Living-Deliberately.com

• I’ve had a server switch and some rough patches that go along with that so if your comment didn’t save…that’s why. I’m hoping that part is over things will be back to normal. Big thanks and shout-out to Joel, my bil, who keeps me spoiled as far as bloggin’ goes!
• All those who criticised Survivor….Nah, nah, nah, naaaaah… I told you so :-P. Last night they integrated. I love the social experiement they are doing. And if you think it was “just a ploy for ratings”, then that makes them what? Like EVERY other TV show out there? I LOVE this show!! Or, as my friend Julie would say, I heart Survivor!
• Nana and Papa are here this weekend. Today we’re going to look at the Obed Overlook to take in our panoramic fantastic color! The kids are charged…both with this visit and the one my family made earlier this month, it sure is fun to have your guests stay in your house!
• Feeling like eating ala Nourshing Traditions may leave you without a great dessert option? Rapadura makes a fantastic white sugar subsitute for the chocolate cake on the back of the Hershey’s box. It’s W’s birthday cake this weekend. Just keep in mind, this cake is best when it has a chance to “ripen” at least 12 hours in the fridge before eating.

A Boy Is…
Trust with dirt on its face,
Beauty with a cut on its finger,
Wisdom with bubble gum in its hair, and the
Hope of the future with
A frog in its pocket.

Little Boys’ Pockets
Little boys’ pockets hold
amazing things-
Fishworms, apple cores,
a mess of string,
But this treasure is nothing
to the wealth one finds
In little boys’ hearts and little
boys’ minds!!

Sugar Cookie Cowboy
by LaVerne P. Larson

My “sugar cookie cowboy”
Is a little lad of three
Who rides a bucking rocking horse
And means the world to me.

From morning until evening
He frolicks to and fro,
A merry twinkle in his eye
And rosy cheeks aglow.

His hair is always tousled,
And a smile lights up his face
While echoes of his laughter
Spread sunshine every place.

He wears a western outfit
And even totes a gun.
His world of make-believe
Is filled with happy, childlike fun.

Glad memories will linger,
As these precious years depart,
Of my “sugar cookie cowboy”
Who roped and stole my heart.

Poems from  Sweet Remberances.
He’s SIX today. Lost his first tooth,
 is learning to read, usually wears a cape.
He’s our amazing Wonder Boy, 
our one who “narrowly escaped”, 
or as the book
says, “the boy who lived”. He’s
the avenger, the crusader, the comedian, 
the freckle-face, the night snuggler
we find at our feet.  He’s got a story to tell
 but he might take a few detours
along the way. He’s the one who’ll be sitting 
looking out the window and out
of the blue will say, “Mom? I love you.”
We love you too Wheater-bug! Happy Birthday!
				

																
				
				
				

We shot the dog.

Not, “we put it to sleep” or “we put it down”. We shot it. In the head. Three times.

This is still shocking to me, even after days and days, nay weeks, of asking around and somewhat agonizing over the decision. Even after a proper burial, clean up, and knowing she’s no longer hurting.

We shot a dog.

I woke up this morning expecting to see her at the door, tail optimistically wagging, hoping to get some of the cats’ food. Every day it was the same: she’d nip at the cats while they ate until they, feeling very harassed, backed off and let her to it. She never let Red Fox eat. Sometimes the kids chased her off with a stick long enough to let the cats eat. But she’d always be back in minutes and all the animals let her reign.

She’d been biting Red Fox too. At first it was playful nips and banter. Then, as she got more uncomfortable, the mange weeping and oozing in cycles, she got crabby. Red Fox, being very hungry by this point, started biting the cats on their necks in turn while they ate.

Fly nipped at the baby on the weekend. She laid around and stank like the rotting, walking heap of flesh she’d become. I began to feel more guilty about letting her suffer like that than being the one to go ahead and put her out of her misery.

And I wasn’t the one. All David wanted to hear that I was okay with him doing it. It wasn’t something he much wanted to do at all anyway, but he really didn’t want to do it if I was going to be against it and mad. I was that far removed from the deed and I still feel sort of dazed and confused that we shot a dog.

City-girl Me moved out here and found these two mutts in my yard. I did what city people do: they ask around to see who owns the dogs. If it’s a big enough area, they might post signs. And if no one responds, they call Animal Control, who removes them even further from “the deed”.

