 

We may need an intervention

 Some homes accumulate sports memorabilia. Some hoard books. Others tend towards exercise equipment, camping accessories, pets. There's no end to our love of collecting, it seems.

Our house leans towards coats. Holy cow, the coats. 

They're everywhere.

I swear this closet is an entrance to Narnia. Not only is it stuffed full of coats, and the shelves behind said coats are covered with wintry accessories and the floor strewn with boots, but the dang door shuts on you if you don't prop it open. If you're looking to end up in the realm of Aslan, this is the way.  

There are only five of us. I am afraid to count how many coats we possess. It's a ridiculous number. We have raincoats and stadium jackets, wool coats and jean jackets; we have at least three hoodies apiece and that's on the conservative side. I'm not even counting Dada's blazers, though some of them are also in the Narnia closet. 

Help a gal out. Does anybody need a coat?

And tell me, what does YOUR home accumulate?

Boys, bugs, mums, and other assorted musings

No matter how big he gets, this kid is irresistible when he's sleeping. The camera loves him and somehow he is even more kissable when he's snuggled into a big chair. 

I often wonder how he's going to fit at, say, 17...

We had some insect adventures at the bus stop this morning. There was a two hour delay due to fog. Some of you are rolling your eyes, but I swear we've already covered this ground; we live out in the boonies and bus drivers probably can't see the kids, not to mention any deer, in fog you could saw through with a butter knife. It lays especially thick on the fields, some of which are being harvested. At any rate, it's rather pleasant to eeeeeease into a Monday...

So the sun was fully up and shining away by the time the Damonater struts down the driveway at 10 AM. Birds are twittering away, the squirrels are in full... uh, squirrel, and the bugs are zooming every which way. We had an overly friendly bee checking us out thoroughly. I've always tried to teach the kids to not swat at them, but to stay calm and remind the bee that they're not a flower. It must be confusing to find bright, colorful things that smell like... kids. Oh, never mind. You're not a flower. Got it. Moving on.

This bee was not easily convinced. We had been swatting a pesky mosquito which we both missed when I heard a buzzy drone in my left ear. Damon exclaimed, "bee!" so I ducked a bit and she headed around to my right ear. I felt like I was living that scene from "Robin Hood: Men in Tights" where they talk about, "I'm on the east side, I'm on the west side" that you can see here in case you need a fun distraction. I had nothing to do with either the original movie nor the video clip. Anyway, this bee was not to be deterred from her examination of us. Once she'd repeatedly zoomed around both my east and west sides, she headed for Damon.

He hunched his head down into his shoulders, clasped his hands tight and screwed his eyes shut. Right now I'm curious- is that the universal sign for "potentially stinging winged insect of undetermined malicious intent"? I think it must be. She gave him a complete thrice-over before landing on his forehead right where his bangs meet skin. She only stayed a few milliseconds but it was long enough for me to spin it saying, "awwww, she gave you a bee-kiss!" Off she zoomed, probably to go play amongst our crazy, leggy mums. 

The bee crisis averted, we then did succeed in pulverizing the mosquito that finally landed on Damon's shin. As the bus approached, an Asian beetle/ladybug imposter crashed our party and landed on Damon's backpack. I told him he had a hitchhiker who looked pretty confused about being on a backpack, and off she went with him onto the bus.

I can only imagine the adventures she will have today.

I keep forgetting to get the fall bin out of the attic so the kids can finish decorating, but we did get a good start:

For those of you who live where the weather is a bit more predictable in October than Ohio's weather is, I thought I'd enlighten you on why it is important to wear layers:

I snapped a picture of that after doing a double take when I looked at the weekend weather last week. Yes, those are snowflakes, sun, and rain all on Saturday, with a high of 83. Once again, Mother Nature said, "hold my beer." And while we didn't see the snowflakes, thank goodness, it did reach the lower 80's. In October.

I blame karate. Yesterday was the start of the fall dress code, which means full gis must be worn instead of just the pants, belts, and whatever karate-related T shirts you own. Naturally the first half of this week is going to be in the 80's. In October. 

Following the layering rule, this is what I strolled to the bus stop in today:

Yes, that would be a sundress under a corduroy jacket. Good thing we didn't pack them all up already, right, Mommee? I wanted something long and loose over my ACE bandages which are compressing my top half enough that I still look pregnant on my bottom half. The nail polish is Avon's Mudslide, just perfect for fall, and the boots were on clearance at Charlotte Russe several years ago. They make me feel really tall. I'm back in my bunny slippers now, but it was nice to clump down the driveway in the boots. Just gotta remember to watch out for those slippery acorns.

