from the prairie's edge: road kill, finding girls, mickey mouse watch man, the coming winter

Why did the chicken cross the road?
   To get to the other side.

Why did the frog cross the road?

   He was stapled to the chicken.

- elementary school

While we're in North Dakota, I think I'll call these long, varied updates, as well as region-specific posts, "from the prairie's edge," eh?
 

My mother-in-law, Barb, was amazed by the quietness and isolation each of her nine days here. She lives and works near D.C., where the traffic can keep you for an hour from your destination two miles away. We shook our heads whenever we saw on the road a dead gopher or bird, who would've had like 23 hours, 59 minutes, and 30 seconds of the day when no vehicle would've crossed its path, but instead chose one of those rare, fateful seconds to make a run for it.

This snake doesn't qualify as road kill, really, because it was still alive.
It was real slow, probably a victim of road glancing.
I wouldn't post actual road kill on my blog. Sheesh.

Jason is having a blast teaching Kaladi to "find the girl." Kaladi seems to love search work, and she's kicking tail with very little training. She naturally ground tracks, which means she follows the scent someone has left behind while walking. Some dogs naturally track by sniffing the air, which isn't as good for a lost person, because they're reliant on wind conditions. Maybe they're better at sniffing out drugs. Anyway, Jason shuts Kaladi in a room in the house, and he has Zoralee walk to some location on the property and hide behind a garbage can or a building or a bale of hay. Then he lets Kaladi out and tells her to "find the girl" or "find Zoralee." She puts her nose right to the ground, gets on the trail, and RUNS to her. Zoralee then drops a treat for her and says, "Good girl! Good girl!"

Blue. Every day at my house, six blue eyes look back at me. Eight, if you count Little Lamb, Zoralee's favorite stuffed animal.

Mickey Mouse Watch Man. We first encountered him at Walmart a few weeks ago. A jovial grandfather type, he walked up to Zoralee and put his wrist right in her face. He stared at her intently with a huge grin, practically bursting with anticipation at her response. He was showing her his Mickey Mouse watch. And she was a deer in the headlights. She doesn't tell time yet and isn't super familiar with Mickey Mouse; anyone else in the store would've been more impressed with that watch than she was. But it was no matter. He was delighted. Laugh and laugh did he. Then last week, he saw us again - by the meats at the local grocer, and just as eagerly showed her his watch. We saw him again near the spices. Then at produce. Each time, he said hello to Zoralee most cheerily and laugh laugh laughed. This time she laughed too. But things turned serious, DEATHLY SERIOUS, over at produce, when his wife, Janet, said she'd heard about a melon recall on the news. Best to avoid melons, we all concurred, at least for a little while. Lots of serious head nods and squinted eyes. No joking around about that. 

And speaking of local flair, when we were driving through one small town, we picked up their local newspaper. A couple of the highlights are as follows. The front page news was that the paper will not be printed in color for some time; the guy who did that has quit. Very cute, and sad. Also, the reports from the surrounding towns are mostly who went to whose house for supper. I quote (with names changed): "Donald and Edna Verhorn were Friday visitors of Pete and Joann Sanders." I'll tell you one thing, I better not hear these old-timers moaning about privacy lost via social media. Hello. These are totally status updates, but put into print, albeit several days later.

*   *   *

Fall is upon us, no question now. Last week we woke up to a downright chilly house, and it lit a fire under each of us independently to shape up and get ready for winter. The voice of Elephant from Mo Willems' I Am Invited to a Party! keeps haunting me: "WE MUST BE READY!" So I bought canning jars in town for putting up the crab apples in the yard. Aaaaand, that's it. That's the only canning plan I have; if we get stranded out here, it's apple pie 'til spring, baby. Unless I send Jason out on snow shoes to fetch a can of cool whip. Then, it's apple pie and cool whip 'til spring, baby. Oh. And while you're at it, honey, grab some Cream Soda - that's what I'm talking about. That same day, Jason took off work early to come home and cut wood. Little update: we have now had freezing weather a couple of nights, so the apples are mushy. I missed the window to can them. Ridiculous.

The thing is, Jason and I are actually excited for winter. We don't say this when the locals lament the departing summer, but since we had that stint in south Texas before this, we're basically coming off a whole year of summer. We both like power outages and crazy storms and having to cancel plans and hunker down, so a winter here on the frozen plains could be fun! It feels like, if we're going to avoid a Donner party type situation, we better know what the heck we're doing.