They laughed at me, these country people out here. A few were sympathetic. Not only did no one fess up to actually OWNING the dogs (everyone admitted to feeding them now and then), but they looked at me kind of cross-eyed when I asked about “the pound”, “animal control”, the “humane society”. My neighbor suggested I try the vet, to see if he would come out and inject the dog. I’d have to pay for it though…

Gradually it dawned on me. Out here, they think it’s okay to shoot nuisance animals. They just don’t DO it often. There’s a bunch of people out here who were willing to let these dogs walk around as “the town strays”, feed them scraps, scratch them behind the ears and such. But no one was going to actually take responsibility. No shots, no tick removal or medicine. And when it’s limping around in pain, no one would do what they say they “do”: shoot it.

If my kid did something like this I’d call it Passive Aggressive Disobedience. Problems don’t go away just because no one wants to deal with it. No one wants to pay for an animal shelter or control program. Probably few out here could afford the extra taxes anyway.

Just don’t look at the city people like, “Duh, that’s what your GUN is for” when you’ve let this animal stumble in pain through your own yard without doing anything yourself. Everyone agreed it was what needed to be done…..they just didn’t want it to be them doing “the deed”.

Andrew dug the hole, the only one with foreknowledge of what was about to happen. I saved dinner scraps and covered them with rich chicken broth and we put the plate on the edge of the hole. She never even looked up from her moment of gastronomic bliss. He put the first one in the back of her head. She instantly fell over, eyes closed.

I was at the bottom of the hill with Red Fox penned up in the shed. The other kids were in the house, the baby in bed. Andrew jumped back aghast when her legs continued to kick. For his comfort, David put two more into her until she stilled. She’d fallen right into the hole as planned and they buried her quickly.

Clean. Fast. Painless.

We told Wheaton and Celia shortly after. They were sorry we had to do it but everyone knew her days were numbered. Right after that Wheaton’s first tooth fell out and he pretty much forgot about anything else until today when he said, “ Smelly nasty dogs make other not-as-smelly-nasty dogs mean”.

Because we all noticed how different Red Fox was today. Happier, friendlier, fed. He gets up and dances on his hind legs in a circle when he sees us. Gone is the cloud of flies that used to hover over Fly, gone is her stench. Thankfully, so is her pain, and we don’t have to wonder when she’ll next snap at the kids and how hard she’ll bite.

One criticism that is often hurled at those who’ve lived in the city/suburbs but who talk about wanting to farm is that they won’t know how to put down their animals when it’s time, they won’t be tough enough, whether it’s for food, mercy, or protection. I still don’t know if I can actually wring a chicken’s neck. I know I could shoot a snake or something threatening us. And I know that the man I married, and the son we’ve grown, will be REAL MEN and take care of things as they need to be done.

I’m still kind of sick about it. We can buy our meat in packages, go Vegan, put developments on forest land, make hunters out to be crazy guys in camo…but all we’re doing is pushing the inevitable over on to the next guy. If death is a part of life, I’m seeing where we need to handle that responsibly.

Andrew made brownies this afternoon, going step by step as I instructed from across the room. I got up to make sure he was spreading the batter evenly in the pan because it looked a bit too high on one side. And he said…

“Hey! Don’t do that! You’re ruining my after-lick.“

Ahem. He was leaving an ample little pile of batter behind in the bowl to lick off the spatula. Silly mom….I wanted brownies in the pan. What was I thinking?

As parents, we spend lots of time wishing we did things better. Or thinking about where we screwed up, dooming our children to thousands of dollars spent on a therapist’s couch ;-). Today I realized something we’re doing right:

our kids have a good work ethic.

For years we’ve treated Saturday as a “family work day”. The kids have been side by side, or at least in our presense, while we worked on various kitchens, book shelf projects, yard work, moving, painting. I’ve had them at my feet (and hands in the dirt together) while we garden since Andrew was Rowan’s age. And I guess that’s paying off.