Enjoy... what is this, officially? Indian summer? Anyone?

Mayday on May Day

A certain 7 year old was exploring past the boundaries of our property. I caught his attention and ordered him back to our side of things, posthaste. My first mistake was turning away while he was still descending the far creek bank and heading back into the house, assuming he'd follow.

Once again, to my wondering eyes should appear a normal looking boy, but no, I am met with a mud covered, wet, mostly triumphant human being who apparently had to hit every single water molecule on his way back across. 

After being ordered to strip to skivvies outside and then come in as I was starting his bath water, the kid magics himself into thin air. There's the pile of his clothes and boots, but no kid. And no skivvies, thank heaven, so we can assume for the moment that he's still in them.

I track him down again to be informed, "Liam dared me 50 dollars to go back in in just my skivvies." 

Are you even kidding me? First of all, your brother does not have anywhere near 50 dollars. He has about 53 cents. And secondly, seriously!? In your skivvies? And yet, why am I surprised? 

The Shenanigans continue as he loudly informs me, "I have a snail on my finger and I can't get it off!" Turns out that, yes, there are leeches in the ditch/creek and he found one or was found by one... either way, he got it off himself as I'm on the cell phone on the front porch to Dada, doubled over and crying with laughter because we had just talked about how surprised we were that none of the kids had found leeches yet. Leave it to the Damonater...

One hot mess, all the live-long day

We've been having some rough mornings around here this week. Monday turned into an icky weather day which cancelled school, just like last Friday, so it's been extra hard to focus on a back-to-school routine. The only day they went last week was Thursday, their first day back. We got a solid Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday rhythm going but are facing a preemptive delay already for tomorrow morning. Given that they have Monday off for Martin Luther King Day, there is a very real possibility that we're staring down another four-day weekend. 

Send rum. And Samoas. Lots and lots of both.

This morning we went our usual rounds of "yes, you're going to school, so go XYZ123, etc" with the typical threats of violence and more than usual antagonism. Part of it I'll chalk up to hormones. The rest is just... I don't even know. 

At any rate, the big kids made it onto the bus without being maimed- always a plus. 

I come back in and am in the middle of round two of "yes, you're going to school, so go XYZ123, etc" again when Bosley starts that hurking sound that dog owners know immediately of which no good will come. Damon, transfixed and horrified until he realizes what's going to happen, just stands there... and then he bolts for cover. I'm hollering, "Bosley, Bosley, come, come, COME!" and he finally scurries over to me. Right after hurling on the carpet. Two inches from the linoleum. And it's not even Monday.

Mess number one cleaned up, dog deposited outside, Damon onto the bus. Whew.

Just usual messes for the next few hours: dishes, laundry, vacuuming, dog hair, dog hair, dog hair. I thought Triskal's fuzz balls were bad, but I really don't understand how a dog a fraction of her size can fill an entire lint trap with dog hair just from the kids' clothes. Boggles the mind.

The kids get home in shifts and I send Liam to the shower, forgetting for a few that we need to bring in more wood before the imminent weather. Oh well. Damon makes it home, we suit up in our raincoats (as it's 50+ degrees and muddy, in fact it's 54 right now at 9:30 PM) and, the directions were, "wear your rain/mud boots, because it's muddy out. No, don't wear your snow boots. It's muddy."

Liam apparently has no rain/mud boots which fit, so he's in his snow boots bringing in wood. And mud. Carrie chose to wear her new snow boots, which she loves, as she's bringing in wood. And mud. Damon and I wear our rain boots, after surviving the drama of the hunt this morning to find a pair that fit him before school. 

Now, bringing in wood is always a misadventure. I've tried varying the system, with varying degrees of success. The only method that seems to be efficient is if one parent loads up each kid outside while the other parent stacks the wood brought inside.

Well, Dada was at work, and since there's only me, this time I picked the outside job. It was springy and fresh and muddy and I'm just as susceptible (thank you, spell check, goodness) to cabin fever as the next mom (thanks for getting it together, Mother Nature {see previous post}). So I'm loading kids up with proportionate loads of wood and trusting their good judgment, spatial estimates, oh heck, I'm trusting them to let me know when we've gotten enough to fill two rows inside.   

Assuming we have enough, I release them to go play, more fool me. I sweep up the dead oak leaves and mud and end up at the indoor wood stacks which look like this:

Jiminy Christmas.

We could have gotten lots more in here, but it's too late now as the kids have scattered to the four corners. Damon, predictably, has attached himself to the couch and is playing on the Wii. Carrie is outside, somewhere, and no matter how much I call, I can't find Liam. 

