Back to the grind.

You'll all be happy to know we have survived two full days of school and we are no worse for wear.

At least I don't think so.

The weather has been nice - perfectly fall-like - and I have been busy tackling stuff I put off all summer while we were gallivanting all over God's creation pretending like the laundry would do itself and summer would last forever.

Summer's over, people. OH. VUR. (I'm saying this to myself and my children as much as anyone else.)

And sadly, there is no laundry fairy. Hmph.

So while we all adjust to earlier mornings again and the kids settle into their school day routines, I get back on task here at home. There is much to do. It's no wonder I always felt frantic when I was working full time and the house was chaos. Now I'm here all the time and trying to do all those extra little home maintenance things that got put off because we never had time. Oh, and some fun stuff too. And raise a coupla' kids and a few animals and some fresh tomatoes along the way. And write. Because writing = breathing for me, and breathing is important.

Also important: daddy! Steve is going to be home for the weekend and I can hardly wait. If I could keep him locked up at home and all to myself I would, but the likelihood of that it pretty slim. And that would be pretty selfish of me anyway.

I have a bunch of pictures from summer that I had intended to share, but in the interest of ... well, keeping things interesting ... I'll just post a couple of my favorites.

 Checkin' out Endless Caverns in New Market, Virginia.

Cool cavern pic.

Seriously, it was amazing.

 Pretty farm view. Just because.

This is what I picture in my mind when I think of Virginia.

 The kids taking in the view at one of the stops along the Skyline Drive in Shenandoah National Park.

Butterflies and bumblebees. They were everywhere at this particular overlook.

My loves.

 

The story of my life. Blurriness and all.

I don't know why, this picture just cracks me up.

So there you have it - a glimpse at how we spent much of August. I have missed blogging and I'm happy to have a little more time to get back to it regularly now. Lots of little things I've been wanting to share just so I can remember them myself in a year or twelve. Onward!

Fake it 'til you make it.

There was this time during my college days that for some reason Steve was on campus with me ... probably a weekend when we went to see a play or something, as I was the editor of the entertainment section of the college newspaper and covered a lot of productions and visiting artists. As we worked our way around campus, he would hang back while I approached people for interviews, and at some point Steve commented to me that he didn't know how I could just walk up to people and start talking to them and asking questions.

I took it as an amazing compliment from my boyfriend-at-the-time, this guy who had already gone out into the world and begun to make a living for himself. Someone I looked up to.

I've remembered that moment all these years, and while that feather in my cap is a little dusty these days I still think of how I felt that day - how proud I was - at times when I need a little boost in morale. I was a confident gal and I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life. Through four-plus years of college I never once wavered in my choice of majors - it was journalism all the way, baby.

Fast forward a few (or several) years through graduating college, getting married and having a baby, landing that job as a reporter - not the dream job with National Geographic, but the dream job at the hometown daily - and then buying a house and having another baby. Life happened in all kinds of ways and after just a few years in my dream career I felt called to be at home with those babies. So in my head and in my heart I made a plan, and I prayed that God would open doors for our family and allow it to happen.

You know what having children does to you? It humbles you. It reminds you that you are a very small player in this Great Big World and oh, by the way, you're probably doing it all wrong.

It also messes with your hormones. Looking back, I'm pretty sure a smidge of post-partum depression kept its gnarly fingers wrapped around my brain and blocking my face from the sunshine for months after Rachel was born. But that's a whole series of posts for another time.

My point here is ... somewhere along the way I lost my mojo. I still loved writing, but I didn't like being a reporter anymore. So after many sleepless nights, countless conversations with Steve about it, lots of analyzing and re-analyzing, I jumped ship. I continued to (and still do) write a column for the newspaper a couple times a month, but I left my desk in the newsroom for a job where I could still use my communications skills without being so "out there" anymore. Then after three years at that job, I finally made the leap to being a full-time mom and homemaker.

My last day at work was April 2, 2008.

Last week, five years to the day later - and more than eight years after leaving the ol' newspaper biz - I picked up my reporter's notebook again.

It was not without much consternation.

It's not a big deal in the grand scheme of things. The gig, I mean. It's part-time (read: whenever they call). I can take assignments or pass on them depending on my schedule or ... I dunno, whether I really feel like doing it. And it's certainly not going to make me rich. But I swear I stopped breathing for a second when I got that e-mail asking if I was interested. Because somewhere along the way that confident college gal began to wonder if she was really good enough. All the compliments and kudos in the world weren't enough to counter the few silly mistakes I'd made that only I remember and the biting criticisms that stuck with me and chipped away at that armor I had surrounded myself with ... that thick skin every budding journalist is told they'll need to develop. I hated admitting that I had burned out on my career before I had even hit the age of 30. Sticking my toes in the water again made me feel vulnerable. Just the thought of starting over again, albeit on a very limited basis, was daunting.

