I stepped off the chair right into the paint pan that my son Zeke had just set on the floor. My bare foot slid down the paint slippery incline of it right down into the pond of paint causing me to lose my balance. My other foot landed on the open paint can. I fell backward against the wall I had just painted 5 minutes earlier. I had paint from shoulder to rump and it was oozing between my toes. The good news is that I was totally unhurt and no paint had spilled! A small miracle!

We laughed about it as I had hopped to the bathtub to wash my foot... and discussed the appropriate place to set down one's paint pan. Zeke and I painted the living room this week and we were weary of it by the time of this mishap. What we thought would be a simple one day chore hauled out into 3 days of drudgery. It took 3 coats of paint (at $25 a gallon). I had only purchased enough for 2 coats so when we discovered that the new lighter color was not going to completely cover the old darker one I sent my son, Kevin, back for more. Unfortunately, they had not put my order into the computer as they were supposed to and the paint chip I sent with Kevin didn't come in "eggshell", only in Flat or Semi-gloss. Big news to me since teh original sales person had offered it and sold it to me as such. So new salesperson just mixed up what she thought was right and sent it home with Kev.

Of course, we painters knew nothing of all this since Kev just brought the paint back set it down and left again without giving the details of the purchase. I had been painting all the corners and edges while Zeke was rolling out the middle. He started with the new paint. It looked as if it didn't match but he was laying wet paint on dry so it never does look like it will match. It wasn't until we thought we were finished and the paint was dry that we discovered that none of the edges matched the middle.

We had to repaint all of the edges with the new paint. Edging is the worst part of apinting and we were both so sick of painting by then. My shoulder ached from raising my arm above my head painting next to the ceiling. Now my house is painted...but not in the color that I had originally chosen but by the time we finished I was so sick of painting that it could have been barf green and I would not have cared.

Lesson learned:
1. Make sure you have enough paint to begin with and that your order was exactly entered into the computer.

2. Pay attention to where you set your paint pan, can, brush, etc.

3. Watch where you put your feet!

4. Throw your paint roller out and buy a new one when you need it. It takes forever to wash out all of the paint...no exaggeration. Paint rollers are cheap.

5. Watch for drips that don't show up until you have moved on. They are hard to fix once the paint is dry.

6. Make sure you really like your paint partner.

7. A puddle of paint spilled while holding your paint pan and not paying attention will come out of your carpet if the color is similar enough, you have a big spoon to scoop up as much as you can, you have several wet towels you don't care if get ruined, and you have a good shop vac to suck up the water you ahve poured on several times to dilute the paint after each toweling.

Life is good! 

The doorbell rang and I opened the door to an old man I'd never seen before. He reported to me that "Looks like someone's driven through your fence and your cows are out in the road." I hurried to wake my son, Zeke, who was sleeping in. I grabbed a couple of buckets of corn had ran out to the pasture. Sure enough, the fence was down, completely flat for 20 feet or so. The tire treads showed that someone had missed the turn and gone right through clear into the field taking out fence posts, fence and barbed wire with it.

I cajoled our 2 steers back inside with the help of the corn and checked out the fence while I waited for Zeke. He came out with acouple of pairs of fence pliers and a roll of wire. Three posts were completely broken off at the ground and 2 more were bent. The barbed wire was still there. The fence was crumpled and there was a piece missing. Must be on the grill of the vehicle still. I went and got a fence post out of my garden and found a roll of old fence behind the old playhouse. I couldn't lift it into the Jeep so I had to kind of flip one end in and then lift the other end in.

For three long hours we worked on trying to repair the fence well enough to prevent another escape. It was just a patch job and we didn't have the right equipment but we were able to get it done well enough. We were sweaty and tired by the time we finished but I felt good...a sense of accomplishment. It's a feeling that I think is rare in society today.

Beau left for Camp Galilee this morning. He only got back from the Sonshine Festival yesterday and he was so wiped out the I hardly even got to talk with him about his 4 day trip to the Minnesota Christian Rock Festival. I did learn that temperatures were in the mid 90°s the whole time they were there...not good camping weather. He is recovering from Mono and supposed to be getting losts of rest but he is 15! He has no time to rest! He did take a nap everyday and slept late (hit the sack late, too, I'm sure).