I hear a knock at the back door, which is unlocked and the glass door is still, in fact, propped wide open from bringing in wood, because the top metal piece is stuck and though Carrie and I have both attempted to move it, it ain't budgin'. I see Carrie and Liam, who is strategically hidden behind his sister. 

"Um, okay, don't freak out. Don't be mad. We fell in a mud puddle. Well, Liam did, and his boots got stuck, and I tried to pull him out and it pulled me in and we're sorry." Liam surveys the scene, the penny drops, and he tips his head back to wail, "and I JUST took a SHOWER!"

They then burst into chuckles.

At which point I did what any mom would do. I didn't yell. I didn't scream. I didn't lecture. I did briefly consider attaching the hose to the house and just letting them have it, but I refrained.     

I closed the door. And locked it.

After more giggles and a shake of my head, I told them they were taking everything off out there and getting showers. They attempt to gather up their stuff and condense the mess while I get towels ready for them inside. The big kids are flummoxed as to how to get all the mud off their snow boots. This is where I point out that we're supposed to get snow again tomorrow, and their boots are sitting in the garage, encrusted in mess and no doubt soaking wet. Has this occurred to them? Survey says, "doubtful."

Dada arrives home and does a dead stop when he sees the collection of muddy pants and raincoats and towels...

He's quickly brought up to speed, the kids eventually make it out of the showers and come to dinner. Damon is finished before everyone else and is maybe mid-dessert course or maybe even finished (I was in the kitchen and by the grace of God missed all this), when somehow he knocked over Liam's cup of milk which, from the sound of it, cascades all over Liam's math homework packet and then more of the table. I took up my post of handing out towels and refrained from surveying the damage- Dada was home and it was his turn.

Damon ended up in the bathtub, which had more dog hairs in it than mud after Carrie's shower, surprisingly. Or maybe not so surprisingly as she is his clear favorite because she encourages all his bad habits...

Now we have three squeaky clean kids, one muddy dog, and I have to go assess the load that is done in the washer. I quit. Next time, Deloris can have her turn. 

Kid's gotta camp

So then there's this guy, off to 5th grade camp:

They were supposed to limit themselves to one bag of bedding (his has his huge, honkin' rainboots and old shoes in as well) and one bag of old clothes. I told him everything should come home dirty and he looked at me like I had four heads. 

"Liam. You'll be there until Friday. Every pair of skivvies should get worn. Every shirt should get worn. You have rain gear in there if you need it and socks for every day. Things had better get worn!"

Carrie tried to bet me $1 that he wouldn't brush his teeth all week. I informed her that, "just because YOU went a whole week without brushing doesn't mean HE will. Plus, he has his fun flossing thing that he's excited about, so he'll probably brush. "

"I know. That's why I only bet $1. I'm strategic."

...

*Shudder* Anyway.

They wanted all 5th graders to be dropped off and organized in the high school parking lot and the buses and cargo truck of their Stuff left from there. We've gotten the text saying they've arrived safely at camp and we can't wait to hear the stories of all the fun outdoor activities they'll be doing. 

It took five buses and a Penske truck to get them outta there. Pray for cooperative weather and passion for learning!

Looks like Elsa showed UP

It's the second weekend after Easter, and someone's Facebook wall reports the nearby airport received 7.8 inches of snow last evening/ this morning. I'm not sure what we got as ours drifts so much and our ground was already saturated with rain, but there's more than there needs to be out there, that's for sure. 

So what do I do first thing on a snowy Saturday morning when we don't need to be anywhere? Grab the camera and size up the nemesis:

Plenty of ice on the driveway.

Plenty of snow everywhere else!

It was also, surprise, colder than I anticipated it being. The first trip out was predawn light. After I warmed up by the fire, I looked outside again and said, "dang it, look at that sunshine! I should be out there NOW!"

Dada said, "so go!"

Bah.

Since we like to try to get veggies going from seeds, they need 8-12 weeks of a head start before they get put into the garden. That would put us right at Memorial Day weekend, which is the official frost-free date where we live. That means this weekend we have to get cracking and buy the seeds, make space for the grow lights, and get our buns in gear:

So I thought I'd check out the garden site that will be receiving seeds in 8 short weeks:

Aaaaaaaaaaaaack!

It's deep, and wet, out there! Check out that moat around the garden. =/  That is not part of the plan!

And then here's the same creek Carrie and Muggin played in. Looks slightly different now with Seussian bushes...

The upside down boots on sticks above are Carrie's from her spelunking excursion with Muggin. They're supposed to be drying out, but the dimwit left them outside so now they're probably frozen to the sticks. And the house.

Anywho, here's the rest of the sunny snow. And may it be the last of it until 2017 or something!