January 16, 2013…. the year begins…. tardily…

This is the longest hiatus I have ever had from MSJ.  I am astonished that you faithful readers keep coming back and reading in my absence.  Hopefully something I wrote somewhere along this journey gave you something to smile about!  At this point, headlines would not even fit the bill for the last two months of craziness in the Crosby household.

We had the Great Computer Crash of 2012 which began with a mystery download from an unnamed son (who knows better) which slowed our computer to a snail’s pace, but gave us a nice icon of Jesus wearing red head phones.  So, off the tower went to Howard, the other savior (little s).  THEN, the plug-in dealie on my laptop broke… broke right off the board (whatever that means).  We are still in denial about having to pay the same cost as buying a new laptop to have it repaired. So we have been internetless since December10th…. until yesterday.

Good thing there was a three week road trip in there!  It wasn’t our original plan, but it worked in our favor to drive up and down the western states and into Canada using our friends’ and relatives’ computers.  The Crosby Canadian Christmas Adventure was cold but quite enjoyable spending time in British Columbia… by the fire place and eating hot soup and sipping warm cocoa.  Rick and the older kids went to a spin class several times, but also took in: swimming, ice skating, paint ball, pickle ball, a glow-in-the-dark ping pong tournament, snowboarding and skiing.  The kids haven’t seen their Uncle Glen in 10 years!  Hopefully it won’t be that long next time!

Thirty-six hours after we returned from the west coast road trip, we embarked on our southwest road trip to take Larisa (our firstborn, first graduate, first everything) to Oral Roberts University in Tulsa, OK.  If you haven’t been to ORU  (or to the 1960s in a while), it is a trippy scene….. I’ve never seen so many buildings made of gold and sidewalks that are diagonal.  Seriously, if you are a film producer and need a 1960s set, DON’T BUILD ONE!  Go to Tulsa; it’s all there for your 1960s dreams to come true.

We did have a successful first launch of a child from the nest.  Rick and I had plenty of reflection time (due to him mistakenly taking three extra days off work) as we drove from OK through KS, CO and NM on our way home to AZ.  My conclusion to our happy send off is that we have no regrets.  We feel like we did what the Lord called us to do with homeschooling and pouring our lives into raising our kids.  (Not that we are done, by any stretch of the imagination…. nine more years.) Most importantly, I am thrilled that Larisa gets to go to a school still based on the foundation is started on….. Jesus Christ.  I’m so blessed knowing that she is surrounded by other kids who are sold out to the Lord and are striving to learn to be more like Him.  ORU is unusual in today’s world and it is the perfect place for our girl right now. (The JB posters were a joke…. thank GOD!)

Yes, I still accidentally set six places at the table on the first night home, but there were no tears.  Only smiles of joy and gladness.  And I can blog again.  My world is right-side up, despite a choppy start to 2013.  Happy New Year!

ROAD TRIP to Canada Day #1

Every five years, our family makes the trek north to our homeland Canada where we met and fell in love with starry eyes and warm hearts.  Crosby Family Christmas was occurring in Abbotsford, B.C. at my brother and sister-in-law’s house.  Three out of the four siblings arrived with kids in tow along with Rick’s folks…. 15 of us in all.

We never leave on time for road trips.  Various circumstances contribute to this, mostly, however, is my dear husband’s tendency toward tardiness.  Day #1 had 12 hours of driving on the agenda, but there was not an impending arrival time that we were aiming at.  This was a godsend because my great aunt and uncle are staying in our house for us and watching the doggies…. which translates to the house needing to be spotless… way beyond the normal “leaving on vacation” level of cleanliness…. causing three of my four children to roll their eye balls at their mother.

Soooooooo, departure time was chosen for 7:00 a.m.  At 9:15 a.m. dusting and mirror cleaning were still in progress.  We pulled out of the driveway at 9:38 a.m. BUT there were three scheduled stops before we could leave town.  Rick had some checks to drop off, his work truck to take to the mechanic and we still needed gas for the trip.  At 10:27 we pulled into Circle K in downtown Phoenix and Rick announced to his wife and four children, “Everyone go to the bathroom because we’re not stopping for a long time!”   Into the gas station we obediently traipsed.

