Do I Really *Need* a Car?

I have a tendency to put things off--especially things I don't want to do. I don't like to deal with car issues. That includes oil changes and inspections and all those icky things. I don't like the way people at those places talk to me and treat me as though I'm an idiot. I mean, talk to me like I'm four because I really don't know much about cars--that's fine. Really. But don't make fun of me. Don't give a look that says, "Poor misguided female should've sent her husband." So what do I do? Send my husband.

My car was due for inspection in April. Oops. I sent Richard out to get it inspected today since he leaves for scout camp on Monday. It didn't pass. Apparently there are three leaks in the emissions system that the computer found. Here again I show my ignorance when it comes to car issues. I have no idea what that means electronically or in automobile terms. I fear that I do know what it means in financial terms. It means we're never, ever getting out of debt. Ever. Sigh.

Just. Can't. Get. Moving.

It's one of those days. I just can't get moving today. I had plans. I had a mental list. Walk the dog. Vacuum and mop. Go to the temple. I have done none of those things. Frankly, I haven't done a single, solitary thing except make waffles for myself, drink Diet Coke and play my Facebook games.

Is it just the knowledge that it's going to be extraordinarily hot today? Is it because my timing is off on taking my thyroid medication and so it's not levelled out anymore? Am I just lazy?

At some point I'm going to have to actually get off this couch and shower and get dressed. I have to pick up boys for camp in three hours. I should probably get going now if I'm going to be on time.

Cub Scout Twilight Camp - Week Two

Yes folks, it's week two of cub scout twilight camp. Please remember that I'm really not an outdoorsy kind of person--at least not if I'm going to be hot and sweaty. But overall, I enjoyed last week's Webelos camp. It was well organized and fun.

This week I was supposed to go on Tuesday and Friday, but due to a sudden pang of sympathy for a dad who had gotten home from an all-night vacation drive at 5:30 Monday morning, I offered to go on Monday as well. Which meant that yesterday (Tuesday) was day 7 for me of spending approximately five hours a night outside in the heat and humidity. That laughing you heard that you couldn't find? That was my grandmother cackling at me from Heaven.

One thing that I noticed first off on Monday--the difference between Bears/Wolves and Webelos is gigantic. Like Mississippi River huge. The amount of whining I heard on Monday was...well...way too much for me. Luckily for our little walking den, it wasn't from our guys. Second thing--it's hotter this week. A lot hotter. About five degrees hotter. That doesn't sound like much, you say? The difference between 93 and 98 is surprising. Especially when the heat index is 105. So we're constantly telling the boys, "Drink your water!"

"But I just drank some."

"I don't care...drink some more."

While waiting for opening ceremonies (sounds like the Olympics, doesn't it? It's not. Not at all.) in the blazing sun, we suddenly hear a splutting sound from about two lines over. Poor little guy has just thrown up. And are his den buddies kind and caring?

No...because they are 8 and 9 years old. Here's what we heard:

:::SPLUT/SPLASH:::

"DUDE! THAT WAS MY BUCKET! Man! You barfed on my bucket!"

Along with our giggles, you could hear leaders all over the place--"See? You need to drink your water."

That was Monday. No one threw up on Tuesday, but I haven't sweated that much...well...I think maybe ever. Someone said the heat index was 109 when camp started. But we survived.

And tonight? I'm at home. In the air conditioning. Praying for our little group who are there with four (count 'em--FOUR--I have no idea why) leaders from our pack--three of whom are men. Oy.

I'll be back there on Friday. Richard is going to scout camp next week. The coordinator from the other ward called and practically begged him to go because they just don't have enough leaders. Then he's going to high adventure camp with Chris in July. When did we become a camping family?

Webelos Twilight Camp - Updated

No, the boys aren't hanging out with Edward and Jacob--as one friend so cheerfully asked. It's cub scout day camp--only it's from 4:30-9pm. I must admit that I was really, really worried about this camp. With the formation of our new stake, we are now in a new scout district and so a new district cub camp. The disorganization in the registration process, the disorganization in the orientation meeting, the disorganization in the here's-what-you-need-to-know process, the seemingly no-fun attitude of the packet of rules and such, and the lack of spirit (or should I say The Spirit) at any of the meetings left me with a worry to the point that I almost just decided to not go this week.

