My Seeds Aren’t Growing

Over at a friend’s house in our neighborhood, my new BFF plucked a bunch of mint for me that was growing like stink weed in her side yard. I brought the bunch home and stuck it in a mason jar full of water on my kitchen counter. For the next several days I took clippings of the leaves and my water cup had fresh mint in it… ahhhh, so refreshing.

Then I noticed tiny black seeds had fallen off the mint leaves onto the counter. I picked one up and squeezed it to see if it broke open and smelled like mint. That baby was rock solid, but DID smell like mint. Remembering my friend’s over-prolific mint plot, I brushed the little seeds into the palm of my hand and traipsed out to the back yard to plant them. We have a pot with basil and oregano volunteers just starting to grow, so I made a little trench on the far side of the pot and planted the mint seeds. Visions of transplanting the mint to a permanent location consumed my mind, well, until the washing machine buzzed and I was called to laundry duty.

The next day, lo and behold, there were more little seeds. Then there was a repeat of the brushing and traipsing and planting and envisioning a mint farm in my own oasis.

On the third day, I noticed that all the leaves were missing from the tops of the mint sprigs… and more seeds were on the counter….. and there was a very fat, formerly very hungry caterpillar lying dead in my kitchen sink.

You guessed it. They were not seeds. They will not grow. I was planting caterpillar poop in the planter on my patio. After squeezing it and smelling it and holding it gingerly in my hand. Ewwwwwwww.  Just ewwwwwww.

BUT, I trimmed the mint and it has rooted in the jar of water and new leaves have grown in to replace the eaten ones, so I’m still having visions of a mint harvest from lush plants grown in my own backyard…. maybe in the fall. Summer is too hot in Phoenix for anything to survive if I accidentally forget to water even for one day!

Happy gardening!

Laundry Line Up

In the Crosby household, the minute your little hands could reach the knobs on the washing machine and dryer you were taught to do your own laundry. In my humble mama opinion, this has been glorious, to say the rock-bottom least. We have, however, hit a few glitches over the years.

1. Children who leave their laundry in the washer, in the dryer, piled on the washer and dryer, piled on the floor in the laundry room, etc. for DAYS.

2. Children who can only remember to empty the lint screen if they were paid $127 each time. (And no, $125 is not enough!)

3. Hanger stealing children.  BYOH!

4. Children born in Colombia who had a birth mama who was 4’11”. (She may not be able to reach the knobs until she is 21!) Thus, the laundry stool was welcomed into our home. (So …. the cow…. does this mean there is life milking cows after the laundry is done???)

This week I have had the pleasure of watching all three of my children who are still living here do their own laundry. Son #2 dragged all his bedding downstairs to the laundry room a few days ago including his comforter.  It did my heart good.  Hubby and I were on the couch (watching Downton Abbey, but that is entirely another story!) when the dryer buzzer announced that son #2’s sheets were dry. A gangly 15 year old came flying down the stairs, ran to the laundry room, grabbed said dry sheets and dashed back up to his room. (Not emptying the lint screen. GAH!) A quizzical look came upon my husband’s handsome face. Being the bearer of all knowledge about my kids’ weird ways, I informed Daddy-o about the joys of climbing into a bed with warm sheets…. even in Phoenix, Arizona it is a pleasure.

Yesterday, the little Colombian princess was sorting her laundry on the couch in the family room, then moved it all to the laundry room and washed, dried and put away all her clothes. (Insert happy mama sigh.) Later that day, she was dusting the family room and happened upon a little pair of black panties with a hot pink waistband in the large blue decorative bowl that sits on the coffee table in front of the laundry-sorting-couch.  She was horrified that she left them where all the world could see… and she couldn’t stop giggling. Made me giggle too.

Today, I brought down my basket of dirty clothes but got distracted being a mom before I could get them sorted.  Son #1 whisked through the kitchen in the middle of my distractedness and loaded up the washing machine before me and my loads that were downstairs FIRST! However, I don’t care AT ALL!  He is 17 and washing his own stinky clothes without being asked or prodded.  It is a mommy victory moment and I will happily wait in line behind my kids for the washer ANY day!

Goodbye Butterflies!

My grandmother gave me this butterfly quilt years and years ago…. probably 25 or 26 years past.  It was filled with that old fashioned batting that made the blanket hug you and keep you warmer than the average quilt.  At one time the colors were vibrant and cheery, the sweet soft pinks, turquoises and lavenders of the 40s.  The pea-green backing was less than my favorite color, but hey, it was on the back.  This quilt was well loved! Several times over the years, before it was completely shredded, I thought of re-doing the blanket stitch around each butterfly…. but that task never made it high enough on my daily to-do lists. So the butterflies slowly flew away as did the days of the quilt’s life.

