Well here we are and it is almost Mother's Day again. Does time slip away as much as it seems? Do we all get lost in the daily minutia and forget the big picture of life around us? Perhaps just me. Anyway I was just reflecting last evening on what does Mother's Day really mean for me. Tim asked me what we should do. Should we continue a tradition that started last year by going out for a truly decadent (perhaps sinful if I believed that kind of thing) brunch or what? I said sure we can go out for brunch.

But in my heart I thought what I really wanted was just to celebrate him and my children. Oh sure you say how is that any fun. Well I will give you a peek into my experience and fortunate life.

Many times over the course of this last year (more so than any other) work friends and just co-workers have come in to my office to talk. Not just a casual 'how's it going' kind of thing. More often than not is was a heart felt out pouring of their trying times with husbands, kids, extended family, or life in general. I am not sure how I landed this role- perhaps because I am such a person of solitude, a non-sharer of personal information, a behind the scenes worker, a non joiner in the gossip pool, or something.

And from this exposure or experience it has struck more this year than any other that I as a Mother celebrate in my family. People always say of course you can't understand because you don't fight with your husband. You don't have kids on drugs. You don't have your kid's spouses that are one thing or another.

Every time the person asks me how did you stay with your first boy friend for 44 years? How did you raise such polite, confident, successful and nurturing children? What can one say? I was raised in a strict family. I am crazy. Someone else did all that and then left them on my doorstep.

I think the answer is that I wanted my husband to be a husband that my mother never had but deserved. And somehow I found someone that respects me first of all, supports me as a person and has always been there for me through all kinds of situations.

My children were raised in a strict environment as well. But I always tried (many times unsuccessfully) to temper severity with love. To be a parent that I did not have. Despite what everyone else gets to do it may not be appropriate for our family. Be a leader among peers and fight back with unrelenting kindness and class. Take heart break head on and make something positive out of failure.

I always wanted (and I succeeded with Tim's help) to raise my children to be better than I am. Smarter, more successful, a contributing citizen respectful of all kinds of people and confident that they do not have to settle for anything. They do not have to fall to neigh sayers and they will right the world.

Not to mention they should position themselves to be my caretaker in my elder years J

So on this Mother’s Day I celebrate my life through my family. Thank you and I love you all.

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A ranch style house built in 1970 (or so) was probably just what the market wanted at the time. Although as we have discovered over time perhaps not always to code! It was our first house that would not be a rental. We were young and tried to see potential!

This was not a true fixer upper as you may invasion when someone uses that term. But there has been opportunities let’s say.

We had to pull the mustard pooh colored carpet in the front room and hall way the day we were moving in. Dusty/moldy icky are descriptors. We should have had red flags flying to other potential bad ideas when we pulled this out to find that the mold was coming from the front wall next to the front window. In a moment of clueless planning the tenants had drilled a hole in the wall and ran an antenna cord from the roof directly into the house. This should have indicated to them that rain and moisture was of course going to use that as a direct path to the carpet and wood underneath. But no.

We put down hard wood floors in the next couple of months. Thank goodness.

The kitchen dining room area (one long 9 x23 ft) stretch was pea soup green linoleum with a darker green diamond pattern. It had some torn areas but it was livable.

The room that was to become Amy’s had a glass door onto the deck held in place by bent nails. Nice! Also as it was the main entry into the house there was dried mud and manure on the carpet.  We had a person that worked with Tim come and redo the carpet and Tim took out the glass door. The wall was rebuilt and a new window and sill were added. What a change.

Zach’s room had some monster shag rug full of fishing hooks and other crud. Again it was tare it out time. Obviously the last tenants (renters) were not into maintaining a house as they existing. The owners now into a drawn out divorce didn’t check up or care.  

The back yard where the raised garden is now was originally a long dog kennel. The practice (we pieced this together as we worked on it) was to just buy 50 lb bags of food, cut them open length wise and throw the bags into the kennel. It took a backhoe to scrap the ground clean and pull the matted fencing down. Yuck.

While we had the backhoe we also used it to take out the large pile of partially burned and new trash in the front driveway. This of course included, to our joy, slimy stuff. Thank goodness our old landlord had a backhoe we rented (along with his son to drive it) to do yard reclamation.

