Look at that!

Click to see the tracty in action. He's a trick rider.

VIDEO

or

Nothing runs like a Deere

Well Macy is retired, but since I don't have any pictures of that yet, here are some of The New Tracty.

It even has a trailer:

You can't see her, but there's a Meow riding in the trailer. Not a real one, although he did ask about that option.

More to come on Sunday! Stay tuned ...

Contemplative Angler

We went fishin'. Just me and my dad.

Have you seen those "Little Critter" books by Mercer Mayer? They're all about this little independent critter thing, who camps, fishes, and generally does things ALL BY HIMSELF or, alternately, with his dad.

Here's our little critter ... pictures taken by The Dad on their recent fishin' hole adventure.

Besides fishing, we're into chocolate chip cookies and closed-eye pictures ...

"I needa check my email." ...

and playing the "I Miss John Again Mahdahdah" game.

This game involves a certain 2.5 year old saying, "I miss John again, Mahdahdah!" (NOTE: "Mahdahdah" is a combined pet name for both your Ma and your Da-Da). After the prompt, you're supposed to say, "Where's John? Has anybody seen John? I just cannot seem to find John!" The reply is usually something like, "No find me in the bathtub!" or "No look behind the door!" In the picture above it was, "Am I in the tent?"

Surprisingly, it's usually pretty easy to find him. But Lord have mercy on you if you try to help him do anything. Last Tuesday night he came down an entire flight of stairs holding my hand and then, at the bottom, said, "NO! Let ME do it!" Walked all the way back up and did it again solo.

Today his to-do list looked like this: Help Dad rewire the spark plugs, lift weights, have a protein shake, nap for 3.5 hours, watch the new favorite (Dora Explorer & the Superbabies), and plant basil, anemones, and dwarf French marigolds (calendula) all around the tomato plants (to keep the aphids away).

Yesterday we found a tick in his ear and one on my stomach, and my dentist found two more cavities in my head full of half-rotten teeth. Will the Dental Gods please send me a little good fortune in 2007?!?!?!?!?!? I floss every. single. night. And yet.

In other news ...

My semester is almost over and I cannot wait for a few weeks off in May ... we have some fun trips planned, so get excited about the upcoming posts from Mississippi and Texas.

I'll be teaching two classes (that's considered full time) in the summer and was so excited to have Fridays off to plan lessons, grade, and paint my toenails. Then I found out that again this year, JEB's school will be closed on Friday. So I guess I will be forced to take him to the swimming pool whenever the weather's good. I have never gotten over my childhood addiction to spending summers near a swimming pool. My life is drudgery I tell you.

Hmmm ... what else?

Oh yes. There was the matter of my going 66 in a 55 zone earlier this week. The worst part was that I had to pull over in the Lutheran church parking lot -- the church that houses the preschool for which we are awaiting acceptance results. Luckily, I wasn't alone. My sidekick was in the back oohing and ahhing over the "blue lights flashy" and saying, "Hey man. You got a radio? 10-4. Radnor 9. What you writing?" Luckily, the policeman has a 3-year old and was very nice and did not cite me for failing to have my updated registration information in the car with me. (Husband seems to think that this it is not necessary to keep one's registration in one's car if one has an insurance card, but take it from me: they still ask for it.) Despite his pleasant personality and our potty training discussion, I did get a ticket. I didn't have time to apply my special get-out-of-speeding-tickets red lipstick.

BUT, LO! There is good news: Since I have not had a ticket in the last year, I get to do this nifty thing where I watch a video online and then take a test. It costs nearly $100 and takes several hours, but the other option is going to court to plead not guilty, and considering my court record, that is not a even close to being a good idea.

Yes, my father and husband are law enforcement officers. I consistently bring shame to the family name. But not as bad as my friend Emily, who once ran from the Newton City Police in her white V-8 Cougar. Was it a Cougar? I can't remember, but I'm sure some well-meaning reader will correct me. Joanna.

So that's about all the news from these parts. Next week Macy is retiring after spending 45+ years attending to the banking needs of the residents of Newton County, Mississippi. The local newspaper is doing a write up which I will be sure to post as soon as I get my hands on it.

Onward and upward.

The Easter Bunny Came ...

And went. And left this beg mess. I think he was a titch disappointed that there weren't any tractors in the Easter basket. Oh well, better luck next year, buddy. Maybe Mama will remember to put a basket together in advance rather than THE DAY BEFORE WHEN EVERYTHING IS SOLD OUT AT TARGET INCLUDING THOSE REALLY COOL BOB THE BUILDER MACHINES PULLING TRAILERS FULL OF EASTER EGGS. It doesn't matter though. That's not what Easter's about.

What it's really about is those deliciously crunchy PLAIN pastel-colored M&Ms which come in five-pound bags and which are bought solely for the receiver of the Easter basket. Not his parents.

Kidding!

(Sorta.)

Let's see ... what else?

Well, there was the night that we did a show about table manners:

The Goose is using a left-handed bamboo spatula to clean his plate. The Dad is using his tongue. Why should I even mention the elbows-on-the-table rule when there are such awful atrocities as these?

And then there was the night that I thought it might be a good idea to eat spaghetti with bison and green peas in the living room while using the laundry hamper as a table and a towel-covered couch cushion as a chair.

Not a good idea in the end, but it was fun.