James is the only Webelos in our pack. Two other boys were registered with us. One is technically not a Webelos, but that's another story. He's there at Webelos camp. Whatever. The other boy moved to Iowa, so I don't think he'll be attending. ;-)

It has turned out to be a really good camp. They've had good activities, good leaders at the stations, good projects that are helping the boys to pass off quite a bit of stuff. It's been hot, but there's a lot of shade at this particular park. Most of our activities have been in the shade and those that aren't--well, we've been lucky and had those activities scheduled later in the evening. The only activity, so far, that I could really say was a bad idea was the games on Tuesday. It was supposed to turn into a relay of knot tying. Yeah. They never got to the relay part and spent 45 minutes trying to tie knots. Uh-huh. That was fun. So, overall--I've been happy with this camp. And I still am...but something happened yesterday that has upset a lot of people. I'm blogging about it partly because I just need to kind of work through my thoughts on it.



At the end of the last activity yesterday (so about 8:30pm), we were all held in our stations instead of going to the flagpole for awards and flag retrieval. We heard the siren of the medical 4-wheeler. The games activity yesterday was "sponge wars." Basically, it was a water balloon fight with those spongey balls that you use in pools. The boys had a BLAST! I thought it was a fabulous idea. Apparently they've been doing it for years. I'm sure there have been a fair share of injuries. James bonked heads with someone yesterday and got a little bump over his eye. But...they're boys. It's part of the territory. But I digress...sorry.

We could see the medical 4-wheeler over at the games station. Obviously something was serious if they were holding us. Then they sounded the horn for us to return to the flagpole. As we were walking to the flagpole, we could see an ambulance coming up the road. I'm sure we were all thinking--broken ankle, bad heat exhaustion or dehydration. We were all wrong.

At the flagpole, the camp director spoke in a cracking voice and then turned it over to a sheriff's deputy to tell us what had happened. Apparently, in the course of the fun of sponge wars, the game turned ugly for one scout. Tempers flared (I suppose) and one scout was basically assaulted by a group of other scouts. To the point of having an ambulance called. The deputy said, "The law was broke [sic] here tonight. Some of you scouts are lucky. The mother doesn't want to press charges. But she could. There are some scouts here who owe that boy and his mother an apology."

Wow. I mean just...wow. Never in my life would I have dreamed this would happen at scout camp. Injuries--yes. Arguments--sure. These are 10 yo boys after all. Frustrations and yelling and all that goes with that. But there's also fun and frolic and running around in the woods. But for a group of scouts to gang up on one boy and beat him up basically? Shocking and heartbreaking.

The camp director and all those involved in the camp handled it fabulously. As far as I could tell there was no panic. They followed procedures, stayed calm--most of the boys had no idea anything was amiss other than the siren from the medical truck and the ambulance. So even though I'm really sad that it happened and it would be easy to say, "Well, we're never going back to this camp again," I don't think it was the fault of the camp or the leaders--even the leaders in that particular "walking den." Having already done that station, I can absolutely see how it could happen without being noticed in time. Boys are pretty fast when they want to be. And when they're all running around like ants, it's hard to know when something's wrong right at first. Then again...maybe that's the lack of the spirit again. I don't know.

Today is the last day of camp. I think it will be a bit subdued. But I hope everyone will rally around those who tried to help and those who were only witnesses and help them have a good time. I hope a lesson has been learned. I hope prayers were said for the injured boy and for those involved. And I hope the punishment fits the crime for the perpetrators. But I'm not in charge of any of that except for my own boy and my own walking den. We will smile and have fun today. And we will come home from a week of cub camp with lots of lessons--some expected and some unexpected. Sometimes we learn the most from those unexpected lessons. I hope so.


