Shane Anderson Yoder

One seriously cute baby!

In case anyone was wondering how our grandson Shane is doing, here is a photo of him and his daddy Blake.

~Colleen

A Very Happy Birthday, Garth!

The other day Garth came into the room laughing and proceeded to tell the story of what had just happened to him. (Yes, I know, the pictures of him generally show him really sober and as if he must never find humor in anything.  It's all a facade.)

He was driving the tractor down a state road when he came upon an Amish buggy that was driving on the wide berm. He began to pass the buggy when suddenly it swerved left directly in front of him. He stomped on the tractor brakes, narrowly missing said buggy. The buggy drove on to the nearby crossroad and made a left.

Garth also made a left onto the same road and noticed the buggy was wildly careening. He thought whoever was driving the thing was doing a bad job of it. About that quick, the horse exited the roadway and went bumpity-bump on through someone's yard. As it made a wide sweep through and started back toward the road, Garth discovered the buggy had no occupants.

He parked the tractor and chased down the horse. Having it securely in hand, he led it---buggy and all---back up to where he first saw it, assuming it had probably been tied to the hitching rail at the corner store there.

He went into the store and found the 2 girls he figured it belonged to and told them what had happened. They hadn't missed their horse yet.

This boy thinks quick on his feet (and in his tractor seat)!  And he is mild mannered, conscientious, and kind to boot!

We love you!
~Colleen (aka MOM) 

P.S. The randomness of my birthday posts have nothing to do with---well---anything....

I Haven't Written for a Long Time

"...(A)nd nobody knew so well
how to frighten Miss Clavel.

In the middle of one night
Miss Clavel turned on the light
and said, "Something is not right!""

~from Madeline by Ludwig Bemelmans 

And so this is why I am sitting up at the computer at like 2 a.m. instead of being in bed asleep like I ought to be. One of my darlings wasn't feeling well, it turns out.  Not that I actually *did* anything about it. (Shannah really doesn't need so much Mommy assistance anymore....).

But now I am awake.

It isn't that I didn't have a busy day.  I really should be tired. I have a blister, in fact, on my hand even now from having weeded the strawberries with a little shovel.  As nearly as I can determine, the chief value of weeding strawberries might well be "think time".  Otherwise, strawberries are TOO MUCH WORK!!!
 

I am aware of the fact that realistic dialog makes a story more interesting.  I really ought to concentrate better on the stuff that gets said (verbatim) at our house that creates the sudden turn of events that often happens here.  I can't quite replicate it.  Like, over the hasty lunch that I was serving when I finally decided to quit weeding my mad tangle of berry plants in order to nurse my blistered hand....

It was there at the lunch table that I learned that three of my sons were going to be running an evening convoy of tractors up to a trailer park near where Blake lives to settle a house trailer into place....after the mud that hampered the same maneuver earlier in the day dried.  I am not sure how they even came to have the job---a job that had tripled since the initial use of ONE guy and ONE tractor.  I think Garth said something to the effect of wanting to tell Blake a thing or two (lovingly, of course....).  Personally I think our family has a weak "NO" gene.  We just can't seem to say no...

And with the talk of moving house trailers on a lovely spring day in May, we also discussed our old friend--- who for the purpose of this post we will call Bob.  Yes, old both in that we've known him for some time and in that he is advancing in years. Anyhow, he calls frequently because he is, as I said, advancing in years and essentially has not many other people to call.  Paul is a patient, patient man.  

We may never know if Bob always was as Bob is now (for we have always known him as he is now), but his mind seems to play tricks on him sometimes and he gets a little confused and overwhelmed.  Even given that, the first lawn mowing of the year when you've waited a smidge too long to tackle it can be overwhelming to anyone. 

Garth says, "I can go, if we leave RIGHT NOW."  He had to be, afterall, available for "operation-house-trailer-relocation" in exactly 4.5 hours.  The drive to Bob's is a solid one hour from our house.  The boys sat estimating that the actual mowing would take approximately 45 minutes.  One hour to drive there.  One hour's work mowing.  One hour drive home.  

I, meanwhile, was suddenly the designated driver co-pilot. I never get to drive when Garth is there.  He only needs me for my driver's license....I feel so wanted!  I thought, "Hey, if I am going to wind up in that neighborhood, I am going to go shopping!"  So, I let the rest of the family decide how the thing was going down while I cleaned up and donned a more presentable outfit.

As it happened, time slipped away while Paul got a food order ready to send up to Bob.  When I was finally settled behind the steering wheel of the pick up with the Skag lawn mower loaded in the bed, it was Brady who was jumping into the passenger seat. Garth determined he no longer had enough time to go.

So, up we drove to mow Bob's lawn.  Brady is an interesting traveling companion.  He keeps his index finger poised on the radio button and listens to the most annoyingly SHORT snippets of songs before advancing to the next one.  And I do mean ANNOYINGLY short snippets.  He can "name that tune in just 4 notes" (or not....).  It's all good.  If he selects one I don't particularly want to hear, I just brake, accelerate, or shift gears so his finger bumps the "seek" button to change the stations.

