Mom: “Hannah, could you stay in here and watch the girls while Sam and I go do a job outside?”
Hannah: “Awwww . . .”
Sam: “Hannah, you get to be bossy! You’ll love it!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mom: “That’s a good idea, Sam!”
Sam: “All my ideas are good ones!”
I know it’s not Christmas, but I’ve had this song going through my head all afternoon. And honestly, on a strictly secular comparison, for me harvest time is almost better than Christmas. And one of my favorite things to harvest is potatoes.
Potatoes are like hidden treasure. You hope they’re there; you see the plants, so something should be there; but there’s no way to know just how big your treasure will be until you get in there and dig it up.
Part of my love of potato harvest is that it’s the one thing the kids really love harvesting with me. It’s always a major event, and we always have a great time. This year, I promised that whoever found the most potatoes would get a special prize. Not knowing what that prize might be, they all dug as fast as they could, comparing every five minutes to see who was in the lead.
Sam eventually won, and was thrilled to find that the prize was that they all got to strip down to their underwear, and he got to be the first to spray them with the hose (one of the benefits of living in the country is that your neighbors can’t see your kids running around in their underwear!) This was triply effective in that it a) was tons of fun b) cooled them down after a hot afternoon in the sun and c) washed all of the dirt off of them!
All well and good, you say, but get to the point – how many potatoes did you get??? Well, we only dug one bed, and from that 4×8 foot patch we got about 40 pounds of potatoes! How do I know exactly how many pounds it was? I had two five-gallon buckets three-quarters full, and I had the genius idea to get out my bathroom scale, put it on the picnic table, and weigh them on that (since my kitchen scale only went up to five pounds). Unfortunately, with the bucket correctly positioned to get an accurate reading, the bottom was covering the numbers, so that wasn’t going to work. So I called Sam over and weighed him first with an empty bucket (for a “tare” weight) and then with one of the full buckets of potatoes, and found that the difference was 20 pounds. Multiply that times the two buckets, and you get forty pounds. Why did I waste a whole paragraph telling you all that? To explain the hilarious picture of Sam standing on top of the bathroom scale, on top of the picnic table on our front deck, soaking wet in only his underwear holding a bucket of potatoes.
I was mortified last night when Peter commented that my “Normal” post was “a little too much tooting your own horn.” That was not what I intended at all! Perhaps it will help to explain why I wrote it:
The idea all started from watching too much TV. I was getting a little depressed because I would never have $50,000 to remodel a perfectly fine kitchen, whats-her-name from What Not To Wear would probably go into spasms seeing what I wear every day, and everything I try to do every day is pretty much worthless to these “normal” people (“Why don’t you just buy eggs at the grocery store?”).
But what pulled me out of my funk was when I started getting bummed because I couldn’t have someone just sweep in and build me a completely new house, like they do on Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. I suddenly realized how incredibly stupid I was being. These people were getting makeovers because their kids had terminal illnesses, or their husband was dying of cancer, or their house was unsafe. All of my children are healthy, Peter is still here with me, and our house, though not the most well-built place in the world, is still keeping us warm and dry. I am so blessed, and all I’m doing is whining because I don’t have the “things” that “normal” people seem to think are important.
Which led me to think of the reasons I’m glad my life isn’t “normal” – how I don’t go away to work and leave my children to be taught who-knows-what just so I can have enough money to remodel my kitchen; that I care more about taking care of the people and things God’s given me to care for than about looking good; and most of all, that I have God in my life, so that I can focus on what really matters, and not just on gaining more earthly possessions.
So I’m sorry if I came across as tooting my own horn; I meant to sort of count my blessings, and share my joy in the fun, quirky life God’s letting me live right now.
Sam, as usual, was asking Peter about Star Wars:
Sam: “Dad, what was Anakin’s mom’s name?”
Peter: “I don’t know.”
Elaina: “Her name was Darth Mom!”