Update: Turns out the boy who was hurt was a junior volunteer. And yes, the incident happened when the games was boys against leaders. And the volunteer alledgely taunted the boys saying stuff like, "Come on! Come and get me!" Well, they did. And it got out of hand. Does that make it right? Absolutely not. Does that make the injured boy less of a victim? I don't think so. But I'm thinking in all of the lessons learned, maybe the victim learned something too. And he's okay. He was back at camp on Friday.

Quiet Little Lessons

A couple of nights ago we had a really good/bad storm. Good if you like high winds, lightning and thunder. Bad if you don't. And bad if it really was a teeny tiny tornado--not sure.

The next day (yesterday), we were out running errands and drove by a neighbor's/ward member's/friend's house who I know is on vacation. I thought, as I drove by, "Hmm...everything looks okay. Can't really see the back...."

When we got home, I got a phone call from my friend. She had heard about the storm and wondered if anyone could/would check on her house. I told her that we had driven by and everything looked okay. "I didn't really see the back, but it looks fine."

That afternoon, James and I were out and about and we drove by again. This time I slowed down and looked more carefully. "Yeah, still can't really see the back, but it looks good," I thought. As I got to the end of the street, I told James that was just going to whip through the alley--just to make sure. Now I get totally confused in our alleys. They wind around and I have no idea where I am. So...I got to a T in the alley and wondered, "Where the heck am I? Which way do I turn to get to their house? Ok...I'll just turn right." And right in front of me was a street. My friend's street. I'd just passed their house. Didn't see anything--nothing stood out.

James said, " That's their house!" Me: Oh! Yeah! It is! Ok...well, looks okay then. James: Yeah, except for their gate being down.

Uh, what? We came back around and this time I knew where I was going. We saw this. Don't ask me how I didn't notice it the first time by. Thank goodness James was there to keep his eyes peeled.

I asked James if he knew why I kept thinking about the back of the house. In his most matter-of-fact voice he said, "The Holy Ghost." Duh, Mom. I like those times when you don't even know you're listening to the Holy Ghost and you follow through anyway. And I like it when my boys are around to experience it and it's not a FHE lesson or a sit-down-and-read-the-scriptures-and-talk-about-the-Holy-Ghost lesson. It just happens and it's real life.

Then Richard and Chris got to experience "service," by going over last night and this morning and replacing the fence posts (they'd snapped off near the ground) and reattaching the fence piece. All in all...good lessons all around.

The Last 12 Hours

Last night we had this:
This morning we had this:

and this:

And now we have this:

Ya just gotta love early summer in Texas!

Although, as I look out the window--the sun is shining from the east, but dark clouds are coming in from the west. It's gonna be an interesting day! (Bet we're not going to the water park.)

How Does This Happen?

We've given up clocks in our bedroom. Both Richard and I use our cell phones as clocks and alarms. Here's Richard's phone:

Explain to me please how the alarm on this phone can go off at 5:00 this morning when it *didn't* go off the last two days. 5 am! Yeah, I never did go back to sleep.

But at least it wasn't some loud, annoying alarm sound. I was awakened to the sounds of the phone vibrating on the table followed by the soothing tones of Enya. If it hadn't been for the buzz of the vibration, it wouldn't have been quite so annoying. Well that and if it had been at, say, 8:00 and not 5:00.

Larry's All Grown Up!

I couldn't resist taking some new pictures of Larry the Dog. And of course, if I'm going to take pictures, I have to blog about them. And upload them to facebook. Yeah, it's the second day of summer and I'm bored. (Read previous posting.)

We call this his dead dog position.

After I took the "dead dog" picture, he turned around. But he's watching me.

Let's strike a traditional doggie pose.

I am DONE taking pictures! In his defense, he wasn't "going after" me or anything. I was trying to take a picture of him with his mouth open and right as I went to snap the picture he lifted his head. Looks fierce, doesn't he? Yeah, whatever. Come on over and meet him. He'll jump on you and pee on you. Real fierce. Though he did growl at the UPS man today. Guess he doesn't like it when someone just runs up to the door, knocks, and runs away.

