Well, here we are. Finally in NE Texas. We finished up our contract with the disaster in Illinois a few weeks ago. We spent a week in Kentucky doing some sight seeing. We got to finally go to the Creation Museum and we made our way down to Lexington to the Kentucky Horse Park. I met Funny Cide and Cigar. Both are multi-million dollar earning horses that have won the Kentucky Derby. It was a good break. It was nice to be out of Illinois. We left just in time to because the week we left the temperature dropped to below freezing. Then we hit the road for Texas.
We spent the next couple days enjoying the slow travel. We were all excited to finally be headed south. Then it happened. We drove through Texarkana crossing from Arkansas into Texas. Jeramie and I looked at each other and almost instantly said "well. we're here. Why are we here again?" "I am not really quite sure, why ARE we in Texas?"
We spent the first week in Texas irritated with each other because neither one of us would admit who picked Texas. We spent the first week in Texas irritated with each other because, in all actuality, we both picked Texas. We spent the first week in Texas irritated with each other because we didn't have a plan for when we got here. We left Oregon with sound reasoning to be in Texas but 5 months into it those reasons just don't seem to really be enough to support our presence in the Lone Star State. I was having a hard time locating the resources I like to have at my disposal. Jeramie was having a hard time finding something to do while on interim sebbatical. I was having a hard time helping Jeramie find something to do while on interim sabbatical. It is the main reason why it has taken me so long to update this journal, I have been keeping FOUR kids busy. So. What does a contractor do when he has nothing to do? Rehab a motorhome.
We knew there were some things we wanted to address during our down time but that was only going to take up about 48 hours of his time. Many of the upgrades are things that will make our equipment more efficient. He added something to the hot water heater that changed it from a gas powered to an electric powered heater. He replaced an awning. He tiled the bathroom. He remodeled my kitchen.
Wait. I guess I can't just tell you he updated my kitchen and leave it at that. I probably should tell you why updating my kitchen is so monumental for the Jennings family.
We have done our fair share of total home re-do's. Lowes loves us. They have gotten ALL of our money. Many people call Costco the $200 store. Well, Lowes is our $2000 store. Minimum. Costco is known to suck people in for longer lengths of time then they would like to admit. Lowes sucks us in for longer lengths of time then we realize. We have spent so much time in Lowes we have gotten to the point that people have actually asked if we drug our kids to get them to behave so well. In this particular guys defense, all three were about to crash out on the big flat lumber cart I was pushing around. It didn't click at first that my kids were "behaving" until I saw Lexi's head fall back and jerk forward again. So after his comment I looked at the time and realized that we had already been there for 4 1/2 hours. OK. It seems that we have what we need to complete our project so on we went to the check out line. We had made it through Lowe's without a single arguement! That my friends, has NEVER happened.
We took our busy work to the car, loaded up and high fived. Not because we scored some sort of smokin' deal but because we all made it out alive. And not one of us had any sort of emotional bruising from the experience. All in all it was a very good day.
The next day we tore it apart. He even let me help. Well, no, he didn't really "let" me help, in fact I vividly remember multiple statements of "can you just let me do it?" To which I responded "no. because you are not going to do it like I want". I mean, "my way" always supercedes actual contracting experience and knowledge. We made it out of Lowes intact but this just might start to get ugly. We spent the first 4 1/2 hours of the morning disagreeing on many things. I was fighting for a few positions. At one point I remember walking away after he asked me a question that I "didn't" hear. "Hello! Are you going to answer me?" "Answer what?" "How do you want this?" "I don't know, your the contractor." "I am ASKING you for your opinion because if this doesn't turn out the way you want it will be all my fault". I was quickly reminded of Adam and Eve and the fall. Thank you Eve. Wait a second, God didn't blame Eve, he blamed Adam, so YES Jeramie, YES! It will be your fault. Even if I do put in my two cents, even if you do what I want you to and it doesn't turn out. You are the contractor, I am not. I finally surrendered on some and he gave me my way on the others. He got his 45 degree angles and I got my 90 degree corner.
It turned out great, and I will admit that that too is also his "fault". I mean if it is going to be his fault when it turns out not to my liking than I guess it has to be his fault when it does turn out to my liking. My husband knows his stuff. What good is the vision if no one is able to bring it to fruition? I no longer have corn flower blue formica counter top held together with gorilla glue. I now have a more modern, old world style kitchen with tile and oil rubbed bronze. I had to stand firm for the faucet to. "What is wrong with the faucet we have?" "It is stainless steel and doesn't fit well with the elements we have added." "Dawn. It is just a motorhome." "Umm. No. It is not. It is MY home." In all of our previous rehab projects we both have our job descriptions and we stick to them. I design and he builds. I drop off materials and LEAVE. We survived our first project TOGETHER and no one died! Well, that is not quite true. We built a doghouse together once but we were only dating and not married yet so it doesn't count. We were both still on our best behavior back then.
We still do not know why we are in Texas. I definitely do not fit in. After having a hard time finding the yuppie, urban, organic products that I not only love but, to a certain extent need (for our health),I had a meltdown and was ready to head for my beloved Bend. But then we watched the weather channel and saw the nasty weather report and quickly realized there was no way could get this tank across the passes so we couldn't leave even if we really wanted to. And we really didn't want to, what we wanted was to just be able to pitch a good fit. So, here I was again, convicted by God to get it together and quit pouting. As soon as I threw my fit and got it out of my system everything came together. I have located all of the resources I cling to, have met some of the people of Texas and started to embrace their ways. I say "their ways" because it is "their ways". I have heard before that there is the United States and then there is Texas. I can now tell you from experience that there is the United States and then there is Texas.
I have started telling people up front when meeting them or dealing with them on whatever level that I am not from Texas. Once I do that, I can no longer be offensive for being a snob. Now I get the "bless her heart" smile and everytime I am now gently babied through whatever it is I am trying to do. I met a lady in the grocery store aisle with the same blank stare that I know I have sported many times before because we are unfamiliar with their products. I must obviously not look like I am from Texas because she gleaned onto me like a magnet. We shared a "I feel your pain" moment and we bid each other luck. On the way out the cashier asked Lexi if she was ready for Santa to come, had she been good or bad and all that stuff. My diplomatic 4 year old shared with her the truth and saved the cashier from the Santa Clause myth. "No, no. Santa isn't real. He is just all the kids moms and dads." She cocked her head and cracked a "pour thing, bless her heart" smile toward the cashier. Texas is already starting to rub off on my kids. I, on the other hand, am resistant to any changing and I can assure you the next time you see me I will not be speaking with a twangy drawl. I am a Pacific Northwestern, organic snob and I am quite okay with that.
I was actually surprised Lexi was able to understand her. A few days earlier we had an incident where she felt like she needed to correct an elderly ladies pronunciation skills. She was visiting with three older ladies about their little dogs. One of the ladies commented how her dog had the hiccups. "She has the he-cups, d'ya'll ever get the he-cups?" "the what?" "the he-cups" "no. what do you mean 'tea cup?'" "No Lex, the HICCUPS. yes, you get the hiccups." She looked the lady square in the eyes and said "oh! no,no. It's not 'tea cups' its 'hick cups'" using her hands to break up the word into two syllables. Fortunately for us Texans do everything big and that includes having big hearts because the women laughed hysterically and the one she was correcting scooped her up into a BIG hug.
We may never know why we are in Texas except that we are not suffering through the crazy cold spell in the PacNW. We may never know why we are in Texas except that it reminds us how much we love Oregon. We may never know why we are in Texas except that Texans are the perfect example of showing what it means to love on people. What we do know is that although we are now officially part time residents of Texas we will always be FROM Oregon.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
The "Laundry Basket"
Our motorhome is set up with and came with a washer/dryer. When I said our “coach” had everything we needed I meant it. Oh, except a dishwasher but I am surviving without it so I guess I don’t really need one of those. On the other hand, I have recently found out that I don’t need a washer and dryer either. No, that does not mean we recycle clothing or stink from a mile away, it just means that I have become familiar with the ever dreaded laundry mat. Our convenient clothing cleansing appliance has fouled out and doesn’t work correctly anymore. We looked into replacement parts for it briefly before we found out that the brand that we have has been discontinued so I guess repairing it isn’t going to be an easy or cost effective option. Jeramie has been trying to talk me into buying a new set. I have sat on the mental discussion of what to do about it for quite awhile now. This week Jeramie has persistently encouraged me to figure out what replacement appliance I want. Ugh, I finally had the mental capacity to remember to do this but no matter how much research I did, I could not come to actually purchasing one. It didn’t take me long to pick one out but knowing what I want and actually moving forward with that choice are two separate things. I finally got smart and asked “Ok God, what is my deal? Why can’t I bring myself to commit to something so practically easy. I mean we “need” one right? I have to wash our clothing which I absolutely hate to do with a passion. It makes life simple and I do not have to schedule time in our week to have the laundry done. Who doesn’t want a brand new top of the line LG washer/dryer? And the money we would save every week would be crazy”. I still couldn’t bring myself to come to an answer. Well what are you suppose to do when you are presented with choices you don’t know what to do with? Take it to the scripture. Hmm, well unfortunately there isn’t anything specific about my great washer/dryer dilemma. Well, when you don’t have an answer confirmed by scripture, what do you do? Wait on the Lord. Ok. I can do that. I guess you could say that I have been inadvertently doing that already. If my husband has to stop me, look me in the eye to say “please pick out your washer/dryer this week” then I guess I have been waiting on something.
Sunday. Sunday is suppose to be a day of rest. Sunday is reserved for church which we have been faithful in attending even when away from our home church. It is followed with family time of some sort. And then I do the laundry. At the laundry mat. Sometimes my family comes with but most of the time I get to go alone. We researched our laundry facility options when we first got into the area. Kankakee “Laundry Basket” was the one. God definitely has me stepping out of my comfort zone when I do laundry at the “Laundry Basket”. However, when you step out of your comfort zone, great things can happen. Scary things can happen too but mostly cool things will happen.
Let me set up the visual for you all first. The area we are staying in is south of Chicago but Kankakee is more like an outer oozing of Chicago itself and is still considered part of “Chicagoland” as it is referred to by the local residents. I am always the only white girl. I thought about using the word “Caucasian” to stay politically correct but the African-American demographic call me a white girl so I guess it is ok to call myself a white girl. I am ignored by most of the patrons as I am now the minority. It is a weird experience but completely revealing. I do not speak the same language as most of the people there so I rarely understand any of the conversation around me. I have been sized up by some women and checked out in more ways than one by some men. I have been evaluated for what might be in my purse and still haven’t figured out if it is safer locked in the car or with me inside. I was asked if I was interested in purchasing some “new movies” and was surrounded by a “discrete” illegal commercial exchange where the parties where actually brushing my shoulder to pass back and forth beside me while I was trying to blend into the side of my car hoping I would not be seen. I learned super fast what exactly “new movies” were and they aren’t actually new movies. I have walked into the middle of a heated, jealous exchange between two separate groups of African-American men discussing two women standing between the guys. I do know that no matter how big the mountain of laundry gets I will not be doing it after dark. But, no matter how uncomfortable it gets, I keep getting drawn back so every week I trudge dirty clothing for a family of five into town to the “Laundry basket”. This particular place offers a laundry service for only a dollar a pound and every week I think that having them do it for us might not be a bad idea but the idea is motivated out of my lack of love for the chore of laundry and my pure laziness so I never really entertain that thought for long. Jeramie use to come instituting his protective authority but compared to what he sees every day, doing the laundry is a day at the fair. He trusts me to be wise and trusts God to protect so he doesn’t come anymore even though he asks me if I want him to every week.
It was this last Sunday that God revealed to me why I cannot bring myself to buy an appliance for my “house”. There is regularly a particular girl who is the attendant on duty. She is a young mother of three, Hispanic, and fortunately for me, bilingual. The first time I saw her I spoke with her in light conversation. I didn’t think I would ever see her again. Then I saw her the next Sunday. We got into some deeper conversation just learning about her and trying to encourage her to persevere. A few more visits let me learn that she aspires to be a special education teacher but her English isn’t good enough to pass the community college placement tests so she has to complete a reading comprehension class before she can even think about enrolling. She is from Kankakee. She grew up here and her English still isn’t very good. Like I said, I am a minority. Then the next Sunday I didn’t see her. It must have been her day off. Dang! I wanted to find out how her class was going. Oh well, laundry it is. This last Sunday I went in not thinking about Becky but rather I was focused on some quiet time to read my Kindle while multi-tasking the laundry chore. When I walked in the little Hispanic girl behind the bullet-proof attendants’ station started waving enthusiastically, “Hi! Hi! I haven’t seen you in awhile. I have been wondering when I was going to get to see you again!” I was totally taken off guard and by surprise. It has been awhile since someone was super excited to see me. “Oh! Hi…” and the conversation took off. It ended with me offering to help her with her reading class and her discouragement in failing was lifted. Cool things. Cool things happen when you step out of your comfort zone. Becky is not the only way God has edified me through the laundry mat. One visit allowed me to watch Oprah with an elderly-ish African-American man. Martha Stewart taught us how to perfectly fold the fitted sheet. We both had a “well would you look at that” giggle and shared a confirming confession through eye contact that it was to labor intensive for either one of us. He went back to his laundry stating that he thought he would keep his way and I agreed. I personally do not see anything wrong with rolling it into a big ball and shoving it on the shelf anyways. Once when my kids went with me we were surrounded by a handful of African-American kids. All of the kids played together happily and even felt so comfortable with us that they were sharing my space like I was their sister or something. I have tried to speak to some Hispanic women but we just end up cracking up that none of us can understand what the other wants to say. I have been graciously saved by an African-American woman who did not speak English. She walked all the way across the room to show me that the dryer I was going to use was “out of order”. She had no particular need or reason to do that. She was simply there to do her laundry too.
During this whole experience the most profound thing has been taught to me by my 4 year old daughter. Lexi is our butterfly chaser. She exudes love and she loves people. She can make friends anywhere. What she has taught me has actually had me using African-American instead of black in reference to some people. Its not that African-Americans are offended if you call them black, most are not offended. That’s not the lesson though. The reason why I refer to them as African-American is because Lexi CANNOT see their black skin. Whenever I refer to an African-American as black she argues that they are not black. Their skin is brown. Just like ours, only dark brown. She has made a new friend at Sunday school who she lovingly calls her friend with the brown skin. That was the final revelation. I am no different than the rest of the patrons of the “Laundry Basket”. How can I possibly show the love of Christ if I stay within my own social circle. How can I possibly show the love of Christ if all I see are segregated groups and not necessarily in a racial profile way but simply in a different-then-me way. As much as I was open to being there because God wanted me there I still saw “Black”, “Mexican” and felt very “White”. Laundry outside my home is a chance for ministry. I love this ministry which, I guess, means that I now love to do laundry. For now, we will not be purchasing a new washer/dryer unit. God works in mysterious ways….