Steve jokes that when I have a problem it becomes everyone's problem. What can I say? My mama taught me to share. I am anxious and an over-analyzer by nature, but over the years I have developed my own coping mechanisms, one of which is to hash it out either with a loved one (or three) or on paper (or keyboard). Fortunately I am blessed with a handful of amazing friends who collectively understand what it feels like to live with anxiety like I do, the sometimes crushing responsibility of telling other people's stories to the world (and getting them right) day after day, and the energy it takes to ignore that inner voice that loves nothing more than to fuel the flames of self doubt.

And man, I love to write. And I love to listen to people. This is my God-given talent; there is no doubt in my mind about that. So the nerves and the juggling things at home to create my own work space and time ... they are worth it. Because as much as I try to calm the chaos of our everyday lives - the kind of chaos that comes with daddy working on the road, me virtually single-parenting, and a house full of kids and animals - there is a special kind of rush that comes from taking a pile of scribbled notes from half a dozen interviews and weaving those words together into a cohesive and relate-able story, on a deadline. That never gets old.

So ... this will be an adventure for me. For my whole family, probably, because ... ya' know ... I'm so good at sharing.

*ahem*

But I'm doing it for me.  And I will be just fine.

Because J said so.

I need to blog. Because my buddy J says so.

I think every writer needs that one person in their lives who isn't afraid to say, "Hey, get off your ass and write something." I know I sure do. Even if it's a rather meaningless blog post, I need to go through the motions of writing something on a regular basis, or before I know it it's been so long that I start to believe I have nothing to say, and anybody who knows me knows that's not true.

So here you go, J. Thanks for the nudge. Dork.

Truth be told, I have been needing to get off my arse in general. I've been feeling like crap lately. And I'm talking a big ol' steaming Jurassic Park-style pile of poo. And when I feel like poo, and on top of it the universe hands me a few rainy, dreary days in a row, it doesn't take very long for me to spiral downward toward the Pit of Despair. Fortunately I have an awesome husband who will drag me out of that spiral kicking and screaming (or wailing and whining that it's just easier to do nothing than to pull myself up by the bootstraps), and a few friends who seem to know - whether they realize it or not - just when to intervene.

We have begun the process of figuring out what's causing my respiratory issues (that I wrote about in my last post). I've been to my family doctor; she didn't see anything freakish. She did see lots of allergy-related irritation in my nose, and something in the back of my throat that needs a closer look. I've had a chest x-ray which came back normal. I now have an appointment with an ENT to check ... er ... deeper into my ears, nose and throat. My doc suggested I might have damaged vocal cords. I googled the symptoms of damaged vocal cords and I think it's definitely a possibility. We shall see.

Meantime, I've also been dealing with some back and neck trouble. Because it isn't enough that I feel like I can't breathe half the time, I also have to walk around feeling like there's an ice pick or two stuck between my shoulder blades. I know ... I'm a wreck. Next week I'm getting a massage in the hope that it will give me some relief. Like a lot of moms, it's not easy for me to schedule that time to focus on myself, but I really need it. If it helps, this will be the first of many visits to the masseuse.

Who feels like she's 80 years old? Is it Pipe Lifer Jen? Dear God. If only I had the wisdom to go along with it.

And that's all there is to say about that for now.

Steve is home this weekend, which is nice. He's down to the last couple of weeks on his current project and then ... who knows? I would love to have him home for a week or two when this job is done before he heads off to the next adventure, but we continue to take things one day at a time.

The kids are busy as ever. Rachel just started basketball practice this week and will have games on Saturdays. Sam has one more football game next week (hoping the team will stay undefeated), and he started Saturday bowling league today. I'm still not sure how I'm going to get everyone where they need to be at the right time on the right days, but that's another task we take one day at a time.

Other than that? Not much going on. Just lots and lots of everyday stuff, really. We've had some work done on the house - new doors put on the front and back (happy!), and a broken rafter (eek!) repaired.

So ... we're here. We're livin'. At the speed of light sometimes, but that's how it goes.

Tonight it feels good to just sit with my hubby and watch the Tigers in the post season. We're headed to church in the morning, and will hopefully have a relaxing afternoon before Steve heads south again.

I leave you with a couple of pet pictures - because they're the only ones I've been taking lately. Gunnar is growing like a weed and has hit the sassy teenager stage. Patch The Kitty ... well, he's just fun to mess around with.

Until next time ...