Not How I Wanted to Start Summer

It's been two weeks tomorrow since I felt the "pop" in my left calf. It's been 5 days since I went to the ER to make sure it wasn't a blood clot. I'm still trying to get in to see my regular doctor and follow up. Now my shin looks like this--and yes, it hurts to press on it. (Can you see the yellow down the middle? It was hard to get it to show up.) The red spots are the chigger bites from a week ago. I really hate chiggers and will make darn sure I have bug repellant at cub twilight camp next week.

This is the ankle. Pretty, huh? Interestingly enough, the ankle doesn't hurt. Doesn't hurt to touch. Doesn't hurt to move. Doesn't hurt to twist. Doesn't hurt at all. But it's swollen and bruised. Again--ignore the chigger bites. Guess I've ruined my career as a foot model. I took one pic with and one without the flash. I wasn't sure which one showed up better. Still don't really know.

I'm walking better--not limping as badly--but I'm still slow. I was looking forward to getting out for my early morning summer walk every day--even with the dog. I was looking forward to going swimming or to Hawaiian Falls--even if I have to buy/wear a swimsuit. I know it's only the first two days of summer break, but I'm bummed about it.

Everyone around here is tired of hearing me whine about it. So...I'm whining to you--all three of my readers. There...I feel better.

Chores

I want to teach my children the value of work. I really do. But sometimes, it just seems to fall on deaf ears--or rather, grumbling, gripey ears. And then I decide it's easier to do it myself. But I step up to the parenting plate and give a list of chores. I'm trying a new thing. The boys sign up for the paid chores they would like to do that week. Each chore carries a wage.

One son comes to me and says, in a rather bored, annoyed voice, "I finished your bathroom." You know the sound. The one that sounds like they've just pulled a handcart all the way across the plains. Yeah, that one.

I go into the bathroom to check and this is what I find. Hmm. Yeah. Finished.

See the streaks? Okay, so that means that he wiped it down, right? He just didn't care how it looked afterward. The fact that he did it is good enough, right? (Oh, and ignore the portion of the closet on the left. It doesn't always look that way. It's just from cleaning out our classrooms. Really. Yeah.)

Below is my favorite though.

This is the bathtub. Yeah, I don't take many bubble baths. But...if someone (say maybe the person who signed up to clean my bathroom) would at least wipe it out, I might take more bubble baths.

My bathroom is one of the highest-paid jobs. But I'm thinking he didn't really earn the money this week. What do you think?

What Is It With My Legs?

December 2008
I sprained my right ankle badly. I was basically bed-ridden and on crutches for two weeks. Crutches after that along with physical therapy. It took a while but I was back to normal by February-March.

Spring 2009
My left calf had some cramps. Nothing bad, but I would notice that it felt tight when I walked sometimes--especially if I trotted or jogged anywhere. But, of course, I dismissed it.

Last Wednesday, I was getting ready to walk the dog and trotted through the front hall to get my sneakers. My left calf "popped." I didn't fall on the floor, thank goodness, but oh MAN it hurt. I couldn't walk very well. I limped the rest of the week. By Sunday, my ankle was swollen--but it didn't hurt. Weird. But my leg still hurt.

By Monday it was feeling better and on Tuesday it was much better. Even the swelling was gone. But then...the cub scouts had a mini-hike that afternoon. I climbed a fence fine. Then we had to climb down and back up a little creekbed. Going up, I could feel the leg muscle pull again. I limped around the rest of the hike. Coming home, I had to climb the fence again. This time I didn't do as good of a job and I landed on both feet on the other side. OUCH! Back to square one.

I limped around all day on Wednesday and Thursday. By Thursday night, I was worried. It wasn't getting better and my ankle was swelling again. I was worried about a blood clot. After doing all I had to do on Thursday, including a twilight camp meeting, I decided to go to urgent care. My dear, sweet husband went with me at 9:00 at night.

We waited about an hour and a half. Once I finally got in, the doctor was great. He was efficient and thorough. He even apologized for our long wait and waived the copay. COOL! But he was worried too. He said I didn't have all the symptoms of deep vein thrombosis, but I had enough that it warranted an immediate trip to the ER for an ultrasound.