It became my son’s favorite blanket that he used on his bed for years.  It was under a presentable comforter so I didn’t care how ratty it looked.  Then he went on a church camping trip and took it as his only blanket…. making us look worse than homeless people.  I tried to simply talk him down from using it, but NO!  This was the coziest quilt in the galaxy.  I waited to confiscate it until the dark of the night when it had fallen off his bed and he was snoring.  Hidden under my bed is where it remained for several years because I was not sure if I could throw away the quilt my grandmother handmade and gave to me.

Yesterday I was obviously low on nostalgic sensibilities.  The quilt came out from under our bed and I seriously took in each butterfly, analyzing if they were still redeemable.  Some had no wings.  At all.  The ones that did have wings also had holes that could not be repaired.  Rolling up the shabby blanket as I headed for the garbage can I realized that if I didn’t take a picture the memory of the butterfly quilt would fade.  Hence, the photo and the story written for posterity, so my grandchildren will know the tale of the pea-green, vintage quilt that they never got the pleasure to wrap up in.

Goodbye butterflies!  You served us well!

P.S. O.K., after writing this, I went and got it out of the garbage and cut out and saved a few of the butterflies.  I figure I could frame them for the laundry room or for my future sewing room.  I guess I have a bit more nostalgia today than yesterday.  Thankfully it wasn’t garbage pick-up day!

Teenage Boys are Strange Creatures

Just when I think I have my teenage boys pegged for life… they turn over a new and refreshing leaf that does this mama’s heart good.  It’s happening in repeating stages right now.  I’m not sure why, but I’m not voicing any of these questions aloud, so as not to disturb the force.

It all started about a month ago.  Holding my coupon envelope while pushing my grocery cart through Safeway, my cell phone rang. It was my 15-year-old son.  He was calling to inquire about the correct procedure for washing his comforter.  Glory be!  I explained that it is exactly like a load of clothes.  BAM!  I could hardly breathe for the clean-laundry-loving juice pumping through my veins.

I arrived home that day to find three large garbage bags stuffed full of clothing in the loft.  Inquiring minds want to know, so I asked a few children if they knew what the bags were for.  Seems it was my same comforter-washing son.  He had gone through his closet AND dresser and removed all the clothing that was too small, stained, holey and nerdy.  Never in his 15 years has he performed this action.

Then I glanced in his room.  Miracle of miracles.  I could see the carpet under his bed!  It is usually hidden by piles of smelly shoes, biking gear, magazines, dirty and/or clean clothing.  It was spotless.  I was speechless! Unbelievable.  I thought it would take a college roommate or his wife to convince him of his slobbish ways.  I’m not sure what happened to bring about this change, and I’m not disturbing the force and asking any time soon.  The amazing thing is that it is still that clean… a month later.  It was like BAM! he grew up.

I was basking in the realization that 50% of my sons were now considered not slobs.  Wow!  I realize 50% is not a passing grade, but I was at 0% just a month ago.

THEN it happened.  I was in Walmart picking out avocados that were ripe to perfection when my cell phone rang.  It was my 13-year-old son inquiring how to launder his comforter.  I about dropped to the tile floor in Wally World in shock and disbelief.  I explained that it is exactly like a load of clothes.  BAM! I could hardly breathe for the clean-laundry-loving juice pumping through my veins.

But, unfortunately, that is as far as son #2 got in the goal of living a tidy, laundered, clean lifestyle.  But he’s two years ahead of his brother in the comforter category. Yet, I have hope.

 

dis-obey: to fail to obey

If you’ve been reading MySistersJar for several years, you will remember my story about the trips to the dump when the road was closed.  (https://mysistersjar.wordpress.com/2008/04/04/frazzled-mother-goes-ballistic-at-city-dump/) That road is Dixileta.  That short-cut, albeit crazy-bumpy, has been used in our digs for several years.  It’s right near my parent’s home and is the quickest way onto the freeway heading into Phoenix.  Nora refers to it as “la avenida de montaña” …the mountain avenue!  The drop on that crazy pavement is rollercoaster worthy if you are speeding!

A few weeks back, the city put up signs telling all of us who use that road, that if we weren’t driving a truck we were breaking the law.  WHAT?  How can they do that?  Easy.  Slap up a few signs… and post a policeman.

With my mother in the car, I disobeyed (that’s what the ticket said!) and took the shortcut anyway.  Not a good idea with the nice officer of the law waiting for me.  He did kindly explain the reason for the signs.  Seems the road does not belong to the city.  It is owned by the gravel company that is located just east of the signs.  It was put in for the gravel trucks, which is good because then they don’t rumble down through our neighborhood.  The city told the gravel company to do some repairs on their road.  They replied, “No, get your traffic off our road.”  And up went the signs.