This week was dominated by a huge benefit garage sale I helped with this weekend. My good friend Laura told me about a friend of hers who used to be part of our homeschool group (until her husband died suddenly in a car crash a few years ago, which made it too difficult for her to continue to homeschool) whose house burned down August 12th. Thankfully, she and her children (and their dog and two of their cats) got out safely, but they did lose pretty much all of their posessions, as well as one of their cats.
What did survive the fire, however, was a trailer full of items that she had intended to sell in a garage sale this past weekend (which ended up being a week and a half after the fire). So, ironically, everything she wanted to keep was destroyed, while everything she wanted to get rid of came through safely.
Obviously, her friend was much too busy to take on a garage sale right now, so Laura decided a good way to help, and to raise money for this family who could really use it right now, was to go ahead with the planned garage sale. The only problem was that Laura decided this on Tuesday, and planned to have the sale on Saturday. Needless to say, she had a very busy week!
I helped as much as I could during the week, mostly as a sounding board for ideas, while Laura spent most of the time making phone calls, not only for the garage sale, but also trying to find lodging for her friend’s family and pets (two of the cats are still at my friend’s house) and arrange volunteers, find a location for the sale, etc.
On Friday the other volunteers and I joined her at the Rice Lake Baptist Church (which one of the other families from our homeschool group, whose husband is pastor there, arranged for us to use for the sale) to sort through the items, take donations, and generally set things up. It was a huge job, and unfortunately I wasn’t able to help very much, since I had to leave at lunchtime to meet another friend, whom I’d promised to teach how to can peaches (ripe fruit waits for no man!)
Then we were all back again bright and early at 6:30 Saturday morning to get things set up on the church lawn for the sale. One of the ladies quipped, “Cancel my gym membership, I’m getting a good enough workout here!” Box after box after box was carried out to the tables (after the tables had been carried out, of course!) and their contents arranged for display. Much to our amazement, it was all set out and (almost) ready at 8:00, when the sale was scheduled to begin. We all took a big breath, hoping a lot of items would sell so we wouldn’t have to move all of those boxes away again!
Sales were steady all day, and we kept busy arranging items, helping customers, and of course chatting with the other volunteers (most of whom were from our homeschool group. What an amazing group of ladies!) At noon, another friend from the homeschool group brought us sandwiches, apple juice, and cookies (and there was much rejoicing – five points for that one!) She then stayed to help out (and chat) 
until the end of the sale.
I took a turn at the checkout table every so often, and it was during one of these shifts that, to my great surprise, I saw someone purchase my rags (which I had brought on Friday to help clean up some of the items). Somehow, my box of rags had been brought out with the boxes of sale merchandise, and someone had decided to buy it! Now, any homemaker will know what I mean when I say my rags are very precious to me – how do you clean without a good, sturdy rag? – and these were thick, bath towel-sized rags. But I barely batted an eye, and bravely sacrificed them for this good cause (although now I need some new rags! My towels are looking a little ragged (pardon the pun) which is not surprising because I got them for our wedding nine and a half years ago! Maybe I should declare them my new rags. Although then of course I’ll need to get new towels. Hmmm. . . my birthday’s coming up . . . Mom, you read my blog, right? And you know a nice sage, with perhaps just a hint of grey in it, would go well with all three of my bathrooms . . . if you just happened to be looking for ideas for a gift for your darling youngest daughter . . .)
Ahem. Aaanyway . . .
The sale was scheduled to end at 2:00, and there was still a lot of stuff on the tables (which we really weren’t looking forward to re-boxing and carting to St. Vinny’s) so at noon we decided to have an “anything you can fit in a . . . bag $1, box $5, and anything else half off” sale, which obviously did wonders to move merchandise! By the time 2:00 rolled around, we had completely cleared off three tables (leaving, oh, maybe fifteen more tables still pretty full - there were a LOT of donations!) and we told the last few stragglers just to take as much as they wanted.