Sunday. Sunday is suppose to be a day of rest. Sunday is reserved for church which we have been faithful in attending even when away from our home church. It is followed with family time of some sort. And then I do the laundry. At the laundry mat. Sometimes my family comes with but most of the time I get to go alone. We researched our laundry facility options when we first got into the area. Kankakee “Laundry Basket” was the one. God definitely has me stepping out of my comfort zone when I do laundry at the “Laundry Basket”. However, when you step out of your comfort zone, great things can happen. Scary things can happen too but mostly cool things will happen.
Let me set up the visual for you all first. The area we are staying in is south of Chicago but Kankakee is more like an outer oozing of Chicago itself and is still considered part of “Chicagoland” as it is referred to by the local residents. I am always the only white girl. I thought about using the word “Caucasian” to stay politically correct but the African-American demographic call me a white girl so I guess it is ok to call myself a white girl. I am ignored by most of the patrons as I am now the minority. It is a weird experience but completely revealing. I do not speak the same language as most of the people there so I rarely understand any of the conversation around me. I have been sized up by some women and checked out in more ways than one by some men. I have been evaluated for what might be in my purse and still haven’t figured out if it is safer locked in the car or with me inside. I was asked if I was interested in purchasing some “new movies” and was surrounded by a “discrete” illegal commercial exchange where the parties where actually brushing my shoulder to pass back and forth beside me while I was trying to blend into the side of my car hoping I would not be seen. I learned super fast what exactly “new movies” were and they aren’t actually new movies. I have walked into the middle of a heated, jealous exchange between two separate groups of African-American men discussing two women standing between the guys. I do know that no matter how big the mountain of laundry gets I will not be doing it after dark. But, no matter how uncomfortable it gets, I keep getting drawn back so every week I trudge dirty clothing for a family of five into town to the “Laundry basket”. This particular place offers a laundry service for only a dollar a pound and every week I think that having them do it for us might not be a bad idea but the idea is motivated out of my lack of love for the chore of laundry and my pure laziness so I never really entertain that thought for long. Jeramie use to come instituting his protective authority but compared to what he sees every day, doing the laundry is a day at the fair. He trusts me to be wise and trusts God to protect so he doesn’t come anymore even though he asks me if I want him to every week.
It was this last Sunday that God revealed to me why I cannot bring myself to buy an appliance for my “house”. There is regularly a particular girl who is the attendant on duty. She is a young mother of three, Hispanic, and fortunately for me, bilingual. The first time I saw her I spoke with her in light conversation. I didn’t think I would ever see her again. Then I saw her the next Sunday. We got into some deeper conversation just learning about her and trying to encourage her to persevere. A few more visits let me learn that she aspires to be a special education teacher but her English isn’t good enough to pass the community college placement tests so she has to complete a reading comprehension class before she can even think about enrolling. She is from Kankakee. She grew up here and her English still isn’t very good. Like I said, I am a minority. Then the next Sunday I didn’t see her. It must have been her day off. Dang! I wanted to find out how her class was going. Oh well, laundry it is. This last Sunday I went in not thinking about Becky but rather I was focused on some quiet time to read my Kindle while multi-tasking the laundry chore. When I walked in the little Hispanic girl behind the bullet-proof attendants’ station started waving enthusiastically, “Hi! Hi! I haven’t seen you in awhile. I have been wondering when I was going to get to see you again!” I was totally taken off guard and by surprise. It has been awhile since someone was super excited to see me. “Oh! Hi…” and the conversation took off. It ended with me offering to help her with her reading class and her discouragement in failing was lifted. Cool things. Cool things happen when you step out of your comfort zone. Becky is not the only way God has edified me through the laundry mat. One visit allowed me to watch Oprah with an elderly-ish African-American man. Martha Stewart taught us how to perfectly fold the fitted sheet. We both had a “well would you look at that” giggle and shared a confirming confession through eye contact that it was to labor intensive for either one of us. He went back to his laundry stating that he thought he would keep his way and I agreed. I personally do not see anything wrong with rolling it into a big ball and shoving it on the shelf anyways. Once when my kids went with me we were surrounded by a handful of African-American kids. All of the kids played together happily and even felt so comfortable with us that they were sharing my space like I was their sister or something. I have tried to speak to some Hispanic women but we just end up cracking up that none of us can understand what the other wants to say. I have been graciously saved by an African-American woman who did not speak English. She walked all the way across the room to show me that the dryer I was going to use was “out of order”. She had no particular need or reason to do that. She was simply there to do her laundry too.
During this whole experience the most profound thing has been taught to me by my 4 year old daughter. Lexi is our butterfly chaser. She exudes love and she loves people. She can make friends anywhere. What she has taught me has actually had me using African-American instead of black in reference to some people. Its not that African-Americans are offended if you call them black, most are not offended. That’s not the lesson though. The reason why I refer to them as African-American is because Lexi CANNOT see their black skin. Whenever I refer to an African-American as black she argues that they are not black. Their skin is brown. Just like ours, only dark brown. She has made a new friend at Sunday school who she lovingly calls her friend with the brown skin. That was the final revelation. I am no different than the rest of the patrons of the “Laundry Basket”. How can I possibly show the love of Christ if I stay within my own social circle. How can I possibly show the love of Christ if all I see are segregated groups and not necessarily in a racial profile way but simply in a different-then-me way. As much as I was open to being there because God wanted me there I still saw “Black”, “Mexican” and felt very “White”. Laundry outside my home is a chance for ministry. I love this ministry which, I guess, means that I now love to do laundry. For now, we will not be purchasing a new washer/dryer unit. God works in mysterious ways….
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Gentlemen, start your engines!
Noise, smoke and coors light. Yes. I admit it. Our family spent Friday night at the stock car races in the middle of a corn field in Illinois. After all of our big city culture with museums and skyscrapers it was time to take advantage of some good old small town entertainment.
We have been in Chabanse for almost three weeks now. We are staying at a KOA that is about 3 miles from the raceway. The cars are so loud that we can hear them all the way out where we are at, tearing it up until about midnight every Friday night. Jeramie has worked to late into the evening for us to go this last couple of weekends but we keep reminding ourselves every Saturday morning that we are gonna go.
Finally, the opportunity presented itself. All he had to do was say the word “race”. The kids and I tore through the motorhome diving into the dressers changing our clothes to be appropriately attired for some good country fun. The kids were prepared and for once they were allowed to go outside and play while they waited for mom and dad. I had to repeat myself because the stares of disbelief from the three pairs of deep blue eyes that waited patiently on the couch hands quietly in their laps stated that they all thought they were mistaken in what they heard. “go outside to play? But we just got dressed to go.” “Yes…we are going to the races. It will be Ok if you are a little dirty.” “YES! This is gonna be awesome. We don’t even have to stay clean Lexi!” Andon flew out the door with his sisters close in tow.
It was my turn to get ready. I started digging for clothes. There, in the back, under my yuppie suede Emu boots. I pulled them out like they were an artifact that any museum would pay big money for. Still dark blue with that new vintage wash feel. My Wrangler Twenty-X jeans. I haven’t really worn these in almost ten years. I have lovingly held onto them knowing that I would need them again some day. Today was someday. I was a little worried they wouldn’t fit. I have had three kids and spend my days sitting down homeschooling. Lets face it. Things have rearranged themselves since the last time I pulled these jeans on. I mean, I can’t go to the races in racing country in my Miss Sixty’s (which are actually my very favorite pair of jeans) but I am not ignorant to the culture and recognize that my city jeans just wouldn’t do. Besides, I might get them dirty. Anyway, the moment of truth. Here we go. They fit! They fit! I didn’t even have to hold my breath or suck it in! I did a silent little dance in the privacy of my “walk-in” closet a.k.a. the kids bedroom and threw on a straight up plain gray hoodie. My husband was all smiles, for once he was able to quietly leave without someone (me) asking “is that what you’re going to where?”. In fact, he took the initiative to remove the Polo shirt he had been wearing in fear he would be “to preppy”, threw on a hoodie himself and we were out the door.
You could hear the cars warming up as we wandered toward the ticket booth. Our anticipation was building. Honestly, none of us have ever been to a stock car race before. This was a first for the Jennings family as a whole. The kids and I stood back while Jeramie purchased the tickets. I had no idea what to expect. I didn’t even think about the cost involved. $12 bucks a person! Luckily the kids were still young enough that they got in for free, but all in all it has been the most expensive outing we have been on and that includes our trips to Chicago. Whatever. I don’t care. Just getting out of the house made it worth every penny.
We picked out seats. Five rows up, thirty feet from the fence, closer to turn two. Holy Cow these things are LOUD. It is so loud that you cannot hear the announcer no matter how hard he tries to compete with the cars over the PA system. BY the way. Do they have a special announcers school where they train your vocals or something? All of these outdoor event announcers all sound exactly the same. It started just like all good events do, with the National Anthem and our countries flag circling the track. We settled in as the first heat came up and over the entry gate at turn one. Hmm, what do we have here. Nissan Sentras, Ford Pintos etcetera. I joked with Jeramie to keep his eye out for my old 1992 Toyota Paseo. Wait, I have seen this before…but where? Oh yeah, on my mission trip to Tijuana in high school. Looks just like the streets of Mexico, all jockeying for position bouncing over the dirt reminding me of the Mexican Taxi’s who used the ditch for passing five lanes of traffic. It’s rather interesting how memories arise. Andon and I just learned that our brains produce 70 thousand thoughts a day. Who knew that I would go to a race out in the middle of the corn fields and recall my trip to Mexico. I guess this is just one of my 70 thousand thoughts a day. OK. Moving on. The little cars were fun to watch but we wanted the real action. We finally got to the true stock cars with sponsors and logos on the sides. With each heat the cars got bigger and the drivers got better. Or so we thought. As they got faster, they got more squirrelly. We became frustrated during one of the heats where the contestants were more advanced. A lot of drivers had a tough time with turn one. In fact, a few cars disappeared up and over the top of the turn never to be seen again. I am guessing they withdrew from the race. We witnessed a four car synchronized spin out. It appeared professionally choreographed. Even the seasoned spectators thought that it was unique. Each heat had eight laps. In this particular heat one of the drivers spun out in turn one five separate laps. He was disqualified. Finally. They got rid of the greenhorns and got back to business. Number 17. He’s the man. Number 17 is one impressive car. Number 17 got to have his picture taken in the winners circle while waving the checkered flag. Too bad I don’t gamble. I’d have won.
As we people watched in between heats, (come on, don’t judge us, you know you all do it to), I quickly realized that we had actually underdressed for the occasion. We don’t own any sweatshirts with Jack Daniels No. 7 on the back or jackets with name Budweiser printed from all angles possible. I haven’t quite figured out the point of the Anhueiser Buschs’ marketing arrangement on the jackets yet except that maybe it is so that no matter what drunken position you end up in you will always know why you have ended up in the position you ended up in. They were selling the 50/50 raffle tickets. One of the items in the running was a Coors Light jacket. Jeramie had his eye on that. Since he can’t get good local brews out here he has taken a liking to Coors Light. I challenged him that if he won he was to wear it to every micro-brewery we go to from here on out. He agreed. Then we saw the 50/50 girls. Why would I expect anything less. You know, girls who are endowed in areas that make you wonder if their backs hurt frequently barely covered by shirts that enhanced these areas so that when they are standing in front of you selling tickets the only thing you see are their assets. Sorry Jeramie, no jacket for you this time around. I understand that this kind of marketing tool sells tickets and in a tough economy organizations are desperate to use whatever means they have to, but my husband isn’t going to freeze this winter. Not enough atleast to pay with the expense of his burned retina’s. His Mountain Hardware snowboarding coat is going to have to do.
The kids did great. Never once did they get upset by the noise. Wait. That makes me wonder if they have undiagnosed hearing problems. I can’t even begin to recollect how many times a day I try to get their attention only to be ignored and told “I didn’t hear you”. Maybe they really can’t hear me. Addison was so unmoved by the noise that promptly at 8:30, her bed time, she snuggled in and fell fast asleep. Let me remind you that we were only 30 feet from the fence. OK. No more bedtime excuses with needing to keep quiet or Addi won’t fall asleep. Her cover has been officially blown. I now know that the kid can sleep through anything.
The evening was a blast, brought back some fun memories and created some new ones. All we can say is look out Indianapolis 500. Here come the Jennings! We are officially racing fans.
We have been in Chabanse for almost three weeks now. We are staying at a KOA that is about 3 miles from the raceway. The cars are so loud that we can hear them all the way out where we are at, tearing it up until about midnight every Friday night. Jeramie has worked to late into the evening for us to go this last couple of weekends but we keep reminding ourselves every Saturday morning that we are gonna go.
Finally, the opportunity presented itself. All he had to do was say the word “race”. The kids and I tore through the motorhome diving into the dressers changing our clothes to be appropriately attired for some good country fun. The kids were prepared and for once they were allowed to go outside and play while they waited for mom and dad. I had to repeat myself because the stares of disbelief from the three pairs of deep blue eyes that waited patiently on the couch hands quietly in their laps stated that they all thought they were mistaken in what they heard. “go outside to play? But we just got dressed to go.” “Yes…we are going to the races. It will be Ok if you are a little dirty.” “YES! This is gonna be awesome. We don’t even have to stay clean Lexi!” Andon flew out the door with his sisters close in tow.
It was my turn to get ready. I started digging for clothes. There, in the back, under my yuppie suede Emu boots. I pulled them out like they were an artifact that any museum would pay big money for. Still dark blue with that new vintage wash feel. My Wrangler Twenty-X jeans. I haven’t really worn these in almost ten years. I have lovingly held onto them knowing that I would need them again some day. Today was someday. I was a little worried they wouldn’t fit. I have had three kids and spend my days sitting down homeschooling. Lets face it. Things have rearranged themselves since the last time I pulled these jeans on. I mean, I can’t go to the races in racing country in my Miss Sixty’s (which are actually my very favorite pair of jeans) but I am not ignorant to the culture and recognize that my city jeans just wouldn’t do. Besides, I might get them dirty. Anyway, the moment of truth. Here we go. They fit! They fit! I didn’t even have to hold my breath or suck it in! I did a silent little dance in the privacy of my “walk-in” closet a.k.a. the kids bedroom and threw on a straight up plain gray hoodie. My husband was all smiles, for once he was able to quietly leave without someone (me) asking “is that what you’re going to where?”. In fact, he took the initiative to remove the Polo shirt he had been wearing in fear he would be “to preppy”, threw on a hoodie himself and we were out the door.
You could hear the cars warming up as we wandered toward the ticket booth. Our anticipation was building. Honestly, none of us have ever been to a stock car race before. This was a first for the Jennings family as a whole. The kids and I stood back while Jeramie purchased the tickets. I had no idea what to expect. I didn’t even think about the cost involved. $12 bucks a person! Luckily the kids were still young enough that they got in for free, but all in all it has been the most expensive outing we have been on and that includes our trips to Chicago. Whatever. I don’t care. Just getting out of the house made it worth every penny.
We picked out seats. Five rows up, thirty feet from the fence, closer to turn two. Holy Cow these things are LOUD. It is so loud that you cannot hear the announcer no matter how hard he tries to compete with the cars over the PA system. BY the way. Do they have a special announcers school where they train your vocals or something? All of these outdoor event announcers all sound exactly the same. It started just like all good events do, with the National Anthem and our countries flag circling the track. We settled in as the first heat came up and over the entry gate at turn one. Hmm, what do we have here. Nissan Sentras, Ford Pintos etcetera. I joked with Jeramie to keep his eye out for my old 1992 Toyota Paseo. Wait, I have seen this before…but where? Oh yeah, on my mission trip to Tijuana in high school. Looks just like the streets of Mexico, all jockeying for position bouncing over the dirt reminding me of the Mexican Taxi’s who used the ditch for passing five lanes of traffic. It’s rather interesting how memories arise. Andon and I just learned that our brains produce 70 thousand thoughts a day. Who knew that I would go to a race out in the middle of the corn fields and recall my trip to Mexico. I guess this is just one of my 70 thousand thoughts a day. OK. Moving on. The little cars were fun to watch but we wanted the real action. We finally got to the true stock cars with sponsors and logos on the sides. With each heat the cars got bigger and the drivers got better. Or so we thought. As they got faster, they got more squirrelly. We became frustrated during one of the heats where the contestants were more advanced. A lot of drivers had a tough time with turn one. In fact, a few cars disappeared up and over the top of the turn never to be seen again. I am guessing they withdrew from the race. We witnessed a four car synchronized spin out. It appeared professionally choreographed. Even the seasoned spectators thought that it was unique. Each heat had eight laps. In this particular heat one of the drivers spun out in turn one five separate laps. He was disqualified. Finally. They got rid of the greenhorns and got back to business. Number 17. He’s the man. Number 17 is one impressive car. Number 17 got to have his picture taken in the winners circle while waving the checkered flag. Too bad I don’t gamble. I’d have won.
As we people watched in between heats, (come on, don’t judge us, you know you all do it to), I quickly realized that we had actually underdressed for the occasion. We don’t own any sweatshirts with Jack Daniels No. 7 on the back or jackets with name Budweiser printed from all angles possible. I haven’t quite figured out the point of the Anhueiser Buschs’ marketing arrangement on the jackets yet except that maybe it is so that no matter what drunken position you end up in you will always know why you have ended up in the position you ended up in. They were selling the 50/50 raffle tickets. One of the items in the running was a Coors Light jacket. Jeramie had his eye on that. Since he can’t get good local brews out here he has taken a liking to Coors Light. I challenged him that if he won he was to wear it to every micro-brewery we go to from here on out. He agreed. Then we saw the 50/50 girls. Why would I expect anything less. You know, girls who are endowed in areas that make you wonder if their backs hurt frequently barely covered by shirts that enhanced these areas so that when they are standing in front of you selling tickets the only thing you see are their assets. Sorry Jeramie, no jacket for you this time around. I understand that this kind of marketing tool sells tickets and in a tough economy organizations are desperate to use whatever means they have to, but my husband isn’t going to freeze this winter. Not enough atleast to pay with the expense of his burned retina’s. His Mountain Hardware snowboarding coat is going to have to do.
The kids did great. Never once did they get upset by the noise. Wait. That makes me wonder if they have undiagnosed hearing problems. I can’t even begin to recollect how many times a day I try to get their attention only to be ignored and told “I didn’t hear you”. Maybe they really can’t hear me. Addison was so unmoved by the noise that promptly at 8:30, her bed time, she snuggled in and fell fast asleep. Let me remind you that we were only 30 feet from the fence. OK. No more bedtime excuses with needing to keep quiet or Addi won’t fall asleep. Her cover has been officially blown. I now know that the kid can sleep through anything.
The evening was a blast, brought back some fun memories and created some new ones. All we can say is look out Indianapolis 500. Here come the Jennings! We are officially racing fans.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
She is what she is
Many of our friends and family didn’t get a chance to see our new dwelling before we left home. Later I realized how some of them were a little disappointed by that. So this entry is for you!
I guess I see their point. It is kinda like getting a new house or car. Everybody wants to be encouraging and excited for the other when something big like home ownership happens. Here’s the thing. Jeramie and I have lived in 9 different houses since we got married 8 years ago. The motorhome is just another “house” we have moved into. It is unique, in that this house has wheels and it is the smallest house we have ever been in. Oh, and it is deserving of a name. It’s deserving of a name because this house has some stories to tell. We haven’t found the right name that fits quite yet, so feel free to comment for voting.
How it began….
Jeramie and I had been praying for direction for our family, vocation, location, etc. We had been exploring all sorts of avenues and none of them were right. We have had a tremendous amount of spiritual growth this last year and Jeramie and my paths finally merged into the same direction. It has only taken eight years (nine altogether) but hey, what can I say. Some of us are stubborn and slow learners. Or maybe we are not very good listeners. Or maybe it's because I am such a good teacher that I have spent so much time making sure my husband has been learning his lessons that I ignored mine. Or quite probably it is all the above.
My husband is an independent soul. An adventurer. He would have easily been a pioneer had he been born 150 years ago. Ever seen “Far and Away”? That’s Jeramie, the role played by Tom Cruise. I am a bit, how should we say this…different than Jeramie. I have always envisioned myself with our place that we raise our kids our entire lives, where we have our “thing” that we do and a job that provides and that he loves. Vacations would be to some hotel in a tropical location with five star restaurants and things to do that do not require much energy exertion or getting dirty, preferably pedicures. Consistency, stability, security. This year I became convicted. I didn’t marry consistency, stability and security in the sense of lifestyle. I married energy, excitement , and exploration. I knew that when I met him. It is one of the things I actually love about him. My interpretation for consistency, stability and security gets in the way of who my husband is and most importantly, God’s plan for him. My prayer was answered. Like the flying orange that hit Jeramie in the head one night. I need to let go, put faith in my husband and ultimately faith in God. FEMA, here we come!
Fast forward. If we are going to do this full-time we need a proper set-up. We researched pick-ups and fifth wheels, class C’s (briefly), and class A’s. Get a pick-up and 5th wheel and if something should go wrong with the rig, we still have access to our “house”. Get a pick-up and 5th wheel and our kids are strapped in to the back seat indefinitely. No, thank you. Too much energy in a tight space. Not enough Dutch Bros. on this side of the mountains to handle that kind of chaos. They don’t make class C’s big enough for a family of 6 (5 people and a dog). That immediately eliminates that. O.K. class A it is. The ones they call “the coach”. We had a budget. It was a sad budget. Mr. Excitement is Mr. Conservative when it comes to money. We will not be financing anything. Unless it is a house without wheels on land, we pay cash for everything. Our very first motorhome to look at was a 1987 34’ Fleetwood Pacearrow. Boy was it sexy. Dusty Rose interior. No slides. It was a learning opportunity. One thing we walked away with is that the pictures lie. We were reminded of this time and time again. Oh, so do salesmen at RV dealerships. “We have the perfect RV for what you’re looking for with a very reasonable sales price! It’s on our other lot. I will call over there and let them know you are coming”. We were shown a newer 22’ Fleetwood Southwind with no slides. Yes, we had everyone but the dog in tow. We have got to look like a young, dumb family because for them to see us all, actually in the flesh and think we were delusional enough to entertain the thought of us living in a 22’ space could only be explained by us appearing to be young and dumb. Excuse me sir, we are Mr. and Ms. JENNINGS, not Mr. and Ms. El' stupido. They don’t like it when you have cash either. Again, a learning experience. We had been praying for the right equipment to move forward on this venture and if God has us doing this then he has the provisions it takes to accomplish it as well. Our coach was out there…somewhere.
Somewhere was Happy Valley, outside of Portland. By now we know our stuff. By now we know what our needs are and what would be “nice to have”. By now Jeramie was already working in Tennessee. This was all me. I interviewed the owner extensively and made an appointment to travel the distance to see it. I spent the day before working up a check-off list much like a vehicle window sticker with base price and how much each extra would add to the total price. I also had a depreciation formula to calculate what I would be willing to pay. I pulled up to a ¼ acre grassy lot totally out of place inside the business district of town. It was suppose to be some sort of RV storage. It was someones property overgrown with blackberry bushes, grass and untrimmed trees capitalizing on the unused space. Oh, there it is. Back there. In the bushes. Under the trees. I got out of the car and as the owner was walking across the lot to meet me he stopped mid-step and asked “do you work for an RV dealership? I already spoke with someone. I am not interested in trading it”. “WHAT! Where in the world did you get that impression?” “You have a clip board” “oh, this? No, no, no, I am just very thorough and I know what we are looking for so it will help to keep me from wasting your time” The owner was kind enough to start it up and pull it out of the ditch so that I could see it in the sun. Well, I guess it runs. Check.
We ended up with a 1997 37’ Fleetwood Bounder. You know the ones. With the big kangaroo bounding across the side of it. It has a slide in the living space/master suite. I cannot imagine living in anything smaller but I would if we had to. We ended up gutting it and restoring it with a new floor plan. It is humongous. It is pretty ugly too. Kinda a cream color with blue and yellow stripes on the side. It is LOUD. I thought the class A would be great for meeting the kids needs (or get after them) while driving down the road but 90% of the time I can’t even hear them yelling at me. Sometimes I will turn around to check on them and there is a mangled mess of feet and arms on the floor but no one is crying so I can’t tell if someone is getting pile-drived or if they fell off of the couch. Other times I will check on them and they are all entwined together like puppies, sound asleep sharing one gigantic puddle of drool. Still glad we got the class A. It works really hard to pull hills at around 45 miles per hour but it always reaches the top. It is so heavy that when you finally do, you hope you don’t burn up the breaks trying to slow it down while sailing over the other side. We have finally learned to let it go because we need the momentum to get up the next hill. It is so big that driving it while the wind is blowing feels like we are navigating a sail boat. We always love when we meet a semi coming from the opposite direction in a construction zone where they have narrowed the lanes and reduced them down to two lanes going opposite directions (instead of keeping one direction on their side of the interstate and us on our side) while maintaining a “limited construction zone speed of 65 mph that will prosecute violators with 14 years in prison and a $10,000 fine”. Geez, who needs coffee with that kind of adrenaline pumping? If anything, we need a good smoke to calm us down. It meets all of our needs and after our modifications it even has some of our wants, like Jeramie's 37” flat panel TV and PS3 that have been nicely mounted at the perfect angle in coordination with his specific spot on the couch. I don’t watch much TV so that was hard for me to understand but you know what? He works hard and doesn’t really ask for much so, whatever.
This motorhome has become “home”. It doesn’t matter where it is parked. The kids refer to it specifically as “home”. It is not unlike any other home. It requires some occasional attention which in this case Jeramie lovingly refers to as “deferred maintenance”. Things that should have been taken care of by previous owners but never where. We joke that it needs a good wax job. Some of the RV resorts we have been to are inhabited by retired men who spend their day waxing the sides of their coaches. Whenever Jeramie starts complaining about needing something to do, I tease him about the coach needing a good cleaning and waxing. Seriously, there is not a professional RV detailer that could help this beast. The retired men are always parked on the “good side” of the resort. We are officially victims of racism. There is a policy many resorts/parks hold that if your motorhome or trailer is more than 10 years old it may not even be accepted into the park. If they make the exception, they park you way out back so that you can’t be an unsightly embarrassment to them. Guess what? FINE WITH US! Hee, Hee, Hee, no hurt feelings here that our coach doesn’t fit their standards. It has been the saving tool that has continually blessed us with the end slips that house us closest to or exactly beside the most spacious areas that allow me to kick the kids outside to burn off the energy. God knows what he is doing. She is what she is, she may be ugly, but she’s ours!
I guess I see their point. It is kinda like getting a new house or car. Everybody wants to be encouraging and excited for the other when something big like home ownership happens. Here’s the thing. Jeramie and I have lived in 9 different houses since we got married 8 years ago. The motorhome is just another “house” we have moved into. It is unique, in that this house has wheels and it is the smallest house we have ever been in. Oh, and it is deserving of a name. It’s deserving of a name because this house has some stories to tell. We haven’t found the right name that fits quite yet, so feel free to comment for voting.
How it began….
Jeramie and I had been praying for direction for our family, vocation, location, etc. We had been exploring all sorts of avenues and none of them were right. We have had a tremendous amount of spiritual growth this last year and Jeramie and my paths finally merged into the same direction. It has only taken eight years (nine altogether) but hey, what can I say. Some of us are stubborn and slow learners. Or maybe we are not very good listeners. Or maybe it's because I am such a good teacher that I have spent so much time making sure my husband has been learning his lessons that I ignored mine. Or quite probably it is all the above.
My husband is an independent soul. An adventurer. He would have easily been a pioneer had he been born 150 years ago. Ever seen “Far and Away”? That’s Jeramie, the role played by Tom Cruise. I am a bit, how should we say this…different than Jeramie. I have always envisioned myself with our place that we raise our kids our entire lives, where we have our “thing” that we do and a job that provides and that he loves. Vacations would be to some hotel in a tropical location with five star restaurants and things to do that do not require much energy exertion or getting dirty, preferably pedicures. Consistency, stability, security. This year I became convicted. I didn’t marry consistency, stability and security in the sense of lifestyle. I married energy, excitement , and exploration. I knew that when I met him. It is one of the things I actually love about him. My interpretation for consistency, stability and security gets in the way of who my husband is and most importantly, God’s plan for him. My prayer was answered. Like the flying orange that hit Jeramie in the head one night. I need to let go, put faith in my husband and ultimately faith in God. FEMA, here we come!
Fast forward. If we are going to do this full-time we need a proper set-up. We researched pick-ups and fifth wheels, class C’s (briefly), and class A’s. Get a pick-up and 5th wheel and if something should go wrong with the rig, we still have access to our “house”. Get a pick-up and 5th wheel and our kids are strapped in to the back seat indefinitely. No, thank you. Too much energy in a tight space. Not enough Dutch Bros. on this side of the mountains to handle that kind of chaos. They don’t make class C’s big enough for a family of 6 (5 people and a dog). That immediately eliminates that. O.K. class A it is. The ones they call “the coach”. We had a budget. It was a sad budget. Mr. Excitement is Mr. Conservative when it comes to money. We will not be financing anything. Unless it is a house without wheels on land, we pay cash for everything. Our very first motorhome to look at was a 1987 34’ Fleetwood Pacearrow. Boy was it sexy. Dusty Rose interior. No slides. It was a learning opportunity. One thing we walked away with is that the pictures lie. We were reminded of this time and time again. Oh, so do salesmen at RV dealerships. “We have the perfect RV for what you’re looking for with a very reasonable sales price! It’s on our other lot. I will call over there and let them know you are coming”. We were shown a newer 22’ Fleetwood Southwind with no slides. Yes, we had everyone but the dog in tow. We have got to look like a young, dumb family because for them to see us all, actually in the flesh and think we were delusional enough to entertain the thought of us living in a 22’ space could only be explained by us appearing to be young and dumb. Excuse me sir, we are Mr. and Ms. JENNINGS, not Mr. and Ms. El' stupido. They don’t like it when you have cash either. Again, a learning experience. We had been praying for the right equipment to move forward on this venture and if God has us doing this then he has the provisions it takes to accomplish it as well. Our coach was out there…somewhere.
Somewhere was Happy Valley, outside of Portland. By now we know our stuff. By now we know what our needs are and what would be “nice to have”. By now Jeramie was already working in Tennessee. This was all me. I interviewed the owner extensively and made an appointment to travel the distance to see it. I spent the day before working up a check-off list much like a vehicle window sticker with base price and how much each extra would add to the total price. I also had a depreciation formula to calculate what I would be willing to pay. I pulled up to a ¼ acre grassy lot totally out of place inside the business district of town. It was suppose to be some sort of RV storage. It was someones property overgrown with blackberry bushes, grass and untrimmed trees capitalizing on the unused space. Oh, there it is. Back there. In the bushes. Under the trees. I got out of the car and as the owner was walking across the lot to meet me he stopped mid-step and asked “do you work for an RV dealership? I already spoke with someone. I am not interested in trading it”. “WHAT! Where in the world did you get that impression?” “You have a clip board” “oh, this? No, no, no, I am just very thorough and I know what we are looking for so it will help to keep me from wasting your time” The owner was kind enough to start it up and pull it out of the ditch so that I could see it in the sun. Well, I guess it runs. Check.
We ended up with a 1997 37’ Fleetwood Bounder. You know the ones. With the big kangaroo bounding across the side of it. It has a slide in the living space/master suite. I cannot imagine living in anything smaller but I would if we had to. We ended up gutting it and restoring it with a new floor plan. It is humongous. It is pretty ugly too. Kinda a cream color with blue and yellow stripes on the side. It is LOUD. I thought the class A would be great for meeting the kids needs (or get after them) while driving down the road but 90% of the time I can’t even hear them yelling at me. Sometimes I will turn around to check on them and there is a mangled mess of feet and arms on the floor but no one is crying so I can’t tell if someone is getting pile-drived or if they fell off of the couch. Other times I will check on them and they are all entwined together like puppies, sound asleep sharing one gigantic puddle of drool. Still glad we got the class A. It works really hard to pull hills at around 45 miles per hour but it always reaches the top. It is so heavy that when you finally do, you hope you don’t burn up the breaks trying to slow it down while sailing over the other side. We have finally learned to let it go because we need the momentum to get up the next hill. It is so big that driving it while the wind is blowing feels like we are navigating a sail boat. We always love when we meet a semi coming from the opposite direction in a construction zone where they have narrowed the lanes and reduced them down to two lanes going opposite directions (instead of keeping one direction on their side of the interstate and us on our side) while maintaining a “limited construction zone speed of 65 mph that will prosecute violators with 14 years in prison and a $10,000 fine”. Geez, who needs coffee with that kind of adrenaline pumping? If anything, we need a good smoke to calm us down. It meets all of our needs and after our modifications it even has some of our wants, like Jeramie's 37” flat panel TV and PS3 that have been nicely mounted at the perfect angle in coordination with his specific spot on the couch. I don’t watch much TV so that was hard for me to understand but you know what? He works hard and doesn’t really ask for much so, whatever.
This motorhome has become “home”. It doesn’t matter where it is parked. The kids refer to it specifically as “home”. It is not unlike any other home. It requires some occasional attention which in this case Jeramie lovingly refers to as “deferred maintenance”. Things that should have been taken care of by previous owners but never where. We joke that it needs a good wax job. Some of the RV resorts we have been to are inhabited by retired men who spend their day waxing the sides of their coaches. Whenever Jeramie starts complaining about needing something to do, I tease him about the coach needing a good cleaning and waxing. Seriously, there is not a professional RV detailer that could help this beast. The retired men are always parked on the “good side” of the resort. We are officially victims of racism. There is a policy many resorts/parks hold that if your motorhome or trailer is more than 10 years old it may not even be accepted into the park. If they make the exception, they park you way out back so that you can’t be an unsightly embarrassment to them. Guess what? FINE WITH US! Hee, Hee, Hee, no hurt feelings here that our coach doesn’t fit their standards. It has been the saving tool that has continually blessed us with the end slips that house us closest to or exactly beside the most spacious areas that allow me to kick the kids outside to burn off the energy. God knows what he is doing. She is what she is, she may be ugly, but she’s ours!
Friday, September 3, 2010
Protection in the storm
Wow. It has been awhile since I have had a chance to record these thoughts of mine that I almost didn't remember my login and password for this page. Now that we are getting a new routine established in this crazy life of ours I finally feel like I have a few minutes to update this (though I really don't have the time, if I don't take it I will never get back to the blog).
We finally got to help my sister get married off. It was the most fun day. The perma-smiles on her and her new husbands faces were contagious and it was so much fun to be a part of the celebration that perfectly represented their personalities. I was however running on energy provided by the Holy Spirit because in reality, I was down right exhausted. All went as it was suppose to and that made them happy.
Jeramie became deployed 36 hours before the wedding so immediate re-adjustment of our plans was needed. We spent about an hour disagreeing on what the best plan B was before God finally had enough and intervened. Jeramie and the dog ended up driving the motorhome to Chicago and the kids and I stayed behind until after the wedding. I took a day to recover and then we drove 2/3's of the way cross country to meet him. It was amazing and there were many small moments of divine protection along the way. Things like hotel suite upgrades for the economy price to a tire that had to be filled with the Holy Spirit himself because under no other circumstances could it hold any air. Driving cross country, a mom and her three kids, seems like a big deal. Many people make it out to be a big deal. But it wasn't a big deal. It could've been a big deal but it wasn't a big deal because it was blessed by God.
Illinois has been a cool place to hang. After 2000 miles of less than exciting scenery we were excited to end up in Northern Illinois where there is grass and trees that cover the biggest roller-coaster like hills. The humidity has taken some getting use to. There are days I wonder why I even try to take a shower but quickly remember that this place is TOO small for anything odiferous and although I don't smell me doesn't mean someone else can't smell me. We visited a cool little historic town called Galena. We got to see the historical museum of President U.S. Grants home where he resided in between the war and his term in office. This is the kind of history I can learn, tangible. I retained nothing in school of US history. It wasn't real. This learning is hands on, you can touch it and envision what played out. We all remembered something different, but President Grant's military service and his silk green chair that he took everywhere with him resonated most with Andon. I love that. The green chair. Andon will forever remember that President Grant had a favorite green chair. You cannot teach that in a book in some stuffy classroom. There was a day where Jeramie had a light day scheduled so we tagged along. We were headed to some cool park in Freeport that the KOA owner directed us to. We had to get the inspections done first. This was a day of enlightenment. My exposure to the hood or projects has been limited to what Hollywood protrays for us. I have never gotten why people who live there choose to live there. I have always written it off as it is what they know and people are scared of what they don't know. Today I know different. In Oregon our state services provide housing funds. You are issued a check for rent and as long as the landlord meets state housing requirements, you can live pretty much where you want. The projects are government owned apartments. You get assigned an apartment and they own the building. If you are dependent on the government you don't get choices. You get what they give you. Many of you may already know that, I did not. Another inspection brought us to a terribly run down neighborhood with houses so delapitated it is a wonder how they didn't collapse under the flooding in the first place. The primary ethnicity in this section is african-american. Cops out on many corners trying to keep a peace with people who have nothing better to do than get into trouble. It took a bit of a detour to get back to the "safe" side of town because we kept avoiding streets with cop cars on them. Not a safe place for a young white family after dark. I was more shocked to see that there was an obvious "bad" side of town in a city that has a population of only 26,000. My ignorance is being exposed.
After a long weekend up north, we were relocated to central east Illinois, about an hour south of Chicago. Down here it is flat. Like a gigantic Willamette Valley that doesn't end. The flat land being so close to the great lakes mixes up the perfect recipe for some intense thunder and lightening rainstorms. Jeramie was driving in it in the dark. We could see flashes of lightening that made me think of the de-memorization pen on "Men in Black". Jeramie said the bolts are amazing. Multiple fingers all attached across the entire panoramic darkness. Veins of lightening all feeding off of each other from one side of the sky to the other. The kids and I were "home" by ourselves when we lived through our first mid-western rainstorm. It was loud only to be amplified more so by the shelter of the motorhome. It poured walls of water. It was alarming and at times scary. It was magnificent! Andon was the most upset. That storm spoke to him. We were singing "Jesus Loves Me" when he asked if he could have Jesus in his heart. I prayed for him with him and then he prayed himself. I asked him why he wanted Jesus in his heart right then that very moment "because Jesus is my protector, he makes me feel safe". I have since been brought to my knees, humbled that a 6 year old can get that. We talked about how scary the storm was and if God could make a storm so scary that we couldn't even imagine how scary Hell is. If the only reason we are on this journey was to experience this storm so that it will forever be written on my sons heart then it is worth every sacrifice, although, I will say, we are having a pretty good time!
Hebrews 10:16
"This is the covenant I will make with them after that time, says the Lord. I will put my laws in their hearts, and I will write them on their minds"
We finally got to help my sister get married off. It was the most fun day. The perma-smiles on her and her new husbands faces were contagious and it was so much fun to be a part of the celebration that perfectly represented their personalities. I was however running on energy provided by the Holy Spirit because in reality, I was down right exhausted. All went as it was suppose to and that made them happy.
Jeramie became deployed 36 hours before the wedding so immediate re-adjustment of our plans was needed. We spent about an hour disagreeing on what the best plan B was before God finally had enough and intervened. Jeramie and the dog ended up driving the motorhome to Chicago and the kids and I stayed behind until after the wedding. I took a day to recover and then we drove 2/3's of the way cross country to meet him. It was amazing and there were many small moments of divine protection along the way. Things like hotel suite upgrades for the economy price to a tire that had to be filled with the Holy Spirit himself because under no other circumstances could it hold any air. Driving cross country, a mom and her three kids, seems like a big deal. Many people make it out to be a big deal. But it wasn't a big deal. It could've been a big deal but it wasn't a big deal because it was blessed by God.
Illinois has been a cool place to hang. After 2000 miles of less than exciting scenery we were excited to end up in Northern Illinois where there is grass and trees that cover the biggest roller-coaster like hills. The humidity has taken some getting use to. There are days I wonder why I even try to take a shower but quickly remember that this place is TOO small for anything odiferous and although I don't smell me doesn't mean someone else can't smell me. We visited a cool little historic town called Galena. We got to see the historical museum of President U.S. Grants home where he resided in between the war and his term in office. This is the kind of history I can learn, tangible. I retained nothing in school of US history. It wasn't real. This learning is hands on, you can touch it and envision what played out. We all remembered something different, but President Grant's military service and his silk green chair that he took everywhere with him resonated most with Andon. I love that. The green chair. Andon will forever remember that President Grant had a favorite green chair. You cannot teach that in a book in some stuffy classroom. There was a day where Jeramie had a light day scheduled so we tagged along. We were headed to some cool park in Freeport that the KOA owner directed us to. We had to get the inspections done first. This was a day of enlightenment. My exposure to the hood or projects has been limited to what Hollywood protrays for us. I have never gotten why people who live there choose to live there. I have always written it off as it is what they know and people are scared of what they don't know. Today I know different. In Oregon our state services provide housing funds. You are issued a check for rent and as long as the landlord meets state housing requirements, you can live pretty much where you want. The projects are government owned apartments. You get assigned an apartment and they own the building. If you are dependent on the government you don't get choices. You get what they give you. Many of you may already know that, I did not. Another inspection brought us to a terribly run down neighborhood with houses so delapitated it is a wonder how they didn't collapse under the flooding in the first place. The primary ethnicity in this section is african-american. Cops out on many corners trying to keep a peace with people who have nothing better to do than get into trouble. It took a bit of a detour to get back to the "safe" side of town because we kept avoiding streets with cop cars on them. Not a safe place for a young white family after dark. I was more shocked to see that there was an obvious "bad" side of town in a city that has a population of only 26,000. My ignorance is being exposed.