11:01 a.m. we officially left Phoenix and began our trek westbound.  At 11:18 a.m. Rick mousily squeaked from the middle row of the van that he needed to go to the bathroom….. so we turned into another Circle K in Buckeye, AZ!  And thus began our 3,400 mile ROAD TRIP to the Great White North….  only 3+ hours behind our scheduled departure.  Not bad.

Road Trip Trivia

So in the past four days, we drove 24 hours… including stops.  It was all well worth it and we needed a break from the reality of sitting in our cozy house waiting for the phone to ring… giving us the information that will change our lives forever.  No, not Ed McMahon calling…. our adoption referral call.  Yes, I’ve mentioned it in every blog for the past month because I’M OBSESSED! 

Back to the road trip.  No Crosby family trip would be complete without original sayings that get repeated for all eternity and instantly take us back to the trip where the saying was first quoted.  This trip’s quote is a passionate, “WOW!”  It was voiced by both my husband and I simultaneously after a pause that followed a Snapple Trivia Fact from the inside of a cap of juice.  Larisa read it from the back of the van, “Everyone ready for a Snapple Trivia Fact?”  Silence commenced preparing our hearts for a truth from a juice cap.  “A three-day-old Caribou can outrun its mother.”  A quiet space was followed by dual “WOW’s!” from both of the front seat passengers.  Think about it… at three days…. it can run faster than its mama!  Wow!

Then we played Name That Tune, which is normally undertaken with humming, but humming is too quiet to effectively play Name That Tune in a running vehicle.  So we sing… without words.  There were some clever songs sung with no words.  There were some stupid songs sung with no words.  There were also some unknown songs sung with no words.  After about three Michael Jackson songs sung with no words, Larisa leaned over the back seat of the van and rummaged through her suitcase until she presented the new MJ cd This Is It!  So Name That Tune was ended by two go-arounds with MJ singing his little heart out.  Larisa commented during the second run-through that it’s ironic that MJ was singing the song This Is It…. and it was.  He never got to perform for an audience.  I added the fact that he also sang the words, “I’m the light of the world” in that song.  Those words should be reserved for the true light of the world, Jesus.  Yes, ironic.  Wow!

A Rough Re-entry

It’s taken me several days to get back into the swing of things after three weeks away from home.  Re-entry was rough.  We arrived home at 1:00 am Tuesday morning after taking a “short cut”… yes, the infamous short cut… that takes longer and is curvy and bumpy and narrow and all the truckers know about it too.  I can’t remember the last time I had to get out one of the gallon size zip-lock barf bags for myself.  Thankfully I didn’t use it.  I just held it in my free hand… the one that wasn’t clinging to the door handle…. and I breathed deeply for a LONG time.

I felt sorry for Rickey, by husband, because I knew he was only going to get about 4 hours of sleep before having to go to work.  But I was in no shape to drive.  I consoled myself by noting that HE chose the “short cut” that made me sick.  Not the nice wife, I know.  But still, I could have driven the other route and he could have slept, but no.  That old hind sight saying is so true.

Five a.m. Rick’s alarm went off and I was a sweaty mess lying in bed with no covers!  Welcome back to Phoenix, the Valley of the Scorching Sun!  110 degrees…. not hot enough to boil water… only people.  Our bedroom is the hottest room in the house, and that morning it was worse than usual… because of re-entry.  I had to escape… and headed for the loft, just outside our room and turned on the ceiling fan.  Ah, the cool breezes. 

As I sat there cooling off, I glanced over to the homeschool bookshelf and a feeling of dread passed over me!  I have planning to do… for the whole year ahead.  I didn’t want to.  I didn’t want to be awake.  I didn’t want to be hot.  I didn’t want to live in Phoenix in the summer.  Then I realized that I had only been home from vacation for four hours, was over tired and irrational and I had six weeks before I had to plan anything… and I didn’t need to think about it now.  Or this month.  And I always get pumped back up to homeschool with glee at the annual convention in July.  Whew.

