The Carnage...

I have been on a killing spree.  I've massacred  several on the front porch.  Some on the roof.  I even shot some dead from a ladder.  I have used specialized spray, home made concoctions, a shoe, a broom, and yes........even a spoon.  

My home was being invaded.  What else could I do but go on a rampage?  If you can bring yourself to look, I have posted a picture of the carnage thus far.  

Last chance to turn away.  

These are not cute honeybees 

Nor Bumblebees

Or any kind of gardeners friend.  

These are evil carpenter bees who want nothing else but to chew my house down to a pile of splinters.  

Evil, I tell you.

They like to taunt me.  They fly around my head then zoom up to the tippy top of the house where I could not possibly reach and chew and chew and chew.  Then lay eggs, feed the little spawn and the cycle happens all over again.  

I was doing really well until I ran out of wasp/hornet spray.  I was in no condition to go to the store so I put pure alcohol in a bottle.  That did work pretty well until I ran out.  One flew up in my face so I hit it with the closest weapon to me, a spoon.  Then I stomped on it.  A lot.  Don't ask me why there was a spoon outside.  I have 3 children.  2 of them are boys.  I could only imagine.  

Now, I have not completely lost my mind.  Male Carpenter Bees can not sting or bite.  They just buzz and make a lot of noise trying to scare you.  The female bees have a stinger but they are very docile and rarely sting.  So, I was not afraid of them and was never in danger of getting stung.  I killed about 15.  There are still around 20.

 I must get more wasp spray.  They know I ran out of ammunition.  Every time I go outside they hover around me.  Taunting and teasing.  

Evil little splinter chewers.

Gardening is dangerous!

So, I have been working in my vegetable garden this week. I have 7 rows out of 18 done. I have actually gotten a lot done even though it does not seem like it. Usually, when I put my veggie garden in I plant one type of veggie in each row. Well, with companion gardening I am planting about 4 different veggies in each row. Along with flowers that repel pests. So I end up going up and down one row several times before I am done. So, 7 companion gardening rows equal about 28 traditional rows. No wonder I am so tired already!

Yesterday was a particularly frustrating day. I woke up excited to go out and work. First, I had to fetch the water hose. The hose I am using for the garden is about 200 feet from the garden. So, I usually use the 4-wheeler to bring it to where it's needed. We have about 8 hoses hooked together so it does get a little cumbersome to walk it all over the place. Yes, I know that is a ridiculous number of hoses to hook together but we need it that long to reach all the brush we have burning to control flames. See? There is a reason.

Anyway, I brought the hose over to the garden with it already turned on to save me a trip. I go to get it off the back of the 4-wheeler and the sprayer falls off and water drenches me all over. First my face, then my legs and arms then my feet. To top it off, my six-year old is laughing hysterically at me. Not a good start to the day. After I change and convince myself gardening is still a good idea I go to work with the hoe. I use the handle end of the hoe to make perfect little holes to plant my corn. I get to work on the holes. I hit myself on the forehead with the sharp edge of the hoe. Repeatedly. You would think I'd learn the first time. I did this at least 5 different times. I'm a slow learner.

Then, I go to work planting my carrots in between my cauliflower. I use toilet paper for planting small seeds. It keeps me from wasting seeds, helps me see them better and the TP helps hold small seeds in place and root better. It decomposes back in the garden so it works all the way around. After I place the seeds I just grab a hand full of dirt to put over them. So, I am working on a row repeating this procedure over and over and over. Until I am about 1/2 way up. I am mindlessly grabbing dirt to put on top and I reach into a huge fire ant hill. OUCH! They are a little protective of their nests.

Especially when you go so deep you grab a bunch of larvae. They get really mad. They sting repeatedly. It burns. I say some words I know I shouldn't. I contemplate boiling water and pouring it down every ant hill I see. If you look closely, you can see them carrying the larvae around and going nuts. You may even be able to make out my lovely hand print.

