Ravin's Ramblings

Tuesday morning a 50 year old mystery was solved. With the help of some strangers from Colorado, the support of my sister, and a report from the National Transportation Board of Safety, I learned that the brother I had never met passed away in 1993. He was one year younger than I am now when he died. Life is not fair and sometimes it is down right cruel.

Tuesday afternoon, I had the horrible task of telling my terminally ill father the news. I would have given anything not to have to tell him but he was going to find out if I told him or not. I wanted him to hear from a family member instead of a stranger or God forbid, reading it on the CNN ticker (I will not go in to why that was a legitimate fear). It is the worst thing in the world to rob a man of hope. We were all so sure this story would have a happy ending.

For the first time in my life, I find myself having serious faith questions. I never wavered when my father was diagnosed with mantle cell lymphoma. I never wavered when I nearly died after my son was born. I never wavered when my sister nearly died in a car accident or even when my husband went to war. This event, though…it’s too cruel.

Why is it that this cannot have a happy ending? My father held on to hope for nearly 50 years that he would find my brother, who was just a little boy when he was stolen from him. He kept his faith. He never faltered. We searched for years. Thousands have been spent trying to track him down. It is adding insult to injury knowing that in addition to everything else, we were most likely scammed. That parasites just saw an opportunity to make a buck. Why did my father not learn of this before now? Why was he never informed?

At first, I only felt how it affected my father. But now that I’ve had some time to think and absorb, there is a definite hole in my life. A void where there had always been hope and purpose, and now there is no reason to keep looking, no hope of meeting my brother, of seeing he and my father reunited, of ever even buying him a beer. I don’t understand how I can mourn the loss of someone I’ve never met, but I am. It’s there, this empty space where my brother was once out there and alive somewhere, and now he’s not.

I find my faith somehow…lacking when it comes to this situation. I’ve been curious on what other people believe. After a few glasses of wine last nigh, I probed my friends somewhat relentlessly on their experiences with the afterlife. Did they believe in ghosts, did they believe in reincarnation (apart from the Christian beliefs), did they think that you might get the opportunity to do it all over again. Would it be possible that somewhere out there, my brother is still hanging around, waiting to send a message to my father, or coming back in the form of a newborn babe.

I find that I want the bible to have gotten it wrong, that we don’t have to wait until we die to be reunited with our loved ones. That there is still a possibility for this story to have a happy ending. I suppose if I were Catholic, I would feel guilty over this. But God and I are tight. He knows I need some time. And I know my Dad’s happy ending went to someone else.

There is divine irony in this terrible story. When I was 16 years old, two years after I stole my first glimpse into a shoebox that was the remains of this other life my father had before my sister and I were born, I decided I was going to look for my brother. There was this new thing out there, called the internet, and maybe I could use it to locate him. So I enlisted the help of my best friend, Jon, and he brought me a list of everyone by that name in the United States and their addresses and phone numbers. I contacted all of them. One was the same age, and many other similarities. They were both C. Brian and went by Brian. Instead of sharing my brother’s birthday, he shared the day but the month was one month earlier. He also had not seen his father since he was five. Unfortunately, the more we talked, the more we learned we were not actually related. His father’s name was Edward and his mother’s name was totally different.

Crestfallen that he was not my long lost brother, but still feeling a sort of shared camaraderie with him, I did what I would want someone to do for my own brother in that situation. With my friend Jon’s help at procuring the information, a list of all of the Edwards in the US that shared the same name as his father and their contact information, I sent it to the other Brian. I included a note that wished him luck. I never heard from him again.

However, a year and a half later, I got a Christmas card from his mother. She included a letter and a photo. The other Brian had been reunited with his father. Their happy reunion occurred a few months before his father’s death. I always thought that story was proof of God’s divine intervention. A butterfly flaps it’s wings in the Amazon and the result is a dying man gets to be reunited with his son before he passes over. Now I’m just filled with the question of why. Why does the other Brian have a happy ending but my Brian does not?

If only I had more courage. If only I’d started my search a few years earlier, maybe I would have found something. If only...If, if, if….why, why, why?

When I was a kid, we had this one old momma farm cat that would go around stealing all the other momma’s kittens. Even at the age of 6 I thought this was curious behavior. She likes having a dozen kittens from several litters crawling all over her? Apparently she did because she would purr so loudly when she was with them and she would smile (yes, cats smile).

