Car Trouble

Almost a year ago, I noticed that the driver's side front tire on my car was going flat, so I took it in to the repair shop. I thought it would be no big thing--a nail or something like that. It turned out that the wheel itself was cracked, but they tried re-sealing it and hoped that that would work. For a couple of months, it did. In fact, it worked for so long that I completely forgot about the problem until the next time I took it in for a low tire that I thought was no big deal. Well, they kept re-sealing it and it had to be done more and more often, so it became pretty apparent that this was not working.

I took my car in for a tune-up last month at the dealer's and they thought that a different solution might work. They tried welding it. Didn't work. So, we finally gave in and bought new rims for all four tires (they don't make that kind anymore and we couldn't find one at the dump, so we had to replace all four.) Fortunately, and we were able to shop around and it only ended up costing about $350.

The very next day, we started to drive down to SLC so that Petra could pick up her new braces. Along about Malad, going 75MPH, the engine just stopped. We coasted to the side of the road and Dusty tried to figure out what was wrong. He couldn't, so we called a tow truck from Pocatello, and waited for an hour and a half for it to arrive. I was feeling pretty anxious about my car, and uncomfortable sitting on the side of the road, but I found a pack of cards in my purse and we started playing rummy and that made the time go faster. They got the car loaded up and the four of us rode back to Poci in the "Row Truck". It was pretty exciting for the girls. They had to sit on Dusty's and my laps, as there were only three seats, and we were high above most of the other cars. Dusty's mother and grandmother heroically met us at the repair shop and took us to lunch while we waited for the verdict.

Broken timing belt. Ouch. Fortunately, when it snapped, it didn't damage anything else. But still! It's just annoying to have something you just spent so much money on break again, especially since the two weren't in any way connected, so there was no chance that the one problem caused the other.

Alice Marie drove us back home, and we set out for SLC again in the van. Luckily, we were able to get another braced appt. for Pet the next day (which my Mom took her to [thanks!]) and Dusty and I were still able to take our little trip to Lagoon, which was a total blast.

I Hate my Stomach, But More Importantly, It Hates Me

So, you may or may not know that I have basically always gotten terrible stomach aches every so often. This got worse after having my kids, adding in horrible, persistent, long-term heartburn. Now, (or maybe always, I'm realizing in retrospect) I'm having a lot of trouble with constipation (didn't want to know that? Stop reading. It gets worse) I've gone to Doctors. They've run tests. Allergy tests, thyroid tests, blood tests. Whatever. Needless to say, the best answer I've gotten is "A fairly severe case of irritable bowel syndrome" and all I can do is "experiment to see what helps and what makes it worse. What works for one person makes it much worse for another." So very helpful. I haven't found a single thing that helps yet. Please forgive me if I seem a little snide. It's midnight, and I am very tired, but I can't lie down because the heartburn is so bad.

Is this horrible? Not really. Is there worse out there? Of course. I just get sick of going to Doctors and having them tell me that there is nothing that they can do for me and I will likely suffer from the current ailment for the foreseeable future.

If you will please excuse me, I think I will go and see if I can fall asleep sitting up (something I have trouble doing under the best of circumstances, but you never know!)

The Squeeky Wheel Gets the Oil

Reed was complaining, so I guess I'll try to start blogging again (see the comments on my last post.) I suppose the main reason I stopped blogging was because I joined Facebook, but since most of you who may read this aren't on Facebook, I guess it makes sense to keep this up, too.

Ahem.

Lately, I've been doing a lot of canning. It has become sort of my hobby this summer to take produce from various places (the farmer's market, my parent's raspberries, our garden) and figure out different ways to preserve/prepare them. In general, this has been very rewarding (although I honestly have no idea what we will do with all of this jam--PB&J every day for the next year, kids!) However, I did have a canning related injury (does that make it a real hobby if I get hurt doing it, guys?)

On Saturday night, I was making marmalade. Usually, I just use my pressure cooker as a big pot because I just got it and I havn't figured out how to close the lid yet. Well, finally on Saturday, we discovered we had been turning the lid the wrong way (duh) so when I put the marmalade in to process, I closed it, thinking that then the water wouldn't boil over like it has been doing, and also thinking that if I opened the valve up all the way it might still just be a giant pot. Well, after a few minutes, it started whistling like a tea kettle. This made me very nervous. The pressure cooker is about 50 years old and I had visions of the whole thing exploding and sending shrapnel into me and my family and my (nearly finished!) remodled kitchen. So I asked Dusty what I should do (not smart--asking advice from another person who has no clue whatsoever) and we decided to take the lid off. Also, not smart. Very not smart. By releasing the pressure, the water instantly vaporized and created a mini expolsion. Fortunately (or, unfortunately) I was the only one who got drenched.