At this juncture, I'm going to enthusiastically recommend a children's book called, Ox-Cart Man. It'll get you excited to stack wood and can beans for winter, as well as plan needlepoint projects to sell next summer in nearby villages. Not the catchiest title ever, unless you're in a sarcastic mood, but Ox-Cart Man is a right dandy story! We have it from the library now, and it is definitely one I'd like for my kids to own. Ahhem, Grandma or Nana, givers of Christmas presents. Even now, I feel like a dimwit spending time on the internet instead of dusting off the old loom and spinning out a few shawls.

While we were in Montana last month, Jason got a wood stove, which we hauled here to ND, along with the 800 pound beastly upright piano I inherited from my great-aunt Wilma a few years back. Mom and Dad cried and cried to see that dust collector leave their basement, but boy was it a nice wagon trainy feeling to bring it and the stove to our little house on the prairie. Jason finished installing the stove a couple of week ago, and we've been enjoying it so, so much. We've been disappointed when the weather pendulums back to warmish. I know - we should be slapped.

from the prairie's edge: big, deep day

"O bury me not on the lone prairie."
These words came low and mournfully
From the pallid lips of the youth who lay
On his dying bed at the close of day.

- old cowboy folk song



This day, the day of which I now write, happened almost a month ago, but it felt like enough of a doozy to lay down on Blogville. It was while Barb was here, and it was extra thick with profoundness. We sloshed through the realms of theology, history, the cycle of life and death, and physical survival against wild animals, walked on the border between two countries, and closed out our day with a tradition as old as man. By day's end, my head was spinning and my heart heavy, so it must've really been something for a two and a half year old. I should record it in Zoralee's baby book as "The Deepest Day Ever." That is, when I [cough] start working on her baby book...

The first thing happened while I was sitting on the porch with the kids. I was holding Ziah in my lap, and Zoralee was ahead of me by 10 feet. Out of the woods at the edge of our yard jogged a coyote, straight for the porch, straight for Zoralee. I told Zoralee (firmly, but I thought pretty calmly for the circumstance) to come to me, which she inexplicably did at warp speed, though she hadn't seen the coyote. He was gray white, so fluffy and healthy. My first thought was how beautiful it was. He heard my voice, looked straight at me, turned, and jogged back down the path. He was within 25 yards. As soon as Kaladi caught a whiff of the coyote, her hair went up and for 10 minutes she alternately ran around the property and back to check on us. The wind was so strong, loud and swirly, that I don't think the coyote knew we were there until he got that close. And Kaladi had a hard time with his scent because of the wind. He may have been coming to her food dish, so we now keep that inside at night. 

Jason was sleeping and Barb was running an errand in town, so we were the only witnesses. That was event #1, certainly the most startling. Also on the porch during that couple of hours, we observed and talked about a dead dragonfly caught between two boards, and we watched a butterfly struggle in a spider's web, knowing the probable ending to that particular predicament.


When Jason woke up, we all took a road trip into the Turtle Mountains, up to Lake Metigoshe to see all the little lake cabins and dwellings. It was a busy weekend, so all the restaurants were full. We ordered food at a drive-in and sat by the lake to eat. Then it was back down to the plains, where we visited an old historic church, then the long drive home. 

on the shore of Lake Metigoshe - sand castle in the background created by Z and Papa

Zoralee asking, "Where is God?"

We spent quite awhile wandering around the graveyard, again talking with Zoralee about death, and about remembering the dead. Families were buried near each other, some members born a century or more apart, never to have met, some making it into old age and others living a single day. To walk so lightly on the grass above their graves, to read their names and try to fathom the same fate befalling us, even our precious tinies, is frankly too much to bear. My eye is on the Eternal, but dang, those old gravestones seem to hold hope down by the chest, hold her strong to the cold, wet mud.

Then we came home and made fire. Fire is good. Little fires don't suggest that you ignore the cold world all around, but they offer a space to get warm, quiet yourself and regroup.

moments with Nana

Barb took this picture, and we get a kick out of Z, The River Dancer.

a little fire pit for the porch (best $37 we've ever spent)

the Metis Indian fiddle festival at the Canadian / U.S. Peace Garden

s

dancing to the fiddle tunes

Thanks, Nana, for your visit! You took on dish and laundry duties unblinkingly, made sure I focused on my list of projects, and gave the kids (one high energy toddler in particular) the attention and love they needed. We love you!

nope

Remember that freckle Ziah had on top of his head at birth? The one I so loved, figuring it would eventually be covered by hair but then uncovered by old age for someone else to enjoy as much as I, his mother, had? Well, when we first got to North Dakota, I kissed that freckle right off his head. One day I was just kissing it and loving it when suddenly I noticed it was a different shape. I rubby rub rubbed it, and off it came. A couple people had suggested at the beginning that it might be a tiny blood splotch or something, but after it survived several baths and two weeks' worth of kisses, it was looking like I was right.
    Nope.