So, because of my glowing flawless violation record I had the option of choosing traffic school.  yippee…..  BUT, things have improved over the years and I was able to take it online… in my pjs… while wrapping gifts, folding laundry, washing dishes and feeding the fish.  ALSO, I found one that is called Improv Driving School.  Yes, you read that right… IMPROV!  All that means is that they added sarcastic comments after the real rules of the road… and they offer 5-10 minute videos of traffic jokes at the beginning of each lesson… that aren’t required.  I thought the videos were dumb at first (well, I still do) but each of the ten lessons is timed.  They are approximately 23 minutes each… WAY more time than is necessary to read the information and answer the three questions EVEN if you are only in grade four at the present time.  So I skipped the videos, read the info, did the review and clicked on ‘take the test.’  It told me that I didn’t spend enough time reading the material… there is a clock that counts down for you.  Good grief.  If I read the whole chapter S L O W L Y, pronouncing every syllable from 25 feet with one eye covered, I would still have to wait for the clock.  This IS just the same as wasting my time in a class, except for the fact that I can go get things crossed off my to-do list while I wait for the clock to count down.  Sheesh.

Did you hear the one about the driver who died from being hit in the head by a kleenex box? (Seriously, that was on there!)

Faithful Readers

I am in awe of your faithfulness to come to My Sister’s Jar day after day after day.  Really.  I am.  You amaze me.  I’m hoping it’s because I amuse you.  Haha.   I have been MIA for several days for good reason.  We got back late last night from a four-day camping trip up to cool high country here in the great boiling hot state of Arizona.  Up on the Mogollon Rim in northeastern AZ it rains every afternoon in July and I found it splendid.  Really.  I did.  So did my boys.

Today we set up tents in the backyard in stifling hot Phoenix and hosed off all the mud.  The tents were dry in less than 10 minutes.  It seriously is a dry heat today.  110 last time I checked.  Toasty, but perfect for drying wet camping gear.  I’m also engaged in laundry.  There was no white pile today.  It was renamed “Used to be White” pile.  Camping does that to socks and shirts. 

My to-do list today included, but was not limited to:  Post Office, Chiropractor & Massage, Library, Grocery Store, Tire Shop and Bank.  Buuuuuuuuuut, one of my darling offspring found my keys and unhooked the house key/mail key half of the collection in order to retrieve the mail.  The more important half of the keys is still MIA.  The half that is missing includes the van key.  So, I did borrow my sister-in-law’s van to get to the chiropractor, but it is my locked van with no key that needs tires. Also I did not stop at the library because the cd that is overdue is in the locked van sitting in the driveway.  A tad frustrating.

Last month when we were somewhere between San Bernadino, California and Lake Tahoe, Rick’s keys went missing.  They have not re-appeared.  He’s been getting keys cut for two weeks, but still has not accomplished getting his house key cut.  Rick had to get new keys to the airplane, hangar, his office, etc.  It was a bummer, too, because our friends in Mississippi got him an Elvis key for his house key.  So cool.  So, between the two of us, we do have all the keys needed for living, but I’m going to really miss the remote door opener on my missing half of the key ring if it stays hidden.  Please, oh please, God, show me where they are!!!!

The last time we were irresponsible and lost keys was in 1989.  Rick’s keys AND his Trinity Western University hockey jacket both went missing, never to be found.  Then in 1991, Rick and I watched in slow motion as his keys slowly slid off the dashboard of our ski boat just out of our reach on the Peace River in Northern Alberta.  But that was not so much losing them as it was not wanting to dive and find them.  We knew where they were.  So we’ve been pretty responsible for over 20 years.  I’m not sure what happened this summer?!?

I’m impatiently waiting for my dear, hard-working husband to get home from work to unlock the van…. so I can get a few more boxes checked off my to-do list.   We leave tomorrow for ten days in a cabin up north in AZ… where it is between 80 and 85 all day! (Yes, we will have been gone five of the first seven weeks of summer…. believe me when I say that is GOOD!)  I’m not sure if I will have internet service or not.  Please stay tuned.  Thank you.  That’s all.

The 2nd Gerber Daisy has Raised its Sleep Head

Gerber daisies take FOREVER to bloom.  Seriously, it’s only about 4 to 5 weeks, but the anticipation of a burst of beauty makes it seem longer.  WAY longer.  Back in March, my first Gerber daisy bloomed and was taken down by a wet towel thrown by a child that I gave birth to.  Unbelievable.  Then a bud appeared…. the promise of life anew….weeks later she opened her drowsy eyes and lifted her hot pink head.  FINALLY!  (Yes, I dragged my son out there to witness the beauty and miracle of nature to increase his appreciation of God’s hand in our backyard. He didn’t actually thank me, but I felt the thankfulness emanating from his little heart.)

The exceedingly good news is that there is already another bud forming….. so in May, I’ll have continual hot pink yummy eye candy to behold.