In the end, we had to take away only two pickup loads full of boxes to St. Vincent de Paul. It took us less than an hour total to clean up, which was a huge and happy surprise (yay for helpful, efficient volunteers!) and we were on our way, with over an hour before we moms had to start cooking supper (hopefully enough time to catch a quick nap, since some of us had been up since 5am . . .)
The sale turned out to be a huge success, and we made over $1,000 – which turned out to be nearly perfect, because that was almost what she needed to pay the security deposit on the house she wanted to rent (it cost more because of her pets), which she wanted to move into on Monday. So that was a huge blessing.
So all in all it was a smashing success, all the more so because we all felt that God had used us to help those in need, right here in our local community.
But you should have seen Laura and I in church this morning – we were both more than a little loopy and overtired! It made the meal prep rather interesting . . .
Did I mention that Laura was one of the friends I’d done a garage sale with last year? And did I mention that she’d told me she NEVER wanted to do a garage sale again? Yeah. Check the blog around August, 2010 . . . we’ll see what she comes up with next year . . .
I’ve always thought of myself as a pretty normal person; after all, I am the statistical average for height (5′5″) and shoe size (8). I’m not wild and crazy (most of the time), but I’m not totally introverted either. But as I was summing up my morning thinking of post ideas, it struck me: No one (except maybe Joel & Kirsten!) would call me normal.
For example:
A normal person wouldn’t can six quarts of pickles, bake a loaf of bread, blanch and freeze a quart of broccoli, shred and freeze 12 cups of zucchini, pick (and eat!) four cherry tomatoes, feed 31 chickens, play outside with the kids (plus the teacher’s 2-year-old) for an hour while the older kids had piano lessons inside, help a friend plan a benefit garage sale in less than a week, check and respond to email, bake french toast for breakfast and serve it to five kids under the age of 9 – all before lunch.
A normal person would think it was a big deal for a family of six to stay over for the weekend (we won’t even mention the Punkinfest crowd!)
A normal person wouldn’t be dissapointed at the farmer’s market because they don’t offer anything she doesn’t grow herself.
A normal person watches channels other than History, Discovery, PBS, and HGTV (when she has TV at all!).
A normal person wouldn’t get jealous of her sister-in-law for having an unlimited supply of recyclable building materials.
A normal person would think twice about driving five hours each way to hang out with family for two days.
A normal person wouldn’t be disappointed by the fact that her husband would rather not get a dairy animal.
A normal person does not finish an email with sentences like: “I accepted the invitation with alacrity, and hope this is amenable to you as well.” (This is a literal quote from a message to Peter this morning – ask him if you don’t believe me! Perhaps I should lay off the Jane Austen movies for a while . . .)
A normal person doesn’t make her own yogurt, butter, buttermilk, homemade bread, mozzarella cheese, refried beans, tortilla shells . . .
And of course, a normal person wouldn’t broadcast to the world what a freak she is!!!
I guess I will have to admit it – I am far from normal. But I suppose since it’s a completely theoretical construct anyway, no one is strictly normal. So I guess my non-normalness is perfectly normal!
That’s right, life is worth living again – I have my new keyboard installed and I can share all of the exciting details of my life with you! I was so impressed – I orded it off Amazon on Thursday and it was delivered on Saturday. Now that’s good service! And I was able to have it installed on Sunday by Peter and our nephew Cameron (who apparently just finished building his own desktop computer at home) . Thanks, guys!
This weekend was filled up with a visit from Peter’s brother Kent and his family, who were kind enough to help me burn up the old furniture that had been decorating the lawn for months (although I’m paying for it today by being driven crazy by a half-dozen mosquito bites). Then on Saturday Peter, Sam, Hannah, Naomi, and Trevor, joined Kent’s family on a trip to Amnicon Falls state park on Saturday (a favorite Westendorf destination). Debbie and I stayed with the three and under crowd, and, even though it was incredibly hot and sticky out, were inspired to cook up an extra-special dinner for our guests and hubbies when they came home (think grilled bacon-wrapped steak skewers, served with sauteed onions and mushrooms, garlic shrimp, twice-baked potatoes, and corn on the cob, with a bottle of red wine to drink, followed by two pints of Culver’s Snicker Swirl custard – I’m getting hungry again just thinking about it!)