There were any small additional projects over the years. We finished turning the half remodeled garage that they started into a finished back room. We added a cover on the deck to keep from scorching in the summer afternoon heat. A new roof, painted the house from baby pooh yellow to gray, put up a fence around the property (to replace the one laying on the ground, and tore out 100 feet deep of blackberries to find a nice stream.

All those projects and years and never once revisiting the old green linoleum that we walked on constantly and was wearing away with every step. But wait its time has come.

Last night we were transformed from 1970 into 2010. WooHoo. One piece of wonderful new flooring. All crisp and clean and wonderful. It’s the small things after allJ Check it out- sorry for not remembering to capture the green stuff or show my progress as I scraped it off.

Good thing we finished in three hours so the beer could be kegged!

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It has been many years since we have had our own mother duck have hatchlings in the spring. I had forgotten how wondrous and amazing it is. Many years ago when girl and boy were very young we had a prolific mother mallard. She was an extremely good care giver and sneaking nest maker to boot.

Often we would find that she had her nest under the front shrubbery and we never knew until a brood of ducklings would come walking out one day. I think Mallards are my favorite for hatching ducklings and bringing them home. Sometimes from far away as they travel to feel safe and make a nest.

Two or three years ago we decided to get baby ducks again. We hadn’t raised ducks for a while due to traumatic predator damage. (Skunks or raccoons attacking the nests of new hatchlings. The mother would try to protect and be torn apart or just go crazy from the panic. It was truly horrible and I swore I would not have that again.)

Time really does heal all wounds and I thought I missed ducks so much we should try again. So two to three years ago we bought some ducklings to start again. The first two years the domesticated Mallard did not quite get that you had to sit on the eggs and they need to be all in one place. Is that duck juvenile behavior or just our luck to get stupid ducks. Obviously nature had not imprinted on this mother duck!

This is year three and we noticed that there were eggs predominantly in one place. And that one place was becoming each day more nest looking. I swear at the end she had big weeping willow branches 2 feet long sticking out. That old imprint gene must have kicked in with a vengeanceJ

Wednesday (4 days ago) she had been on the nest 24/7 for some time. I had a gut feeling (one of those things that you can’t shake) that today was a hatch day. I came home early but didn’t go in the coral and check just looked in and all appeared unchanged. Tim came home late and went in and found that 2 eggs had been kicked out; they rolled out or something and were not in the nest. One was wide open the pretty fluffy little guy had died. The other egg had just hatched and the duckling was all wet so Tim stuck him under her. I was thinking that we should take him and incubate him or something. We did not.

Thursday I came home and went into the coral and the mother rose up to hiss at me and I saw a fluffy little guy under her. Tim came in also and distracted the mother and father (Fern and Elvis) and I got up close to the nest. I saw that the little fluffy guy running across the coral was number three. Number two from last night had died also just a bit from the nest. As I watched I could see Elvis attack the baby that was trying to stay under the mom as they scurried across the coral.

I believe that Elvis pecked and killed the other two as they were not under her for protection. He did this as in nature the male fends off intruders while he believes she is nesting. I have never seen a male around when out in the wild the mother has her ducklings trailing behind. In fact in years past we had always separated the ducklings from the males.

In any event, after another sleepless night it is now Saturday and number three is still trying to stay with the mom and hang in there. I hope it all works out.

I tried to sneak up to take pictures while they were out in the sun today. Actually when I called the mom she came over but not too close.

He really is a fluffy cutie. Fingers crossed on his longevity.

Dilley  mom

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Amy and Max gave us a night's stay at the Sylvia Beach Hotel in the Nye Beach old town area of Newport for our birthdays. We wanted to go before March first as the spring rates take effect then. But alas the rain was not forgiving (as can been seen by the pooch in the deck chair on Feb 13). So I watched and waited and the week of the 17th Oregon took a turn for spring. Upper 50's and low 60's for a 6 day stretch. I was all over that- called and made the reservation. We were in the Tennessee Williams suite (Stella A was our door name) so we had a mosquito net over our bed and a street car named desire poster. All the decorations were of or by T. Williams.The Sylvia Beach hotel is all about authors.