April is so wonderfully warm and inviting in Phoenix…. leads to the illusion that summer might linger off in the distance a while longer!  Makes me want to sit in the backyard swing and forget the laundry, the homeshooled youngin’s, cooking, cleaning, carpooling, etc., etc., etc.

The name of the following flower is still a mystery.  Please share your wisdom in the comment section concerning the name of said purple flower.

That is all.  Hasta luego.

Announcement Time!

Put down your bulletins and watch the big screens.  (A little church chat for ya.)  I’ve been gone this last week to the D6 conference which I cannot say enough great words and reports about.  It was outstanding.  BUT, here’s the announcement part:  This is the first trip I’ve gone on in almost 16 years where I left my husband ALONE with the children and I didn’t leave instructions… or a list… or reminders… or premade meals.  It was just like leaving for a real trip like a real person… not a mother!  And when I got home, everyone looked like they were fed, including the dog and fish, my plants were perky and the house was clean!  Of course, I haven’t glanced at homeschool work yet, but I’ll leave that for Monday morning.  It was quite refreshing, I might add. 

And if THAT isn’t a God-send by itself, I came home to a husband who is now fully functioning on the washing machine and dryer!  There is a God in heaven still performing miracles in my house!  A God of the here and now.  A twentieth century God still working in men’s lives. 

It did my heart good to hear these words from Rickey’s lips, “This washer is really easy.  You only have to push two buttons! And the dryer dries the clothes in less than 30 minutes!”  Wow!  Wowzers!  Wow-a-rama!  Tell me something I don’t know, you big laundry-doing piece of eye-candy.  I wonder which kid taught him these magical laundry secrets?  Because I KNOW he didn’t read the manual! 

It’s good to be home where I can sit in my work-out clothes all day with my hair standing on end and no one cares.  Back to real-life love and acceptance.  Home Sweet Home!

My Husband’s First “Line”

Rick and I met at Trinity Western University on the first day of “O” week in Langley, B.C.  We were in dorms that were paired brother-sister so the new students would have instant friends.  It worked!  First impressions are not everything in our case, as the things that impressed Rick and I were not destined to knit us together for all eternity.  He was impressed that I was a California girl and I was impressed that he admitted being from Wildwood.  That was the name of the psychiatric hospital not far from our school.  Hmmmmm.  Come to find out, there is a small town in Alberta also named Wildwood.  Rick and I enjoyed several meals together and toward the end of the week Reeko Suave showed up at my dorm looking for me.  Be still my pulsating heart.

A piece of tan-bark hit my third floor dorm window in the middle of a lazy afternoon.  My roommate and I both ran to see who it was… and there Rick stood, looking like a hobbit from three stories up.  I opened the window, all five safety inches that were provided, and said hello.  By this time, I was obviously enamored by his black wavy, shoulder length hair, because his first pick-up line should have been a red flag.  Rick yelled, “Hey, Babe, got any laundry detergent?”  With eyelashes fluttering, I promised to be right down with the white powdery treasure.

Now, please tell me, what type of guy shows up at college without laundry soap?  Or quarters to buy his own little expensive boxes???  I should have caught on, but I was waist high in naivete.  I don’t recall Rick ever borrowing laundry soap after that first time, but he did continue throwing tan-bark at my window for the entire year.  Was it a presumptuous ploy to spend time with me?  Was it a saucy scheme to win my heart? 

We’ll never know.

I’m Back on Top

After yesterday’s depressing (or pressurized) blog, I wanted to report on my state of health, so as not to have you worrying at my expense.  It’s at 9 out of 10 today.  Hooray.  10 out of 10 would be better, but I’m not one to complain… well, yesterday I was, but that’s entirely different.

Got laundry going.  Taught Ancient History.  Dishwasher is going.  Took a shower.  Made a trip to the library. I even made my bed.  Things are looking up. Praise God!

Change of subject:  I have the cutest nieces and nephews in the whole world.  I’ve been all the way on the other side of the world too, so I speak with authority on this subject.  Here is my just-turned-four-year-old nephew, dressed as a ninja for his birthday party.  Yes, those are nunchucks… but they are made of foam.  He is highly entertaining even without the costume and extremely intelligent… we come from the same gene pool.  :o)

Funny thing about nephews and nieces, you see your siblings in them.  This is my brother’s youngest son and he looks exactly like my brother… maybe even a bit cuter.  My eldest son has many of my brother’s physical traits as well… his build, hair color and the shape of his feet and toe nails.  Genetics are a weird deal. 

To give equal time to my sister’s kids, here they are… Children of the Corn:

Darling!  Each one.  Thanks for letting me pull out the Auntie card today.  I’m thankful to live near family and we always have lots of laughs when we’re together.