The bus had a flat tire an hour from home. Fortunately they were near a town and, after 3 tries, found a place that had the right kind of tire and could put it on the bus. Everyone except Beau got off the bus when they came to repair it, except Beau. While the other kids went to McD's, he slept on the floor of the bus for the hour and half they were delayed. He did not even find out that it had happened until they reached they got back someone finally awakend him!

Now he is off to church camp for another week. I have missed him. He is my "Baby", the youngest of my 4 sons. He is a true Free Spirit and I have an idea that we are really in for it with his high school years. When he was 2 or 3 years old I told him he was getting so grown up! I commenting that I would judt have to stop calling him my baby. He looked right in my eyes and told me very matter of factly, "I'll always be your baby...even when I'm a grown up Cowboy." Yes, he does understand his place in the family and he relishes it.

We were running late for my neice's birthday party. Zeke had borrowed my car earlier and informed me as we hurried to the vehicle that the gas light had come on earlier and he had put $5 worth of gas in it....not much gas at $2.39 a gallon. Sure enough, on the way into the city, the light came on again. I'd get more on the way home.

They were resurfacing the highway of the Northbound lanes and traffic was backed up for miles. It was nearly 6 p.m. so I supposed that some of it was left over rush hour traffice. I was grateful that we were headed South and was just wondering if I should phone my husband, Angus, and advise him to take another route home when Zeke pointed over to the Northbound lanes and said, "Hey, there's Dad." Too late. He'd be suffering too since it was still 90° out and his old pickup doesn't have airconditioning. Zeke called himto let him know what he was in for and Angus said he had just come up on it and was already at a stand still. Of course, there had been no signs warning of the construction.

We arrived at the party and there were still a few hotdogs left and the cake had not yet been cut. Lexi was shy at first with all eyes upon her but at 2 she soon forgot the audience and was happily ripping into her gifts. Zeke's present of a small drum set was a hit with her but much less so with her parents. My sister (Lexi's mom) looked over at me and said, "ah, payback time." We smiled.

When we headed home it was after 9 p.m. and I decide that we had enough gas to get back to town and I could get it where I knew they'd take my check. I hate to put it on the credit card. I had completely forgotten about the road repairs as we chatted about the party. The road crew must've been working throught the night because we hit the long line of slow moving cars. The traffic was mo better than it had been earlier in the evening. I eyed the gas guage and thought we'd be okay. There was not choice now anyway. We were in it, no more exits. We waited; stop, crawl, stop again. Zeke pointed to tracks in the grass where somebody had decide to make his own short cut over to the gravel road that ran along side the highway. On we went as I watched the little red arm on the gas guage sink lower. We passed a car in the median with the hood up. I watched the arrow touch the big E and realized we were still several miles from the next gas station and wondered if we would be in that situation soon. Zeke again pointed to the gravel road and suggested that we make a getaway. It was completely dark by now and I worried that there might be something lurking in the grass that was hidden...like a huge ditch or something. We crawled forward and the guage dipped lower. Zeke finally said, "Mom, this is our last chance. That road turns up here." Sure enough, we were coming to a little overpass over the little Fishing River. The gravel road was still running parallel to the highway but it was way up a hill now. Okay, now I was worried. Which would be riskier? My option was fading fast. At the last possible moment I made my escape! Up the steep hill I went gunning it for momentum. There were no ditches or even bumps but it was very steep and the car stpped about 5 feet from the top. I eased my Jeep Cherokee back down the hill and put it into 4 wheel drive and tried again. The time it was easy. He cimbed right up and ove. As soon as I crested the hill I hit the brakes. There in front of the car was guard rail! I couldn't get onto the road here. I couldn't back up or I'd be going back down that hill but there was just enough room to turn and pull forward along the rail. The I started backing up along the ridge of the hill for about 20 feet to the end of the guardrail and tehn I was able to pull onto the road. Woohoo! My son reached over and honked a "we're free!" signal to those down below who were surely entertained by our dilemma.

We had no idea where this road would take up but knew that it had to eventually hit one of the roads that run through town. It wound around a lot but finally did hit a paved road. Where were we? Zeke recognized it and turned me right onto the road though a new housing development. We were on the same road that the gas station is. We filled it up and I had had a gallon left? Plenty to get to town under normal conditions...but with all the idling and stop and go? I don't know. I know it wouldn't have been as much fun as our little off-road adventure!