Changin' things up.

So Blogger, where I created this blog, is rolling out a bunch of new stuff. I left my blog alone for a long time, kind of appreciating the simplicity of it. Now I'm ready to change it up a bit.

I've tried some different background photos and templates and different numbers and widths of columns, photos here and widgets there. I think I'll be tweaking it for a while 'cause I haven't gotten to that point when I could sit back and say I really loved it. I am far from a blog designer (and perhaps I've mentioned my lack of patience?) so this is an interesting challenge for me.

What I do like and will keep around are those new page tabs up top that tell you a little more about us. This blog is not solely about any one thing, rather it's a journal of our days which can include a little bit of everything - home improvements, kids' shenanigans, random thoughts, gardening progress, cooking trials and errors, and a whole lot more. It's just me, reflecting on this unconventional way of life that is being married to a pipeliner.

So, faithful readers, thanks for hanging in there with me. New folks - welcome! Grab a cup of coffee and have a look around. Let me know what you like or what you'd like to see more of.

Thanks for stopping by!

We can't do everything.

The other day I was blog hopping and found a post from a mom who has gone scratch-cooking-gluten-free-no-sugar-and-I-can't-remember-what-else, and the gist of her post was this: we can't do it all. And ya' know what? She doesn't feel so bad about that.

It was a relief to read this from another mom. She has made the choice to feel good about the positive changes she and her family have made, and to not feel badly because they choose not to do other Potentially Really Good things. I totally dig that. Because for heaven's sake, who are these people who make us feel all sorts of guilty because we don't recycle our glass bottles or cloth diaper our children or make homemade bread from sprouted grains (whatever the hell those are)?

I read that particular post at the same time I was kicking around the idea of writing a sort of stream of consciousness post here. I thought I'd set a block of time, like "preparing dinner" and jot down every(unrelated)thing that came to mind while I did that one seemingly simple task.

Uhh. I decided my somewhat ADD self didn't need one more distraction while I'm cooking. But I couldn't get over the idea, so I thought I'd try a "virtual" stream of consciousness. (Does that even make any sense? Ha!)

OK. Imagine I'm making banana bread. Which I really am going to do today.

Here's what's happening in my head:

Banana bread. Good way to use up the bananas we didn't eat. Score one for not wasting food. Too bad we can't grow bananas closer to Michigan. That whole "eating local" thing. Too many bananas, need to double the recipe. Two cups times two is four cups. Rachel needs some help with her multiplication. Add flashcards to the shopping list. No, we have 3x5 cards, we'll make some. We don't need to buy things we can make ourselves or do without because eventually everything ends up in the trash. I wish we didn't create so much trash. I wonder how much of a difference it makes that we burn our paper instead of putting it in the trash. Definitely a good choice to toss all the fruit and veggie scraps outside instead of in the trash can. Maybe someday I'll actually have a compost pile again, to use on the garden. Deer ate it all last time; bad location. Deer ... I'm so proud of Sam for bagging his first buck. Venison will be back from the processor in a few days. I wish Steve was here 'cause he'd cut it up himself and save the cost of processing. But at least we have the cash to pay to have it done. We have the cash because Steve is working, and having a job is a good thing. Do I miss working? What am I talking about? I still work every day, just not "out there." I work for my family. Part of what I do is home cooking and making shopping lists and following a budget so we can live on one income. Add flour to the shopping list. I should probably start stocking up on baking supplies with the holidays coming. Lots of flour 'cause I want to try my hand at making pies. With crusts from scratch. How can I be 35 years old and never made a pie? There are moms out there teaching their 5-yr-olds how to make pies. Mmmm, apple pie. Do I have enough apples for pie? What are the best kind of pie apples? Note to self: look up pie recipes next time I get on-line. Or maybe I should forage for apples. We have lots of trees around here. Then they'd be free(!) and we all know the best kind of apples are free apples. I'll check into that. Even if they're not good for pie I can make some applesauce and freeze it. Freezers ... I really need to make an inventory of what's left in the freezers and make sure there's room for venison. Make sure to add cinnamon to the applesauce if I make it, 'cause Rachel loves cinnamon. I'd love some nuts in the banana bread but the kids don't care for nuts. Maybe some with chocolate chips and some with nuts? I should just make it how I like it and if the kids don't like it they don't have to eat it. But this is what I planned for an after-school snack. What time is it? Will these be out of the oven before the kids get off the bus? Hey! I bet I can find a flashcards app on my phone. I really need to cut back on the kids' TV time. Some people live without TV and survive just fine - better, even. So they say. Ah well, my kids love TV and it's a great reward after they do their chores. Chores? When was the last time I paid them for their chores? I need to make a new chore list. Maybe it should include helping make dinner. But I'm home all day, I can make dinner. And breakfast, too. I should do a menu plan and do once-a-month cooking. Then we'd definitely need freezer space. Where's the damn dog? On my bed again. I give up! She needs a bath, though. Has she had her heartworm medicine this month? Check the calendar. Crap. School pictures coming up. Another check to write. What a racket. I really want to have family pictures taken sometime. I'd like to lose some weight first, and I'll never do that if I eat this banana bread. 'Cause I like mine with a lot of butter. But it's so much better than buying boxes of snack foods at the store; at least I know exactly what goes into this bread. Sugar. Like my kids need more of that. Maybe we should try cutting back. I can't control what they do when they're not here, though, so they're gonna' get sugar anyway. What time is it? They'll be home an an hour and a half. Should I be driving them to school? I'm not crazy about some of the things they hear on the bus. But it would be crazy to use all that gas when they can ride the bus for free. Man, I really wish I had a stand mixer. Definitely need to invest in one before we start making our Christmas cookies this year. Gotta' stock up on those supplies. Wouldn't it be fun to do a cookie exchange with some girlfriends? I'd really like to have a get-together. Need to do some cleaning, though. Put spray bottles on the shopping list so when I use up all the cleaning supplies I have I can make my own. Natural cleaners are a good thing. But I'm not crazy about the smell of vinegar. What's that candle over there? I should swap out summery scents with fall scents. I like these candles that are made in the USA. Pumpkin pie candles make me want pumpkin pie ... hmmm ... maybe I can teach myself how to make pumpkin pie. And make several, and put them in the freezer, for the holidays, when we'll be making cookies, and budgeting so we don't spend too much on stuff we don't need, and I'll be using that new mixer (hopefully) to whip up some bread dough but I'll be damned if I'll use sprouted grains. I can't do it all! Oooooh, warm banana bread.