Back to sleep I went and did feel much better when I awoke in another four hours.  I thought my attitude had improved since 5:00 a.m., but then I went into the kitchen and looked out the back window.  Dead, tall grass with weeds that had yellow and purple flowers blooming greeted me.  Not the nice wildflowers of Washington.  Annoying weeds.  And four pots with dried out dirt and dead flower plants.  I didn’t want to look at brown.  I wanted to still be seeing green trees and green fields and green ferns and wild blackberry bushes bursting with fruit.  I didn’t want to be in Phoenix.  I didn’t want to be hot.

We are now on day four of re-entry.  I have adjusted slightly better each day.  Part of day three was spent sitting in the coolness of the ice rink while my boys skated, planning trips to leave Phoenix this summer.  It made me feel better to have escapes on the calendar.  Nothing extravagant, but trips to cooler climates with pine trees.  Trips starting next weekend!  I like the ice rink in summer!

Tahoe Day 8: Hiking

Fallen Leaf Lake, just east of Emerald Bay, has a flat and easily hiked trail that leads from campsite 78 to the lake.  It wasn’t until 4:00 pm that we arrived… it was a bit further than it looked on the map.  Personally, I don’t think the map was drawn by anyone who understands perspective or proportions.  Anyway, despite the 45 minute drive, the scenery was spectacular.

There were two paths that diverged in the woods from which to choose, and yes, we quoted the Robert Frost poem.  Being a lover of safety rules and caution, we took the one most traveled… AND marked with orange and blue plastic streamers so we couldn’t get lost unless we really tried.

No matter where we go, or what we do together, there is always much laughter and frivolity… especially with these three giggly girls. Can you guess which one is a forest ranger?

With seven kids between our two families, we do much switching and swapping of children when traveling together.  We had the boys the first half of the day and then Austin moved to the other car, or so I thought.  The last time I saw him, he was heading to the bathroom (term used lightly) at the Fallen Leaf campground with his father.  I only witnessed his father’s return, but was informed the my eldest son did indeed trade vehicles.  Forty-five minutes later, we are in the Safeway parking lot in Tahoe City and I watch the other car drive by and I don’t see Austin.  As any good mother, I was sure that we had left him back at the campground.  I texted my friend to ask if they had Austin.  It didn’t go through.  Patiently I sat in the van awaiting my husband’s return from the grocery store…. to inform him that we are horrible, no good, very bad parents and left our 13-year-old son FORTY-FIVE miles back, and didn’t notice until now.  Then Austin came out of the store with his dad and all was well.  I’m still an OK mom, who has only left one child one time in the McDonald’s playland… but that was YEARS ago.  Don’t judge me.  It’s not like I drove away.  A kind lady came out of Micky D’s holding his 2-year-old hand and asking if he was mine.  I said yes, and tried to convince her that I would have figured it out when I did up all the car seats.  See!  Only once in 16.5 years.

Tahoe Traveling Tidbits

Somehow Crosby road trips never go down without a hitch… and I’m not talking about the trailer hitch.  What was supposed to be a 14 hour road trip turned into a 17 hour saga.  Of course, you are privy to the nitty-gritty details right here on MSJ! Lucky you.

Somewhere north of Coso Junction and south of Bartlett on Highway 395 in the interior of the great state of California we stopped for fuel and when I hopped out of the car, curious if I could still feel my feet, I heard a hissing noise.  Even though I needed to desperately visit the restroom, I silently investigated the sound until I determined that it was coming from the front left tire.  Not good.  No, not good at all.  I informed Captain, My Captain, and went inside.  My husband did indeed solve the problem somewhat temporarily with Fix-A-Flat …. and tire repair job in an aerosol can.  Amazing!  The hissing behind us, we ventured back onto the 395.