My thornless black raspberries are ripe! None of us are great fans of blackberries so they often go to waste. This year I decided to make jam with them. I found a recipe for Bumbleberry Jam in Guidepost Mag in which you use mixed berries and rhubarb to make an easy, yummy jam with whatever berries are available. Sounded good to me. If it turns out well I can use the same recipe for all jams I want to make as the berry season changes.

I went to the Farmer's market to buy the rhubarb and also bought some good looking blueberries. Blueberries are also not a favorite in our family but they are supposed to be very good for you so I thought I'd throw in a pint when making my Bumbleberry Jam.

I bought a couple dozen jelly jars at the grocery store and some pectin. I thawed a bag of strawberries I had frozen in June and went online to check out the University of Georgia's Extension advice on processing jam. I found my huge canning pot in the basement but could not find my canning tongs or jar funnel. My husband had made Salsa several years ago when we had a big tomato glut. He did a great job but who knows where he decided the equipment should belong after he was finished. He is family-famous for not liking where something is kept, or deciding it is not used often enough to keep handy or even to keep at all so I did not spend a lot of time searching for these items. I'd just make do.

Now I was ready! I'd been preparing for a couple of days and was now worried that my berries would be going bad and I must get on with it! I gathered all the items I'd need and set to it! It was all pretty uneventful except the horrible mess made because I did not have the canning funnel. While I was stirring the berries and waiting for them to come to a rolling boil I thought of my first time canning. In my mind it has become the "Adventure in Canning".

I was young at the time. Having been raised a pure suburbonite, I didn't know much about canning or gardening or even cooking for that matter. My new husband, Angus, was city-born and raised and yet we both were country kids at heart and had decided that was the life we wanted to live. So we had settled on 10 acres outside of a rural community that was outside of a town that was outside of the city. In other words, we live in the country but the city is within an hour's drive. It seemed perfect and we were determined to learn the ways of the country life we had dreamed of. Oh, there are so many good stories of the many terrible/funny mistakes we made and the people who took us under their wing and bailed us out!

But I am telling about my first time canning. I had bought an ancient pressure canner at a Garage Sale but, of course, there was no longer the instruction manual that goes with it. I went to the library and found a book that would help and researched my wedding-gift cook books. All of them gave instructions but also gave the advice to refer to the directions with the canner. Hmmm.

My three year old son had helped snap the beans. They were cleaned and ready and so was I. It was nearly midnight by the time I was actually putting the jars into the pressure canner for the last part of the process. I hadn't gotten started until the kids were snugly and soundly asleep. Angus had also gone to bed since he had to arise early to get to his job in the city. I was on my own.

The jars were in but I was having a lot of trouble with the sealing gasket on the canner and the huge, heavy lid that was supposed to be screwed on. I had practiced doing it before there was boiling hot water in it and didn't have too much trouble but now I was having a lot of difficulty. I remembered when I was a child my mom cooking something in her pressure cooker and I also remember the stain on the ceiling of our kitchen that we had forever-after when something tomatoey exploded out. So I knew the danger that could be involved in this kind of liquid-under-pressure experiment.

I finally got the lid screwed on satisfactorily and now I just needed to watch the guage and time it and finish up. I was hot and weary by then but once started you can't just say "Oh, I think I'll finish in the morning." I was wearing a hugh loose sundress (without a bra) which was the most comfortable, cool thing I could find for the long, hot duty... but I was still sweaty.

I was standing close the the stove, watching the guage slowly, much too slowly, move its little red arm higher and higher. The pot was jiggling and hissing which I took to mean we were almost finished and my aching body, and especially my tired, thong-wearing feet, would soon rest.

Suddenly, and without warning, boiling, bubbling hot water spewed out of the pot from under the lid! It shot out 2 feet in every direction like the rays of the sun shooting steaming lava. There was no time to think but my body reacted. My aching feet shot backward, my middle pulling away from the spurting water. It subsided as quickly as it had come once the pressure was released. It took me a minute to realized what had just happened. I was still standing, in the middle of the kitchen now, leaning over at the waist with the front of my dress, totally saturated with hot water, dripping onto the flooded floor.