Ziah's most common look: baffled

Remember how I thought for sure he was teething early, what with the drool and period of restless nights and seeming discomfort?
    Nope.

*
Based on Zoralee, we, Jason and I, thought we produced skinny-legged little things. My favorite cloth diaper combination for her had been Kissaluvs' Size Zero fitteds with small Thirsties covers. Since the Kissaluvs go up to 15 pounds, they worked for Zora from birth until she was totally diaper free. So while I was pregnant with Ziah, I bought 10 of those jokers. I even got them as "seconds" for a discounted price, meaning they were new, just had aesthetic flaws that wouldn't affect performance. How happy was I! Even better, the Kissaluvs website said the "seconds" tended to be skinnier legged. Hoorah hoorah! Because I pop out skinny-legged babies!!!!
    Nope.


Also based on our experience with Zoralee, we feared we produced children who would rather stay bitterly and groggily and whinily awake, NO MATTER WHAT, rather than succumb to slumber.


    Nope.
When he's tired enough, we can actually lay Ziah down on his tummy and he'll go right to sleep. I am aware of the Back To Sleep thing, but I tend toward the theory that SIDS is caused by mattress toxins, so we've taken precautions that direction. Hope I'm right and it's not another "nope," cuz he sleeps way better on his belly. :o? He also sleeps for several hours at a whack in the night, several times 6 or 8. Once 10.


We kinda thought babies must need soothing intervention for every possible life hiccup.



    Nope!
This guy is a champion thumb-sucker when he's ready for sleep. Not only is it undeniably one of the most darling sights I've ever beheld, but so far that's all he uses it for.






You might think a mama would tire of kissing her baby boy's face all the day long, that there would be days she'd think of him as ordinary, rather than super handsome and super charming. You might assume she'd stop taking such delight in fat rolls, wide eyes, and gurgled utterances.

    Nope, nope, and nope.

conference

mama vs. papa: friendship

Zoralee's big pretend world right now is Madeline. She's Madeline, and either the dog or I is Miss Clavel. Often "Miss Clavel" is knocking at our front door, and when Zoralee opens it, in walks a waggy-tailed Kaladi. Ziah is either Pepito, the little boy in the stories, or he represents the other 11 girls who live with Madeline at the boarding school. So if Ziah is sleeping, the other 11 girls are sleeping, and suddenly Zoralee takes extra care to be quiet. Since Madeline has a Papa, Jason is still just Papa. (But as a side note, she has taken to calling him Pops lately.)


today


Zoralee: Mama, can you ask me, Madeline, what's wrong?
Me: What's wrong, Madeline?
Zoralee: Pepito doesn't want to be my friend anymore.
Me: Oh really? Did Pepito say that?
Zoralee: No. 
Me: Well, maybe you could talk to Pepito. Ask him why he doesn't want to be your friend.


5 minutes later, when Jason enters the room


Zoralee: Papa, can you ask me, Madeline, what's wrong?
Jason: What's wrong, little miss Madeline?
Zoralee: Pepito doesn't want to be my friend anymore.
Jason: Well, you can tell Pepito to suck your big toe.
 

eavesdropping

These are the best years of your life. Remember that.

Everybody with older kids or grown up kids says things like, "They grow so fast," and "Enjoy every minute, because time flies." I didn't necessarily agree with those sentiments (at least, regarding parenthood) until after Zoralee had turned one. Honestly, her first year totally crept by. Not that I didn't enjoy much of it, but there was so much adjustment, so much to learn, so little sleep, that it felt a lot longer than a single year. But her second year and now Ziah's first couple months are really starting to fly, and it's giving me that sobering sensation that this is it, this is life, this is my children's childhood, and I don't want to let it slip away uncherished.

For the past few days, Ziah has been drooling like crazy, fidgeting a lot during sleep, and sucking his fingers more. Barb (mom-in-law) suggested that though it's early, he could be teething. Well, tonight I felt his bottom gum line, and sure enough, there is the slightest hint of sharpness! What a slap to my sense of time! That was actually an impetus to blogging tonight and inspiration for the myriad other tasks I have in mind for improving our quality of life and getting down in writing, video collage, or what-have-you the things I want to say and remember.

