We spent Easter afternoon at Grammy Peep and PapaJohn’s house. (You may remember them from the shooting of the wise men.)  What fun!  First of all, we had our traditional Easter meal: ham, Irene Straw cornflake potatoes, 7 layer jello, crescent rolls, pickled eggs, and a new addition, asparagus (which I ate with my fingers because it is socially acceptable to do so).  We also had Funyuns, enough chocolate to choke a  horse, and Aunt Kay Kay made two pies and cookies and some peanut butter/bread things. 

After lunch, PapaJohn had an egg hunt for the kids. In the eggs were money and slips of paper. The children had to choose one paper to keep, give one away, and blindly choose another paper from someone else.  What hooting laughs we had. Some of the papers were good things–get a can of root beer, get cell phone minutes added on your phone, get free pushes on the swing, control the TV for an hour.  And some were funny–get a big lip kiss from Grammy Peep, get a bear hug from PapaJohn, kiss Molly Dog on the lips,  perform something for us.

Gockle got to kiss Molly. Lucky!

 

After the first hunt, Peep had another one, this time for eggs filled with candy.  We all wished we had a video camera running on LibbyK as she tossed eggs into her bag and didn’t realize that she had missed. Hunter just followed along behind her, picking up the eggs.

Today, it is grey and rainy, but the radiant glow from all the leftover chocolate in the house makes it feel like summer!

It’s almost Wednesday! Isn’t that exciting? Okay, it’s not really, but we’ll pretend. Wait, it actually is exciting. It’s my mom’s birthday! Happy, happy, happy to her!

Not a whole lot is going on now in the aftermath of the big production, or perhaps the usual chaos seems so much less.  I’ve got Easter candy hiding in my closet and am considering what presents to purchase for the children.  Do you do much for Easter?  I like to have all sorts of goodies, but I’m rather short of ideas this year.  We plan to go to my mom’s for Easter lunch, which will be all sorts of yummy.

Speaking of yummy, what Easter candy treat is your favorite?

(I like those little wrapped chocolate eggs and jellybeans, particularly the sour ones.)

Remember a while back (I would say 39 days ago) that I mentioned Lent?  It turns out, I did decide to observe Lent this year–my very first one.  I was ready for the 40 days of sacrifice, and it was rather a rude awakening in the middle of Lent to realize it is actually 46 days long. (Sundays don’t count.)

How’s your Lenten season going?

I guess I didn’t realize the title of the entry when I recommended it. However, I think the writer makes some great points about homeschooling and public schooling.  Maybe you’ll just think the title was my April Fool’s joke to you. Maybe?

I am annoyed. My cat smells like cat pee. My back porch smells like cat pee. The whole world is beginning to smell like cat pee. I should just make some cookies.

In 1998, after Failed Dog Experiment One and about five or six dead goldfish, Hunter still wanted a pet.  “Mom, do you think we could get a bird?” his little seven year-old self asked.    We sent out an email to the general population of Cedarville College (where TGD was working at the time) seeing if anyone had a cage for sale. We got an email that not only did someone have a cage, they had a bird to go with it!

So, we became the third owners of a little, yellow parakeet. 

There was debate as to what to name him.  Yellowie?  Butter Stick?  Since the children had recently watched the movie Paulie which features a parrot, they decided that Paulie would be a good name for our new family member.

Paulie turned out to be a great bird. I had a parakeet when I was a child, and he was obnoxious with his squawking. Paulie made such gentle, pleasant bird noises.  Plus, he was friendly. He’d sit on your shoulder or your head or fly over to where you were and just hang out near you. 

One year, when we moved to Oklahoma for the summer, we took Paulie with us.  I don’t know that hotels are used to people carrying in a parakeet cage for an overnight stay.

He had a toy, a set of jingle balls, which he loved dearly. I think he would have followed those balls straight into a cat’s mouth.

Paulie also loved Little Miss, especially when she was a baby. He would fly down and sit on her head or walk around her and tug at her socks or pick at her baby books. One day, soon after she learned to sit unaided, Paulie was doing his usual inspection. Four month-old Little Miss slowly leaned over, hardly in control of her own hands, and grabbed a very surprised parakeet. He let out a squawking, and I rescued him. Totally unhurt, in less than two minutes, he was back at Little Miss’s side.

A few years after we moved to PA, we inherited my mom’s parakeet, Bluey,  who was another bachelor bird. The two seemed to enjoy each other and would hop in and out of their respective cages. But, when night came, separate dwelling were required.

My mom would get the birds over the summer–their vacation home. About two years ago, we just didn’t bother bringing them home as they were having too much fun.  A year ago, Bluey died, and two baby parakeets came to live.  Paulie seemed to be able to teach these wild creatures how to get back into their cage after flying and that it was okay to be friendly.

Over the last year, Paulie took more and more naps. Sometimes he would stretch out almost horizontally on the perch or bend over almost upside down on the side of the cage. He began to look like a punk rocker as his thinning feathers would stick straight up and he fluffed them out to keep warm.  But, he was still pleasant and active and enjoyed his daily bath.

Yesterday my mom called to tell me the news–Paulie died in the afternoon.

Rest in peace, you wonderful bird.

Opening night was amazing. 

Last night I was wondering why I never seem to update my Xanga. Surely my life isn’t any less thrilling than it was last year? (Okay, that’s a lie. Being in a foreign country gives everything a certain panache.)  I suspected with fewer Xanga entries, my handwritten journal entries would have increased. Not true.  Am I visiting more with friends in person or via email to share bits of my day? Um, no.

(And this first paragraph is probably a sign of why I am not writing more. I’ve turned dull.)

Wednesday, I got the gardening bug and planted innumerable seeds into 240 peat pots in mini-greenhouses.  Of course, it is far, far too early to think of planting anything outside in PA. (It did snow this morning after all.) But, one must heed the siren call of dirt. 

The funny thing about me and gardening is how quickly I grow weary of it. I start out with hundreds of flower seedlings to transplant into my insanely-long garden.

After about 100 plants, I don’t care anymore and start tossing them willy-nilly. I’m good about weeding in May and June, and about July 4th, the weeds become independent and take over the garden. So, by mid-August, just when the garden should be at its glory, I’ve got an impressive showing of crabgrass and prickly lettuce and other odd weeds. (In defense of those weeds, some of them blossom, so I just call them “volunteer wildflowers.”)

This year, the garden needs major work. When we moved in, it looked great. There was 10 year weed matting covered with mulch. Now, the 10 years for the matting are over and the mulch is just dirt. Ripping out the weed matting, getting rid of dead bushes, planting perennials, rematting, mulching, and more are what we get to do this summer.

I am thinking this might be a job for a professional. Yeah! That’s it!  Now, to find someone who might want to work in exchange for 240 seedlings…

I have some of your addresses, but not all. Just Xanga message me with them. Lisa, I don’t think I have yours, although I should.  Anna, Jessica, and Jud, I have your addresses.