Sadly, a vibration began not long after the F-A-F was sprayed into the tire.  The vibrating increased until Bishop, CA.  We love Bishop, CA.  If you haven’t been there, you are missing not only the certified purest water in the nation, but an award-winning bakery with the Original Sheepherder Bread and a lovely park with a creek and baby duckies. We stop there every year… both directions.  It has remarkable views of the Sierra Nevadas to the west and another nameless mountain range to the east… and snow-covered peaks.  Lovely sight to behold.

A tire shop was needed… badly.  Rick decided to leave Larisa, Keeve, Trixie (the dog) and myself at the wonderful park and take Austin to go find a tire.  We didn’t really plan the park adventure very well.  We had no cell phone, no watch, no money, no knowledge of where Rick and Austin went, no food and we discovered later, no cardboard or sharpie pens to make signs that read “Stranded, Starving, Sad.”  We figured we could make a few bucks while we waited, but no.  We weren’t even prepared for that!  Larisa did have two water bottles, but at 91 degrees, they didn’t last long. 

At the park, we were resting peacefully (before the panic, the realization that we were indeed stranded, and the hunger set in) on a bench watching mothers and toddlers feed the ducks in a small lake.  The scene was right out of some romantic movie with Weeping Willow trees, a gazebo and everything, except I was on the park bench with my daughter, son, and our dog, not my lovable husband.  Anyway, Trixie was behaving quite nicely….. until a maintenance man drove by on a golf cart.  She took off like a shot, between my legs, under the bench and after the man.  Her leash is one of those retractable thin rope kind that only work on dogs less than 12 pounds.  Stupidly, I grabbed the rope and felt the burn on my pinky finger almost immediately, but not quite fast enough to let go and be free from rope burn.  Owwwie!  Stupid dog.  Now I was stranded and wounded.

We moved to the bakery patio on main street, hoping to see our van shortly… with a new tire.  The kind lady behind the counter, wearing the little Dutch white hat pinned to her hair, did fill our water bottles several times for us.  And there were samples put out every 20 minutes of sticky buns, chili cheese bread, the award-winning Sheepherder bread and shortbread cookies.  At least we wouldn’t go into a diabetic coma!  Well, come to find out.  It was while we were sitting at the bakery we realized the extent of our unpreparedness.  We did spy a cardboard box behind the store adjacent to the bakery that we could have used for a sign, but we still didn’t solve the no-sharpie pen problem.  We played “Name someone who has that car” for 90 minutes as each car drove by.  We named almost everyone we know, but in Bishop there are a LOT of truck drivers, so Pastor Dan and Regan won.

Eventually Rick did return and the tire with the hiss was not the vibrating problem at all.  The right front tire developed a bulge, probably because it was not receiving the same attention, love and care as the other front tire… so it caused the vibrating front end, hoping for some love.  So, two new tires later…. Rick came to save us and thankfully ended our bakery loitering situation.

See?  Crosby road trips are the BEST!

Patience is a V-v-v-virtue

My patience has been tried and tested many times throughout the years, especially when I met and fell in love with my husband.  He’s on his own clock (Indian time) and it runs about 5 seconds slower than mine.  With 22 years of marriage I have slowed down and he has sped up… but never will we be on the same time frame.  Just when I thought I was done getting my patience tested with my dear husband, our dear son Keeve was born.  He is even slower than Rick…. but like his father, worth waiting for.  For goodness sakes, the kid used to take a breath in the middle of “O  -  K!”  What in the world?  Just when I thought I was done getting my patience tested with my dear son, we took a road trip to Lake Tahoe from Phoenix, AZ., a 771.3 mile trek.  Can I just say that I LOATHE road construction! 

Getting out of town was like pulling a jack rabbit’s teeth.  First a stop for a necessary book  from the Christian book store for a reading assignment for son #1.  Then a necessary stop at Old Navy because their flip-flops are two-for-$5 for our daughter. Then came a necessary stop at Costco for gas.  Then a dark parking lot stop for a quick change of clothing for moi.  THEN Rick decided he needed his back-up driver to take over.  Sheesh.  We weren’t 12 miles from home, after 72 minutes, making our first driver switch.