Today as I watched him push Mavis the Diesel Engine (who was pulling a troublesome truck) up and down my forearm I was wondering how to divide his days ... I think it's something like this in a 24-hour period:

55% Sleeping

15% Reading

15% Truck/Train/Tractor Pushing (we like "t-r-" words)

5% Asking Rhetorical and/or Self-Answerable Questions (e.g., "Where's the smoke ateckor? Is downstairs; makes a noise. Where's the carbon moxide 'teckor? Is upstairs. Was it a loud noise or a scary noise? Not scary, just loud. Where's the boy? (ME: What boy?) The boy at the paygound? (ME: I don't know John. Where IS the boy?) Probly at home watching veejos (videos)." ET CETERA

5% Making Announcements & Proclamations (e.g., "Don't do dat Mama. You know better than that! ... Look, man! My kitty! (in Target to the check-out person) ... "I tee-teed." (outside Target, to a woman walking by in the parking lot while we were trying to be discrete). "I pooped a big log. Foo Foo the Snoo pooped on the concrete." (to no one in particular) ET CETERA

5% Eating

Give or take.

The smoke and carbon moxide ateckors could be in a category all their own considering their recent appeal. One night we even thanked God for Jasmine rice and smoke ateckors.

I think that's all. I'm not good at conclusions. I stress them in my classes -- "Conclusions are for summarizing! Restating! Leaving the reader with a final thought and signalling that yes, indeed, the author is definitely finished. Don't make them boring!"

The end.

dying eggs

This photo was taken right after I nearly had a heart attack because he pitched one girls-softball style right into the brown water that sucked up three of our tablets. Brian came home, saw my face, jokingly said that I should've been a pre- or grade-school teacher, and then convinced me to calm down and just let them make a mess. It was really difficult, but we saved 9 of 11 eggs and had a hunt to boot. The best part of the whole thing was when they (John --2.5 & Rachel -- 4) hid all the eggs in about a 4x4 ft. area (part of the garden) and then came running around the corner saying "GO FIND THEM!"

Click here for more dying action.

New Quilt, New Tricks

Finally, a queen-size quilt for our queen-sized bed. And a handmade one with custom colors at that! Thanks Mimi!

Here's another shot of it:

Surprisingly, I do not have one thing to say that is of any interest whatsoever. I think it's because tomorrow is a holiday. Our plan is to dye eggs and use our new egg- and chick-shaped sidewalk chalk to destroy everything in reason. Perhaps that will inspire me to write more.

Anna Karenina and the bed seem to be calling me.

More later ...

End'O'March

I have my usual spring cold and just realized I haven't taken one picture since the men returned from The North Country. So, I'm back to my old standby of mindless chatter interspersed with a look-how-far-we've-come collage.

Today while I writhed around on the couch blowing my nose and re-reading Anna Karenina (instead of teaching), The Guys went to check out the Lutheran preschool across the way. There was an open house from 9-11 a.m., so they biked there and had an enjoyable two hour tour, classroom visit, and playground investigation. Pros: It's open 8:30 - 3:30; they have certified, experienced teachers; it's close to home. Cons: they're not open in the summer; their 3-year-old curriculum involves letters, numbers, colors and shapes (he'll be bored), and they don't let the 2-3 year olds sit in the front of the church during meetings and/or other kinds of gatherings. Apparently as they toured the sanctuary in all its stained-glass glory, the principal was explaining about how all of the kids sit down in the front for important collectives there and then she stated that they didn't allow the 2-3 year old classes to sit down there but rather in the back of the church "just in case a class member needed to leave unexpectedly." So there's dead silence for a few seconds and then, with the first question of the day, in front of eight parents and their kids, The Goose says, "OK. Well, where's the back of the church?"

Not only was my kid the question-asker, but also my husband was That Parent. You know, the one who actually asks (out loud), "What if a student in the 3-year-old class already knows all of their letters, numbers, shapes, and colors? Is there any sort of advanced curriculum?"

The principal's answer: "He can just work on his social skills."

Hmmmm ... for seven hours a day? At those prices they better have a more engaging option than that, but thankfully Husband didn't point that out.

When they returned home, JEB barged in the door and said, "Hi Mom, how are you feeling? We went to check out a new school but I wanna stay where I am for now. Dah-dah's mad at you. Let's play trucks and eat peanut butter!"

(2006)

I'm not exaggerating at all. He is talking like that all the time ... asking polite questions and making all sorts of suggestions nonstop. And now informing one parent about times when the other parent is slightly peeved because of a bike incident: I seem to have a problem with ruining bike derailers because of my inability to appropriately change gears withOUT putting pressure on the pedals while coming up hills with a 30-pound toddler on the back. I have now ruined both my bike and Brian's and so he came in behind JEB in a much less cheery mood. Tomorrow we're dropping them off @ REI for a tune-up. ANOTHER tune-up.

(2005)

In other news ...

Monday night I took (without asking) John's "jambox" from it's rightful place on the floor in the playroom and used it for a listening lesson in Grammar III class. B said that not ten minutes after I left The Goose went in there to play and said, "Where's the jambox?" Amidst all that clutter, he knew it was missing. So then the next night (I had put it back immediately upon arriving home), we were in the kitchen cooking and JEB left the room suddenly. A few minutes later we hear, "IT'S NOT RIGHT BUT IT'S OKAY" by Whitney Houston blaring on the jambox. Not sure how he picked that particular CD, but it was a good excuse to have a family dance party. This was all before I got sick of course.

(2004)

Anywho, that's about all the news I've got. I think it's time for me to return to kleenex, pillows, and Tolstoy, but here's one last picture of him in 2003 that I couldn't resist: