Camping: Family, Turtles, Dogs, Fish, and WATER MOCCASINS

We went camping with my mom's family over Memorial Day.  We had lots of fun.

And lots of food.

And lots of sweat.

Because it was hot.

But never fear!  My Uncle JimBob who never considers anything that could be classified as "fun," also "inconvenient" brought his old easy set pool.  My sister in law saw the pool and said, "Someone brought a POOL?  That's is pretty redneck.  But it's really fun too."  And it sure was.

It was the hit of the trip.

Dead Eye got a "new" boat from my cousin Diane's husband, Phil.  Maybe that was the hit of the trip.

My cousin Matt's son shot water moccasins with his BB gun.  While they were still in the water.  Perhaps that was the hit of the trip?

Chesney jumped into the pond and decided to go for a swim.  The pond is  surrounded with cattails and moss.  Grace and I were paddling about in the boat when she decided to join us.  I knew there was no way I could haul a 60 pound dog into the boat, and I didn't want her to get tangled in the reeds, so Phil called her back to shore on a log where he could drag her out.  As she swam to shore, she went straight to a heavily mossy area.   Of course.

Later that same day, the kids were switching places and Kelsey ventured out onto that very log to supervise.  And she got knocked in.  The girls started screeching and panicking, and generally over reacting.  I called her back to the same low spot on the log where Phil had drug Chesney in, grabbed her collar (the water was about 9 feet deep in that spot, per Dead Eye) and pulled her to safety where she trembled and quaked, then ran to the camp grounds where she collapsed in relief under our camper and did not move again until we returned to camp.

Perhaps that was the most memorable moment of the trip?

Oh, wait!  Maybe it was when two little boys decided to moon three little girls in the pool.  I'm pretty sure the girls won't soon forget it.  And since all I could do was chuckle in response to their humble apology, I'm not sure they were as contrite as the adult who scolded hoped when I just laughed.

Or, maybe the most memorable moment was this: 

This is my nephew.  And he almost NEVER lets me take his picture.  But this time he did!  Now, it could be because I took him fishing, and even put the worm on his hook for him.  Then I took the fish off of the hook.  Perhaps the whole worm touching, slimy fish removing thing raised me a few bars in his estimation.

Oh!  Do you see that log right up there?  That became the boat dock.  And this is the very log Kelsey fell off of (have I ever told you she HATES water?).  AND this is the exact log that Logan jumped off of to cool off.  And he learned the water was about 9 feet deep here.

And he learned that not only were there turtles, fish, and water moccasins in the pond, but the pond was also home to LEECHES!  I asked him if he's ever seen "Stand By Me."  He hadn't.  Do you remember the scene where they fall into that little swampy area, and Wil Wheaton's character discovers a leech on his "private body" in the words of my sister?  Well, I just linked that clip up to facebook for his viewing enjoyment.

I regret to report I got no pictures of the wiffle ball game.  I wish I had evidence of this unruly game.  Our rules differ somewhat from other family's wiffle ball, most glaringly by two very obvious differences:  Five strikes to get out, and to tag the person out, you simply throw the ball at them and if it nails them, they're out!

What games do you play with your family get up to whenever you get together?

Whining: It Works.

My last post ended with whining.  And all I can say about that is whining is apparently effective.

Dr. G bought us all Hideaway pizza.  Our lead tech bought us candy.  Good candy, as in Almond Joy, Whopper, Hot Tamale, and many many more varieties.

And the administration?  Well, apparently they heard my cries of injustice.  They decided (as a direct result of my blog, no doubt) to give each nurse a twenty dollar gift certificate to Bricktown!

So, don't let anyone tell you whining doesn't work.  Because it OBVIOUSLY does!

Last night we had the pleasure of attending the school band concert.  Now, some of you may feel I'm being facetious with that statement.

You would be wrong.  They are very good, and the director is really good at picking a variety of pieces that are really entertaining.  One such piece was performed by a flute ensemble.  It was one of Handel's classics.  Now, I still have my program, so I could drag my keister off of this couch and go check what it says,but I just finished an 11 hour shift with a ten minute lunch, and I fear my tush may be permanently glued to this spot...

Anyway, it was a Handel piece.  And it was very well done.  One of the flutists is the daughter of my friend.  I decided to text her regarding my enjoyment of the piece.  The following conversation took place.

Me:  When Emily played her ensemble I pretended I was in a castle and dancing promenades and we'd gently touch hands as we circled with a curtsy and gazed into each others eyes from across the aisle...I was wearing a beautiful dress with an empire waste and had a coronet of braids..

Me:  *sigh* it was so romantic

Me:  Of course I was dancing with a knight...

Me:  Just so you are clear on the details.

Roni:  This is Emily...I am glad I could be of service to u to take u on that journey..Lol...Was the knight wearing shining armor or fancy dance clothes?

Me:  Fancy dress clothes.The tights were awkward but I made sure to focus on his eyes.  And the lock of hair that undoubtedly fell over his forehead...

Me:  And he did have a big shiny sword.

Me:  I'm glad it didn't cut my lovely skirts!

Me:  I was wearing delicate embroidered slippers that were impractical but quite delicate and dainty.

Me:  Which is odd considering nothing about me is dainty.  But there ya go.

Me:  Of course in this fantasy I should say "there thee go" instead.

Roni:  Andrea, you crack me up.

Me:  My brain is a scary place to be.

And just so we're clear:  I ramble in person.  I ramble in blog form.  I ramble in text.

I ramble.

What was your latest favorite day dream?

It's Nurses Week. Where's My Present?

We went to see Avengers.  It is official:  New York City is not the place to be.  If aliens are going to attack, that will be their location of choice according to Hollywood.  And since I believe in all truths put forth by Hollywood, I will forebear to avoid New York City.

At least that's as good of an excuse as any for why I won't ever get there.  Finances could be a gigantic very small portion of my reason, but none the less...

My friend Megan apparently fractured her arm and tailbone some time ago.  She is a wise girl who realized that going to the doctor to learn if the break was real was a complete waste of time.  After all, surely pain and suffering are enough to self diagnose!

I think I have a stress fracture in my right foot from digging all of my lovely flower beds.  It has hurt for three weeks solid, and the area of pain moves around.  Now my knee hurts and I'm blaming it on my foot hurting because I'm unconsciously favoring my right foot.

My solution?  I will endeavor to avoid digging for a week or so and see if it gets better.  I will not give up and rest it.  Or go to the doctor.

Doctors are only for those who've truly given up all other avenues of healing.

Resting is for quitters.

Or stupid people who don't have the patience to heal.

Take your pick.

I found out that my Mom thinks the reason I drove so fast growing up was because I had a red car.  I regret to inform all of you that I drove fast even in her tan Taurus.  That family wagon had a governor on it that made it top out at 135 mph.  Thus I was doomed to lose every drag race I entered my sophomore year of high school.

I'm not sure my mom wants to know those facts of my life.

I got the "Safe Driver" award from the teachers one year in high school.  I was baffled by that award.  After all, I thought my speedy ways were common knowledge.  I asked my mom how they chose who got it.  Well, apparently I always had a seat belt on any time they saw me in a car.

Of course I wore a seat belt!  Did they think I was completely stupid?  Any girl driving 80 mph over the speed limit needs to wear a seat belt!  DUH!!!

This is nurse's week.  And nobody has bought me one gift.  I haven't even received my gifts from the hospital as I was swamped with PATIENT CARE.  I hate when my job gets in the way of my fun at work...The charge  nurse is supposed to bring the daily gifts to her nurses when the nurses are too busy to get them...My charge nurse is failing on this note and I've been too busy to whine to her about it.

So I'm whining to you.

I had a friend send me this for nurses day:

Yes, it's tacky.  But I think it is HILARIOUS!  And true.

My husband doesn't really want to think about that...

You probably don't either Gentle Reader.  But now it is forever in your brain.

Your welcome.

Reptile Relocation Project

I'm not sure I have enough things occupying my life.  Like flowers.  Obviously, a girl can never have too many flowers.

Fortunately, this turtle showed up at our house today.  Knowing someone at our house kills not only chickens, mice, gophers, mocking birds, but also TURTLES,it was immediately obvious to my husband that we should relocate this turtle to a better home.  And it was immediately apparent to me that perhaps I should join this family outing because: 

A) I needed a blog 

B) I thought perhaps we would spy some flowers, and therefore

C) I could perhaps manipulate certain members to aid me in the acquisition of the aforementioned flowers.

So after church we went on a reptile relocation trip...

And there just happened to be wild flowers on our route to our turtle relocation site!

Who knew?

 Well, of course I knew.

But only because I'm mildly psycho.

And tight. 

Which in my case may go hand in hand.

We released this little fellow at a nearby creek fed pond.

He quickly displayed his sliding skills by sliding right past the Bud Light box and right on down to the pond.  (Can I just say that there seems to be more beer and cigarette litter than just about anything else?)

After safely delivering our turtle, we went on a flower run.  However, some of my helpers seemed to lack the proper focus.  Girls!  Seriously?  I do NOT desire any of these in my yard.

 There was nothing to be done but take my trusty sharp shooter and moccasin clad foot and start digging...

Of course, Studmuffin dug more than his fair share of flowers.

We shall see if these paint brushes fare any better than the last ones I "relocated."  They certainly can't do worse!

