What We Make It

Today is September 11th. The flags are flying half mast, hearts are heavy, and with solemnity we remember where we were and what we were doing nine years ago when the unthinkable happened to our country.

The anger is fading, however, the memories retreating, and our country healing. We will never forget, as we have never nor will ever forget Pearl Harbor, but we are moving on. We are still living the dream....

Instead of a heartfelt soliloquy about 9/11 and what it means to me, how about instead something fun?


Lookin' good Jerry! You in fifty years?

Sean Penn?


Argh! A one-eyed monster and his bat-foreheaded sidekick!


Well, this is a change. Jerry has a small head? Impossible!


He is so sexy I'm wondering how I'm containing my lust for him.


OMG! Don't tell Jay Leno that I am harboring his love child!


Oh the big-mouthed horror!


Loretta Lynn.

I'm sorry. I had to say it.


That big-headed alien guy from all of the movies? I've got him right here!

Give me my quantonium!


Oh, it's little-head-man's little-head child!


Hi Opie! You're lookin' swell, buddy!


Dolly Partin is so HOT! I've finally gotten her hair, now what to do about the "girls"?


Twins!!???

Heaven help me!



I hope that you all have a very memorable and heartfelt nine eleven. I hope you laugh, cry, smile, frown, eat, drink, and be merry.

Love to you all!

Fun With Dung!

Dung?

Yep.

Dung.

As in poop. Feces. Excrement.


While we were still in Del Rio living in the teeny tiny RV, we took a break from cooped up-ed-ness and took a walk around the RV park.

The kids were running up ahead when suddenly I got a call to "Mommy, HURRY!! There's a really cool bug making a ball!"

As far as I know, the only bug in our desert that makes balls are dung beetles.

A dung beetle in action?

I HURRIED!

So there it was. A real live dung beetle.

I've only heard of these dime sized beetles before and seen their remarkably fast ability to rid my yard of all dog poop in a matter of hours.

If you haven't seen the size of a Great Dane's poop pile before you'd be surprised, too. To be able to clear away one of those piles at all is a miracle, let alone within a few hours!

(When we lived in Shreveport, I never, NEVER, had to pick up the poop out of the backyard, even with two adult Great Danes using it as a toilet BID. The yard was always covered with small holes, burrowed under the now excavated poop pile. The dung beetles were happy and satiated I can guarantee!)


As we watched this dung beetle roll it's poop ball around (quite symmetrical, don't you think? And yes, it is from a missed poop pile from my dog), it suddenly stopped and began digging.

Digging like a beagle on speed.


As we watched and ooh and aah-ed, the beetle managed to dig a big enough hole for both it and the poop ball to fit quite nicely inside.


Well, there's one way to keep the yard clean.

Import dung beetles! (I sense a HUGE money making scheme brewing in my overactive imagination!)

FOR SALE: Dung Beetles. No more cleaning up after your pet. Let our beetles do it for you! Guaranteed.

Hope in My Pocket

Last summer, I started blogging to help relieve some stress from being a stay-at-home mom to three very independent and active children. My first blog was The Parent Trapped, and I enjoyed writing it very much. After starting it I found my brain again, and slowly my mind started disentangling itself from Dora and Diego and engaging in more serious thought processes.

I found myself thinking a lot about what I would post next, ideas would come to me out of nowhere, and I always had multiple topics to bore my readers with.

When we lived in Houston we had a very nice house in a nice neighborhood with great neighbors and friends. The kids went to great schools, I had a great gym, stores, and activities all really close by. But for some reason I was less happy there than I have been anywhere else.

The main reason for my dissatisfaction was because I always felt trapped, literally. The kids were young and so needed constant supervision while outside, our street was the busiest cul-de-sac on the planet, and come to find out we moms were right to keep our kids close after discovering a pedophile lived, and murdered a four year old girl four houses down from us. We were trapped inside.

I love being outside. If an activity can be done outside I'd rather be there than cooped up in a house. I love for my kids to be outside, getting sun, having fun, and stretching their muscles and brains.

That's why our move to Del Rio is so awesome for us. The weather is a billion times better than in Houston where it was too hot in the summer, too cold in the winter, and WAY to mosquito-ey during the Spring and Fall. So we were basically trapped inside all the time or else at the pool or covered from head to toe with bug spray.

Not my idea of happiness.

For the six weeks we were in Del Rio this summer, life was much better for us, despite living in really tight quarters. The kids could go out and play any time they wanted, I could go running, riding bikes, whatever, at almost every part of the day. The desert is dry and humidity sucks, did you know?

Sadly, last week we had to leave Del Rio. We are now in San Antonio where we will be living until January while Jerry does some training for his new job back at Laughlin.

We're back in the Suburbs.

We are living in a three bedroom apartment with a tandem two-car garage and plenty of space, especially compared to the RV we had been living in before we came. The area is beautiful with every modern convenience within a stones throw.

But that's the problem. We live in an apartment complex where the kids can't ride their bikes or even go play without supervision. There are no parks close enough to walk to, just the apartment pool. Luckily the pool is quite awesome.

I did enroll Paige at school for 1st grade and Josh is now going to Pre-K at the same school, so at least I don't have the homeschooling burden anymore. I found a great gym where Phoebe loves to go and they even have drop off babysitting available there so I can get a few hours of alone time once in a while.

But I'm inside almost all day. Inside a dark apartment that has only one small patio that is blocked by bug infested bushes. Not my idea of an outdoor oasis.

Now that the newness of the move is wearing off, I'm starting to feel Trapped again. I'm no longer chronicling the desert but once again The Parent Trapped.

The kids have not been doing very well either. They may seem fine, but they are driving us completely insane. When I get Paige hope from school and all three of the kids are together, it's like a crazy cloud enters the house making the kids act like wild animals. For the past three night the kids have gone to bed an hour early because Jerry and I have both hit our limits for craziness.

Apparently they're feeling trapped, too.

Before going to sleep last night, I picked up my Bible like I have so many times when I'm stressed and depressed. I flipped it open to some random page and started reading. I'm sorry that I didn't write down the verses I read because they were right on target.

It was about not losing hope, even when your days seem to run one into another with no breaks, just stress and despair and hopelessness. But if you remember that God loves and supports you and always will, you can take comfort knowing that if you just have trust in God He will in turn give you hope again. Even if you abandon God, he will never abandon you. All you have to do is turn to Him with your worries and He will give you what you need.

After reading this, I decided I had turned away from God some, depending on my own self to fulfill all of my emotional and physical needs. But I'm not strong enough for the emotional stress of parenting three wild, cooped up kids. So I talked to God saying how thankful I am for such a wonderful family, a great life, how I'm sorry for being selfish and so self-reliant, sorry for ignoring Him. I acknowledged that He is always there, has always been there for me, and is still there for me, waiting for me to remember Him. I acknowledged that I should stop worrying about my minor issues, knowing if I can just chill out that He will give me what I need to succeed in this life.

I went to bed feeling hopeful for the future; hopeful that this too shall pass.

So far, today has been a great day. I can feel a difference in my attitude and my stress level feels lower already. I'm trying really hard to just chill, be easy, and not cloud my mind with negativity. I'm trying to let God in.

I think it's working.

On my way to pick up Josh from pre-K, Phoebe and I were walking on a sidewalk toward the school. In my peripheral vision I noticed a rock. Now, there are a lot of rocks in the mud around here and I have walked this same sidewalk a few dozens times. But for some reason this brown rock in the brown mud caught my eye.

When I stopped to look at it, I noticed there was some strange shapes on the rock. After bending down to pick it up, I realized it was a polished stone with the word Hope engraved on one side.

If that's not a clear message from God, I don't know what is.

I wiped the mud off of the stone and plunked it in my pocket.

I can't help but have Hope now. I'll be carrying it around in my pocket.

Life is Like a Tire Swing

A few weeks ago, Jerry's parents came down to the desert to visit us. They had been to Del Rio once before when we lived here a million years ago.

Not much had changed, at least in town.

But we have changed a lot since those childless carefree days.

Now we are two plus three.


Near our camper was this awesome park and picnic area. The kids had fun playing on the playgrounds, building sand castles, and swinging on the swings, especially the tire swings.

Jerry doesn't believe in easing anybody into anything. So when the kids asked him to push them on the tire swing he had two speeds of pushing: Not at all, or faster than the speed of light.

Our children will have no choice but to be tough!


Phoebe isn't scared of death defying acts of areal acrobatics so when Paige begged Jerry to stop them for a few minutes so she could barf, Phoebe decided to hop on board for her own ride on the Vomit Comet.


With all three kids on board, I thought it would be a cool picture to get all three sets of feet from underneath them as they zoomed around overhead. You know, something different and artist.

But it was all sandy under there so I opted to hold the camera under them and blindly snap the picture when I thought they were overhead.

I have ten thousand pictures of butts, sky, and blur.

And also a few a good ones that show not feet but faces. True moments of carefree fun.


Phoebe's face is gorgeous in the evening glow while Papa watches his son try to spin his children into pretzels.


And Josh looks like he's the happiest little boy on the planet, zooming around in circles with his girls on both sides.


Later, Papa had his turn pushing the kids on the swings, too.


It's funny how women are content pushing kids back and forth, back and forth, maybe singing songs or tickling hineys as they approach.


But we never feel the urge to pretend that the child kicked us over with their wild feet!


But that's one good thing about Grandpa's. They don't mind getting all sandy for the sake of a belly laugh and smile from their grandkids.

Despicable Me

Not only do I write blogs, I also like to read them. I have my favorites that I read on a regular basis, but I also like to Blogger surf* when I have an extra two seconds to spare.

*To surf Blogger, all you have to do is click on the link at the top of my blog that says NEXT BLOG. That nifty little link will send you to random blogs that usually are of the same subject** of the blog you are currently reading.

**Not always though. Once I surfed from my Parent Trapped website which was a mom-going-crazy kind of blog and Blogger only directed me to other blogs all written in Arabic. Um. Not sure how that happened!

Anyway.