"These are the best years of your life. Remember that." When Zoralee was six months old, I was holding her in my arms, and a kindly bearded gentleman looked me in the eye and said that. Ever since, I've given so much thought to that line. I understand the truth in what he said, and I try to revel in each day's light, but I also believe (without proof) that there is beauty to be encountered in nearly every season, and enlightenment about yourself and those you love, and closeness to God, and other things that would deem a year "best," even years without young children, even whole lives lived without young children. I want to think that we go from strength to strength, one best year to another best year, even when some of the best years are awful. Thing is, that man might've been right, and I won't know until it's nearly over, until I'm sitting there looking back on my life. And so, for now, I'm considering this one of the best years of my life, and I have two kids who do a pretty good job of reminding me how true that is.

"I refuse to read this book until someone turns it upright."

"Thank you. Now then, is that a simple silhouette
of a white bird on a black surface?! Genius!"

smokin' hot anniversary

We celebrated our anniversary this year with a simple but delicious dinner out. The kids both zonked, which was great, because Jason and I were able to visit in the fashion of completing entire sentences without interruption. We also enjoyed guessing about the lives of the locals and eavesdropping on the conversation going on behind us between two old couples, also out for their anniversaries. Our favorite line was by one of the men to his wife. She was talking about their niece and great-nephew, but because of the sentence structure, it sounded like she was calling him (rather than his mother) their niece. To be sure the other couple wasn't mistaken, he said resolutely, "HE'S not our niece." She agreed in all seriousness and continued with her anecdote.

Anyway, Jason and I made googly eyes at each other, nothing between us but a table, two children, and some amazing prime rib, finishing with an ice cream sundae that had rum and cinnamon encrusted pecans. DELISH. And then, though Jason was ready to leave, since he was holding the heavier of the children, he indulged me to order a decaf coffee, and we extended our date by a good 20 minutes. Funny how your standard of quality time changes.

It's always something different, my love! Happy 12th!

My fingers have been too big for my wedding band since mid-pregnancy,
so lately I've been wearing my adjustable engagement ring.
It says, "Love," but depending on the light can look like "rove,"
appropriate since it was purchased from a machine for 25 cents.

reunion in MT pics

Here are some shots from our early August Lautaret reunion in Montana. I posted a bunch more to a facebook album, for those who prefer that format. And if you aren't my facebook friend but want to see those, I am sure it would be easy to set up access. (My mom-in-law is here to love babies and wash dishes, so wee-hoo for internet time!)

Jason and I and the kids drove 14 hours to the Flathead Valley over night. What a golden way to travel with kids. I could hardly relax, just figuring one of them would wake up anytime and hate us and life from their (disad)vantage points in their Torture Devices for Children, a.k.a. car seats, but they did great. A DVD player got Zoralee down the road after the sun came up and sleep was no longer on her mind (just like home life, despite big thick curtains - grrr), and Ziah was pretty content until the last 1/2 hour.

We started off at my folks' place for a few days, the highlight being to celebrate the first year of life for my nephew, Bennett David. He is such an awesome little bundle of energy, as you're about to witness a sliver of during his cake eating: 

the reunion proper - -

Just a picture of people playing volleyball, you might think. But look again.
Isn't it also a picture of a darling pigtailed child in a pink inter tube,
a toy she stole mercilessly from her cousin, Bennett?

my dad reading excerpts from Patrick McMantus at the campfire

delving into joke-telling, mostly your classic "a nun walks into a bar" stuff

a family favorite - softball

our Kaladi hanging with the Ertz herd

Uncle Ralph actually caught a fly ball from this left field position.

most of the gang

old timey serious

outdoor game prep

indoor games

Cousin Lonita and her Percherons

all of the emotions one might expect to feel at a concert of Marshall Catch
(Unkin Luke's band) - surprise, glee, and confusion

I notice Rachel didn't post this shot over at her own blog.
I bear the burden then of keeping it real.

my immediate family and grandparents on Mom's side

grandfather and grandson in matching straw hats,
which were recovered from the dump by the boy's father
(and duct taped for maximum frugality / coolness)

a 3 hour tour (echo in a minor key: a 3 hour tour) of Flathead Lake

first injuries of the camp - bloody nose and hornet sting

at the summit of a little family hike
(south of Troy, Montana)

Mom, scaling a cliff or so

Cousin Lisa posing whilst I played with camera color settings