The rest of the day is a blur. I woke up this morning exhausted and in pain in multiple places. I have a huge bruise the size of an orange on my thigh. I have no idea how I got it. I have a sunburn. My back really aches.

Someone remind me again why I am doing this. I can think of easier ways to torture myself.

So I broke down....

and bought some baby chicks.  My first try at incubating was a huge flop.  I think I am going to blame it on temperature.  It is the cheap thermometers fault.  Next time I will have several good ones just to be sure.  I am not a failure.  I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me...Oh wait that is a whole other post.  

Anyway, enjoy these baby chic pictures.  We are really having a blast with them.  They let you cuddle them!  They are curious and sweet.  I am very surprised at their different personalities.  Chickens have personality..  Who knew?  

These are Long Island Red chicks.  Hopefully we will start getting fresh eggs by fall.

Do you ever have one of those days?

Tell Me

Tell me I'm clever,
Tell me I'm kind,
Tell me I'm talented
Tell me I'm cute
Tell me I'm sensitive,
Graceful and wise,
Tell me I'm perfect--
But tell me the truth

---Shel Silverstein

Easter Blessings

But from this earth, this grave, this dust,

My God shall raise me up, I trust.  ~Walter Raleigh

Easter was very special this year.  We were able to spend it with some very close family friends. I am so thankful to have such close friends that bring such joy to my life.  I love their kids like my own.  They are precious and sweet and innocent.  I miss them already.

The Easter Bunny came.

There is no doubt about it.  Brandon even "saw" the Easter Bunny hiding eggs by the light of his flashlight.  He left prints. 

 Evidence I tell you. Evidence!  

The Easter bunny brought chicks 

that "peeped".  Which is a good

thing because if you have been 

following my posts  you know that

I could not successfully hatch out chickens.

The fake "peeps" serve as a pathetic substitute.  The kids were happy none the less.  
                   

The hunt is on!

We all had a great time.  

They were spoiled.  They played a lot.

Sweet Brandon Said the Easter Blessing.  

The day could not have been better.

I love to count my blessings.   

We have so much to be thankful for!

New Life

I love Spring.  It is my most favorite season.  It is refreshing and new and vibrant.  It reminds me of how precious life is and also how beautiful.  Spring brings a special connection to God and his blessings.

They that wait upon the Lord Shall renew their strength.  They shall mount up with wings.  --Isaiah 40:31

Race Day

I woke up early full of jitters and nervousness. So much so that I could only eat a few bites of my banana, 1/2 a cup of coffee and some water. I knew I needed to eat more but I just could not stomach it. My husband encouraged me, the kids encouraged me and we set off for the start line. It was a cool morning. I could not wait for the race to start so I could warm up and start running off the butterflies.


I lined up in the middle of the pack and tried to keep what little I did have for breakfast down. After several long, excruciating minutes we were off. Although my brain was telling me not start out too quickly, my legs did not listen. I went out fast and caught up with the leaders of the pack in a few short minutes. My butterflies disappeared and I was full of energy. I was on a runners high and feeling pretty good. That was very short lived.

I passed by several watering stations. I could not be bothered by stopping and tried to rationalize that I was saving time and did not need to stop. By mile 10, I was really struggling. I was hot and thirsty and just ran by the last water station. I told myself that there were only a few more miles and it was no big deal. By mile 12, my pace dropped by half, my left hamstring was injured and my whole body felt like it was literally being hammered into the ground. My body was screaming to stop but my stubbornness stupidity would not let me.


I kept running the best I could which was painful and much slower than before. I saw the 13 mile mark and became ecstatic until I realized that I still had .2 of a mile to go. That seemed like another 10 miles at the time. I might have started walking or crying if it was not for the *Kirch kirch kirch kirch* sound I heard behind me. For the most part, I had been running alone. Occasionally another runner would pass but they were few and far between. This runner was different. I was almost to the finish line and she was on my heels.