After a long weekend up north, we were relocated to central east Illinois, about an hour south of Chicago. Down here it is flat. Like a gigantic Willamette Valley that doesn't end. The flat land being so close to the great lakes mixes up the perfect recipe for some intense thunder and lightening rainstorms. Jeramie was driving in it in the dark. We could see flashes of lightening that made me think of the de-memorization pen on "Men in Black". Jeramie said the bolts are amazing. Multiple fingers all attached across the entire panoramic darkness. Veins of lightening all feeding off of each other from one side of the sky to the other. The kids and I were "home" by ourselves when we lived through our first mid-western rainstorm. It was loud only to be amplified more so by the shelter of the motorhome. It poured walls of water. It was alarming and at times scary. It was magnificent! Andon was the most upset. That storm spoke to him. We were singing "Jesus Loves Me" when he asked if he could have Jesus in his heart. I prayed for him with him and then he prayed himself. I asked him why he wanted Jesus in his heart right then that very moment "because Jesus is my protector, he makes me feel safe". I have since been brought to my knees, humbled that a 6 year old can get that. We talked about how scary the storm was and if God could make a storm so scary that we couldn't even imagine how scary Hell is. If the only reason we are on this journey was to experience this storm so that it will forever be written on my sons heart then it is worth every sacrifice, although, I will say, we are having a pretty good time!
Hebrews 10:16
"This is the covenant I will make with them after that time, says the Lord. I will put my laws in their hearts, and I will write them on their minds"
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
No sheltered kids here
http://familiesontheroad.com/carnival.html
One of the concerns we had when going into full time RVing was the socialization process of our children. I am writing this to encourage those who asked this very question that I confidently say you can rest assured that this is not going to be an issue. Every park that we have driven into has some kid of some sort already present when we arrive. Some are weekenders and some are long-term residents. It’s like they have a super-human tuning radar. Seriously, it doesn’t matter where in the park we are, they find us. I am sure the rack on the back of the set-up sporting kids bikes is a bit of a give-away. However, I never see these kids until they have infiltrated our space and it doesn’t take long for them to do so. It reminds me of our recent rodent infestation. My children are not without new friends and our RV slip is crawling with kids.
One of our more recent friends is a 7 year old boy we are going to call “Dirk”. This kid is fearless, social, creative and has an unbridled confidence that is unusual and actually a bit refreshing but mostly irritating. The words that come out of Dirk’s mouth have a way of cracking us up so much that we have decided to keep a log of “Dirk-isms”. When we first met Dirk we asked him how long he and his family had been staying in the RV park thinking the answer would be a week or two, “I’m not really sure, like 1360 days or something”. We soon learned that much of what comes out of Dirks mouth we cannot take seriously. We also learned that he probably has been here “like 1360 days or something”. His parents are battling the same effects of the unemployment rate as many are.
Dirk had walked over with a skateboard under his arm, dropped it in the grass and didn’t give it another thought the entire time he had been at our place. It was evening and the end of day chores needed done, including taking out the trash. The garbage receptacle for the park is across the other side of where we are. Although it is probably only a two minute walk, Jeramie and I have decided it is an ordeal to take the trash out. We were in the middle of negotiating whose turn it was when Dirk enthusiastically piped up and said “I have transportation. I can take it for you!” referring to his skateboard. “You can ride that? How come you didn’t ride it over, how come you carried it?” I asked with a little more annoyance in my voice then I should have had. I did say his confidence was unbridled, right? “Oh yeah, I ride it. I just don’t want to wear the wheels off” was his nonchalant response and he turned around to resume playing. He never did take out my trash.
Although Dirk has social-confidence I believe Dirk has self-confidence issues. He is always trying to “one-up” the next kid. We learned from Dirk that apparently you can only ride horses if you have been to Texas. “I have been, like, so many places. I’ve been to Texas, I have even rode a horse before.” This time I promise I was genuinely engaged, “Oh yeah? That’s fun, we’ve ridden horses before too.” He quickly bounced back almost cutting me off with “Why? Have you guys been to Texas before or something?” He left me no time to complete the conversation and hurriedly moved onto something else he had to say.
Lexi noticed a healing scar on his knee. She asked where that came from and Dirk was more than happy to jump into how it occurred. He and his dad got into a fight “with a bunch of big guys”. His dad took the adults and he took the kids. “There were, like, five, I mean, like, four big kids and I used my Kung Fu skills to stab one of them and then there was, like, only three left.” The end, no more to the story. Andon and I exchanged looks. His said “don’t worry mom, I know this kid is full of it” and mine said “glad you know that, as long as you do then you can still hang out with him, but only at our RV.” Andon smiled at me in a confirming way that brought me confidence in his discernment and reassurance that he isn’t gullible. The coolest part was being able to talk with my kid without using words.
Dirks social-confidence can be suffocating and I have been praying that God would give me the ability to not only tolerate this kid but show him some love. The kids have made other friends in the park one of whom apparently is not allowed to play with Dirk anymore. She is a nine year old girl who we will call “Missy” and probably responds to Dirk as a nine year old girl will, emotionally. She says her dad won’t allow her to play with him anymore because she always comes home crying because Dirk is mean to her. My kids and I got caught in the cross fire of these two. This was my opportunity to “love on” this kid. We talked about being sorry, asking for forgiveness and trying our best to change. “I am trying to listen to the angel on this shoulder” he pointed to the top of his right shoulder “but the devil over here keeps talking to me” he pointed to the top of the left shoulder. This was Dirks description, not mine. I never mentioned angels and devils. They decided to see if Missy’s dad would let all of the kids play together if Dirk would go over and personally apologize. Unfortunately he was dismissed by Missy’s dad, so I am not quite sure what really has went down between them. I do know that my kids are officially in the middle of a custody battle between Dirk and Missy. Dirk gets them in the morning and Missy gets them in the afternoon.
My kids are not lacking the socialization opportunities many perceive they would miss out on by not being in a stationary lifestyle or school system. In fact, quite the opposite has occurred. This way is just different. This way I get to be directly involved with who and where. I get to teach them how to handle themselves. I get to see them handle themselves. My focus now is managing the socializing. Some days it feels like there may be over-socialization. It doesn’t get better than that.
One of the concerns we had when going into full time RVing was the socialization process of our children. I am writing this to encourage those who asked this very question that I confidently say you can rest assured that this is not going to be an issue. Every park that we have driven into has some kid of some sort already present when we arrive. Some are weekenders and some are long-term residents. It’s like they have a super-human tuning radar. Seriously, it doesn’t matter where in the park we are, they find us. I am sure the rack on the back of the set-up sporting kids bikes is a bit of a give-away. However, I never see these kids until they have infiltrated our space and it doesn’t take long for them to do so. It reminds me of our recent rodent infestation. My children are not without new friends and our RV slip is crawling with kids.
One of our more recent friends is a 7 year old boy we are going to call “Dirk”. This kid is fearless, social, creative and has an unbridled confidence that is unusual and actually a bit refreshing but mostly irritating. The words that come out of Dirk’s mouth have a way of cracking us up so much that we have decided to keep a log of “Dirk-isms”. When we first met Dirk we asked him how long he and his family had been staying in the RV park thinking the answer would be a week or two, “I’m not really sure, like 1360 days or something”. We soon learned that much of what comes out of Dirks mouth we cannot take seriously. We also learned that he probably has been here “like 1360 days or something”. His parents are battling the same effects of the unemployment rate as many are.
Dirk had walked over with a skateboard under his arm, dropped it in the grass and didn’t give it another thought the entire time he had been at our place. It was evening and the end of day chores needed done, including taking out the trash. The garbage receptacle for the park is across the other side of where we are. Although it is probably only a two minute walk, Jeramie and I have decided it is an ordeal to take the trash out. We were in the middle of negotiating whose turn it was when Dirk enthusiastically piped up and said “I have transportation. I can take it for you!” referring to his skateboard. “You can ride that? How come you didn’t ride it over, how come you carried it?” I asked with a little more annoyance in my voice then I should have had. I did say his confidence was unbridled, right? “Oh yeah, I ride it. I just don’t want to wear the wheels off” was his nonchalant response and he turned around to resume playing. He never did take out my trash.
Although Dirk has social-confidence I believe Dirk has self-confidence issues. He is always trying to “one-up” the next kid. We learned from Dirk that apparently you can only ride horses if you have been to Texas. “I have been, like, so many places. I’ve been to Texas, I have even rode a horse before.” This time I promise I was genuinely engaged, “Oh yeah? That’s fun, we’ve ridden horses before too.” He quickly bounced back almost cutting me off with “Why? Have you guys been to Texas before or something?” He left me no time to complete the conversation and hurriedly moved onto something else he had to say.
Lexi noticed a healing scar on his knee. She asked where that came from and Dirk was more than happy to jump into how it occurred. He and his dad got into a fight “with a bunch of big guys”. His dad took the adults and he took the kids. “There were, like, five, I mean, like, four big kids and I used my Kung Fu skills to stab one of them and then there was, like, only three left.” The end, no more to the story. Andon and I exchanged looks. His said “don’t worry mom, I know this kid is full of it” and mine said “glad you know that, as long as you do then you can still hang out with him, but only at our RV.” Andon smiled at me in a confirming way that brought me confidence in his discernment and reassurance that he isn’t gullible. The coolest part was being able to talk with my kid without using words.
Dirks social-confidence can be suffocating and I have been praying that God would give me the ability to not only tolerate this kid but show him some love. The kids have made other friends in the park one of whom apparently is not allowed to play with Dirk anymore. She is a nine year old girl who we will call “Missy” and probably responds to Dirk as a nine year old girl will, emotionally. She says her dad won’t allow her to play with him anymore because she always comes home crying because Dirk is mean to her. My kids and I got caught in the cross fire of these two. This was my opportunity to “love on” this kid. We talked about being sorry, asking for forgiveness and trying our best to change. “I am trying to listen to the angel on this shoulder” he pointed to the top of his right shoulder “but the devil over here keeps talking to me” he pointed to the top of the left shoulder. This was Dirks description, not mine. I never mentioned angels and devils. They decided to see if Missy’s dad would let all of the kids play together if Dirk would go over and personally apologize. Unfortunately he was dismissed by Missy’s dad, so I am not quite sure what really has went down between them. I do know that my kids are officially in the middle of a custody battle between Dirk and Missy. Dirk gets them in the morning and Missy gets them in the afternoon.
My kids are not lacking the socialization opportunities many perceive they would miss out on by not being in a stationary lifestyle or school system. In fact, quite the opposite has occurred. This way is just different. This way I get to be directly involved with who and where. I get to teach them how to handle themselves. I get to see them handle themselves. My focus now is managing the socializing. Some days it feels like there may be over-socialization. It doesn’t get better than that.
Monday, July 26, 2010
"My last medical test showed I was crabby"
My family suffers from Celiac Disease. Living life on the road and maintaining a diligent and healthy meal plan was a concern when we started this venture. The first thing that comes to mind when one says "travel" is eating out. With CD, there aren't many eating out options. However, one thing that sits in the back of my head is knowing we are headed for some extremely culterally rich places and I won't be able to truly experience it because I cannot have the cuisine that they pride themselves on.
With CD there is no pharmacuetical prescription to control the disorder. It is an auto-immune disorder that responds only to a strict gluten free diet. It also hasn't been hugely embraced by the Western/American medical community. We have been shot-down by multiple providers when we bring our medical history to their attention while trying to address other medical concerns. I can only imagine the the first thing documented as our diagnosis in our charts "cranky disposition otherwise healthy". What are we suppose to do with that! When moving onto another doctor hoping to gain some ground the only thing we really can say is "my last medical test showed I was crabby". Noboby was even interested in entertaining the possibility and when we asked for testing we were told "you don't have CD unless you have chronic diarhea". There are over 300 symptoms many of which do not manifest on the outside. Each person is different and affected by CD differently. Four out of five of us Jennings have CD. We are a large enough group to start our own control study. All of us have different symptoms. The one confirming symptom is DH. Dermatitis Herpetiformis. All three of my kids have it, but it is located in a different spot on their bodies and their rashes all vary in appearence. It has been misdiagnosed as excema. For myself, I didn't know how crappy I felt until I felt good.
Two weeks ago I knowingly exposed myself. All I can say is I am still learning. I stopped and got lunch for Jeramie at Taco Bell. I couldn't help it. I had to have one. A bean burrito. I have always loved them. It pairs especially nice with an ice cold Dr. Pepper. Now that is culteral cuisine! It started with burning in my intestines. Not cramping of my stomach, BURNING. Like someone had scratched my insides with the end of a paperclip and then poured acid on it. Everytime I thought of food, smelled food or talked about food, it would burn. I didn't really eat for three days after. Then it progressed into joint aches. Especially in my right hand. Like arthritis, it just ached. I caught myself rubbing my knuckles like an elderly person who really does have arthritis. I had generalized joint stiffness but didn't give it much thought because I really felt the ache in my hand. I noticed that I have been clinching my teeth again, probably grinding them at night also. I haven't done that in MONTHS. My energy is decreased. I once again am having a hard time getting out of bed in the a.m. I am sure that is because I am not sleeping. The final symptom that showed up this time was my periodontal disease. It is totally localized, and changes areas each time. Mostly inflammation with bleeding. I use to think this was related to hormonal fluctuations but now know it is due to gluten exposure. Seriously, I work in the dental field. Periodontal disease is not something I take lightly. I would be curious to see what the result would be if every perio patient were to be tested for CD. I wonder how many of them have undiagnosed Celiac Disease. So was the burrito worth it? That would be a BIG no. I have to worry about more than calories or immediate indigestion. I get to suffer for two weeks for every minor "treat".
I have seen SOO many improvements in the kids. They, however, cannot have dairy as well as gluten. I am still hopeful that they will be able to have it added back in after they get cleaned out and healed but I have tried to re-introduce it to them three times and each time the response is more negative than the last so now I am coming to terms that it is probably gone forever. The most recent attempt was with a vanilla shake from Mickey D's. Within 24 hours we were paying the consequences. Andon broke out with DH. Lexi had a "belly ache" and her "brain hurt". Addi has been incorrigible. To the point that someone thinks she is mean. It is hard to describe to someone else because it sounds like you are making excuses for your unruly kids. You have to actually live with it day in and day out to get it. She isn't mean, she feels like crap. She reminds me of Seabiscuit, most people who came in contact with him saw an unmanageable beast. The ones who understood him saw he was all heart. Thats our Addi. She is BUSY, but I am not so sure she is mean. I see Andon's DH sores and cringe knowing that is what the inside of his small intestine probably looks like to. Why do I do this to them? I hate it that I give in.
I have a renewed confidence in western medicine though. UCLA has recently opened up a Celiac Disease clinic. It is starting to get some attention. I wonder how many people will say they want tested because their "last medical test showed I was crabby".
I have found that I am extremely suited for the traveling lifestyle. I am always prepared for whatever. We have our gluten free home on wheels at all times. I am not about to be a victim of faulty genetics. I choose to be pro-active and maybe even an advocate. The last thing I want is for people to think "RUN! the celiacs are coming".