It should have been a large red flag to me that road construction signs started in Phoenix.  They continued ALL the way to the cabin.  Seriously, June 10-17 is road construction week across I-10 and up the 395 in California.  There were miles to go before I sleep and miles to go before I sleep (take me back to high school poetry with Mrs. Clark) where one lane of the two lanes was blocked with cones…. for no apparent reason.  There was one particular 12 mile stretch where I was the third car behind the little old balding man, Mr. Fudd,  in his pristine butterscotch pudding colored 1972 Toyota Corolla who was out for his 40 MPH Tuesday stroll on the 75 MPH highway.

“Am I not being a patient person?” I started pondering.  “Am I supposed to be learning a lesson here at 40 MPH on Hwy 395?”  Considering that we just passed TWO years, SIX months, THREE weeks and TWO days of waiting for our little daughter from Colombia, I assumed I was a patient person.  However, Mr. Fudd brought out the worst in me.  I never said anything out loud.  OK, that was a lie.  I spewed a few turtle, molasses, snail and growing grass comments under my breath.

Tonight as I pray for the 3, 857th time for my son’s spouse, I will add an extra emphasis on her virtue of patience.  She will need it her whole married life, as I’m finding out I do.

HOLLYWOOD

As Mr. Bang-His-Head and Coach Rick crashed in the hotel room in Anaheim after the 7 a.m. game, Larisa, Keeve and I ventured off to Hollywood.   We have never been there despite our many trips to L.A.  Can I just say that if you’re looking for weirdos….. they’re in Hollywood… particularly at Starbucks on Hollywood Blvd. just East of the Chinese Theater.  WEIR-DO!  Oh, my goodness.  I didn’t bother telling the kids to stop staring with their mouths gaping open because I was busy staring with my mouth gaping open.  Our favorite, hands down, was a little shriveled up man with long dyed-black hair looking rather spookily like Howard Stern in his 90s.  He had a little too much black eye liner on… and he accidentally used the black eyeliner on his lips too.  But I could tell he had realized his mistake because he tried to correct it with shiny silver eyeliner outlining his black lips.  Remarkably creepy.

Anyway, we were the typical tourists walking slowly down the street of the stars and reading all the names aloud, whether we knew them or not.  I just made it sound like I was excited to find each and every one.  Larisa finally figured out that I didn’t know who half the people were.  The only star we were in pursuit of was Elvis, for Rick of course.  Well, they have moved Elvis’ star three times and we finally asked enough people and were pointed in the same general direction about four times when we came upon the king of rock n roll’s star.  It’s by itself and the Beatles’ star in a large median, so as not to get too many people stopping up traffic in front of the junk souvenir shops.

We got sucked into a souvenir shop and bought the $7 map showing the homes of the stars.  So off we drove to see if we could find any famous people’s houses.  The one that I got most excited about was the Brady Bunch house.  So cool.  Just like the show!  Except it’s orange now, not olive green anymore.  The ordinary people who live in it must be sick of people like us in minivans holding the $7 map and taking pictures of their home because their house number was nowhere to be seen.  Larisa said, “I can’t tell which house it is because there’s no number on this one!”  I didn’t need a house number.  I grew up watching that house.

Keeve asked if we could see Ben Stiller’s house, so off Hollywood Blvd. we drove to Ben’s place.  Well after Larisa has successfully navigated me up these winding, narrow, falling-apart roads we find the house number and Larisa says, “Oh, …..this is Drew Barrymore’s house.”  So we enjoyed her amazing view for a few moments before finding the correct house for Keeve.  And keeping up with our tradition of saving one famous line for posterity from each of our family vacations, the rest of the trip we kept saying, “Oh, this is Drew Barrymore’s house,” when we pulled into Taco Bell, Huntington Beach, Free Chapel, Chevron, our hotel, etc.

Concussion cussion what’s your function?

Hookin’ up phrases and clauses and makin’ ‘em run right.