I screamed for the kids to get out of the kitchen and ripped off my pants (well, step-kids seeing their step-mom undressing---AWKWARD!!!) Anyway, I ran to the shower and started running cold water onto my knee, which was bright red. As long as I ran water on it, it felt okay, though not cold, which you might expect since only the cold tap was on. So, I thought it would be just fine. I stopped the water and patted my leg dry, put on a short (for me) skirt, and went out to deal with the marmalade. And then, it started. Pain. Severe pain. Needles, burning, ouch. So I ran back to the shower and started drenching it some more, but that was the point that we decided that maybe I should see a doctor. Going to the local emergency room is idiotic unless you are on death's door. They won't see you for hours. Fortunately, it was only 7:30 PM so the local urgent care clinic was open. They were really great. They took me streight back, and gave me some shots--pain killer, and anti-inflammatory. They waited a little while for the pain killer to kick in (it didn't) then put some silvadine (the best burn cream in the universe) on it and gave me another shot.

I came home, and gradually the drugs began to kick in. The pain went away. In my leg, that is. I got a horrible stomach ache, but I fell asleep quickly so it didn't matter too much.

Sunday, I just took Vikadin and stayed in bed.

Today, I feel pretty great. It is 85% better. It still hurts after a lot of activity, but mostly I feel fine, if a bit dumb--we learned about pressure cookers in Chemistry this summer, and looking back I know that it was idiotic to take the lid off. But, as my Mother-in-Law said, "Well, you'll never do that again!"

Little Girl Lost

On Saturday, I had one of the worst experiences of my life. It was brief, but I am completely traumatized.

Dusty and I were both doing work in the back yard. For those who don't know our house, a portion of the backyard is fenced off where the dogs live and there is a swing set and a sandbox. The rest of it is open to allow access to the fencing building. The garden is also in that area. Then, behind the fencing building, on the other side of an ally, and with raised sides, is a canal. I was planting the garden (and it really was 100 times more work than it sounds like- shoveling, hoe-ing, raking, weeding, adding in compost, and planting [oh, and btw, after all of that work it snowed today]) and Dusty was building a chicken coop on the other side of the fencing building. We worked and the girls played all morning.

In the early afternoon, we had to pick up a few things to finish up our respective projects, and after we got back from the store, we ran into our neighbors. They suggested that the girls would have fun playing with their daughters next door. That sounded good to all of us, and Petra and Talia headed over there to play. Dusty and I went back to work. Honestly, I didn't hate it until the very end. By that time, I was so exhausted that I didn't give a flying flip about much of anything, but I was determined to finish the garden so that it wouldn't just get put off forever. Finally, I was done. Hurrah! Dusty and I took a moment to tidy up, and I went next door to get the girls. The fence between our yards is solid wood, so I hadn't been able to see them for the last couple of hours. I called, "Petra! Talia! It's time to come home!" and Petra says, "Talia's not here, she went home."

My heart stopped. I screamed to Dusty, telling him that Talia was missing, and ran straight for the canal, which had only been filled a couple of days ago. I was sobbing so hard I could barely breathe, and all I could say was, "Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh." That very day I had told our neighbors about Leorial's 2-year old daughter who had drowned in a canal. Dusty and the neighbors started looking, he in the canal downstream, the neighbor boys upstream, and the girls and mother in the neighborhood. I didn't know what to do. I was crying and walking toward the front of the house, hoping she was in the front. Petra stopped me and said, "I'm sorry, Mommy." What do you say to that? I was too panicked to really reassure her properly, but I didn't blame her in the slightest. I couldn't let her think that this was all her fault, so I told her so, but then I went on looking. I searched the house but she was nowhere. I ran back out to the canal, and was just thinking about calling the police (something that I hesitate to do because deep down I'm afraid of them, which is ridiculous because I've never broken the law in my life), when the neighbors shouted that they had found her. I took her in my arms, crying in shock and relief, and she says, "What's wrong, Mommy?"

The 11 year old neighbor girl had let her walk back to our house by herself through the back ally. She didn't stop at our house, and walked all the way down the ally to the street that intersects ours. The kicker is that she walked right past me and I didn't notice her. Even after she was safe and well at home, I just kept seeing the muddy water of the canal and her brightly colored clothes floating in it.

I want to make all of these pronouncements about how I will never get annoyed with her again, and I will never let her out of my sight again, and how I will just hold her forever and ever. But, I know that any of those things would be a lie. I feel like all I can do is be more cautious, especially when it comes to the non-fenced portion of the backyard and young playmates who might not realize just how little Tal still is. I know all mothers probably go through this sort of thing at one time or another. I just hope that this is the only time it happens to me.

11 Babies

A couple of months ago, I got the idea to try and raise chickens. I want to do a few things to try and develop a more sustainable way of life. I'm not saying that I want to raise all of our own food and go without electricity or anything like that, but it does seem smart to develop a few skills so that if anything did happen, we wouldn't all starve to death. I'm going to raise a garden this year, and we are going to try and keep chickens, both for eggs and to slaughter for meat. I did a lot of research, and decided that I wanted a certain breed--black australorps. They are cold hardy, good layers, but also good meat animals.

