A Journey to the Center of the Mountain

When Ben first approached me (late 2006) about leaving our home in the city and moving to the farm and ranch lifestyle, I remember him joyfully trying to convince me by saying, "C'mon! It'll be an ADVENTURE!"

I wasn't amused.

And I still hear those words echo in my head today.

Oh, but it has been so much MORE!

I have grown-up and struggled and learned so much about myself.

It has made me a lot stronger than I was before.

It has been a whole bunch of adventures, wrapped-up into one ginormous adventure.

During the process, I have been repeatedly forced to face some of my biggest fears out here (sometimes even on a daily basis and for long periods of time). Some have been known fears. Others are things that I never knew I was afraid of in the first place.

My newest self-realization:

I'm Speluncaphobic

(I'm not making that up...it's a real word.)

*NOTE: Technically we weren't in a cave; We were in a mine shaft, but according to Google there doesn't seem to be an existing term for "fear of mine shafts" so we'll just make-do with what we've got.*

Spelunking is the term for "Cave Exploring."

This area could be considered a Spelunker's DREAM (and actually IS a popular local hobby)! There are geological spots everywhere and mining is a HUGE deal: Copper, Uranium, Silver, Gold....the list goes on.

Bisbee has been a Copper mining town for over a century.

Tombstone was a hot spot for silver.

Even the ranch we now live on has a Uranium mining claim.

If you are ever near Benson, make sure you visit Kartchner Caverns: Discovered on our friend's private land (in the late 60's) by a couple of college Geologists, it is now the only state park in Arizona that actually MAKES money. The cave is alive, and takes 4 days to (literally) inhale and exhale.

So, late yesterday evening, Ben came home and announced that we were going to have another adventure that day. We packed up the kids and he drove me to a spot not far from the ranch. We climbed the Dragoon Mountains (by way of a goat trail) and ended up on a tiny perch, over-looking the valley.

Ben had already been here, so he led the way....
(They are actually preparing to "run" cows out here, so they are trying to set-up a way to get water. There is a natural spring in the "cave" that they are running a hose from and down to a storage tank below. The hose is visible in the photos. That's pretty much the only way to get water out here. Good luck trying to drill a well through thousands of feet of granite mountain...it's just not going to happen.)

Do you see the mine shaft yet?

Eureka (We found it)...

I thought the rocks around the mouth of the opening were cool....

Hayden stood at the entrance of the shaft. All of a sudden, as I looked in the black hole I felt an unexplained fear. I thought this was the end of the road (for me at least), until Ben returned with three big flashlights. He gave me the million-candle-powered spotlight; Maybe he thought it would make me want to enter the cave....





I still didn't want to, but they made me. I'm usually a good sport about "exploring," but for some reason just peeking-in at all the tunnels and crevices started to really scare me...

...and for the first time in my life, I felt claustrophobic; to the point of actually feeling panicked. Dizziness followed. It was a strange new feeling. Now, I've been a little aprehensive about situations with heights once in a while, but never to the point where I would choose NOT to get on the gigantic rollercoaster (for example). THIS was the first time in my life that my body seemed to freeze and refuse to move forward (but I forced myself onward)...

I tried to keep my lamaze-style breathing quiet. I was just trying to breathe through it and focus on taking pictures. Ben kept asking me, "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," my loud words echoing against the stone, "Just learning that I finally have a phobia of something!"


Ben pointed out some veins containing gold deposits ("So, why don't you just chip some of that out while we are here? What? It isn't our claim? Aaaaand?")

Another old shaft: Now being supported with railroad ties....

(Just the sort of thing that would come crashing down--in the movies--and block our exit. I doubt we would have a cell phone signal in HERE! "Um, does anybody out THERE know we are in here right now? No? Fantastic.")

We finally made it to the back of the shaft....

Hayden has a "thing" for science. He had recently returned from a field trip to Kartchner Caverns, so my little science guy turned into "Hayden the Geologist" and started pretending as though he was giving me a tour of the "cave"....