At one point as we were driving, Brady says with feigned concern, "Mom, I was hesitant to tell you this until I was sure, but I've been noticing that there's been a lawn mower following us the whole time."  Lol.  Indeed, the thing unmistakably hogged up our rear view the whole time.

   

I let Brady unload the mower and made sure he was situated before I left for my mini-shopping trip.  All told, factoring in the traffic and everything, I made it to ONE store before I got the text to go back and collect him!

I am one terrific shopper in a town with a plethora of options.  I chose a Salvation Army Thrift Store.  (Aren't I boring???).  I really just went there because I wanted to look at the children's books.  That's what I do when I am bored.  I scan the titles on the spines of  books to try to find one I don't already have.  It's like a treasure hunt, a hobby that lets me share something with my children.  Sometimes I even buy books I already have just so I am armed with gifts to give my friends.  

I was in the line waiting to check out just behind someone who was obviously conveying the message to all that she was a woman in a hurry.  Her body language was more of a dance, shifting from one foot to another.  She was sighing.  She was complaining to a worker that the line was moving too slow.  She brought to all of our attention that there were two cashiers working one register.  To a fellow customer she brusquely inquired of a loaded cart that was parked in the way.  And this.  And that. I had nothing else to do but take it in.  I mean, I was right behind her and there were a bunch of people behind me.

It was when she placed her items on the counter to be checked out that I had trouble maintaining composure.  The book that she was buying was called, "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff".  

I come from a family that has to fight mightily to keep from laughing at inappropriate moments.  My poor children possess this same weakness (weakness?  I'm not sure if it's a weakness exactly....it's just the ability to find humor where some may not, right?).  I totally had to distract myself from thinking about the irony of what had just happened so as not to make a laughing fool of myself!

The lawn done, we sped home (did I say sped?  Figure of speech, figure of speech...). When we got off the highway exit ramp, I momentarily thought I was going to be a player in one of those weird stories on the evening news.  Just as I was a good way up the ramp a fancy black car whipped around the corner and was coming the wrong way down the ramp (straight toward me!).  I've never had that happen to me before.   I think they must've been foreigners and were maybe confused by the highway signs or something because they stopped and started haltingly a number of times before they eventually turned around.  No harm done.

And so the rest of my day and evening waxed and waned with activity.

In the course of writing this blog post, I heard boots clomping down the steps from the upstairs bedrooms.  (Remember, I said it is like 2 in the morning...).  It was Garth with gun in hand headed out to the chicken house, gallantly on his way to rescue the flock from whatever was causing their distress.  He came in asking, "Mom, do I smell like a skunk?"  Yes.  He does.  And the skunk got away with it.
 

I really do need to go to bed.  I have another day's worth of adventure awaiting me in just a few short hours....

~Colleen, who is sadly remembering that one of my friends won't be reading this post---or any post---as she was in the habit of doing to keep herself current with our family.  Marci passed away on April 22, 2015.  She will be missed.

Several life events are converging for me right now (not the least of which was cleaning out my attic for the insulation work we were having done).  This is causing me to reflect on something (I mean the life events, not the attic insulation).

Motherhood.

Yeah, yeah.  It's almost Mother's Day.  Of course everyone thinks about mothers on Mother's Day.  I have a great mother.  I've learned a ton from her.  I always get the feeling she never purposely set out to teach me anything, though.  No, she was far too sneaky for that.  And practical.  My mother was the type who would be folding clothes on the bed while listening to me yammer on and on about my school day.  She really didn't say that much, she just listened.

She would likewise sit at her sewing machine mumbling out occasional responses to me while keeping a row of pins pressed between her lips. She saved the really poignant things to say until she used up all her pins and could finally open her mouth all the way.  Yes.  Good old mom.  Only she isn't really old, I guess.  She isn't even 70 yet.

But this isn't even what I was going to say.  I was going to talk about my own motherhood.  If you are expecting an expose on how to do it "right" or, really, any "advice", look somewhere else.

When I was going through some of the stuff that had been sitting in the attic, I came across a box that I used to keep in my closet.  I came to think of it as my treasure box.  It was really simply a small plastic tote with a lid into which I would quickly stow little notes and pictures my children gave me (or ones I saw lying around that I found to be especially cute).  It was a solution born out of guilt for throwing this sort of thing away.  I figured I could use the box as a bit of a time capsule and reminisce on days gone by....someday.

We are now at someday.  I actually really didn't even remember I had the box.  And I actually didn't even spend a lot of time reminiscing through it when it occurred to me what was in there....yet.  BUT.....I did happen upon a couple of "I Love Mommy" type note in childish scrawl.  Awww.  I'm touched.  One little picture was signed, "For Colleen, From Logan".  He was probably 5 when he did it.

Anyhow, another little note in there made me laugh.  It was written by Maria.  I had made a notation on the note that indicated that Maria had sent the note via Shannah out to the butcher shop  where I was butchering chickens. She had included a pencil for me to write to her a response.  The note said (spelling and punctuation intact from the original):

 "Brady sounds croaky and he smells funny I took his shirt of and wiped his face but he still smells what should I do?"

I have no recollection of what I advised.