Caterpillar Toe Jam

It gets muddy in the country. My dog doesn't mind. I do.

Because of his past behavior of terrorizing horses, trapping raccoons on neighbors porches, and eating chickens, Arrow now has to be on a leash when he is outside. It is annoying to him all of the time, but it is extremely annoying to me when I have to step through mud to get him hooked on his leash. My shoes get coated with clumps of gooey mud, and I cannot get them clean again.

Then I found the wonderful invention of hard soled slippers. I could leave them by the back door, use them to tromp through the mud, and then just slip them off when I went back inside. Brilliant.

One day though, they were extra muddy, so I left them outside by the door instead of inside by the door. They were right next to the house, so I figured they would be fine.

With not a care in the world, I held Arrow by the collar as I slipped the muddy slippers on my feet the next day and began the trek to his leash. After a step or two I felt an unspecified object in my slippers near my toes. I wiggled my toes in a scientific attempt to gather data about the unknown object. But the object, being more fragile than I reckoned, could not endure the wiggling. I felt a small pop. Then a gooey lotion coated my toes.

I let go of the dog, because who cares what he does when an unknown lotion has just coated my toes, and kicked the slippers, both just to be safe, far from me. After gathering my wits, I found the slippers and tipped them upside down. Because I just had to know.

A small family of caterpillars, minus one who was no longer solid, fell from my slippers.

I will never, ever again leave any sort of footwear outside. Never, ever. Ever.

Never.

The Iowa Way

"I'm trying to buy some straw to cover some grass seed I put down so I thought I would check to see if they sell it where we buy the chicken food," Mike whispered to me as he waited on the phone for someone at the farming supply store to answer.
"Hello?" a voice from the other end responded.
"I'm wondering if you sell straw," Mike asked.
"No, but Jim, who shops here, usually has some. Oh, he just walked in. I'll let you talk to him."
"Hello?" a loud second voice said.
"Do you sell straw?" Mike asked.
"I'm gonna have to let you talk to Charles again. I have a hearing aid and can't hear on these darn phones."
"Hello," the first voice said again.
"Can you ask Jim if he has straw for sell?" Mike asked.
"Hey Jim, do ya have any straw?" Charles shouted. "He says he does."
"Where can I get it?" Mike asked.
"Oh, it's in his barn."
"Okay. Where is his barn?"
"Well, ya take exit 70 south and turn in front of the old Imes Bridge. It's the only house on that road."
"Is there an address?"
"Hey Jim, ya got an address?"
"I ain't got no address. It's the only house."
"When will he be there so I can pick the straw up?" Mike asked.
"Oh, ya just drive your truck up to his barn. It's open. Load up how much ya want and leave the money in a jar."

And that is why raising your kids in Iowa is not such a bad idea.

Four Exclamation Points

Being a parent means living in a constant state of change. I plan, look ahead, schedule, organize, nail it down, pencil it in, wrap it up, and cover the bases. But still I had three roasts cooking when the kids called to say they would be eating at their friend's house. The next week, when they all had plans, I fixed a steak that Mike and I were sharing when they all suddenly came home asking for food in the middle of our romantic dinner.

The school nurse has seen me in my exercise clothes, still wet from a shower her call interrupted, dressed up to attend a midday ballet, and so sick I could barely made the drive to school to pick up my sick kid.

Sunday I arrived at church, talked to some friends, sang some songs, and sat down with the rest of the congregation to enjoy a half hour of bettering my soul. At that precise moment Drake and his cousin were downtown sending a text stating that instead of picking them up at noon I should pick them up now. I stood up and walked out in front of everybody. 

"I'm here," I texted Drake as I parked my car.

"Be down in 5," he texted back.

"Ok," I texted as I opened my Facebook app to pass some time while I waited.

"I love you!!!!" he texted me out of the blue with no prompting from anyone. With four exclamation points. Four. 

Constant state of change - worth it.

43

I turned 43 yesterday. My son, Josiah, gave me an extra squeezy hug and my son, Drake, gave me the highest of fives. I got some nice cards, including one from my grandma that was left completely blank inside.
"My cousin, Debbie, made that card," my mom told me.
"Grandma, you forgot to write inside the card," I said, showing it to my grandma.
"What?" That is always her first response.
"You forgot to write inside the card you gave me."
Then she stared me down, and I lost.
"It's pretty though. Debbie made it." I said to let her off the hook.
"Debbie made what?"
"This card," I said, showing it to her again.
"Oh, that's a pretty card."

 And that is when I learned that Grandma's ways are beyond me and not to be questioned.