I was actually very impressed because he started pointing out Geological formations. He sounded quite convincing because, well, he was RIGHT!

First, he pointed out a "baby" stalactite...

He then pointed-out a "fried egg stalagmite" which he found all by himself....

I recieved explainations about the definitions of various formations and how they develop. It was quite educational, but I was mostly concentrating on NOT passing-out.

He kept reassuring me: "You don't need to be afraid of this cave, Mom." Then, he would shine his flashlight around and look for more things to explore....

Yet, I was relieved when we started to leave the mine shaft/cave.

Everywhere that is marked with pink paint is where the miner thinks there might be gold deposits (although I don't know how old these markings are OR when the last person was in here)....

Hayden points-out another shaft filled with spring water....

Then, my two adventurers decide to take a closer look....

Ben gripped Hayden's arm tightly (just to make sure he didn't go for a swim)....

"Thanks for the adventure, Ben (and Hayden). Now, that I'm sitting on the couch and again in the comfort of our home, I AM glad you made me walk to the very back of the scary, dark, damp, stinky mine shaft. Good times....Good memories!"

FYI

FACT: Hayden's friend's dad is a Spelunker. He says that they carry plastic spoons with them (labeled 1-100) and as they journey into a cave, they wedge the spoons into rocks (in numerical order). They are then able to find their way back out, thanks to the trail of plastic spoon "bread crumbs."

Gr-Attitude

"We are about as happy as we make our minds up to be."

~Abraham Lincoln

It wasn't MY idea to move out of our beautiful home in the suburbs.  As I've mentioned before, the thought of relocating to an infested brick house on a farm in the middle of nowhere made me cry whenever I thought about it.

Every time my husband said it was going to be "an adventure" I wanted to punch him.  (I've realized lately, though that he didn't want to go either.  It was what we had to do at the time and HE was trying to have a positive attitude.)

Many people are interested and charmed by the "wild west" portrayed in old John Wayne movies.  I've never been.  In fact, I've always said that the southwest high-desert ranch was the very LAST place in the entire country that I would choose to live.

...and that's exactly where I was going.

The blog started as therapy; a way to recognize and focus on the beauty around me when I was feeling quite miserable and alone.  Despite being in an unfamiliar and scary situation, the blog encouraged me to LOOK for good stories to remember, to FIND opportunities to snap some pictures and to DISCOVER this "adventure" we were supposedly on.  Money became more scarce, local gossip became more cruel and untrue and times became more unsure.   Through most of it we have felt as though we were in the deepest, darkest and loneliest times of our lives.  (I'd LIKE to share some of THOSE experiences soon too.)

And then, the sun started to shine again.

Miracles started to happen and it now looks as though the darkest part will soon be behind us.

We had a new baby, too.

(An experience that scared me to death since we live over an hour from a hospital.  We did it, though and it worked out just fine.)

As we start to walk out into the sunshine, we can look at the darkness behind us and realize the blessings of our trials.  We are stronger than we thought, we have faced some of our deepest fears, we are able to endure longer than we ever thought possible and at the end of the day we know that we can do anything we DECIDE we can do.

*          *          *

I experienced something amazing recently when we had to run up to the old "stomping grounds" for a day:  I hated it.  I felt completely uncomfortable and crowded.  It shocked me to see how close the homes were.  I couldn't wait to leave.  I was taken-back by the realization that the streets and shopping venues that used to be so fun and familiar now seem so crowded and sterile (despite best efforts to warm up the surroundings with trees and landscaping).  "There's so much concrete and asphalt here," I heard myself say.

I couldn't wait to get back to the farm:

The huge sky,

The crisp clean air,

The space,

The sprouting green crops,

The peace,

The beauty.

I am learning a lesson in attitude:  The place that I hated so much has now become my home; the place where I feel at peace, calm and comfortable.