Tonight I had my nephew, who is six months younger than my son. He's having his first overnight. My heart mealted like warm butter dripping down fresh out of the oven bread as I watched the two play together. We had a wonderful time tonight. We ate messy meals and gave sticky hugs. We did all the things you're not supposed to do, like blow bubbles in our chocolate milk and play with rubber balls in the house. I loved loved loved the sound of children’s giggles filling up this empty house.

It made me realize something. My sister better watch out—I think I’m about to steal her kiddo.

The following are old blog entries from a source I don’t keep anymore. Mostly they are the baby momma drama I experienced during my son's first year of life. In no way do I expect you to read through this. I just wanted to have everything in one space. Bear with me :)

Well, my maternity leave started today. And that makes me irritated. I wanted to work up until I had the baby but the doctor put me on bed rest. Apparently my body is "experiencing trauma" which sounds worse than I think it is. See, the baby is taking up a lot of space and hasn’t dropped yet, so he’s pushing on all my internal organs and ribs…the nice thing is that my body is producing this little chemical which makes everything really flexible s

o nothing breaks…but also means I feel like my ribs are inside out and shaped like chicken wings.

I know, it sounds silly. People go to work with rib pain all the time. I tried it on Monday. Well, the thing is, the pain grows increasingly worse with sitting. This is problematic because I sit at a desk most of the day…except when I have to go to meetings or deliver print samples, then I have to walk around…this is also problematic because the rib pain is made worse by these things. We’re not talking small pain here, we’re talking pain that makes you scream (which doesn’t help because it just hurts more and scares the puppy, plus it makes your co-workers uncomfortable, so I don’t recommend it). The doctor can’t give me anything for it. So here I am, three weeks from my due date and starting maternity leave.

You can understand why I’m a little frowny faced, I’m sure. See, you only get so much paid time for maternity leave…even though state law says I get up to 12 weeks, it’s not all paid. I don’t know about you, but I cannot afford to go without a paycheck. The more time I have to take off before this little guy comes, the less time I’ll have to spend with him once he’s finally here! Hence the irritation.

And it’s not like "vacation" because I can’t "do" anything. I tried to shampoo the carpet the other day and was laid up the rest of the night from it. And the carpet shampooer is motorized! It’s not like I was lifting or pushing anything heavy! Grrr. I’m done being pregnant. My husband gets to carry the next one.

So I always thought "nesting" referred to just getting the nursery ready for the baby. Well that’s been done for a while. I think I was wrong. I was struck down by what I can only describe as an unnatural and urgent need to clean today. I was looking around the house today (which was mostly organized by my standards) thinking, MY GOD! I can’t bring a baby home from the hospital to this germ infested, dust ridden, plague harboring infestation of filth!

This was crazy woman cleaning. So strong was this urge I begged my mom to come down and help me because I was completely overwhelmed by everything that just NEEDED to get done. After I was done with the usual vaccuuming and washing up, I felt like things weren’t organized

enough. So I organized the DVD collection by genra and then alphabetical order...but I couldn’t stop there! I had to organize my scrap booking things, and my sewing things, and my home office things..and take a level to the pictures hanging on the wall and afix velcro to the back of the frame and then to the wall so they would stay straight!

This is not normal! It was girls gone wild with cleaning supplies! Polishing the furniture cleaning. Washing the candle holders and scrubbing down the walls with bleach and water cleaning! I even deep cleaned the baseboards, windows, and doors! Dear GOD, I’ve developed an OCD! Even as I type this I’m thinking about things I forgot to clean and I’m wondering if I’ll be too exhausted to continue cleaning if I run to the store at 11pm to pick up some pledge for electronics! SOMEONE

HELP ME!!!

Friday April 11, around 8:00 in the morning I was enjoying a nice cup of coffee when my water broke. Quite calm, I let my husband know we were not going to the hospital until I had showered and put on makeup. By the time we got to the hospital my contractions had started but they weren't very regular. The doctor decided at 1pm to give me pitocin.

I would just like to say here and now to anyone out there if you EVER hear the word pitocin

mentioned, ask for the epidural first! The pitocin made me have continuous contractions, no break in between, and stronger than Mother Nature's version. I waited until I was 7cm and it was about 7pm before I got epidural. I'd like to say it's because I'm a rock star, but the truth of the matter is the anesthesiologist was just that busy (I was 4th on her list). If she had been any later getting to the room, I would have been out of luck! I would also like to advise that if you're EVER offered an epidural, DON'T SAY NO! You know it's bad when your delivery doctor is ordering up more pain meds that you didn't even ask for just to get you through until the anesthesiologist arrives.