I have noticed a startling trend on some of the other random blogs I've read. Some of my fellow bloggers it seems have been reduced to passive aggressive begging of their readers. What they do is talk ad nauseum about something they like, something they have to have, something they can't afford.

Ahh, there's the key. Something they can't afford but are hoping one of their readers will send to them for free. Sometimes is small things like a book or music, other times it's a bit more.

I think this practice of luring readers to send the blogger free items is just deplorable.

I mean, only real low-lifes would dream of doing such a thing.


I can't imagine asking my readers to pay for this Porsche Cayman for me. Sure I would love to have this car. It's gorgeous, perfect for the track, and reasonably priced at only $61,000. True Jerry has a fun weekend car while I'm stuck driving a stinky, old, falling apart Suburban after he's sold both of my favorite Acura's from underneath me.

But asking for this car would be wrong.


It would be wrong to hint to my readers that I would be almost equally as happy with these impractical heels. I have nowhere to wear them, the heels are too high, and I'm sure they would hurt my feet.

Even though my calves and legs would look terrific in these shoes and I would guarantee them a good night out if I were ever to receive these heels, it would be horrible for me to put pressure on my readers to supply them for my personal enjoyment.If my readers can't afford a Porsche or a fancy pair of heels for me, it would be too much for me to ask them to buy me a pack of gum.

It would be wrong to have to ask my readers to supply me with a healthy mouth, fresh breath, and a whiter smile.

I would never, ever, ever resort to such low level tactics.

I'm too good for that.

How to Make Prickly Pear Jelly the Right Way

Do you remember when I made prickly pear juice a few weeks ago and left you in suspense about what to do with it?

Well, if you followed those directions then please throw the juice away, pour it down the drain, whatever, but just get rid of it. It will be gross.

Then go out and try it this way:


OK, the trick to picking ripe prickly pears is to wait until the end of August or so and keep an eye on the cactus. When the fruit starts falling off from being too ripe it's time to harvest.


The type of prickly pear we have here produce dark purple/magenta fruit, the darker the sweeter the better.

Use tongs and put a bunch into a pail or bucket. We picked about 50 or so. They should be dark and slightly soft and easy to pull off of the pads.


Watch out. They hurt!


I picked the ones on the bottom while Jerry could reach the fat juicy ones buried deep within the cactus.

It's fun harvesting the tuna!


But what the heck are those! Where did those wrinkles around my eyes come from? OMG. I should always wear make-up and sunglasses.

Sorry. I digress.

Once you get the fruit home, give them a good rinse in the sink to remove the dirt and mystery bits. I had a spider pop out at me while doing this step.

I screamed and Jerry laughed at me.


Still using the tongs, grasp each fruit and with a really sharp knife slice the fruit length-wise.


This is what it looks like inside. I would say this fruit isn't ripe enough to use yet. The best ones are deep, deep red, like dried up blood. (I have made future batches with the ripest fruit only. So, so pretty!)


Put an inch or so of water in a big pot and add the fruit. Bring to a boil over high heat pushing the fruit down into the water with a spoon or masher.


Boil and smash the fruit for thirty minutes. The little glochids on the fruit will dissolve in the hot water.

Yes, they really, really will.


Next, gently pour the mashed pears into a cheese-cloth lined container to separate the juice from the bits.

Like my zip ties I used to secure the cheese-cloth? Yep, in-camper improvisation.


Let the juice drain on it's own. It can take a few hours to get the maximum amount of juice. Don't be tempted to squeeze extra juice out because it will break down the natural pectin in the juice.

Doesn't this kind of look like a heart?


Once you have the juice, you can store it in the fridge and use it in drinks or other recipes. Or you can (try) to make prickly pear jelly.

In the boxes of pectin there were instructions for making jams and jellies of common things like grapes or blackberries. Can you believe they didn't have instructions for prickly pear?

So I winged it.

Over high heat stir in one box of pectin per three cups of juice, stirring constantly.

When it's boiling like crazy add the sugar. Use one more cup of sugar than you have cups of juice. I had about 6 cups of juice so I used 7 cups of sugar.

Stir constantly until it boils again and keep stirring and boiling for one minute.

(Make sure you have your jars clean and ready for the juice.)


Remove from heat and carefully pour the jelly-to-be into jars. It will be messy.

Leave about a quarter of an inch at the top of the jelly so it has room to expand.


Oh, and make sure you spill as much sugar as you can so you are guaranteed to get ants in your camper.


Clean the rims of the jars and then add lids and bands. Don't tighten the bands too tight or the jars can crack while processing them.


Put the sealed jars into a pot of water and bring to a boil. Leave in the boiling water for 10 minutes to kill germs and seal the jars.


Carefully remove the jars from the water and wait to hear the POP of the jars sealing. When the jars are properly sealed you won't be able to push the center dot up and down. The dot should be stuck down.

Wait a few hours or a few days to see if it jells. If not follow the remaking directions in the packet of pectin.

It will work.

If they do jell you will have a batch of some very interesting tasting jelly. Jerry and his parents really like it. Me, not so much. It's not bad, it's just different.

Want to try some?

Leave me a comment and I'll arrange to get one for you to try! (Limit 6 free jars.)

If you're brave enough!!!