This week, during one of my journeys up the mountain with the dogs I noticed an amazing spring phenomenon.  The rocky trail was dotted by thousands of little yellow flowers starting to peek out into the sunshine.  Beautiful spring flowers thriving in conditions that (should) make it difficult to grow.

And maybe it IS more difficult to grow among the rocks, but they're doing it anyway.  It's not about just enduring, it's about enduring well...and I'm realizing now (more than ever) that THAT part is up to each of us.

"Climb Every Mountain...."

Sunny and Tank: Enjoying the view and gazing toward Mexico.

I was a little nervous about being able to find a way to effectively drop the baby weight. With the nearest ice rink OVER THREE HOURS away, our Elliptical in "storage" and not a health club in sight, I knew I wouldn't be able to do "the usual" stuff to get my rear in gear.

As usual, however, living a Farm Life brought out the creative side yet again and I suddenly found an opportunity to be blessed by the plainness of the land.

So, every day I take THESE:

...and THIS:

...Filled with THIS:

...To the top of THIS:

It's a four-mile (round-trip) hike.

We start at the Ranch Headquarters and climb all the way to the base of the cell phone tower. You may need to "click to enlarge" in order to see the road (er...rocky GOAT TRAIL is more like it) to the top.

The dogs LOVE it!

We jog it (part of the way)...

...and I am once again reminded of my long ago love affair with hiking.

(I didn't realize I could love hiking in the high-desert just as much as trekking around the wooded Sierras back home in California.)

* * *

But how could you NOT enjoy it if the destination looked like THIS:

Dearest Loyal Reader,

I do apologize for my absence as of late. Life has been flipped upside-down, as we have moved to THE new farm (I've talked so much about), started Kindergarten, and struggled through "life". A gas leak has made the new farmhouse unlivable (until repaired), the extreme monsoons have made the ranch roads un-drivable(until dry in the fall), and our tight (but temporary) living arrangements have seemed unbearable (at times).

The many swarms of Africanized Killer Bees have only been the icing on the cake!

SO! We've decided to "skip out of town" and take a break from it all: We're spending a couple of weeks with friends and family in Alaska.

Please excuse my extreme tardiness in informing you of my recent non-blogging-ness. I do hope you understand. I also hope you will continue in your faithfulness and regularly stop-by once again. I will be planning regular posts from the land up North (when I'm not driving a golf cart, fishing for Halibut and Silver Salmon, cruising for whales, or sea-kayaking, that is).

I hope you will forgive me for being gone these past few weeks (and months). Would it soften your heart just a little if I shared with you a piece of top-secret personal information?

Yes?
Okay, here you go...

We're having a girl!


Yours Truly,
The Farmer's Wife




PS: Fear not, there IS a light at the end of the tunnel. Things are progressing, and the new farm will be lovely. Many times, living on a farm is not for the faint-of-heart.

"A Tale of Two Kidneys"

*Despite Ben's personal opinion for me to "just keep some parts (of my life) off the blog" I am going to share another experience with the world; especially since it was a first for me. Don't worry, though, I'll spare the details......"

There are some things we really LOVE about this new culture (living out in the middle of Farm Country):

• The nightly stars and meteor showers are spectacular!

•It's peaceful and quiet

•Fresh, clean air to breathe and NO signs of pollution anywhere on the horizon

•You can run around outside in your underwear, dancing and howling in the moonlight, and nobody will EVER know. Not that I've ever done that or anything (*wink*), but you get the point.

Yet, there are OTHER things that, well, aren't so fun!

•Gossip (but that's everywhere)

•Paying $4.00 for an emergency gallon of milk at the "convenience store"

•Having to drive 35 minutes to the nearest (halfway-decent) Urgent Care

Native Air (A Life Flight Air Ambulance Service) was developed in this area because of all the isolated farm communities and Indian Reservations. Although I HAVE seen the choppers transporting people in the air, MOST of the time emergencies consist of just getting in the car and toughing it out until you get to the ER....which can seem MUCH longer than usual.