Romans 7:15 I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.
With CD there is no pharmacuetical prescription to control the disorder. It is an auto-immune disorder that responds only to a strict gluten free diet. It also hasn't been hugely embraced by the Western/American medical community. We have been shot-down by multiple providers when we bring our medical history to their attention while trying to address other medical concerns. I can only imagine the the first thing documented as our diagnosis in our charts "cranky disposition otherwise healthy". What are we suppose to do with that! When moving onto another doctor hoping to gain some ground the only thing we really can say is "my last medical test showed I was crabby". Noboby was even interested in entertaining the possibility and when we asked for testing we were told "you don't have CD unless you have chronic diarhea". There are over 300 symptoms many of which do not manifest on the outside. Each person is different and affected by CD differently. Four out of five of us Jennings have CD. We are a large enough group to start our own control study. All of us have different symptoms. The one confirming symptom is DH. Dermatitis Herpetiformis. All three of my kids have it, but it is located in a different spot on their bodies and their rashes all vary in appearence. It has been misdiagnosed as excema. For myself, I didn't know how crappy I felt until I felt good.
Two weeks ago I knowingly exposed myself. All I can say is I am still learning. I stopped and got lunch for Jeramie at Taco Bell. I couldn't help it. I had to have one. A bean burrito. I have always loved them. It pairs especially nice with an ice cold Dr. Pepper. Now that is culteral cuisine! It started with burning in my intestines. Not cramping of my stomach, BURNING. Like someone had scratched my insides with the end of a paperclip and then poured acid on it. Everytime I thought of food, smelled food or talked about food, it would burn. I didn't really eat for three days after. Then it progressed into joint aches. Especially in my right hand. Like arthritis, it just ached. I caught myself rubbing my knuckles like an elderly person who really does have arthritis. I had generalized joint stiffness but didn't give it much thought because I really felt the ache in my hand. I noticed that I have been clinching my teeth again, probably grinding them at night also. I haven't done that in MONTHS. My energy is decreased. I once again am having a hard time getting out of bed in the a.m. I am sure that is because I am not sleeping. The final symptom that showed up this time was my periodontal disease. It is totally localized, and changes areas each time. Mostly inflammation with bleeding. I use to think this was related to hormonal fluctuations but now know it is due to gluten exposure. Seriously, I work in the dental field. Periodontal disease is not something I take lightly. I would be curious to see what the result would be if every perio patient were to be tested for CD. I wonder how many of them have undiagnosed Celiac Disease. So was the burrito worth it? That would be a BIG no. I have to worry about more than calories or immediate indigestion. I get to suffer for two weeks for every minor "treat".
I have seen SOO many improvements in the kids. They, however, cannot have dairy as well as gluten. I am still hopeful that they will be able to have it added back in after they get cleaned out and healed but I have tried to re-introduce it to them three times and each time the response is more negative than the last so now I am coming to terms that it is probably gone forever. The most recent attempt was with a vanilla shake from Mickey D's. Within 24 hours we were paying the consequences. Andon broke out with DH. Lexi had a "belly ache" and her "brain hurt". Addi has been incorrigible. To the point that someone thinks she is mean. It is hard to describe to someone else because it sounds like you are making excuses for your unruly kids. You have to actually live with it day in and day out to get it. She isn't mean, she feels like crap. She reminds me of Seabiscuit, most people who came in contact with him saw an unmanageable beast. The ones who understood him saw he was all heart. Thats our Addi. She is BUSY, but I am not so sure she is mean. I see Andon's DH sores and cringe knowing that is what the inside of his small intestine probably looks like to. Why do I do this to them? I hate it that I give in.
I have a renewed confidence in western medicine though. UCLA has recently opened up a Celiac Disease clinic. It is starting to get some attention. I wonder how many people will say they want tested because their "last medical test showed I was crabby".
I have found that I am extremely suited for the traveling lifestyle. I am always prepared for whatever. We have our gluten free home on wheels at all times. I am not about to be a victim of faulty genetics. I choose to be pro-active and maybe even an advocate. The last thing I want is for people to think "RUN! the celiacs are coming".
Romans 7:15 I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
All Creatures Great and Small, The Lord God made them all
We finished up our visit with Grandma and headed to Winston, OR. The main goal being to see Wildlife Safari. The park has a campground 1/4 mile from the park entrance. It doesn't get more convenient then that.
We strolled in on Sunday afternoon to beautiful 80 degree sunshine. We were gonna load up to see the animals Monday mid-day after Jeramie was done working. We hung out and relaxed in the much cooler weather then what we had left in Medford. Monday rolled around and it was overcast with grey skies. No sun to be found. I remembered coming here as a kid on a class field trip and not seeing much of the animals. This attraction was as much for me as it was for the kids. I wasn't about to risk going on a day when all of the animals didn't want to be seen. And since we planned on being here for three days, we had the luxery of waiting out the disappointing weather.
So we decided to swing into the metropolis of Winston, Oregon instead and let the kids spend the money that Grandma gave them at the Dollar store. I knew their new treasures would keep them busy for the day and we could try the park the next day instead. It had been awhile since we had seen a movie and Winston did in fact have a redbox so it was on the list of stops as well as finding "free" air to add to the tires of the Jeep.
The dollar store didn't take long. Our most methodical shopper is Andon and he and Jeramie searched each aisle for the perfect items. The girls had their money spent before we really even entered the doors. So instead of torchering myself with the girls need to constantly trade out items they have decided they like better then the last thing they just chose we headed back out to the car to wait "patiently". While reloading up we got a smile and a nod from a a kid walking by, baggy pants and hoody up. I love visiting small towns, even the local hoodlums are friendly.
We headed for "free"air next. It irritates Jeramie to no end that people charge for air. I keep reminding him that he is paying for the use of the tool that gets the air from out here to in there. Doesn't matter, it needs to be free. First stop in our search was a Town Pump. It was busy with about six cars and two attendants so we could barely see an air station but they did have one. Our vision was set on the station looking for a fee sign because if we saw one this was only going to be a drive-by when we came around the corner and right there in front of us, on the sidewalk, in front of the main building, totally unhidden, was an elderly man laying on the ground on his side, with his back toward us in a semi-fetal position obviously inacapable of getting himself up off of the ground. Jeramie slammed on the brakes and flew out of the car. ARE YOU KIDDING ME! We had to drive between the main building with the old man on the left and the pump stations with the six cars and two attendants on the right with all of the cars facing the main building. I looked out the window. Not a single person gave any sort of expression that they noticed or cared that a man was laying on the side walk. Are you telling me that every single one of these people are either so selfish or self absorbed that not a single one of them would aknowledge when someone is in need of help? This old man might have been known through out town as the local crazy, when he got up it took him a minute to catch his equillibrium and he did seem like he suffered from dimentia or something but come on people, crazy or not he needed help. Crazy or not, this man is a person. Crazy or not, this man might be someones grandpa. Crazy or not, this man also has a story.
We rented "The book of Eli" with Denzel Washginton. We had heard from credible sources that it was really good. I have an aversion to nasty words so I have a 4 word rule. This one almost didn't make it past the word rule but I hung in there. I'm glad I did. It was a story of post-tribulation discipleship with a "Mad Max" spin. It will get the wheels turning.
The next day started off grey but right around the time the park opened the sun broke. Jeramie didn't get up to work. That never happens. I knew he didn't feel well but when he started throwing up the kids and I couldn't get out of the motorhome fast enough. 300 sq. ft is too small when someone is sick, smellwise and noisewise. We left our sickly daddy to die on the couch with a bowl beside his head and all of the fans on and windows open. Off we RAN to enjoy our day. I feel a little guilty that we got to do this and he feels sooo terrible. He missed out and that bums me out. But atleast we had somewhere to go so that he could be sick in peace and quiet.
Almost all of the animals were out. I was a little worried when they said "stay atleast three car lengths away from the rhino's and honk your horn if you need help". How do you explain that to your car insurance company? "I had a rhino sit on my car". I wonder if they would hold things up with an investigation to confirm who was at fault with that excuse. However, after all of that wasted mental space, we never saw the rhino's. We did see all of the other creatures great and small. Andon's favorite, the lion (no surprise there), Lexi's favorite, the Llama (didn't see that one coming except that one of the staff told her to look out cause they spit so she might have fallen in love with their attitude), I couldn't get enough of the Giraffes. I cannot help but look at all of these animals and think about how imaginative and creative our God is (and with some can't help but wonder what he was thinking).
Wildlife Safari has one of the most successful Cheetah breeding programs in the world. There was a story of a cheetah and a herding dog who were raised together and they both live on the park still together. Even the animals have stories.
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.
By Cecil Frances Alexander
We strolled in on Sunday afternoon to beautiful 80 degree sunshine. We were gonna load up to see the animals Monday mid-day after Jeramie was done working. We hung out and relaxed in the much cooler weather then what we had left in Medford. Monday rolled around and it was overcast with grey skies. No sun to be found. I remembered coming here as a kid on a class field trip and not seeing much of the animals. This attraction was as much for me as it was for the kids. I wasn't about to risk going on a day when all of the animals didn't want to be seen. And since we planned on being here for three days, we had the luxery of waiting out the disappointing weather.
So we decided to swing into the metropolis of Winston, Oregon instead and let the kids spend the money that Grandma gave them at the Dollar store. I knew their new treasures would keep them busy for the day and we could try the park the next day instead. It had been awhile since we had seen a movie and Winston did in fact have a redbox so it was on the list of stops as well as finding "free" air to add to the tires of the Jeep.
The dollar store didn't take long. Our most methodical shopper is Andon and he and Jeramie searched each aisle for the perfect items. The girls had their money spent before we really even entered the doors. So instead of torchering myself with the girls need to constantly trade out items they have decided they like better then the last thing they just chose we headed back out to the car to wait "patiently". While reloading up we got a smile and a nod from a a kid walking by, baggy pants and hoody up. I love visiting small towns, even the local hoodlums are friendly.
We headed for "free"air next. It irritates Jeramie to no end that people charge for air. I keep reminding him that he is paying for the use of the tool that gets the air from out here to in there. Doesn't matter, it needs to be free. First stop in our search was a Town Pump. It was busy with about six cars and two attendants so we could barely see an air station but they did have one. Our vision was set on the station looking for a fee sign because if we saw one this was only going to be a drive-by when we came around the corner and right there in front of us, on the sidewalk, in front of the main building, totally unhidden, was an elderly man laying on the ground on his side, with his back toward us in a semi-fetal position obviously inacapable of getting himself up off of the ground. Jeramie slammed on the brakes and flew out of the car. ARE YOU KIDDING ME! We had to drive between the main building with the old man on the left and the pump stations with the six cars and two attendants on the right with all of the cars facing the main building. I looked out the window. Not a single person gave any sort of expression that they noticed or cared that a man was laying on the side walk. Are you telling me that every single one of these people are either so selfish or self absorbed that not a single one of them would aknowledge when someone is in need of help? This old man might have been known through out town as the local crazy, when he got up it took him a minute to catch his equillibrium and he did seem like he suffered from dimentia or something but come on people, crazy or not he needed help. Crazy or not, this man is a person. Crazy or not, this man might be someones grandpa. Crazy or not, this man also has a story.
We rented "The book of Eli" with Denzel Washginton. We had heard from credible sources that it was really good. I have an aversion to nasty words so I have a 4 word rule. This one almost didn't make it past the word rule but I hung in there. I'm glad I did. It was a story of post-tribulation discipleship with a "Mad Max" spin. It will get the wheels turning.
The next day started off grey but right around the time the park opened the sun broke. Jeramie didn't get up to work. That never happens. I knew he didn't feel well but when he started throwing up the kids and I couldn't get out of the motorhome fast enough. 300 sq. ft is too small when someone is sick, smellwise and noisewise. We left our sickly daddy to die on the couch with a bowl beside his head and all of the fans on and windows open. Off we RAN to enjoy our day. I feel a little guilty that we got to do this and he feels sooo terrible. He missed out and that bums me out. But atleast we had somewhere to go so that he could be sick in peace and quiet.
Almost all of the animals were out. I was a little worried when they said "stay atleast three car lengths away from the rhino's and honk your horn if you need help". How do you explain that to your car insurance company? "I had a rhino sit on my car". I wonder if they would hold things up with an investigation to confirm who was at fault with that excuse. However, after all of that wasted mental space, we never saw the rhino's. We did see all of the other creatures great and small. Andon's favorite, the lion (no surprise there), Lexi's favorite, the Llama (didn't see that one coming except that one of the staff told her to look out cause they spit so she might have fallen in love with their attitude), I couldn't get enough of the Giraffes. I cannot help but look at all of these animals and think about how imaginative and creative our God is (and with some can't help but wonder what he was thinking).
Wildlife Safari has one of the most successful Cheetah breeding programs in the world. There was a story of a cheetah and a herding dog who were raised together and they both live on the park still together. Even the animals have stories.
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.
By Cecil Frances Alexander
Saturday, July 17, 2010
We're in Mexico now
My mind is racing. Amazing the things God will do if you just let him. I woke up this morning at 3 a.m. with words flying around my brain to the point that I don’t know where to start.
First of all, my mother bear instincts are on alert. Big city that I am unfamiliar with and so far the general attitude of the local residents is RUDE. I had to drive our car seperatley with the girls and Andon and Jeramie drove the motorhome because our car cannot be towed. Thanks to German engineering. As soon as we got there the kids piled out, Andon met us across the yard and followed us back to the motorhome. Lexi tried to run out into the road, which is busy with self-absorbed drivers flying down the street obviously ignoring the speed laws. “Look out Lex, your gonna get ran over, DO NOT run into the road and DO NOT come out here with out mom or dad” I yelled in a panic. “Yeah Lex, otherwise you will get ran over ‘cause we’re in Mexico now” Andon warned her. Well, maybe not exactly the real Mexico, but close enough.
This week in Medford has been totally of God. We have spent tons of time with Jeramie’s extended family. The dialogue in conversation has been challenging, exactly what we love. We have had the chance to really get into the meat of beginner belief and it was an exercise in preparation. We know the answers to so many of these questions but have a hard time articulating them verbally. We have confirmed that we are equipped with knowledge but need practice in readiness. The way God set up this lesson for us has been merciful, the opportunity to do this in the safety of our family is blessing.