Yes, that’s School House Rock Saturday morning cartoons coming back to haunt me… and now you too.  Well to sum up our hockey tournament trip to Anaheimin three easy words: concussion, beach, church.  Yes, Austin got slammed against the boards in the FIRST game of the tournament and got concussion #4.  Yes, FOUR.  Not good.  Blurry vision, tingling arms, intense headache, nausea… and a front row seat to watch the rest of the team finish the tournament without him.  (Coach Rick even took a stick to the nose and has wounds to prove it.) It was a supreme bummer for all of us.  We did hit Huntington Beach twice which seemed to calm all of our nerves.  And to top off Easter Sunday we visited Free Chapel in Irvine to hear awesome music by Adam Ranney and Israel Houghton (both former music pastors from our church) and preaching from Jentezen Franklin.  We had some CHURCH… which we severely needed after the head injury and downed spirits.

So, today we visited the doctor and he ran Austin through a battery of tests which were highly similar to a drunk driving test that I’ve seen on TV.  Anyway, there was no swelling, no signs of bleeding and Aus passed all the tests.  Thank God.  We learned all about concussions being rated in three levels.  It seems Austin’s have all been level two.  I don’t know if that’s good or bad…. but we were told that they are cumulative and it takes less and less of a hit to bring one on.  So…. Aus is out of contact sports for 5 months…. which corresponds exactly with the hockey season summer break.  I’m relieved at the news that he can still play, but will be very leery of every little hit from now on.

I have entertaining travel stories, as always, but they will wait for another blog.  GLAD to be home!!!!

Men & Asking for Directions

Not that I’m a man basher… I just find it humorous how men need to display the image that they always know where they are.  I mean, really, who cares?  I also find it funny how when you ask men for directions, they ALWAYS give them… whether they know what they’re talking about or not.  It’s the same phobia in reverse.

Back in the day, I went flying with Rick when he was taking some of the band leaders and chiefs from several Indian reservations to a fishing lodge in Northern Alberta.  There was an empty seat so Rick phoned home and told me to high tail it down to the airport and bring our fishing poles.  Sweet!  I am the supreme fishing queen.  We had been up in the air about 40 minutes when I noticed that Rick’s head was aimed straight ahead but his eyes were roaming to and fro, obviously looking for the fishing lodge.  We both had on headsets, so I said to him, “Why don’t you ask the guys in the back where it is?”  But NO!  He told me to look for two lakes that were very close together. It’s not quite as obvious when the passenger looks for the destination.  We did find it, and the chiefs never knew their pilot had any difficulty locating their fishing hole. And I caught ALL the fish that day but Rick gave most of them to the chiefs so they wouldn’t return empty handed.  Some even asked what bait I was using. I heard this comment from the back of the plane, “Next time I’m bringing my woman.” 

Our Destination:  Dawson Creek, BC

Another time we were driving with Rick’s mom and sister from Valleyview, Alberta straight west to Dawson Creek, BC.  Usually I navigate with my map close at hand, but this was Rick’s territory and I wasn’t even paying attention to where we were going.  Captain, my Captian, was in charge at the helm. 

A bit of back information:  I had recently finished a Geography of Canada course and the professor had done post graduate work on the Peace River region.  Being in Geo./Can class, we heard all about the landscape, erosion, river patterns, alluvial fans, etc.  I had never been to Peace River, AB, but in my head, I knew what it looked like. 

Back to the heading west story.  About an hour outside of Valleyview, we came off of a high plain and dropped into a river valley… that looked exactly like my brain’s picture of Peace River.  But Peace River was an hour straight north of Valleyview, so that couldn’t have been it.  Well, it was.  Not long after I commented about how much this area looked the place Dr. Tracie had described, we passed the sign, Welcome to Peace River.  Cool!  It was just as I pictured!  But… uncool…. we were not heading west… and hadn’t been for an hour.  I mentioned to Rick that we could just ask the gas station attendant how to get to Dawson Creek.  But NO!  Rick informed the van full of women that we would be stopping for gas, but no one was to leave the vehicle.  Of course, us three ladies were giggling to ourselves.  When Rick got out to pump the gas, his mom opened her window and yelled, “We’re LOST!”  which threw us all into hysterics. 

Just ask for directions, already.  Goodness.