(You'll remember THIS story about Ben.)

So while sitting in my yoga pants and downloading "Ultimate Rock Ballads" onto my iPod® on Saturday morning, I suddenly felt a stabbing pain in my back. Before I knew it (about as fast as snapping your fingers), I was turning a ghostly white, shaking, and BLACKING OUT over and over! Ben picked me up off the floor and carried me to the car.

It ended up being a severe kidney infection which produced an agony-inducing kidney stone.

"Please pass the cranberry juice!"

It's funny what goes through your mind when you don't have control over your body and you're in and out of consciousness. Everything started to get really WHITE and I thought back to accounts of "near death" experiences (even though that was NOT what I was really experiencing). As we were speeding down the highway, I whispered my Blogger username and password to Ben. "If I don't make it, post it on my blog."

Ben has been making fun of me ever since, but I WAS NOT RATIONAL!

Do you hear me?!

I was delirious and hallucinating!

Now, I'm on pretty potent antibiotics, which knocks me off my feet, and a painkiller which will permanently discolor my contact lenses. (That's why I am wearing my glasses right now.)

That reminds me....

What the heck am I still doing on this computer?

B-Bye for now.

"Pass the Ribs, Please!"

Do you remember THIS story; when I popped some ribs out of place after being thrown across the room?

Well, the day before flying away for our big "Christmas Vacation", I did something I have never done before, and swore I never would.

I went to the Chiropractor.

My back cramped up again. After two days, I was in such agony that I couldn't lay down, dress myself or take a deep breath. I was in so much constant pain that I rocked from side to side while standing, unable to sit still...even for a second. Desperate, I decided to visit the Chiropractor.

The idea of going to a Chiropractor has always scared me. Cracking bones, just sounds a little weird to me and since I had heard a few horror stories, I decided that I would never step foot in a Chiropractic office. However, I knew that going to the ER would most likely result in a Cortisone shot. Somewhere I could hear my cartiladge pleading with me to try the Chiropractor first.

I listened.

Not able to play "tough" anymore, I broke. After not sleeping for three days, I begged Ben to help me find relief while tears streamed down my face. I took a Vicadin, since we had some left over from Ben's fire accident. It didn't even TOUCH the pain.

After dropping Hayden off at a babysitter, we drove to the Chiropractor (in the city) that everyone raves about. During the consultation I painfully tried to sit still as he felt up and down my spine.

"Well to start off, I feel five ribs out of place right here on the left side (all the ones behind the shoulderblade)."

Unfortunately, I had to lay down on my stomach, which was so excrutiating that my whole body shook while I yelled and gasped through grinding teeth. Ben tried to crack a joke. He received the same response that my Labor and Deliver nurse got when she tried to tell me "it's not that bad" during a particularly intense labor contraction. I didn't remember this, but was later told by witnesses that I (the sweet, kind, modest-speaking girl) "turned into Satan" and spewed some vulgar language.

I am ashamed to admit that, but it's true:
Intense pain which inhibits my ability to breath makes me grumpy.

It's now 9 days later. I was able to lay down last night for the first time in 13 days. The ribs are back in place, but there was SO much inflamation, that it has taken a long time to sooth the angry muscles and nerves.

I'm hoping I get feeling back into my two left-hand fingers which are currently tingly...it's really hard to type without feeling the keys!

I'll admit it: I was wrong about the Chiropractor. I'm going to visit him on a regular basis and even put him on my Christmas card list!

I wonder when his birthday is.

I'm hoping I finish healing today. We are in Washington; on an island north of Seattle and about 30 minutes from Canada. A fresh layer of powder is blanketing the mountains and they're calling to me...they want us to come snowboarding and sledding!

I'd like to listen to them.

Hot Tamales!

It has become a Christmas tradition in the the Southwestern United States for Mexican-Americans to make home-made tamales.

With entire families getting together, it is not uncommon for a group to make 50 pounds of tamales....or more.

I've heard that everyone has their own TOP SECRET recipe for the masa, and everyone is sure theirs is the best.

The tamales are made to eat AND share.

Click HERE for an article about the Christmas Tamale Tradition.

We've decided that Ben is allergic to Mexican food, which has been extremely inconvenient since I LOVE it and we have lived in the southwest for most of our married lives. Everytime he eats it, he gets very sick. We have no idea why, but it just doesn't agree with him, nomatter WHAT he tries to avoid.

Homemade tamales are the exception....he CAN eat those.

And trust me, we DO. We LOVE them. They're like potato chips for us: we can't eat just one!

A white truck pulled up to our house yesterday afternoon. We soon realized it was one of our farm-worker friends, Manuel, and his wife...both from Agua Prieta (which is just over the border in Sonora). Ben walked up to the driverside window and after a few minutes of chit-chat was handed a HUGE freezer bag of fresh homemade tamales. They were SO fresh, infact, that the bag was still hot and sweaty since they had not had enough time to cool off.

Manuel's wife sat smiling in the passenger seat. She already knows that we think her recipe makes the very best-tasting tamales.

Ben commented that I had secretly wished to learn the "craft". I never thought I had a chance, though. "Who would ever share their secret recipe and technique with lil ol' gringo-me?"

To my surprise she nodded and smiled, confirming she would teach me.

I'm not exactly sure how this is going to work out, since I don't speak much Spanish and she doesn't speak much English.

By the way: These pictures were taken in the canyon near the farm. More stories of THAT place to come soon!

"And The 'Husband Of The Year' Award Goes To...."

We have a memory foam mattress.
Translation: there are NO springs. Therefore, when you jump on it, fall on it, or throw you wife on it, it does NOT bounce!

I believe I have FINALLY gotten this point across to my hubby.

Last weekend, we were planning on going to a friend's house for an evening of game-playing and socializing. At 5pm we were still lounging lazily on our lovely couch. Ben jumped up after noticing the time. "We have to get going," he announced in a motivated tone.

Playfully I threw myself across the cushions and said, "I'm tired, carry me!"

My husband used to be a firefighter. It makes him feel good to throw me over his shoulder and run down the hall. I guess it's one of those things that makes him feel manly and strong. Being the supportive, thoughtful wife I try to be, I will willingly pretend to be lazy so that he can indulge his caveman insticts. (Isn't that nice of me?)

And so he did, what he does everytime, he hoisted me over his shoulder and headed across the house. I played along, laughing, and watching the world pass by upside-down. Entering the bedroom (don't worry, this is G-rated), he lifted me into the air, and threw me across the bed.

Triumphant, he turned to walk out of the room while I laid there, unable to take a deep breath or lift my head.

My husband, while showing his caveman-like strength and abilities, had managed to throw me down so hard (and at just the right angle) on our unforgiving bed that one of my ribs was tweaked a bit out of place, causing all the muscles between my shoulder blades (and up my neck) to seize.

We didn't know it was a rib at the time.

The next couple of days were extremely painful, but my husband was even more tender than he is already. After drawing baths, getting me food, and rubbing my shoulders he sat on the couch with me as I watched my shows of preference. At one point, after wiggling nervously next to me, he leaned over and whispered in my ear,

"I'm sorry I broke you."

Soon he had an idea: "Could it be a mis-placed rib?"

Standing me up, crossing my arms in front of my chest, he re-aligned my back. We heard two "pops" in between my shoulders, and I started noticing relief within hours. It's been a couple more days and although I still have a tender spot, I'm noticing quite an improvement (besides the fact I can take deep breaths now, too). It's always a bonus to be able to breathe.

Maybe he DID "break" me, but he has been trying really hard to make me feel a lot better.

Video Killed The Radio Star

I served a mission for my church from 1998 to 2000, (which is why and how I speak French) and for almost 18 months I didn't watch television.

It produced an interesting perspective: suddenly, for the first time in my life, commercials seemed ridiculous. When I came back home, it took me more than a week to finally feel interested in trying to watch TV. I sat on my couch, pondering the "TV fast" I was about to break, while holding the plastic remote in my hand. I turned on the "boob tube" and within one hour turned it off again, out of irritation. I couldn't stand it anymore. I noticed three things:

1. Commercials seemed more loud and obnoxious than ever

2. Pharmaceutical companies had started advertising prescription drugs (hearing, "ask your doctor if Lipitor is right for you" was something I had never heard before). Now, considering my mom had passed away the week before because of complications from a prescription diet pill she got after "asking her doctor", you can understand why my blood started boiling when I heard the voice on the commercial rattling off the usual list of "possible side effects"!

3. The background music of all these shows was really loud. While watching the new game show "Who Wants to be a Millionaire" I found myself feeling short of breath because the beating heart sound playing in the background was stressing me out. (By the way, If you want to play online....click HERE.)

Oh, one more thing.....
I found myself thinking, "what's a reality show?"

Can you imagine?

So anyway, I eventually got over that "TV aversion" and, sadly, became familiar with the "Seasonal Line-Up" once again. Years later, while living in the Mesa area, we bought a 54-inch plasma and subscribed to over a thousand channels. "What have we become," I thought to myself, ever so briefly, before clicking through the channels and memorizing my favorites.

In March, we disconnected the flat screen (for the move to the farm) and didn't watch TV again.....

Until a month ago

When we were introduced to DirecTV.
(uh, oh)

I have to say that I had become (seemingly) dependant on TV again as a stay-at-home mom. It was a way to be connected, to have "company" during the day as I went about my things to do. After moving to the farm, isolation was the hardest thing to deal with: no TV, no visible neighbors, no LIGHTS...it was lonely when Ben was working late. The radio was on a LOT and my i-pod was working over-time.

So, when we were scheduled for our "hook-up", after six months of silence, you can understand why I was counting down the hours.

He finally came, and while he was working, I found myself flittering anxiously around the house, and pacing like a hyper chiauaua. To calm myself, I sat at the computer. While checking my email, it began. I heard it. A commercial broke the silence. After ten minutes I found myself in the same position I was in after my mission.

"That is SO annoying," I thought to myself. "Why did we hook this up?"

As soon as he walked out the door, I grabbed the remote and turned the noise down.....WAAAAAY down. I tried for a week, but nothing sparked my interest. Once again, people seemed phony, reality shows seemed fake, commercials were loud, AND women appeared to be wearing even less clothing.

Has "simplifying" curbed my television addiction once again?

Has the absence of television led me to expand myself; to have the time to teach my 4-year-old to read, to learn how to make pies, grow herbs, and sew quilts....to do things for my family? (hmmmm.)

Well, at least we have the NFL Superfan package.

...okay....and HGTV!

The Perfect Banana Bread

I've been doing a LOT of "cooking from scratch" lately and having lots of fun. Needless to say, my family likes it too.

Looking at the bananas in the fruit basket, I realized today was the day to make some perfect banana bread. I had been saving the bananas. Even if someone went to grab one, I would quickly stop them with the reminder, "I'm saving those for bread."

Finally, our wait was over. Today was the day. They were ripe.....really ripe.....perfectly ripe!

I brought out my "perfect banana bread" recipe. I prepared my work space. Hayden wanted to help (as usual), so we put on our matching kitchen aprons, pulled up Hayden's step stool, washed our hands, and got to work. We measured and poured the ingredients, perfectly.

"This was going to be the best banana bread we've ever made."

"YES!" was Hayden's enthusiastc response.

I put the perfect "pinch" of nutmeg into the batter and gave Hayden the spoon to mix it in.

Okay, here's where it get's bad.....
I turned around to the sink to rinse off the measuring cup. The oven chimed to let me know it was perfectly preheated and ready for action. I turned around and....

"AHHHHHHHH! No! OUT of the KITCHEN!"

Hayden had unscrewed the top of the nutmeg, dumped half the jar in, and continued to mix!

After I screamed, Hayden jumped down and ran out of the kitchen. In a "monster mom moment" I hurt his little feelings and broke down over my not-so-perfect-anymore banana bread. The entire kitchen was filled with the pungent aroma of nutmeg. "It took me so long to wait for those bananas to be perfect" I thought to myself.

Reluctantly, I filled the pans anyway and put them in the oven. Somehow I thought there could be a teeny-tiny possibility that some of the nutmeg would "cook out".

It didn't.

We tried.

We choked it down.

I even whipped up a cream cheese frosting to cover it with and "take the edge off". Nothing worked.

And now....there it sits...in the garbage.

And then I wondered:

"My sweet little Hayden.....will he ever forgive me? Will he someday be telling a therapist about this cooking disaster and how my reaction scarred him; that it is the reason for all his bad decisions in life?"

(Seriously, though)...Will my brain's knee-jerk reaction ever remember (in that split-second instant) that the tender feelings of my little boy are SO much more important than the "perfect" banana bread?

More important than, well...anything.

Filled with guilt, I wondered how in an effort to share a special moment with my little boy--to spend quality time and build lasting relationships and memories--I lost my mind and control over myself because of a silly mistake by a little "helper" who was "just copying what mommy did."

That night, as we tucked Hayden into bed, he looked at me and said, "Mommy, snuggle?" Relieved, I jumped into the bed and wrapped my arms around him.

"I'm sorry I was such a grouch." I confessed, pleading for forgiveness.

"It's okay, mommy....I love you."

And then I realized, tomorrow is a new day....with no mistakes yet.

Eventhough I don't want to remember the banana bread disaster, somehow I hope I never forget it.

"Come on Baby, Light My Fire"

Note: This blog is meant to be about our experiences while living on a farm. Sometimes it's funny, sometimes it's cool, and sometimes it's not. Life is never perfect...it isn't meant to be...and to only write about the "perfect parts" wouldn't be completely honest and real. So, here's our reality check:

Some of you may know that when Ben and I met, dated, and got married, he was a firefighter. Funny thing about that: he HATES burns and I HATE fire. I can never watch the movie "Ladder 49" again because it haunts me.

Yesterday was spent with us in the Emergency Room in Bisbee (more about Bisbee to come). Ben was lighting a fire to burn a clearing of brush on the farm. It flashed and caught him on fire. The bad news: he came running into the house with 2nd and 3rd degree burns from his elbow to his fingers. The good news: he's very lucky that NONE of his clothes or hair caught on fire, which would have had the same effect on MORE than the 5 % of his body that WAS affected.

The paramedics were called and before I knew it, I was speeding to the ER in the middle of a Monsoon with my husband sitting next to me.

I learned something about him AND myself yesterday:

First of all, by husband is even braver and more my hero than ever before. I'm not sure I (or many others) would have been able to keep it together as well as he did if I (they) were in his place. Unbelieveable!

Also, In the few times that I have passed out in my life, it was a result of extreme pain. I don't pass out when I'm scared or excited. I wanted to be a nurse since I was 7 years old. Eventhough I took another path, I still do not get queezy with greusome images or experiences (I exposed myself to a lot of that when I was preparing for nursing school)...Unless it's my husband.

While I was standing there being brave for Ben; watching them cut away the gray skin hanging from his arm, and poking needle after needle after IV into his arms (filled with "the good stuff"), I knew suddenly that I was about to pass out. I calmly walked to the other corner, sat in a chair (with a back on it), took off my sweater, and made sure I had a reassuring smile everytime he looked over in agony. After I returned to my chair, from a controlled and calm visit to the ladies room (to puke my guts out), I realized that I can't bare to see my husband (my rock, my hero, the love of my life) suffering. It stirs up emotions that my body is usually pretty resilient to.

After getting up every 3 hours during the night to give him his next dose of pain killers, I am now taking Ben back to get the dressings changed, examined, and more skin cut away. Please keep Ben in your prayers. If you pray. If you don't pray, then pray anyway....or light a candle...we'll take anything. :-)

I'll be in touch soon.

"Do You Feel Lucky....PUNK!"

"Well, yes I do, actually...."

Yesterday was hayden's birthday. He's now 4 years old, and I can't believe how fast time flies!

We made cupcakes together. He poured in the oil, water, and eggs. He put the papers in the pan. He was VERY helpful....and VERY grown-up.

We decorated cupcakes with a few friends and he opened a few presents. It was a good day...but even HE doesn't realize what a lucky charmed day it really was. Let me explain.....

A friend came over to get her hair cut a few weeks ago. She has four sons: all of whom are in Little League. They were having a raffle to earn money for their club.

Before she left, she asked me to buy the tickets...one for each boy.

"Well, how about if I just discount your haircut from what I normally charge people who come to my house and you can just throw in four tickets for me. Even?" She agreed.

Yesterday, I got a call.

Ben answered and after a pause said, "It's for you, Nanc...it's the Little League."

I had forgotten about the raffle and wondered for a second if they had found out I had a little boy and were trying to get new members. It's a small town.

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is Ruth with the town Little League. You entered a drawing a few weeks ago and it looks like you won the grand prize."

"Oh yeah? What is it?"

"A 42-inch plasma TV."

("YAAHOOOO!!!")

This is the part where I started jumping up and down, while running around the house, yelling,

"I WON A TV...I WON A PLASMA!"

I decided that since we already have a 52-inch plasma for our family room, AND considering the fact that it was drawn on Hayden's birthday, the plasma will go in the playroom. Irish family....Irish name....Hayden's my lucky star.

Little Super Hero

Sometimes my son drives me crazy and I want to run down the driveway, screaming and pulling my hair out.

Most of the time, though, Ben and I agree that we may just have the cutest, funniest, sweetest kid in the world. (I know, I know, if you have kids, then you probably think that about yours too.) But really....

Right now, he is developing an interest in Spiderman and Wolverine (from X-men). Now we know for sure he's my child because those were MY two favorite super heros when I was growing up, too. I expecially loved Spiderman. Was it the tight clothes? Was it his grace and poise while flying through the air on his webs or climbing up the sides of buildings on his sticky fingers? It's difficult to say. As far a Wolverine goes....I'm pretty positive it was the hair and sassy comments.

Hayden decided he needed Spiderman undies, so of course I bought them. One problem: I can't get him to keep them on. There is a BIG picture of Spidy on the back of every pair. Since Hayden can't turn around that far for very long, he keeps taking them off and turning them around. (The boys at HANES should have thought about this.) At this very moment, I am watching him out the window jumping around the yard, wearing nothing but his Spidy-tighty-whities and spraying his invisible "webs". Classy.

At the moment, we are living in a 40 year-old brick farmhouse. (More blogs and photos about this house will find their way to this computer in the future.) I am totally rennovating this house myself and I will admit that when I first started to work on it, I cried (like every morning when I came to work!) If you had seen it before, you wouldn't recognize it today. It's CUTE! We still find quirky things once in a while, but it's sweet. Our attitude is, "It's temporary until we build, so why not enjoy the adventure?" It's one of those things that we will look back on and have a good laugh about, right?

One of those "quirky things" popped up the other day when we had a visit by the "bug man" and he informed us that we have an infestation of cockroaches. I tried to be brave. I tried to pretend that I was "rolling with it", but as the bug man left, tears filled up in my eyes. I sat down. My sweet Hayden came up to me and said with the most tender sympathetic voice, "Oooooh. What's wrong, momma?" Then he wiped his hands from my eyes and down my cheeks (which kind of hurt, actually), and said, "Don't cry, momma...it'll be okay."

My little super hero swooped in and saved my day.