Tim was not going to take his new board (or any for that matter) so I told him to take his golf clubs. I didn't ask for this non board weekend he just proposed it-I did not suggest otherwise:)

It was amazing weather. We were walking around at 8:00 on Friday evening in our jackets. And Saturday was equally wonderful. We found a vegan/gf restauraunt two blocks from our hotel (as I am always on the look out) and an Irish pub no less around there also. (we went to the pub.)

For Friday dinner we went to www.panachenewport.com and it was great- great is not really the word but you get the idea.

Saturday we went down on the dock area and bought a little picture and took this bumper sticker shot in one of the windows. 'Surfers- the other white meat' kind of stole the best in show I think.

We went to the marine biology (not the aquarium) exhibit building and checked out the new NOAA site that Andersen is building. After that we went to the Rogue brewery for lunch. We walked the pier and I got a shot of a pelican.

We came home after an amazing weather stay at the beach. You can see we mowed and pruned and got everything ready for the real spring. Can you find the 'plant' out of place in the terraced picture I took? Ducks and chicken are in fine form

Love to you all

Saturday August 8, 2009: Estacada Oregon

Well  there seems to have been much ado about nothing. I was told this was going to be the event to remember and it was in some ways. But the 'rumors' that it was a complete camo affair were not to be fulfilled. Although it did take 1hr 45 minutes to get from house to wedding sight it was a beautiful setting in a campground. That statement in itself seems incompatible but it was never the less well suited for the people and the day.

Having great expectations of a minister in complete camo outfit and a groom in camo shirt and camo cowboy hat I was to be disappointed. Or make that relieved.  It turned out to be a somewhat small gathering of close friends, co-workers and relatives. About 60+ people I think. And it turns out we were not over dressed nor under dressed. We were not in camping the previous night shorts and tennis shoes and not in dress or suit. We were comfortably and appropriately in the middle.

There were cowboy hats and tasteful and subdued western dress shirts for the groom and best man. The bride looked lovely in a flowing tan gown. She was glowing and only a little trembly! The father of the bride was teary and barely able to get through the toast. The only one that ended up with BBQ on their clothes was Bill the Groom! 

The sister of the groom is an event planner and was running around doing her thing. I am sure her influence toned the affair to a compromise-able middle ground and everything was tasteful, elegant and at the same time down home and casual. Rather than a cake they had quite a unique treat I thought. They had 3 stacks or tiers of little brown boxes tied with ribbon that held an individual tart. Apparently Beaverton Bakery makes this type of thing. Wedding planner idea I think. 3 flavors, easily stored and transported, and easy to take home the remaining ones. Clever people those planners.

I met Tim's work crew again but this was not at the Christmas party where everyone is a blur of ties, handshakes and 300 faces. We had a good time and good conversation. Everyone (mostly as it was still early in the day) was on top of their drinking and just having a good sociable time. We left about 5:30 pm which was just the right time. The partying was ebbing into 'good thing most people are camping here' atmosphere. All the coolers were out and the dirty jokes and raucous times were coming. In the final picture we took the Groom is trying to grope Tim. Kind of lets you know where these guys are headed- by 9-10 pm the campsites would be blasted I am sure.

 Oh and the dogs were on long tethers so their rib bone eating was in a separate area, not at everyone's feet.  All in all it was a a pleasant day, great temperature and a nice park setting by a stream with a bridge and perfect for the Bill and Staci.

 A few photos attached. If I get that part to work!!

Okay, settle down old woman you say. Well not so fast I reply.

Later that day at Freddie's the same thing happens. Is this karma. No way. I have not been  a parking lot rebel since way before children.

So today I am driving into the parking lot at school and low and behold but I am shut out in the same manner as before. I am steamed. And today I am sure that if I had a meaningful car (the Cadillac as in the movie) I would have rammed the heck out of that little optometry student's car. And what an exhilarating feeling that would have been.

I could have been known as the crazy College of Education woman that rams cars because she can person. I missed my chance. But alas, I fear the situation may re-occur and I am not sure I will be able to restrain myself.

I really must get a larger car. I already have the insurance!!

Be afraid, be very afraid! Let them be warned- I am out there and I am old and don't care and can afford to crush them.

Sign me the angry phatom driver