15 minutes after the epidural kicked in I was at 10 cm and ready to go...I have a feeling I was past the 7cm cut off when the doctor got there to administer the epidural but she just felt so bad for me she gave it to me anyway. Well, it didn't take very many attempts of me pushing before

the doctor told me to stop because something was wrong. Zander's heart rate dropped after each contraction and didn't come back up. The doctor decided to do an emergency c-section.

I wouldn't have been scared, except they sounded scared. Then the room filled up with nurses and other doctors and five people were talking to me at once and no one would tell me that Zander was going to be okay and I started to get very cold and shake and cry. Everyone was so busy no one except Chris even noticed.

Chris stayed with me the entire time except for a few minutes when they were prepping me in the OR. He held my hand through the entire surgery and I felt them pull the baby out, push on me and things inside of me shifting, but I was not in any pain. I remember the doctor telling me

his umbilical chord was wrapped around his neck twice.

I heard Zander scream and scream and I remember feeling guilty because I thought I should have a maternal instinct to comfort him but all I thought was that it didn't matter what happened to me next because he was screaming so that meant he was okay. It wasn't depression or drama or maternal instinct or sense of accomplishment, just a very strange and detached acceptance.

Chris told me later that they asked me if I wanted to see Zander and I told them no because I was shaking too badly. I remember shaking, but not any of the rest. Chris told me I was shaking so badly in my upper body he was worried I was having a seizure. I remember that Chris told

the nurse he didn't want to see the baby until I had seen him. I also remember the nurses being surprised and getting more nurses to come watch because Zander lifted his head up and rolled over on his side from his belly. I guess it's not normal for newborns to be able to do that. Well, my ribs could have told them how many summersaults he does during the day!

When all was said and done he was officially born at 9:25 p.m. on 4/11/08. He weighed 7lbs 13oz and was 20.5" long. He is the most beautiful boy and a little miracle in every way. His father and I are ridiculously proud!

A short but necessary update for everyone who has wondered if I dropped off the planet. After returning home from the hospital April 14, I was readmitted April 16 with the same type of "rib pain" that had caused me to take maternity leave earlier than I wanted. A day and a half after I was admitted and provided the best narcotics on tap to control the pain, the doctors did an exploratory surgery. The surgery was a last resort because they could not come up with a diagnosis.

They removed my appendix, part of my colon, and numerous adhesions that were a result of an unusual condition called Peritonititis caused by an allergic reaction to amniotic fluid. The worst part of the entire ordeal was being away from Zander. But, nine days later I am back at home

with my little guy and very exhausted. I am so happy to finally be here at home and so grateful for the help of the Grandmas. Neither Zander, Chris, or I could have survived this without your continued support.

I am truly blessed with amazing friends. Thank you all so much for all the yummy dinners and cookies you made for us along with the well wishes and emails! The meals were especially a big help. Those first few days out of the hospital it was all I could do to take care of myself so those meals were a HUGE help! My mom has been staying with Chris and I and I know she

appreciated not having to cook for me in addition to helping out with the baby! Also a huge thank you to my mother-in-law who stayed with Chris and the baby the entire time I was in the hospital. Your help is so much appreciated! I don't tell you this often enough, but you're all amazing and your kindness is very much appreciated!!!

So yeah. This morning I had lab work and a CT scan at the hospital. It sucked. The CT scan was with and without contrast, which meant I needed an IV and they were going to inject me with a radioactive dye that hurts so bad you would rather gnaw off your arm than go through that

experience again. Now, there isn't an unbruised vein left in my body. I already knew how much fun the "contrast" was from my previous stay in the hospital, but when I learned I would not be able to feed the baby for the next 24 hrs (a sensitive subject for this momma) I did what any postpartum woman who has been poked, prodded, cut up, and torn asunder would do. I cried. I had a little postpartum meltdown right there in the CT room.

Well, the radiologist must have felt really bad for me because he gave me a hospital gift certificate (I know, right?)! I was all "Hospital...Gift certificate?" *blink blink* and he was like "You can use it for any of our services." He was very enthusiastic about it and acting like I should be super happy...Which kind of had the opposite affect he was looking for because I started crying again. In my mind I was picturing Bob Barker saying "Rob, tell her what she just won!"

with the response in typical game show announcer voice "You've just won $25 off your next CT scan and cafeteria meal!" I seriously questioned the credibility of the hospital. I thanked him anyway, because he seemed to think he was helping, and I left (he was clearly happy to be rid of the ungrateful crazy lady).