It started with dinner at Jeramie’s Uncles with his wife, Jeramie’s cousin and his wife, their adorable kids and Grandma. All of a sudden the questions started firing and I mean from all sides of the room. Your initial reaction is to take cover under the table but we were quickly reminded to stand tall and take one for team Christian. The questions seem basic but all entwine together so we spent more time trying to unravel the answer to extract the appropriate information for the specific topics. We got “if Adam and Eve are the first people and Cain killed Abel then where did the cave man come from?”, “how do you explain dinosaurs?”, “why can’t evolution and creation work together?” and the conversation developed into “what does it mean to be a Christian?” and “what does it really take to be saved?”. IT WAS AWESOME and I do mean AWESOME!
Jeramie has gotten to spend some one on one time with his cousin who he loves sooo dearly. This time the visit is bittersweet. The visits are too few between and now will extend even further. Jeramie talks often of Jake wishing we could see him more. This time he has gotten to watch Jake be a dad which we haven’t had the chance to do yet. He is an awesome dad. Oh, and did I mention his kids are adorable?
We were able to trade our all wheel drive, not towable family car for something that we all still fit in and can actually attach to the back of the motorhome. What? So it is our seventh car in the last twelve months. WHATEVER!! The best part for any of you who have known us… we officially own a Jeep Grand Cherokee…AGAIN. Stop laughing at me. We made the trade while the kids were napping. When they got up I excitedly (o.k. the excitement might have been a little forced) asked “look outside, see anything new?”. “A new car!!!” says Lex, “mom isn’t that just like the car we had that drove like a tank?” says Andon. Yes, I have once again been asked to learn another lesson on contentment. This last fall we had a Jeep Grand Cherokee that I thought I would like and decided I did not. It drove like a tank. It felt like a tank. I haven’t actually ever driven a tank but if I do I am sure the Jeep will have all of the same characteristics. Funny thing, this one is a bit different. Smaller engine, not all wheel drive, etcetera but I don’t mind driving it this time around. I still haven’t decided if it is the rig that is different or me that is different.
I have gotten to spend a lot of time with Grandma. We have talked about everything from things she use to do to things she thinks I should do. She says it all out of love and has always spoken her mind so I am not shocked by anything. We have had a moment of frustration that has been lovingly diffused. The kids and I are on our own little schedule and I kinda-sorta like things my way. Grandma is on her own little schedule and she kinda-sorta likes things her own way. Somehow we have learned the hard way that my schedule and my way are not her schedule and her way. Or is it her schedule and her way are not my schedule and my way? When on a normal visit our schedule would be put on hold and we would gladly maintain Grandma’s schedule. This trip is longer than normal. We can’t stop life and disrupt our patterns for an entire week. My kids are already somewhat energized by the change in scenery in the first place and I am pretty sure they were sucking all of grandma’s energy resources dry. But we are here to see Grandma, spend time with Grandma and love on Grandma so Grandma’s way it is.
I was trying to get my hellions out of the house to burn off some energy so I loaded them up and we made our way to Jacksonville, which is right outside of Medford. What a sweet little town. History is big to them. The main street buildings are all restored to their original historical structures. Aunt Cella told us about the Children’s Museum over there so off we went. It was closed until further notice. Bummer. It turned out to be o.k. I was probably more interested in seeing it then the kids were as it was. However, you can’t go to the trouble of loading up three kids, snacks and all, tell them we are going somewhere and then just go home. We drove around the block to turn around to go to the park in Medford. While doing so, we passed a park. O.K. guys, we can go back to the park we went to yesterday or we can go to this park right here, right now. One vote for here, one vote for yesterday. The court has over-ruled, we are going here. This was another God thing, the court was actually ready to drive back to Medford. Medford’s park was bigger with more stuff to play on. This one, though very clean, was smaller and crawling with other peoples kids. You should listen when you are gently tugged. I sat down in the shade with all of our stuff, water bottles, six bags of snacks, diaper wipes for nasty things. Another mom sat down about three feet from me. No big deal, shade is limited and it was only 100 degrees out, no joke. Hmmm, now that I think of it, that also might have something to do with my insistence on maintaining my rigid schedule. Food for thought. ANYWAY, her kid decided to test his authority, she nonchalantly “disciplined” him. He nonchalantly did not respond. I gently smiled that “lady, if that is all you have, you are going to be in so much trouble” mixed with “thank God that is not my kid” coated with “we all have bad days” smile. O.K. God convict me now! And….He did. Soooo, I struck up a real conversation, “are you from here?” I asked. “We used to be but we just moved to Central Point - can he have some of your snacks?” She pointed to her hellion. Did she just ask me what I think I heard her just ask me? What do I look like, a stinkin’ mini-mart? Lady, feed your own dang kid. O.K. God convict me again! And…He did. “Um, sure”. That was all it took. A simple “um, sure”. You could see her trust in me explode. We got to talk about where we use to be from (Bend), where we are headed (not quite sure) and why (not quite sure). It turns out, she and her family are like so many others that have given up. Husband lost his job. Moved from the comfortable lifestyle to what sounds like the stereo-typical apartment complex I have vowed to never live. She struggles with depression, has two kids and cares but doesn’t. She wanted all my secrets to motherhood because my kids are amazing. I chose not to tell her I was there to get my hellions out of Grandma’s hair. We ended the conversation and I rounded up my kids. She told me one last thing before I left, “you are so friendly, no one is friendly anymore, this is your calling while out on the road. You have been such an inspiration to me today, I bet that’s it, to be an inspiration to other moms. You are awesome, I just met you and I am gonna cry”. No, Kristen, I am not awesome, you didn’t meet me today, you met the Holy Spirit because I didn’t want to share my snacks. God is good.
First of all, my mother bear instincts are on alert. Big city that I am unfamiliar with and so far the general attitude of the local residents is RUDE. I had to drive our car seperatley with the girls and Andon and Jeramie drove the motorhome because our car cannot be towed. Thanks to German engineering. As soon as we got there the kids piled out, Andon met us across the yard and followed us back to the motorhome. Lexi tried to run out into the road, which is busy with self-absorbed drivers flying down the street obviously ignoring the speed laws. “Look out Lex, your gonna get ran over, DO NOT run into the road and DO NOT come out here with out mom or dad” I yelled in a panic. “Yeah Lex, otherwise you will get ran over ‘cause we’re in Mexico now” Andon warned her. Well, maybe not exactly the real Mexico, but close enough.
This week in Medford has been totally of God. We have spent tons of time with Jeramie’s extended family. The dialogue in conversation has been challenging, exactly what we love. We have had the chance to really get into the meat of beginner belief and it was an exercise in preparation. We know the answers to so many of these questions but have a hard time articulating them verbally. We have confirmed that we are equipped with knowledge but need practice in readiness. The way God set up this lesson for us has been merciful, the opportunity to do this in the safety of our family is blessing.
It started with dinner at Jeramie’s Uncles with his wife, Jeramie’s cousin and his wife, their adorable kids and Grandma. All of a sudden the questions started firing and I mean from all sides of the room. Your initial reaction is to take cover under the table but we were quickly reminded to stand tall and take one for team Christian. The questions seem basic but all entwine together so we spent more time trying to unravel the answer to extract the appropriate information for the specific topics. We got “if Adam and Eve are the first people and Cain killed Abel then where did the cave man come from?”, “how do you explain dinosaurs?”, “why can’t evolution and creation work together?” and the conversation developed into “what does it mean to be a Christian?” and “what does it really take to be saved?”. IT WAS AWESOME and I do mean AWESOME!
Jeramie has gotten to spend some one on one time with his cousin who he loves sooo dearly. This time the visit is bittersweet. The visits are too few between and now will extend even further. Jeramie talks often of Jake wishing we could see him more. This time he has gotten to watch Jake be a dad which we haven’t had the chance to do yet. He is an awesome dad. Oh, and did I mention his kids are adorable?
We were able to trade our all wheel drive, not towable family car for something that we all still fit in and can actually attach to the back of the motorhome. What? So it is our seventh car in the last twelve months. WHATEVER!! The best part for any of you who have known us… we officially own a Jeep Grand Cherokee…AGAIN. Stop laughing at me. We made the trade while the kids were napping. When they got up I excitedly (o.k. the excitement might have been a little forced) asked “look outside, see anything new?”. “A new car!!!” says Lex, “mom isn’t that just like the car we had that drove like a tank?” says Andon. Yes, I have once again been asked to learn another lesson on contentment. This last fall we had a Jeep Grand Cherokee that I thought I would like and decided I did not. It drove like a tank. It felt like a tank. I haven’t actually ever driven a tank but if I do I am sure the Jeep will have all of the same characteristics. Funny thing, this one is a bit different. Smaller engine, not all wheel drive, etcetera but I don’t mind driving it this time around. I still haven’t decided if it is the rig that is different or me that is different.
I have gotten to spend a lot of time with Grandma. We have talked about everything from things she use to do to things she thinks I should do. She says it all out of love and has always spoken her mind so I am not shocked by anything. We have had a moment of frustration that has been lovingly diffused. The kids and I are on our own little schedule and I kinda-sorta like things my way. Grandma is on her own little schedule and she kinda-sorta likes things her own way. Somehow we have learned the hard way that my schedule and my way are not her schedule and her way. Or is it her schedule and her way are not my schedule and my way? When on a normal visit our schedule would be put on hold and we would gladly maintain Grandma’s schedule. This trip is longer than normal. We can’t stop life and disrupt our patterns for an entire week. My kids are already somewhat energized by the change in scenery in the first place and I am pretty sure they were sucking all of grandma’s energy resources dry. But we are here to see Grandma, spend time with Grandma and love on Grandma so Grandma’s way it is.
I was trying to get my hellions out of the house to burn off some energy so I loaded them up and we made our way to Jacksonville, which is right outside of Medford. What a sweet little town. History is big to them. The main street buildings are all restored to their original historical structures. Aunt Cella told us about the Children’s Museum over there so off we went. It was closed until further notice. Bummer. It turned out to be o.k. I was probably more interested in seeing it then the kids were as it was. However, you can’t go to the trouble of loading up three kids, snacks and all, tell them we are going somewhere and then just go home. We drove around the block to turn around to go to the park in Medford. While doing so, we passed a park. O.K. guys, we can go back to the park we went to yesterday or we can go to this park right here, right now. One vote for here, one vote for yesterday. The court has over-ruled, we are going here. This was another God thing, the court was actually ready to drive back to Medford. Medford’s park was bigger with more stuff to play on. This one, though very clean, was smaller and crawling with other peoples kids. You should listen when you are gently tugged. I sat down in the shade with all of our stuff, water bottles, six bags of snacks, diaper wipes for nasty things. Another mom sat down about three feet from me. No big deal, shade is limited and it was only 100 degrees out, no joke. Hmmm, now that I think of it, that also might have something to do with my insistence on maintaining my rigid schedule. Food for thought. ANYWAY, her kid decided to test his authority, she nonchalantly “disciplined” him. He nonchalantly did not respond. I gently smiled that “lady, if that is all you have, you are going to be in so much trouble” mixed with “thank God that is not my kid” coated with “we all have bad days” smile. O.K. God convict me now! And….He did. Soooo, I struck up a real conversation, “are you from here?” I asked. “We used to be but we just moved to Central Point - can he have some of your snacks?” She pointed to her hellion. Did she just ask me what I think I heard her just ask me? What do I look like, a stinkin’ mini-mart? Lady, feed your own dang kid. O.K. God convict me again! And…He did. “Um, sure”. That was all it took. A simple “um, sure”. You could see her trust in me explode. We got to talk about where we use to be from (Bend), where we are headed (not quite sure) and why (not quite sure). It turns out, she and her family are like so many others that have given up. Husband lost his job. Moved from the comfortable lifestyle to what sounds like the stereo-typical apartment complex I have vowed to never live. She struggles with depression, has two kids and cares but doesn’t. She wanted all my secrets to motherhood because my kids are amazing. I chose not to tell her I was there to get my hellions out of Grandma’s hair. We ended the conversation and I rounded up my kids. She told me one last thing before I left, “you are so friendly, no one is friendly anymore, this is your calling while out on the road. You have been such an inspiration to me today, I bet that’s it, to be an inspiration to other moms. You are awesome, I just met you and I am gonna cry”. No, Kristen, I am not awesome, you didn’t meet me today, you met the Holy Spirit because I didn’t want to share my snacks. God is good.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Of Mice and Mold!
OK. Correct me if I am wrong, but didn’t we already establish that I am not the camping type person? Not only are we camping but we are DRY camping Little House on the Prairie style with dirt, packing water and all. Wait for it, wait for it… here is the best part… we have uninvited guests of the rodent and fungi pursuasians. That’s right, mice and mold.
We were sleeping one night when I heard the first intruder. It was raking its paws up and down the metal air ventilation grate in the kitchen in a teenage horror movie kind of way. The thing was making so much noise that I was sure it was a squirrel. However, 2 o’clock in the morning is not Jeramies best time of day so ignoring it until morning seemed the most reasonable plan.
Sure enough, the next day while making breakfast I found various seeds and dog food nicely organized by type with each having a dedicated drawer. It was officially moving in. I know God likes order but I wasn’t aware that he made ALL creatures big and small with the same type of housekeeping skills. Good to know. However, after examining the storage contents we decided it was a mouse.
We made a trip to Bi-Mart, bought our weapons of mass destruction and planned our strategy because like Jeramie said “all trespassers will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the Jennings Law”. We chose traps because I was not about to have poisen floating around my space for various reasons but the primary reason being there was no way I was having that thing die in the depths of the motorhome where we couldn’t get to it.
The big dilemma was what type of bait to use. Jeramie and Andon voted cheese, I voted peanut butter. They traps were set with organic, creamy peanut butter drizzled with locally grown organic honey. Hey, even inmates on death row get an amazing last meal. The traps were set and there was nothing to do but wait for morning.
Promptly at 2 o’clock, SNAP, SNAP. The traps, yes that is plural, the traps went off. I couldn’t wait until morning to see what we got. Neither could the kids. There they were. Two mice. Dead. Upside down. Traps on top. Tails hanging out. The kids were in awe, followed Jeramie out to the fire pit and stared at them for an hour. That is when Lexi decided she needed a pet mouse and its name would be “Friend”.
It was the beginning of the… beginning. Fifteen mice later and the mouse troubles are not over. They are so not over that Lexi did end up with “Friend”. I am praying that when we get to civilization that the last one will be eradicated. Gross.