There are a few different ways to start your own flock, but I decided to incubate our own eggs. I bought fertile eggs off of e-bay, believe it or not. Incubating is a very finicky process--the eggs have to be kept at a reasonably steady temperature (roughly 99.5 degrees F), turned at least 3 times a day, and have a descent amount of humidity. Because we didn't want to spend over $100 on an incubator, Dusty built one. However, our incubator doesn't have a built in thermostat, so we had to adjust the temperature several times a day. We weren't able to keep it constant throughout, so we aimed for between 99 and 101 degrees. Humidity was also a problem. We had a cup of water in there to try and keep things moist, but it was insufficient, so I took to spraying the eggs with water every time I turned them, but this lowered the temperature so we had to be careful about that, too. I also decided to turn the eggs five times a day instead of three, because from what I read, the more the better. There are automatic egg turners, but again, more money than we wanted to spend. We tried candling the eggs a few times to see if any chickens were growing but we could never really figure out what we were seeing.

When we reached hatching day (all chicken eggs hatch within 21-22 days of beginning incubation), Dusty and I had very little hope of any of the eggs hatching. Under the best of circumstances, only 60% of the eggs will hatch, and we had had so much temperature variation, that we didn't think that it would work. Lo and behold, only one egg started to hatch. It took him several hours to hatch, and I stayed up until midnight waiting for him to get out of there. The next morning there was one more, and then later three more, until finally eleven of the chicks hatched! It was more than we'd ever dreamed of! There was one poor little guy who, a full day after all of the other eggs had hatched, started trying to get out, but he didn't make it very far. Dusty tried opening the egg (without much hope) and he did die. However, every single one of our other chicks survived. Only three eggs didn't hatch at all.

The chicks are now living in a "brooder box" in our basement until they are old enough to move outside or be slaughtered, about 8-10 weeks. Now, they are only a week old, but they are growing their "grown-up" feathers on the tips of their wings. I guess I may come to regret this whole enterprise, but, while it has been stressful at times (worrying about whether or not they will hatch, etc.) so far it has been quite rewarding. Tomorrow I am going to take one of the chicks to Petra's school for show and tell while they are still cute.

PS-I apologise for the lack of proper paragraphs. I know that this makes long selections harder to read. I tried several times to insert breaks, but blogger wouldn't let me, so it's not my fault.

Pirates

I got Ruth!!!!!

This Last Couple of Weeks

Life has been crazy for me the last couple of weeks. I'm rehearsing TWO plays at the same time right now. That in and of itself is incredibly stressful, adding nightly rehearsals, and double rehearsals on Saturday, into my already busy schedule. Not to mention the fact that the rehearsals aren't going all that well.

Romeo and Juliet is supposed to open this coming Friday, but frankly, I have my doubts. It doesn't seem like anyone has their lines down, particularly Romeo (in all fairness, I still have one scene that I have not yet memorized.) The guy who plays Romeo not only doesn't know his lines, but he can't even fake it, which is reeeeaaaallly annoying at this stage in the production. You see, in theatre, the idea is that if you suddenly can't remember a line, you make up a line that has the same general idea and also sounds like it fits in with the language. Romeo on the other hand just stops, says "Crap, I can't remember my line. What was it again?" Then he's given his line, he says it, and promptly forgets his next line so that any scene that he is in takes an eternity to finish. It's painful to watch, seriously.

As for Pirates of Penzance, I have never even gotten a straight answer as to what part I am playing! There are two daughters that actually have lines and solos, Kate and Edith. Between the two of them, Edith is a much larger part. There is also another "named" daughter part, Isabelle, but she only has two lines and no solos. All of the other daughters are unnamed and only sing in chorus. Well, the director had been trying and trying to decide who should be Kate and Edith. He would never give us an answer. Finally after our second to last rehearsal, his girlfriend and owner of the theatre said that she was playing Edith, another girl who had been promised one of the two parts from the very beginning (Rebekah) was playing Kate, and I would be Isabelle. I was very disappointed. It seemed unfair that they basically had all of the main roles cast before they even had auditions. What chance did I have to get a decent part? Especially if, when faced with a difficult decision he just cast his girlfriend? (I admit, that it is terribly unfair for me to think this, but I was upset and not being very fair.) Well, on our last rehearsal, apparently the woman who was playing Ruth suddenly dropped out so the director had Rebekah and I sing for that role as well. Honestly, I would love, love, love to play this part. The only reason that I didn't sign up for it in the first place was because she's supposed to be old. But, once again, I'm upset. I feel like hoping for this part is just setting me up for more disappointment. The girlfriend is in the running for this role as well, and they are calling around to other people, who didn't even try out, to see if they want the role. Blech.

On top of all of this, I think that all of this stress is making my fibromyalga flare up again. I had been feeling great, but now I'm exhausted and in pain all of the time. I had been trying to go to fencing every time, something that the girls had prevented in the past, but now I'm just much too tired to do it. The days feel like they last forever. This past week has been at least a month, I swear. Sorry to be so down and complaining, but I need to vent somewhere!