And it goes on like this all. day. long.

Aren't you glad you're not inside my head? You'd probably get motion sick, or at least a little dizzy.

I hope all that blather helps me demonstrate a few things.
1. We can't do it all. Most of us have to make choices about how we're going to contribute to saving the planet and/or humanity. Are we going to go "green" with our choices in building materials, household cleaners, transportation, food consumption? Are we going to become activists for wildlife? Are we going to focus on the political aspect and encourage others to only elect leaders who make the environment and/or high moral values their focus? Will we homeschool our children? Start a farming co-op? Fight the power?

2. Parenting is tough. Mom, dad, single, married, co-habitants, alone, surrounded by family and friends, whatever. It's hard. A few years ago I flooded a social worker with questions upon questions about raising children and you know what I was told? Just the fact that I was thinking about how I parent and questioning some of these things was a pretty good indicator that I'm a good parent. Whew. Hello, validation. My children are fed and clothed and have a roof over their heads. And they eat red meat. And boxed cereal and chicken nuggets. And they drink Kool-Aid and juice boxes sometimes. And milk! And I don't make them wear bicycle helmets. But I let them use power tools and occasionally drive my pickup down the driveway. I say "I" because for the most part I do the parenting while Steve is away. *shrug* I think we're doing fine.

3. Perfectionism can be incapacitating. I like to call myself a recovering perfectionist. In the past, if I didn't have time to do something perfectly (or whatever my vision of perfect was), I wouldn't even get started. Dieting, hanging pictures on the wall, writing a letter, folding towels ... any number of things I wouldn't do because I didn't have the time or energy to make it perfect. I have learned that it's OK to do some things "good enough" and save the pickiness (is that even a word?) for the things that really matter to me. Bonus: this has freed me from being judgmental of others' imperfections. *ahem* Mostly. What can I say? I'm a work in progress.

4. Don't take it personally. If I don't see you stopped next to me at the light, or I don't look up from my list when you walk by me in the grocery store, I'm probably having one of those stream-of-consciousness moments. Go ahead and nudge me. (Well, not with your car, but tapping me on the shoulder in the grocery store is alright.) I might just appreciate the escape from my own brain.

Aaaaand, this seems like the perfect spot to stop rambling for the day! At least publicly. Rest assured it will continue in my head. And I really do need to get baking. Ciao for now!

A poem.