I was starting to enjoy our little house on the prairie lifestyle when Jeramie had a water transfer incident. It was really no big deal he just got soaked with crystal clear FREEZING Jack Creek water. The fill tube to the fresh water tank popped off and got lost inside the holding tank. Hey, we have thirty days, so there really isn’t any true sense of urgency to fish it out. Besides, it kept him busy for an hour and he learned a little more about the motorhome. He got it fixed and we moved on with his day. In fact, it was such a small ordeal that he didn’t even tell me about it.
Then Andon had an asthma attack. It didn’t come on until that night. We wrote it off as a one night event, but then he had another the next night. What the heck. The weather hadn’t seemed to change, his diet hasn’t changed (he is on a strict diet because of things like his asthma). Could it be the pollen? It’s nothing new in the air but maybe it is getting to him? Trouble shooting helped us figure out that he only had problems in the bedroom. I was at a loss. All I knew was that this kid could not live on Zyrtec and an inhaler. What a miserable existence, because it makes him feel so bad that’s all it would be, is an existence. There was nothing to do but tear the back room a part until I found the culprit.
And tear it apart I did. Clothes all over the main living space (which is so spacious to begin with), toys in the tent outside and dresser drawers strung all over the dirt. There it was. Mold. Not just a little bit of mold but three kinds of mold, everywhere. Where the heck did it come from. I went over this place with a toothbrush cleaning it before we even moved in.
Oh, apparently we had some sort of water spillage event the day before yesterday. Hey, check that out, the fill tube goes right through the closet through the floor into the fresh water tank. CRAP! We accidently started a science experiment. Well, what is the best thing to kill mold with. Straight up household Chlorox bleach. I drenched the place and let the sun do its thing to everything I could expose it to. I didn’t have any gloves for the cleaning process so ended up losing a layer or two of epidermis but that mold was gonna die. Oh, and if we ever start a fire back there we will probably burn to the ground in about 7 seconds but at least we can breathe now. Right? WRONG!
I’ll be danged if I didn’t wake up the next morning and the stuff grew back twice as fast and reproduced twice as much. Are you kidding me? Don’t underestimate me, it is not beyond me to gut a place before consulting with Jeramie. I was about 2 minutes from breaking out Jeramies skill saw (it was either that or the hatchet) when he produced the “30 seconds”. Hmmm, “kills slimy green and slippery black algae, moss, mold and mildew”. Sounds like it should take care of business. Another day of drenching the place, drying it out and waiting patiently, or rather, maybe more like a sniper with my gun.
Gone. It’s finally gone. Andon can breathe again which means I can breathe again and Jeramie didn’t have to build anything new this time. Now, about that last mouse that has recently relocated from Sisters to Medford…..all I can say is his days evading the authorities are numbered.
We were sleeping one night when I heard the first intruder. It was raking its paws up and down the metal air ventilation grate in the kitchen in a teenage horror movie kind of way. The thing was making so much noise that I was sure it was a squirrel. However, 2 o’clock in the morning is not Jeramies best time of day so ignoring it until morning seemed the most reasonable plan.
Sure enough, the next day while making breakfast I found various seeds and dog food nicely organized by type with each having a dedicated drawer. It was officially moving in. I know God likes order but I wasn’t aware that he made ALL creatures big and small with the same type of housekeeping skills. Good to know. However, after examining the storage contents we decided it was a mouse.
We made a trip to Bi-Mart, bought our weapons of mass destruction and planned our strategy because like Jeramie said “all trespassers will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the Jennings Law”. We chose traps because I was not about to have poisen floating around my space for various reasons but the primary reason being there was no way I was having that thing die in the depths of the motorhome where we couldn’t get to it.
The big dilemma was what type of bait to use. Jeramie and Andon voted cheese, I voted peanut butter. They traps were set with organic, creamy peanut butter drizzled with locally grown organic honey. Hey, even inmates on death row get an amazing last meal. The traps were set and there was nothing to do but wait for morning.
Promptly at 2 o’clock, SNAP, SNAP. The traps, yes that is plural, the traps went off. I couldn’t wait until morning to see what we got. Neither could the kids. There they were. Two mice. Dead. Upside down. Traps on top. Tails hanging out. The kids were in awe, followed Jeramie out to the fire pit and stared at them for an hour. That is when Lexi decided she needed a pet mouse and its name would be “Friend”.
It was the beginning of the… beginning. Fifteen mice later and the mouse troubles are not over. They are so not over that Lexi did end up with “Friend”. I am praying that when we get to civilization that the last one will be eradicated. Gross.
I was starting to enjoy our little house on the prairie lifestyle when Jeramie had a water transfer incident. It was really no big deal he just got soaked with crystal clear FREEZING Jack Creek water. The fill tube to the fresh water tank popped off and got lost inside the holding tank. Hey, we have thirty days, so there really isn’t any true sense of urgency to fish it out. Besides, it kept him busy for an hour and he learned a little more about the motorhome. He got it fixed and we moved on with his day. In fact, it was such a small ordeal that he didn’t even tell me about it.
Then Andon had an asthma attack. It didn’t come on until that night. We wrote it off as a one night event, but then he had another the next night. What the heck. The weather hadn’t seemed to change, his diet hasn’t changed (he is on a strict diet because of things like his asthma). Could it be the pollen? It’s nothing new in the air but maybe it is getting to him? Trouble shooting helped us figure out that he only had problems in the bedroom. I was at a loss. All I knew was that this kid could not live on Zyrtec and an inhaler. What a miserable existence, because it makes him feel so bad that’s all it would be, is an existence. There was nothing to do but tear the back room a part until I found the culprit.
And tear it apart I did. Clothes all over the main living space (which is so spacious to begin with), toys in the tent outside and dresser drawers strung all over the dirt. There it was. Mold. Not just a little bit of mold but three kinds of mold, everywhere. Where the heck did it come from. I went over this place with a toothbrush cleaning it before we even moved in.
Oh, apparently we had some sort of water spillage event the day before yesterday. Hey, check that out, the fill tube goes right through the closet through the floor into the fresh water tank. CRAP! We accidently started a science experiment. Well, what is the best thing to kill mold with. Straight up household Chlorox bleach. I drenched the place and let the sun do its thing to everything I could expose it to. I didn’t have any gloves for the cleaning process so ended up losing a layer or two of epidermis but that mold was gonna die. Oh, and if we ever start a fire back there we will probably burn to the ground in about 7 seconds but at least we can breathe now. Right? WRONG!
I’ll be danged if I didn’t wake up the next morning and the stuff grew back twice as fast and reproduced twice as much. Are you kidding me? Don’t underestimate me, it is not beyond me to gut a place before consulting with Jeramie. I was about 2 minutes from breaking out Jeramies skill saw (it was either that or the hatchet) when he produced the “30 seconds”. Hmmm, “kills slimy green and slippery black algae, moss, mold and mildew”. Sounds like it should take care of business. Another day of drenching the place, drying it out and waiting patiently, or rather, maybe more like a sniper with my gun.
Gone. It’s finally gone. Andon can breathe again which means I can breathe again and Jeramie didn’t have to build anything new this time. Now, about that last mouse that has recently relocated from Sisters to Medford…..all I can say is his days evading the authorities are numbered.
Monday, June 21, 2010
We lost a kid today....
Our first stop has been to camp for 30 days outside the Sisters area. We found an amazing campsite that has really clean forest right along a creek that will be perfect for splashing in on super hot days (if we ever get any this summer). There is no one around and we are able to let the dog run free, she takes off exploring and then comes back to nap.
It has been a pretty sunshiney morning so I kicked the kids out of the motorhome right after breakfast. Its awesome to watch their imaginations unfold out here in all of this wilderness. They are good listeners and stick together well so I don't worry about them at all.
Lexi suddenly became concerned that the Myra she loves so much would run off and not come back. She took off after the dog and of course the dog is faster and unconcerned with the kid.
Andon, with his laid back and calm demeanor, gently said "mom, I have been trying to find Lex to play and she is nowhere out here". Uh-Oh! This cannot be good. Sure enough, no shrieking 3 year old to be found. We rallied our troops and took off through the brush, it only took a couple of minutes but it felt like forever. I finally heard her little voice (of course, when we need her to be loud, she isn't) and she appeared through the brush, tears streaming tyring to find her way to us. I scooped her up and hugged her tight the worry gone and now replaced with relief and pride that she was trying SOOO hard to find her way back.
"Mom, I was so worried, it was like a maze. I was chasing Myra and it was like a maze".
Dang, smart kids. They always have a way of painting a clear picture for us stupid adults. Isn't that what the american dream feels like sometimes? We take off after the things we love and it traps us in a stupid maze. I can't help but wonder what God thinks when we do that, "dang, it. Lost another kid today". The best part is that no matter what maze Jeramie and I get ourselves into, God is ready to scoop us up when we find our way back.
It has been a pretty sunshiney morning so I kicked the kids out of the motorhome right after breakfast. Its awesome to watch their imaginations unfold out here in all of this wilderness. They are good listeners and stick together well so I don't worry about them at all.
Lexi suddenly became concerned that the Myra she loves so much would run off and not come back. She took off after the dog and of course the dog is faster and unconcerned with the kid.
Andon, with his laid back and calm demeanor, gently said "mom, I have been trying to find Lex to play and she is nowhere out here". Uh-Oh! This cannot be good. Sure enough, no shrieking 3 year old to be found. We rallied our troops and took off through the brush, it only took a couple of minutes but it felt like forever. I finally heard her little voice (of course, when we need her to be loud, she isn't) and she appeared through the brush, tears streaming tyring to find her way to us. I scooped her up and hugged her tight the worry gone and now replaced with relief and pride that she was trying SOOO hard to find her way back.
"Mom, I was so worried, it was like a maze. I was chasing Myra and it was like a maze".
Dang, smart kids. They always have a way of painting a clear picture for us stupid adults. Isn't that what the american dream feels like sometimes? We take off after the things we love and it traps us in a stupid maze. I can't help but wonder what God thinks when we do that, "dang, it. Lost another kid today". The best part is that no matter what maze Jeramie and I get ourselves into, God is ready to scoop us up when we find our way back.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
There's been a stirring...
OK. So Jeramie and I have gone through some awesome changes this last year. I will save you the details but basically we believe God has called us to do something out of the box and remove ourselves from our comfort zone. So we sold some and gave away most and are heading out cross country longterm. Yes, we have shoved 2 adults, 3 kids and 1 obnoxious dog into a 300 sq ft motorhome. Anyone who knows me knows that this is HUGE as I am not the "camping type person". The latest joke in our family is that Jeramie had to buy a 37' class A motorhome just to get me to go "camping" because, really, is it still considered camping in a motorhome?
So after much prayer and spiritual confirmation we left behind our comfortable life in beautiful Bend, Oregon. We are not however going into this without doing our research and we have some goals in place. We will see how long they last because we are aware God can and might redirect us at a moments notice. Jeramie has been working as a disaster assessment inspector for the last couple of years. We hope to continue the disaster assessment work with FEMA, homeschool the kids on the road (roadschooling) and just be around as many people as possible. We are also keeping our options open to volunteer with recovery work post disaster but are waiting for God to bring us the proper venue to work with.
We both felt like we were hanging out trying to build our own little empire which limited our availibility to be used at our fullest potential by God. We understand that God will use us in whatever way we allow but it was like we were saying to him, "this is where WE have us so do what you will with us under these conditions". God stirred us both at the same time (amazing thing in itself) and changed our hearts to say instead "ok God, do what you will with us, we are ready to do anything you have for us, whatever that may mean". We became uncomfortable with being comfortable and decided to let go of american privaledge as our society and culture view it and see what happens. It has been strange, yet freeing with moments of fear sprinkled in. Its a chipping away of our personal identity. Like Zacchaeus, we jumped out of the tree. We are done putting our security in what we are able to do for ourselves and being enslaved to our postage stamp size piece of this world.
This has never been an issue of discontent with the comforts that God allowed us. We have never been without and are not at all unappreciative of the lifestyle we have been maintaining. We have come to recognize that maybe our plans for ourselves are not the absolute BEST of what God has for us. We are not caught up in the romantic dream of the freedom to do as we please but rather we are now freed because we whole heartedly strive to do what God pleases.
We are excited to see where He takes us and on fire to do what He wants. We hope you enjoy following us on this journey.
Luke 13:22-30; Luke 18:18-30; Luke 19;1-10; 1 Corinthians 13:13; 2 Corinthians 5:7; 2 Corinthians 9:12; Galatians 2:10; Galatians 5:6; Galatians 5:13
So after much prayer and spiritual confirmation we left behind our comfortable life in beautiful Bend, Oregon. We are not however going into this without doing our research and we have some goals in place. We will see how long they last because we are aware God can and might redirect us at a moments notice. Jeramie has been working as a disaster assessment inspector for the last couple of years. We hope to continue the disaster assessment work with FEMA, homeschool the kids on the road (roadschooling) and just be around as many people as possible. We are also keeping our options open to volunteer with recovery work post disaster but are waiting for God to bring us the proper venue to work with.
We both felt like we were hanging out trying to build our own little empire which limited our availibility to be used at our fullest potential by God. We understand that God will use us in whatever way we allow but it was like we were saying to him, "this is where WE have us so do what you will with us under these conditions". God stirred us both at the same time (amazing thing in itself) and changed our hearts to say instead "ok God, do what you will with us, we are ready to do anything you have for us, whatever that may mean". We became uncomfortable with being comfortable and decided to let go of american privaledge as our society and culture view it and see what happens. It has been strange, yet freeing with moments of fear sprinkled in. Its a chipping away of our personal identity. Like Zacchaeus, we jumped out of the tree. We are done putting our security in what we are able to do for ourselves and being enslaved to our postage stamp size piece of this world.
This has never been an issue of discontent with the comforts that God allowed us. We have never been without and are not at all unappreciative of the lifestyle we have been maintaining. We have come to recognize that maybe our plans for ourselves are not the absolute BEST of what God has for us. We are not caught up in the romantic dream of the freedom to do as we please but rather we are now freed because we whole heartedly strive to do what God pleases.
We are excited to see where He takes us and on fire to do what He wants. We hope you enjoy following us on this journey.
Luke 13:22-30; Luke 18:18-30; Luke 19;1-10; 1 Corinthians 13:13; 2 Corinthians 5:7; 2 Corinthians 9:12; Galatians 2:10; Galatians 5:6; Galatians 5:13
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