She helped give me the extra adrenaline I needed to finish. I did not want someone to pass me so close to the end. I sped up to where I thought she would not be able to edge past me and then made the mistake of slowing down slightly right before the finish line. She fought her way past me and beat me for second place in the women's division.

By ONE second. One. Uno. 1. 01. I finished in 1:50:58

I came in 3rd in the Women's division and 16'th overall. I also came out of the half-marathon with a pretty bad hamstring injury and feeling like I was beat with a bat. I was lucky to have finished at all, let alone place. I did not train like I should have and let my pride get in the way.

As usual, God watched over me and would use this experience to teach me a lesson in pride, grace and wisdom. The winner of the marathon was wearing a T-shirt that proclaimed: I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. Philippians 4:13. That has always stuck with me and I have used that verse and the meaning behind it to become a better runner and a better person.



I am proud of that race but not because of my standings or the trophy I went home with. I am proud because it helped to guide me back to God and a personal relationship with him. From then on, my running turned into my prayer time. It became a time to set goals, reflect on my life and try to find the person that God so graciously sees me to be. He has used my running time to love me, shape me and provide more grace than I could ever hope to deserve. I am not anywhere close to being a good Christian or a good example of one. But I'll keep running until God is done with me. This might take a while.

Part 2: Training or Lack Therof

After being sufficiently nauseated at the realization of committing to run a half marathon, I threw up, broke into hives and jumped into training. Okay, okay, I did not throw up or break out into hives but I sure did feel like it.

I started training at a local park 5 days a week. Running the same loop over and over again. Sometimes I switched directions but it was pretty much the same thing every day. I started out running 2 miles then 3 and after several exhausting attempts, I finally made it to four. Getting up to the four mile mark was the most difficult part for me. As long as I could run past four miles, I could just keep going and going.

I was the only runner at the park each morning. Oh, there were lots of elderly people speed walking but no runners. I would pass the same man on my loop many times each morning. He would always smile and ask me how many loops I'd run, then chuckle to himself when I told him. I liked to think he was sufficiently impressed by my endurance but he was probably laughing at how foolish I looked running in circles like a dog chasing its tail.

I tried to only increase my distance by 15% each week in the beginning but my ambition got the better of me and I increased my mileage too quickly. Also, running was the only exercise I was doing. No cross training or weight lifting. I made many mistakes in training for my first race but not cross training or doing any strength training were the worst. More on that later.

After 5 weeks, I worked my way up to 10 miles. I felt ready to run the race but was so nervous that I was queasy most of the last week. I slept fitfully the night before the race and woke up full of jitters. Had I only known how the race would go, I would be much more nauseous and might have just stayed in bed.

My Running addiction: The beginning

I started running about 10 years ago. I met this incredible woman with 5 kids who ran marathons. Running that far sounded like a physical impossibility to me. So, of course I had to start running just to see if I could do it. I'm pretty stubborn like that. I do not like being told what to do and I don't like thinking that something is impossible for me to accomplish. What started out as prideful ambition has turned into a rich blessing in my life.

The first 2 years of my running routine was spent getting my fitness level up. I just had my second child a few months earlier and was thankful just to make it around the block two times. I had very young children and found it difficult to get into a good running routine. I fit it in when I could but it was not consistent at all.


We moved a short while after I started running and that completely halted my ambitions for a long while. The stress of moving along with difficult circumstances prevented me from even thinking about running. During this time, I had increasingly more problems with my heart that became a little scary. I have always had bouts of unexplained fibrillation but they were few and far between. The doctors could not catch them on a monitor so there was not a whole lot they could do for a while. During our first year after the move, the occurrences of fibrillation increased and so did the symptoms. My heart would beat over 500 bpm, I would shake like a washing machine and become dizzy. Finally, after almost passing out after an episode, I went back to the doctor.