In the elevator I actually read the gift certificate. Turns out the hospital has a woman's center...and in this woman's center is a spa...and this spa has services like facials assages. Score!

...poor radiologist...

Well, I had a check up. Things I am officially allowed to do…Lift Zander (but only Zander). This is good because I've been lifting him and carrying him around for some time. I am officially allowed to eat whatever I want. Yay for me because I've been daydreaming about Mondo's Grilled Salmon BLT (without the bacon) for a while now. I am also officially allowed to walk for 10 minutes 3 – 4 times a day. This will be a slight change from my recent habit of thinking I'm better than I really am, going out to run errands, then spending the rest of the day on heavy narcotics because apparently I wasn't as healed as I thought I was. ...But...My FAVORITE thing I'm allowed to do now is take a bath! It's been MONTHS since I had an honest to God soak in the tub with bubbles and bath bombs and candles and relaxing music and I can't wait until I pick up my stuff from Lush!

Things I'm not allowed to do…Lift anything over 10 lbs (except Zander). Walk up steps. Go back to work until further notice. Drive while on pain meds. Throw up (which isn't easy when you have to change some of Zander's blow outs), develop a hernia, or become constipated (these make me chuckle even though I know there would be serious medical ramifications). Finally, I'm not allowed to nurse anymore…I can't say this surprised me in all honesty. Still, I am surprised by the mix of emotions, guilt, relief, and (quite irrationally) incompetence. I know he'll be fine on formula. Obviously he'll be fine, after all he made it the entire time I was in the hospital on formula...And when you're recovering from being cut open five time, having bits and pieces of your body torn out of you, and having your baby pulled from inside your abdomen your body needs good stuff to recover, unfortunately all the good stuff was going into the milk...good for

baby, bad for mommy. I hope this means I'll recover more rapidly now.

It's hard to believe that it's been one month since my brush with death. I think I should be more recovered than I am. Maybe if I stop over doing things and stick to the doctor's plan it will help. But the doctor's plan is so darn...boring! I have a secret suspicion that the bubble baths will help the most. In fact, I think it would be a FABULOUS idea to spend my economic stimulus check on a jet tub. I'm only looking out for the global economy here…It's probably even my patriotic duty. The President wants me to have a jet tub and who am I to argue?

Child wellbeing comes first. This new daycare Chris and I found will need to have a trial run. If it doesn't work out, I'll need some time to find another daycare. So, today Zander has his first day away from me. I haven't decided if he'll go there for a couple of hours every day this week (read nap time for me) or two or three full days.

Yesterday, just the possibility of having some time to myself made me want to giggle with the deep knowledge that I am probably doing something delightfully wrong (like eating chocolate). This morning, however, was a completely different story. I bawled like a baby and am riddled with feelings of guilt for abandoning my child to the care complete strangers for an entire day! What's worse, when I pick him up this afternoon, it will be to bring him to get his two-month

vaccines! He'll be so happy to see me and then I will betray him by bringing him to his torturer so he can be afflicted with mercury-free physical pain. No wonder he giggles and smiles every time he sees his dad. He's happy to be rescued from me! I'd better start looking for a good therapist now. Clearly this kid is going to need it.

Torturers have known for centuries the best way to induce psychosis is through interrupted sleep patterns (ironic for new mothers, no?) and thus bend the will of their enemy to their own devices. You see…such sleep deprivation is like taking a rag of ether over the face of your little

shoulder angel and tucking him soundly into bed (glad he's able to get some sleep!).

My husband already considers me armed and dangerous because I've had nothing but time and memorized credit card numbers on my hands since March...Well, in my latest moment of late night baby feeding brilliance, I almost bought Aqua Globes from an infomercial. Never worry about over watering again? Go up to two weeks between watering? This is exactly what I need to end my secret shame and (at last) turn my black thumb green! They're absolutely right, I do need this! I need this right now!

Just as I was picking up the phone to place an order that little, clever, rational shoulder angel woke and said..."Wait, put the phone down...you don't even own a houseplant...."

My friend Valerie called me today. She's going to be passing through town next week on her way to a wedding in the U.P.. Better yet, if her travel plans and Zander's batism permit, there is a possibility Zander and I may accompany her to those white sand beachesand clear blue waters. I'm excited about prospect seeing old friends, favorite aunts, and in-laws…not to mention taking Zander to the beach for the first time!