Today, depsite the off and on rain, we got up early and headed out to chop trees for our firewood. Our heat source is a wood stove and we had no wood and even less money to buy some. So it’s been a long day of chopping, sawing, breaking, carrying (up and down a large hill), stacking, mowing. Celia spent most of her time chasing Rowan and without being asked, cleaned the kitchen, the bathroom, and prepared a hot lunch of leftovers. She even brought out our meals on a tray! Andrew split, with a HEAVY axe, all the wood that David had cut into logs. That was no small task for an adult and he’s only 10!  Wheaton gathered kindling and helped roll logs down the hill. I mowed the Big Hill and cleared out thorny vines and underbrush from the top of our yard.

I was very proud of our family today. There was very little complaining and everyone stuck with it until pouring rain sent us in for hot showers, cups of tea, and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies around 3 pm. Our wood pile is a beautiful thing….so much more than just fodder to burn.

Each time we use language to express, understand, affirm, deny or define God, God slips away and wiggles out of the word-shaped boxes we use to confine God. God confounds our efforts to put God into words.

Read the whole article here.

How best to make race not an issue on Survivor?

Force the point! Divide them from the start!

What is the result?

Well, so far, the focus on interpersonal relationships, communication, and life….the very thing Survivor is best at.

Hmm….remove the issue by pushing it out into the open. Very interesting indeed.

See more on Dr. H’s Hike Your Own Hike.

My very handy brother in law works web magic yet again: I have a new school blog home! I changed the link in my sidebar so give it a try if you read over on my homeschoolblogger site. That one will be going away in the coming days. The new one is still under a bit of construction but I’ve done enough of the transfer over to start making my daily logs and posts over there.

Image from The Art of Parenting Children Through Art.

• beauties that shouted to my soul today:

• white sheets billowing in white sunshine and a chilled breeze
• the arresting panorama of miles of mountains on a dry day, with the shadows of clouds making quilt-like patterns over trees.
• my little Chunky Monkey nursing, peeking at me out of the corner of his eye, and pressing his sweet little fat feet into my lips for kisses

Joanne, whose site Nourished.com.au is quite the interesting read, had this little gem about Ice Cream. I skip skimmed milks (and lower percentages) because of what is added to them, and I already choose full-on fat ice creams because they TASTE better and if I’m gonna indulge then heck! I’m gonna indulge. It’s still mind-bending to think they are better for me, period. Here’s something to help mental flexing along….

We stayed up into the third quarter. 17-7 seemed like a safe enough score when we were yawning and loathing another short night of sleep. So off we took ourselves…..

And low and behold the final score was 21-20?!?! A close game in the fourth quarter and we stupid-heads missed it.

I’m sorry for Tennessee losing to the Gators two years running. Big bummer. Oh well, we’ll have to content outseleves that they go home to positively swelter while we enjoy this lather of Autumn glory.

On a side note, it was fun seeing Gator Tim Tebow on the field. I grew up with his older sister and they went to our church. They homeschooled and their mom, Pam, used to speak at our homeschooling conventions. Maybe she still does. Anyway, she used to share about the dreams and passions of her kids and where their gifts were. Tim’s dream for as long as I’ve heard his name, since he was a little guy, was to play sports. We’ve sort of watched his journey there and I have to say I get a little thrill and a lot of encouragement as a parent that he’s out there apparently LIVING his dream. Last night must have been a good night in that dream.

Late on a sunny Saturday morning….we’ve had cuddles and cartoons, pancake and hickory sausage with golden puddles of syrup, refills on coffee…

I’m perusing blogs, doing my little internet routine, and listening to Justin Timberlake’s newest album on Rhapsody. Guilty little pleasure of mine, like People magazine, and McDonald’s fries. It’s good house cleaning music, provided the kids are outside….

best track so far is “What Goes Around Comes Around”.

Mostly this will lead to freakish Elaine-style dancing the kitchen, trying to release my inner black-chick.

Check out the Debtective link in my sidebar if you are interested in a little Dave Ramsey booster shot.

Mike is comparing Crash and Survivor if you’re intersted in his. YoucanknowGod.com. I’m too lazy to link right now.

Dr. H and friends are enjoying Survivor gushing over on his site….we LOVE it (and watch it…ahem).

Live and Learn has a grea poem on her site (see sidebar). Happy to see her posting again!

Another cuppa, some painting, some sewing, some yard work await. Happy Saturday.