When I had jerked my body away from the water my loose cotton dress had stayed where it was, hanging like a curtain in front of me. It had stopped the hot water, absorbed some and sent the rest downward to the floor where my feet had already long gotten out of the way. I was stunned for a moment. I was completely unharmed, unburned! It did not seem possible! There had been a few hot splatters on me but nothing else at all. The entire kitchen - stove, counters, floor- was drenched...yet I was not. I sent up a "Thank you, God" and this was the first time I ever thought of the possibility that maybe there was such a thing as a Guardian Angel and maybe I have one.

Just dropped off my 15 yr. old, Beau, for the bus headed to the Sonshine Festival, a 4 day Christian Rock festival in Minnesota. It's early in the morning and he was very grumpy so we did not have a good farewell. He is the youngest of my 4 sons so I am used to sending kids away to places like camp and college and marriage. I have found that they always come back sooner or later, at least to visit but, for some reason, it is a bit harder with the "baby". Especially when he is in a bad mood and Mom doesn't even get a friendly wave good-bye let alone a nice long hug that will have to last 4 days.

My nest is emptying at the speed of light or at least it feels that way to me. Last summer my oldest son, Jones, got married and moved to Tucson, AZ. That's a two day drive from our home in rural Missouri.... too far for weekend visits. He'd been living at home with us for 6 months after being away at college for 3 1/2 yrs. It was good to have him back yet difficult as well...for all of us. He thought he was a guest instead of one of the family or perhaps he just had made his own lifestyle and did not try to adjust it when he moved in with 5 other people. There was a lot of strain between he and I but we both knew it was temporary and so we tolerated the situation. I've found that one can endure most anything if we know that it is will end. It's those things that there seems to be no end to, that go on and on and on, that will drive you over the edge.

We had a German exchange student living with us for 11 months and he left 2 weeks ago. He had enjoyed his stay with us and it was his first time to be a brother and he had 4! That was a fun learning experience for him. He was very disappointed though that he could not visit Hawaii while he was here. So we threw him a surprise Luau as a going away gift. He loved it and was shocked that I had invited all his USA friends and so many had come.

He was anxious to go home was so excited. He fit in well with us but always remained a little bit aloof so I was disarmed when he cried and clung to me when we hugged at parting.

My third son, Zeke, is heading off to Northwestern College in Orange City, Iowa in a month. I will miss his presence. He is a quiet one most of the time, although that doesn't mean he is not opinionated. His convictions are strong. He just doesn't choose to share them with other people very often. He doesn't care about others' opinions much either so he is contented with his quietness. It's his presence in our home that I will miss....his guitar playing and singing muted through his bedroom door at all hours of the night and day.

His girlfriend, Bella, is going to the same school so she also is departing our lives soon. It's a 5 1/2 hour drive so they won't be coming back too often. It has been nice having a helpful female around so much. She is a delight and it has been wonderful to have something besides testosterone floating around this house!

I have always looked forward to the day when all of the kids are out on their own. That's been our goal as parents to have raised children to grow up to be independent, capable, caring individuals. I expected it to be a gradual thing. Ah, but life is good.

Okay, I've never Blogged before so I'm not sure what you are supposed to do with it but I figure it's my site so, hey, whatever I want goes! Being a wife and a mother of 4 sons, it is not very often that I have been able to just do what I want to do, completely and totally, without having to think about how it will affect the lives of others. It can be tiresome living like that but it's a life I've chosen...okay, not really...It's a life I've been given and it's a pretty good one.

I don't read much anymore because there just isn't time for it but I do love to read...books and magazines and newspapers. I read about a scientific study done where the scientists made people put a pencil in their mouth and hold it there for while they took readings of the brain. I can't imagine who funded this research or how they thought to do it, but the results are fascinating, although not surprising to me. If the people were made to hold the pencil from the end, it made their lips pursed and their eyebrows knitted, basically a pouty frown. When they held the pencil lengthwise their expression almost looked as if it were a grin. Their brains showed that the longer the people held the pencil pointing out the unhappier they felt and the longer they held it sideways the happier they felt. (I guess scientists know how to measure these things!) Anyway, they concluded that there is something about "muscle memory" that when we use the smile muscles our brain thinks we must be happy. SO...keep smiling! Amazingly, it really will make you feel better...and that's a start.

Gotta go. The day awaits!
God bless!

Still in love after all these years on the rollercoaster!