After the dinner was done and the kids were in bed, we hauled out another Westendorf favorite – Cities and Knights of Catan. Of course, only six of us could play, so the women and Kent’s teenage daughters played Catan while the three Westendorf brothers and Kent’s son Cameron engaged in another Westendorf pasttime, playing Clue (the boardgame) while watching Clue (the movie) (yeah, I don’t get it either). A good time was had by all, even though we were all very tired after a long and busy day.
But of course, all things here on earth must come to an end, and this morning, after a very yummy breakfast of eggs and leftover steak and bacon, Kent’s family headed back home. I was looking forward to a relaxing afternoon, possibly even a nap, with Trevor and Debbie coming over to watch Nascar (I was planning to catch up on some reading); but alas, this was not to be. Just before we started to eat lunch (leftover pizza – I don’t have to cook all day, we have so many leftovers!) Peter got a call from the office. Apparently there was a water leak, and the basement of the office (where all of the call coordinators’ desks and computers are) is very wet. So Peter went in to work, Trev and Deb took their boys home for naps, and I was alone with the kids. *sigh*
But I did get my nap (while Josiah slept and the older kids watched a movie); I didn’t have too cook; the cleanup was done; and – joy! – I was able to type effortlessly again. Definitely a good end to a good weekend.
I’m so sorry, everyone (ok, that one person who reads this . . .) but I am blogging-impaired right now. Josiah pulled off three keys on my laptop, and although I can still type, it is laborious and annoying.
So, Wednesday afternoon I’m playing with the kids, and they’re goofing around on the neighbor boy’s skateboard. Of course, I used to ride a bit when I was a teenager, so I take a turn. Note to self: do not try to ride a skateboard when you’re over thirty. My first try, I totally biffed it.
Thursday morning I wake up with a backache, and as the day progressed my foot got sore, too. This did not stop me, however, from walking limping around Walmart for an hour with Peter before Bible Study (Peter, bless his sweet heart, even suggested I take one of those motorized carts, or maybe just a wheelchair and he could push me around. Um, NO.)
Friday morning, I can’t put ANY weight on my foot; just touching it makes me whimper. After making and serving breakfast, I realize that if I try to go about my normal day, I will just make it worse, so I resign myself to a day on the couch. Of course, being me, this means that I finally finished reading aloud the book I’d started with the kids, oh, a year and a half ago; I finished hand-sewing the binding on the baby quilt and changing pad I’d been working on; I folded the laundry that had been sitting in the living room for four days; and I have about half of the Christmas cross-stitch wallhanging I started last January done. It also means I watched wayyy too much HGTV (and am now itching to repaint the basement, put in some built-in cabinets, reupholster the furniture, get new light fixtures, take artistic photos of the kids and frame them, build chandeliers out of strange found objects . . .)
But none of this would have been possible without my wonderful support staff – er, children. Sam fed the chickens, cooked lunch (well, reheated spaghetti – but he did bake the garlic bread all by himself!), did about four loads of laundry, put Josiah down and got him up from his naps, and even changed Josiah’s pullups (except the poopy ones – I had to get off the couch for those). The girls were also great helpers; they really could have run the house without me.
Of course, when Peter got home, the house could have used some picking up . . . and he did have to make supper (frozen pizza, of course!) . . . and he did have to deal with all of the things the kids had gotten into over the course of the day . . . So, considering all that, he was in a fairly good mood . . .
But Saturday morning he brought out the crutches and INSISTED I stay off my foot – this is never allowed to happen again!
Oh, and I almost forgot to thank Tami for letting me borrow her super-cool cane on Friday (hey, if you’re going to be broken, you might as well do it in style!):
(Yes, Peter is gritting his teeth right now, because it is obviously lying on the bed and not being USED, while I stand, unassisted, further delaying my recovery while taking the picture . . .)