At 11:00 at night, we traipsed over to Plano Presby. Thank goodness they were having a light evening. I had an doppler sonogram on my leg and they x-rayed my ankle. Both tests were negative. Richard enjoyed watching all the cool stuff on the sonogram--which I couldn't see. So not fair.

I was diagnosed with either a muscle strain or something called a Baker cyst. I'm leaning toward the cyst because the symptoms are almost exactly what it looks like.

We got home at about 1:30-2:00. I took a prescribed vicodin and was asleep for the night by 3:00. I went to school today. I tried to stay off the leg as much as possible--using my crutches from last year even--but by the time school was out, my ankle and lower leg were HUGE! I came home, put myself to bed with my leg up and haven't moved from here since. My hope is that I can keep the leg up over the weekend and hopefully have it better by next week. No matter what, I'll still probably follow up with an orthopedist next week.

It is so frustrating to be incapacitated. Today was the last day of school. I have hardly seen my boys since I came home. (Of course Chris is out at a "school's out" party, but still.) Richard is at his school trying to finish up the last things and he's just as exhausted as I am. I had plans for tonight that I had to cancel, plans for tomorrow that I'll probably have to cancel. There are things to start doing with the start of summer and here I sit. Ugh.

Now I know that in the grand scheme of things, this is but a small thing. Unfortunately, that doesn't make it any less annoying. So I will grudgingly lie here and rest my leg. I will let people help me and I will assign others the jobs that need to be done. And I will try not to feel guilty.

And...I'll try to come up with a better story than "hiking with the cub scouts."

Get Thee Behind Me, Satan - Ten-Year-Old Style

On Monday night, the younger boys and I were attempting Family Home Evening. I had a plan. I was stealing that plan from someone else, but it was still a plan. (Actually I was stealing it from a class at our Stake Relief Society Enrichment last weekend, so I guess it's not really stealing. It was there for our use, right?)

ANYWAY

I was silly enough to have put off making some GF peanut butter cookies (1 cup peanut butter, 1 cup sugar, 1 egg--can't beat it), so that I was trying to have our lesson while monitoring the cookies in the GF-only toaster oven. Lots of mistakes already. Should've baked them in the big oven. I'll make a note for next time. And I'm trying to talk about tithing and all that stuff while mixing up the batter and putting out the cookies. Ugh. Dumb. A recipe for frustration. And it was--sort of.

The cookies did not turn out well. I had trouble getting them off the teeny-tiny tray and they fell apart. (They were still tasty--once I got over the fact that they no longer looked like cookies.) I was frustrated with that trouble and was throwing away the foil from the cookie sheet. The trash can was full. Filled to overflowing. So I had to stuff the wadded-up-straight-from-the-oven foil down into the trash can. Hit a hot spot and burned my finger. ARGH! Ranted about why no one else in this house can seem to take out the trash. Everyone just keeps piling it on.

James immediately came over and said, "I'll take it out." What a guy. He's the one who will always notice when someone needs help. Brought me up a bit and I said to the boys, "You know why we have troubles like this? Because Satan doesn't want us to have FHE. He knows that FHE is something that will make our family stronger and he doesn't want that. And so these little frustrations happen and Satan taps us (ok, usually me) on the shoulder and whispers in my ear how annoying it is and how hard it is and wouldn't it be easier to just watch TV instead.

So, James comes in from taking out the trash. Here's the conversation:
James: I talked with Satan while I was outside.
Me (on the outside): Really. (on the inside): What are you doing talking with Satan? Ack!
James: Yeah. I told him I really hated him and that it's a good thing he doesn't have a body. Because if he had a body, I'd punch him really hard right in the privates.
Me: Oh. Well. Good for you. That's the spirit!

So there ya go. A ten-year-old boy's version of "get thee behind me, Satan." Just punch him in the you-know-whats.

I can't help thinking that Heavenly Father had to be smiling.