I discovered most inconveniently today that every bridge in town has been closed for what

they're calling the 500 Year Flood. Our home is fine…even if it does now contain an indoor pool in the weight room. Once again, we lucked out with falling just shy of the emergency evacuation zone.

The last three weeks, living here has been, I imagine, comparable to going through a Blitzkrieg. Emergency sirens have been going off almost nightly, some times multiple times a day. We've suffered first from straight winds (winds over 50 mph—ours were at 70 mph but just south of us they were measuring at 100 mph) then tornados and most recently with evacuation notices due to flooding. At one point in time, probably only the second time in my life I've ever been scared by a tornado, they actually interrupted the emergency broadcast which was politely telling everyone to seek shelter immediately for a more urgent emergency broadcast. The more urgent

emergency broadcast pretty much said get the f--- down in your basements right the f--- now! That would have been when the EF-5 went through just north of us.

For my Yooper friends who may be unaccustomed to tornados, the rank means friggin' huge—total destruction. There is no classification higer. The estimated wind speed was over 250 mph. The tornado itself was 1.2 miles wide and had a destruction path of 42 miles. It decimated a town to the northwest of here called Parkersberg. Look closely at this picture and notice how the bark has been completely stripped from the trees by the dust and dirt moving over 250 mph through tornado...like a 1.2 mile wide sand blaster. I honestly do not know how anyone managed to survive that event. .

And finally, the earthquake that occurred in Iowa. The epicenter originated in IL, but had over a 250 mi radius. I was in the hospital at the time recovering from my untimely abdominal surgery. The nurses thought I was delirious because I kept asking them to move the fan since it was shaking the bed. They assured me it was no where near touching my bed. Turned out, to everyone's surprise, it was an earthquake.

If this is not a sign of an impending apocalypse, I don't know what is! Honestly, these communities cannot handle much more of Mother Nature physically or economically. I believe my friend Sarah put it best when she said 2008 has been a year to simply endure and then celebrate it's ending.

Sorry for the long silence, this will be a quick update...My father is finished with his chemo for the time being. Thank you for all your prayers on the matter, please keep them up. I am now an official Auntie. My sister-in-law had a beautiful baby girl yesterday morning. My friend Ben is back in the states after a year long deployment to Kosovo and returns to his family tomorrow. I had a wonderful visit over my birthday from my friend Val who now lives in CO, not to mention probably the best birthday ever...my husband took me to the spa, followed by shopping, lunch, and a surprise birthday party! I had my gallbladder taken out yesterday, which I hope will end the trips to the ER. So really, I have a lot for which to be thankful. Again, thank you everyone for your prayers and please keep them coming. I very much appreciate and love you all!

I sing to my son all the time. Mostly I sing while he's eating, to try to coax him into a nap. I can't help it. It's what I do. Last night, for the very first time, he looked at me when I sang, his big blue eyes sparkling. He looked at me as if it were the first time he'd realized I was singing and it was just for him…and gave me one of his big toothless grins, and I think it meant "Mama, you're singing!"

Diagnosed at stage 4, Dad's cancer is in remission.

Halleluja!

Let's see…what drama to add to my already drama filled year? Oh, how 'bout my six month old getting influenza A? But no, that's not enough, let's have mommy and baby also get in a car accident on 380 during rush hour…Oh wait, we're still not done! Surprise, your sister is in the hospital. I know you wanted to go visit but darn, the entire household came down with gastroenteritis and it's highly infectious (This was in October. I actually wound up back in the hospital ER with that and my newly healed incisions couldn't handle it. It actually caused a hernia which they were able to detect the following March when I wound up in the hospital in CA with the same thing)! And to top it all off??? DH's got some great job offers…the only problem is

they're traveling positions and the family doesn't get to go with.

I was reading back through my pre-baby days...it's so hard to imagine life without the little crumb crusher right now. I found this little gem about my husband and wanted to share.

March 27th, 2008...

The nursery is all ready. With such generous gifts we received from the baby shower combined with my husband's thoughtfulness we have everything we need. Chris really was instrumental in getting the nursery put together. He took my registry with him to the PX last time he was there and went down the list.