Gentle Reader:  A certain canine, who does NOT eat wildlife ate an entire jalapeno plant.  Apparently, the plants themselves do not burn the palate.  I bought another jalapeno plant and added it to the multi purpose rescue bed in my front yard.

Are you tired of flower/animal posts yet?  

Too bad.  

This is all I've got.

A Beautiful Moment

Last Sunday was awkward.

Which is really not all that unusual for a person always going, going, going, who's mouth works faster than her brain, and drinks entirely too much coffee.

Anyhoo, I was asked by our worship pastor to sing on praise team with his kids while he was out leading a revival.  And I felt awkward, but decided to do it.

And then between first and second service my husband pointed out that I bumped up the average age of the group by about 8 years...He said it was like:  Oh, Dave's kids are leading worship.  Cool.  And Andrea?  Huh.

My husband.  Always there to lift me up.

Obviously after being so encouraged I was not at all uncomfortable for second service.  However, as all second services go, (hello to anyone who has to lead worship to an 8am crowd) it was energetic and I soon lost my sense of paranoia that everyone was wondering what I was doing up there with that group of kids...

And then it was over, and the preacher began.  I turned, put my mike in the stand and stooped to grab my purse and Bible that I had stashed under one of the choir chairs.

And the button on my pants popped.

And I was just relieved that it occurred as I was leaving stage after second service and not when I took a big gasp of air during the "I'll Fly Away/Some Glad Morning" medley that we had started the service with.

Becoming Their Mother

I often wonder what things my kids swear they will NEVER do that I do.  I know every mom has a sacred, super secret vow that they take that goes something like this:  I will NEVER yada yada yada like my mother did."  And maybe we do the very thing we swore we never would.  And maybe we don't.  My point is that someday my children will be making sacred super secret vows of their own (or maybe they already are) involving what they will NEVER do like me.

I had a total revelation a few weekends ago.  I was on call.  Bookworm was at a 4-H event, and Popcorn was at a birthday party, and Studmuffin was running all over Egypt while I stayed home and did yard work under the pretense that I was on call, so I obviously needed to stay home and get ridiculously filthy doing yard work..

At about 3pm, I made a firm decision.  I needed some new flowers.  Only, of course after the plethora of FREE flowers my neighbors have been giving me, I was NOT going to buy them.  So, I grabbed my shovel, a few plastic grocery sacks and I hit the road.

I drove down a dirt road and dug up a bunch of bachelor buttons* growing wild in the ditch.  Then I continued to circle until I came up behind one of my church members houses where I had spied a lovely batch of Indian paint brush at the stop sign east of her house.  I had to circle around as I once made the mistake of bicycling down her road and thought I was never going to get away from her viciously snarling dogs.  You know that feeling?  You are peddling, peddling, peddling, but they just continue to snap and snarl right at your heel and you are certain that at any moment you are going to get your achilles tendon ripped to shreds.

It is quite traumatizing.

So, I quietly drove up from the opposite direction.  I parked the car, left it running with my door open and frantically dug up those Indian paint brush as fast as I could.  I tossed them into the back hatch (which I also had open) jumped into my car and tore off as if the very hounds of hell were nipping at my heels.

And when I drove by, Donna's dogs never even left their front yard, and barely lifted their heads from their paws to give me a "WOOF!" as I passed by.

Strangely, the Indian paint brush did not survive.  And most of the bachelor buttons didn't fair too well, but I also noticed that none of them are blooming in the ditches anymore, so perhaps they are finished for the season.

 Anyway, as I relayed my story to my family later that night, they all just kind of looked at me with long silent looks.  They did not seem at all impressed with my ingenuity, but rather horrified that I would stoop to digging up flowers from the roadside!

And it occurred to  me that my children will probably have a deep loathing for all things free/bargain basement out of rebellion towards their mother who made them wear hand me downs and thrift store clothes, and who's most triumphant moments involved getting stuff for free.

But then, a small light began to flicker at the end of the tunnel.  My friend who had carted Bookworm to her 4-H event told me she didn't want to buy anything, and she wasn't sure if she had fun.  I asked her about it later, and she said, "Well, the only clothes they had that fit me were cut offs.  They wanted twenty bucks for them, and I can make my own cut offs, so I wasn't about to buy them!"

And my heart did a little leap of joy.

*Gentle Reader:  I do not know if these are truly bachelor buttons.  They look like the domestic ones, so my neighbor (the expert gardener) told me they were the "wild cousin" to the bachelor buttons you get at the store.  And I bow to her expertise.  Because I'm flying by the seat of my thread bare pants when it comes to gardening.

Oh, and speaking of thread bare pants.  The very day I was digging flowers from the roadside, I realized that the pants I was wearing were worn out to the point that you could see my hot pink panties plain as day where the crotch near the zipper gave completely out.  Sadness.  Such utter and complete sadness.

But at least my panties weren't holey!