Rain pounds the roof
Like a cadence ushering spring
Thunder booms its voice:
Leave, bitter cold, leave

Thunder booms, rain pounds
Little girl startles awake
Finds her way in the dark
Seeing with fingers outstretched

Mama. Mama?
She shakes with fear
I pull her in as lightning flashes
Her body folds into mine

Like pieces of a puzzle
All in this tiny bed
Lined up daddy, mama, girl
Orange kitty and pink stuffed bunny

Stray hairs tickle my cheek
Hers or mine?
Small fingers take my hand
Breathing slows

I give thanks for the storm
That washes winter away
Crowds this bed
Cleanses my soul

Minutes pass, the storm fades
Hear the quiet? I ask
Yes, she says
Clutching pink stuffed bunny

They leave a space empty, warm
I love you, I say
I love you too, she responds
As she feels her way in the dark

Back to her own space
Her pillow cool now
But safe
Sleep, baby, sleep


Photo credit

Why I let the dog sleep on our bed. Sometimes.

One of the struggles of the life we lead is having to figure out how to do just about everything long-distance.

Parenting. Budgeting. Encouraging each other. Consulting on vehicle and home repairs. Keeping each other posted on things of note. Saying goodnight.

Comforting each other. (This is where the dog comes in.)

It's been difficult to not have Steve here to hug me when I really need it lately. I know he's been concerned about me and how I am holding up as my grandmother's failing health has all but consumed my days. I keep telling him I'm OK. At least as OK as a person can be when they're losing a loved one.

Oh, I have my moments. Late one night when I couldn't sleep I had my own little sobfest. My heart hurts a little every time I walk through the kitchen and see grandma's extra set of eyeglasses sitting on the counter. I pause when I rifle through my purse for lunch money for the kids and one of the items I set aside is grandma's coin purse - the coin purse she would so lovingly pull a $20 bill from to pay for lunch on the days I took her out.

I took her to have her hair done and we went out to lunch just two weeks ago. Now she's not really eating at all.

Two weeks ago I would hold her hand to keep her steady while she walked from point A to point B. Now we hold her hand while she lies in bed and fades in and out of lucidity.

It was so recently that I hung a picture of grandma on the door of her room so everyone would know this is where you could find Leona. Now she hangs in the balance and all we can do is tell her we love her and that it's OK to leave this room, this world, this life.

Sad? Yeah. Of course it is. But there are so many blessings in this, and I am thankful. One of those blessings is that Steve is doing what he is doing so I can be here at home. I have had the opportunity to care for my grandma and visit her often and spend the most amazing weeks with her, all because Steve's job provides well enough for us that I can be a homemaker.

Steve has given me the gift of time, and I love him for it.

Yes, it stinks that I can't just come home and ask him to hold me while I process all these emotions. But we do what we can. Writing here - writing anywhere - is therapeutic for me. And last night Steve and I had a great conversation via on-line chat (because for whatever reason sometimes that's just easier than talking on the phone) and he helped me sort through some of my feelings and let me vent my frustrations. And he made me laugh. And cry. Both of which I really needed.

We do what we can, and we enjoy the times we are together. When we're not together we figure out ways to make our marriage and life in general work for us. It involves a lot of prayer, a lot of communication with each other, a lot of give and take, and many supportive friends and family members.

There are times when I'm absolutely fine and I sail through the days, and there are times when I feel like my boots got stuck in the mud and I just can't take it anymore.

Either way, good days or bad days, The Pipe Life or some other kind of life, I can't imagine navigating through it with anyone else. For the blessing of such a wonderful partner, I am eternally grateful.

And yes, for the goofy hound dog who always turns three circles before she can lie down, the one who twitches and whines in her sleep while she dreams of treeing raccoons, the one who will sniff at my hair and then sneeze in my ear ... for the comfort of having some warm, breathing being curled up next to me, I am thankful.

I think Steve will forgive me for occasionally allowing Ladybug to sleep on the bed with me. I promise I don't let her use his pillow.

A proud mama moment.

Yesterday there was a party at Rachel's school for all the kids who wrote books for the Young Authors & Illustrators contest.

Have I ever mentioned how much I loooove the Young Authors program?

Love. It.

The fact that my girl is following in my footsteps as a writer is pretty cool, too. She is always writing little stories and asking me to read with her (double awesome). She worked on her Young Authors book every night for about three weeks. It was 20 pages long! It was the true story of when we lost (and then someone found) our dog, Ladybug. I wish I had taken some pictures of her illustrations to share with you here because, for an 8-year-old kiddo, they were pretty awesome.

Perhaps that's why she received the Illustration Award!

In case there was any confusion, she circled "Illustration Award" on the certificate. That's the bottom one. The certificate on the top is "the one everybody got for writing a book," as she said.

She wasted no time getting those babies up on the refrigerator when she got home from school.

And on the small chance that someone miss the certificates and head straight to adding something to the grocery list on the other door of the fridge, this:

Yay, indeed! That's my girl.