Crib. His wife wanted a crib. So in efficient Chris logic, he found the crib with the highest safety rating, most features, and best price. It doesn't look a thing like the crib on the registry, but it is a very sturdy and practical crib. Rug. His wife wanted a rug. The one on the registry was this puny little 4x4 bright colored thing that didn't cover any space at all, wouldn't protect the hardwood floors in the nursery (clearly that's the only reason one would put a rug down) and certainly wouldn't keep the little guy's feet from getting cold when he started crawling and walking. On top of all that, it was expensive (because it was a combination play mat / area rug that had it's own little streetscape)! So after looking around for something that wouldn't "clash"

with the royal blue walls of the nursery, he found himself a 12x12 industrial gray Army issue area rug, not only is it practical and won't show smashed in crayon or play dough but it was cost effective too! We will surely get many more years out of it than we would have the little 4x4 rug on the registry. A few of the other items on the registry went the same way.

Hours later, he came home, grinning like a Cheshire cat over what a great job he's done at this "dad thing". He got almost every piece of furniture on the registry. He presented me with each treasure one by one, making a big deal of going over all the features on each one and how they compared to the others at the PX. He put so much effort into this it was really infections. Pretty soon I was smiling like a Cheshire cat right along with him. He was so clearly enthusiastic about

the entire experience that I couldn't help but be pleased and excited for him.

Zander learned to clap today! He spent a good portion of the evening clapping and giggling. What a little cutie pie!!

I also received software training today. Just one more little step and I will be all set up to work from home. I will be doing the legal billing for a law office. Yay! I'm contributing to the family income again! It may not be what I was making at Pearson, but I get to work from home and set

my own hours.

My son’s recently started the habit of putting things in other things. A tennis ball in the dog food, Cheerios in the jack-in-the-box, or fingers in well…anything really. Today he discovered the toilet. There were moments of long silence followed by uproarious laughter (which is usually my first clue that he’s probably getting into trouble) and then a splash splash splash followed by a heart stopping moment of OMG I didn’t close the baby gate!!!

He found the puppy’s Kong and was trying to submerge it in the toilet…except it magically defies gravity and keeps popping up to the surface! The dog was huddled near the bathtub with a forlorn whine at each of his giggles.

I had to explain to my son there is a gateway to a parallel dimension in the toilet that sucks everything down into a land made only of green peas and doctor visits and the things that go there never EVER return? The look on his face looked very similar to this

Chris came home around 1am Thursday morning, adding an extra two days to his normal visit. Z woke up to the sound of our voices and instantly insisted on greeting him. We listened for about ten minutes as he tried to negotiate with the dog. "All done?" he would say, jumping up and down in his crib. "Puh-y, wan get down?" Finally, he heard our laughter, realized we could hear him and his pleadings turned into crib shakes and screams.

His normal mommy-centric behavior curbed with Daddy home meant I could do things that I wanted to do and not have to worry about how toddler friendly they were. We're talking anything I wanted! I felt like I'd just won the lotto! Golden opportunities lay before me with endless possibilities. So, when Chris took Z to the park for a little father/son time...I took a nap, went grocery shopping, and had a bubble bath. Oh, I also had a beer. I am such a rebel!

We went down to the farm for a bonfire. It was an amazing day. Z followed Chris around all day like his shadow, except when he was announcing "Bye-bye!" and wandering off to climb up the grain elevator or play in the patch of nettles and poison ivy. Friends and family joined us. The paintball never quite got off the ground because everyone was too busy sitting around talking and catching up. But the 4 wheeler rides were a big hit with the kids. Especially splashing through the creek and hitting bumps that sent them airborne for a nanosecond, rear ends off the bike, arms cluched in a choke hold around Rob, the driver.


When Rob returned, he held out his arms and said he'd trade me. I looked at my little carameled apple sticky faced boy and thought you've got to be kidding! But he wasn't, he took Z, and let his little grabby paws tangle up his beard and hair and gave me a few quick lessons on where the brakes and gas were on the quad bike. I nearly cackled as I drove away, thinking I could be in Tiajuanna sipping on margaritas and no one would know where to look for me!

There was a bonfire. We touched off a 10 ft tall pile of brush that we had been collecting all spring and summer. We roasted brats and hot dogs and made s'mores. We crunched on apples and carrots and celery. We sipped on 7up and coke and beer and we told stories from 150 years ago about the lights that used to follow the horses through the timber. Spencer, a sage 7 yr old, announced that the lights were a gateway to the other side, and we all agreed that this was probably correct. Or maybe just swamp gas.

(the moon through the clouds at the farm)