The Cardiologist decided to do an EP study. They inserted two catheters into each femoral artery and threaded the catheters to my heart. Once there, they shocked different areas of the heart and observed the reactions. The diagnosis? Atrial Fibrillation. Basically, the upper chamber of the heart sends a signal to the bottom but the bottom chamber does not receive the signal. As a result, the heart goes into fibrillation and blood can pool in the upper chamber. The risk of this happening is that blood may clot which in turn could cause a stroke. The good news is that there are medications that can thin the blood to minimize this risk. Since I was weaning my son at the time, the doctor decided that asprin would be sufficient for the time being but as soon as I weaned the baby, I needed to get on coumadin. My heart issue is a story in itself. The short of it is that I have seen different cardiologists and they all disagree with each other and the results of the EP study. 7 years after the study, I still don't have a diagnoses the doc.'s agree on.


After the EP procedure, I grew a new appreciation for life, God and family. I realized how fragile life is and started to hold it in a new and precious light. I appreciated more. I valued more. I took my health a lot more seriously and wanted to start running again. The doctors saw no reason why I could not run or exercise. Exercise did not trigger episodes and would contribute to my overall health, so they gave me the green light.
Next, I did the only logical thing, signed up for the Mountain Home Half Marathon for Kenya. Oh, and it was only 6 weeks away. Wait. Did I say logical? Maybe overly-ambitious or crazy would be more appropriate. Did I mention how stubborn I am?

To be continued.....

Leaving my house makes me grumpy....

That is all.

Going Broody

$

The kidlets and I had high hopes for our incubating project. Maybe a bit too high.

We built an incubator from scratch. We excitedly went to the store to purchase everything we needed:

A large styrofoam cooler

A small fan

Thermometer

Light bulb socket

Bulb

Extension cord

Electrical tape

Glass from a picture frame

The process was pretty simple and fun to do.

First, we cut a hole a bit smaller than the picture frame glass then attached the glass for a window.

Next, we had to cut several holes in the lid and on the sides of the cooler for ventilation.

After that we added a fan in the corner, a thermometer on the back wall, and a small bowl of water for humidity. Last, we had to cut a hole in the lid large enough for the socket to fit through for the light bulb. We used a 25 watt bulb to regulate the heat.

Pretty easy right?

Not.

Ugh...turns out I am a horrible mother hen. Really, I am. I thought everything was perfect.

We added 12 Maran Chicken eggs and 3 Mallard Duck eggs.

I checked the heat every other hour to make sure the temperature was regulated. I gingerly turned my eggs six times a day. I added water twice a day. I candled them to check on their progress. (probably way too much) We saw veins. We saw embryos. We counted down the days. Then something started to stink. We had a bad egg. It was hard to narrow down which one it was. It was left in the incubator a few days until we could single it out. Another time I went to check on the eggs in the middle of the night. I have to unplug the light in order to see the temperature (because both the bulb and temperature gauge are red) I forgot to plug the bator back in. It sat for several hours and was brought down to room temperature by the time I woke up and realized what I had done. Soon after that, I realized my little chicken babies stopped growing. Day by day I cracked open the non-viable eggs with growing despair. They were all in various stages of the growth cycle. I killed each and every one.

Poor little babies.

I don't know if it was the bad egg, messing with them too much or the temperature mishap. We are going to try again. I am going to do my best to be a better mother hen. Geez, if a chicken can sit on an egg, move them around and leave them alone to go eat and still hatch a bunch of chicks, I can too.

Right?

Right?

Sigh.........

I won't hatch!

Oh! I am a chickie who lives in an egg,

But I will not hatch, I will not hatch.

The hens they all cackle, the roosters all beg,

But I will not hatch, I will not hatch.

For I hear all the talk of pollution and war

As the people all shout and the airplanes roar,

So I'm staying in here where it's safe and it's warm

And I WILL NOT HATCH! ---Shel Silverstein