Thursday, May 29, 2008

Grandpa died this afternoon, shortly after 12. Somehow, knowing it in advance doesn't make it any better or any easier. It's to early to know what arrangements are. I'm planning on taking tomorrow off and go to Mom's to help with whatever needs to be done. I haven't talked to Mom, just Dad. He sounded shocked, and tired, and uncertain, so I can only imagine how Mom is. I do know they are all exhausted; physically and emotionally exhausted.

I don't know who or how we're going to tell Grandma. Will she believe us? Will she remember? I just don't know what to expect and I don't know what to do. I just don't know what to do.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008


I went to bed like normal tonight, but was unable to sleep. I have too many thoughts on my mind and to much sadness in my heart to sleep, so I decided to blog.

A couple of hours ago, my Dad called me from the hospital and told me that Mom and my Aunt had made the difficult decision to let Grandpa go. We saw him on Saturday, and he was bad, but I was hopeful. After all, he's my Grandpa, and he's always been there and he's always gotten better whenever he was sick or hurt. But not this time. The infection is MRSA, the worst kind of infection you can have, and it's gotten the best of him. He knew we were there on Saturday, and even knew who we were, but he was in a lot of pain then and was not with us most of the time. Today, after talking to the Dr., his girls decided to honor his living will and let him go.

He's still here, but he's not.

So many memories, so many feelings...

Grandpa was 41 when I was born. 41. That's very young to become a grandparent. We've got 4 generation pictures of me, my mom, Grandpa, and his father, Great Grandad. You always think of your grandparents as being "old", but...he was only 41, young...very young. And strong. My grandpa has always been very strong, and was a big, powerful man. A quiet man. The words "I love you," aren't words I remember him saying--ever. But he showed us love every day with big, power, bear hugs, the kind that would leave us all breathless, and would have us begging "Grandpa, you're squishing me!" He'd chuckle and let us go, but we'd always come back for more. And that chuckle...deep, low, quiet. Grandpa was a quiet man in laughter and in life.

Always unassuming, always putting others before himself. Even with this last illness, I'd ask how he felt, and he'd say "Oh, I think I'm doing better today." When he admits he doesn't feel well, well then, he really didn't feel well.

Grandpa was the middle child in a family of 12 children. His closet companion was his next older brother, Joe, who was 2 years older than Grandpa. Like all little boys, they got in more than their fair share of mischief. Like wiping green paint on the chickens--so Mom wouldn't know that they'd been in the paint. Not thinking that she would probably notice that her red chickens were now green. Grandpa said they ran when she hollered for them, and that Joe got up the tree first, and Grandpa was the one caught and punished. Joe's punishment waited until Mom had cooled off.

When Grandpa was 14 or so, he went to live with some cousins near Hutchinson, KS. They needed help on the farm and Grandpa's parents thought he'd be the best son to send. He lived with them for 2 years, going to school and working, and getting in trouble with his cousins. Then, he came home and finished High School, driving to Englewood to do so. It was an opportunity for his sisters as well, as Aunt Ivy and Vera were able to complete their education as well. I don't know if they were the first in the family to graduate, but I'm guessing so, as it was difficult to send your children to town for high school in the 1930's.

While in High School, Grandpa met Grandma. I've asked and asked him and her about their dating and what they saw in each other, but they always, somehow, sidestepped those questions. I'd ask, "What did you do on dates?" And the answer I'd get was, "Oh, I don't know, the usual." What the heck was the usual in 1940, in Englewood, Kansas?

After graduation, Grandma and her mother moved to Mulvane, KS. They were already engaged, and last year, we found some old love letters that Grandpa had written his "Kat." that's the only time and place that he called her "Kat." We teased him that he just didn't want to spell out Katherine. But, Grandma said that she was often called "Kat" when she was a girl. We haven't read those letters yet, we've always set them aside to read later. We should have, so we could ask questions about them. In November 1941, Grandpa took the train, and he and Grandma got married. In their wedding picture, taken once they were back in Englewood, he's tall and thin with a head full of thin, dark, wavy hair. it had a mind of it's own and was always a mess. Later, he got a crew cut and kept it very short just to avoid those curls. He was 20 and Grandma was 19 when they got married.

Grandpa didn't go to war in WWII. He had flat feet. He told us that the Dr. for the Army asked him, "What will you do when those Germans come at you, with these flat feet?" Grandpa replied: "Run like Hell!" Instead of serving in the service, he stayed at home and farmed and welcomed a daughter, my Mom, in 1943. Another daughter, Dorothy was born in 1945, but she was stillborn. A surprise child, Sandy, was born in 1953.

Life wasn't easy. They never had much money and Grandpa leased most of his farm ground. They lived in a 4 room house, a kitchen, living room, and 2 bedrooms. Note, no bathroom. There wasn't indoor plumbing in their house until after I was born. Farming in the 40's and 50's was hard. Grandpa always had some kind of livestock--cattle, a milk cow, sheep, a couple of horses (though he was never a real good horseman) and always a dog or 2 and lots of cats.

But, Grandpa could do just about anything. He could wire electricity, he could fix anything mechanical, he built things, and while he might not have been speedy (one of Grandma's complaints), he did a job well. In the '70's when macrame became popular, he took it up. Now, Grandpa has large hands with thick fingers. His fingers are so big, that he never had a wedding ring because they didn't make them that big. So, picture these large, square fingers tieing small, intricate knots. He made plant hangers and purses and even a hammock. I still have two purses he made me. They are so out of style now, but I could never make myself throw or give them away.

Grandpa has always been there for us--for the women in his family, his wife, his daughters, and his grandchildren, both the male and female grandchildren. He's been a part of my life for 44 years, and I just can't imagine life without him in it. I so regret that my children don't remember him as I do. They don't know the man who gave rib-crushing bear hugs. They will miss so many stories, and they'll miss his gentleness and his strength. I've always known I'd have to let him go--but that was always someday, in the distant future, not now. I know I'm fortunate, to be 44 and still have 2 grandparents. But this isn't how I pictured losing him. he was just supposed to go in his sleep, quietly, still strong, still...Grandpa. Good-bye Grandpa. I love you.

Saturday, May 24, 2008

your thoughts and prayers please

I'm taking a minute to ask for your thoughts and prayers today. My 85 year old grandfather is seriously ill. He fought on pneumonia last week, but somehow, has a serious infection now. He was taken to a larger hospital where they did surgery to remove a pocket of infection from his shoulder, but it's also now in the bloodstream. he's been given a 50-50 chance of survival. So, we need your prayers.

I know he won't live forever, but...well, we still need him. Grandma still needs him. My Mom certainly needs him. Mom just can't cope with Grandma on her own. Their relationship is too adversarial. And, to be honest, there aren't many people who can cope with Grandma. Grandpa is her tie to reality and to life. He keeps her grounded when no one else can. He keeps her calm when no one else can. It's difficult explain.

Mom and I are driving to Hays today to see him. he came through surgery ok, but still has a long road to hoe--if he gets the chance to hoe it.

So, please pray for courage, and for strength and for His grace.

Friday, May 23, 2008

People of the Book

I like to read, and part of my job entails me picking and choosing books for the library. It's a fun part of my job but sometimes it's a hard part of my job. Sometimes, you read a review and you think, "wow, that sounds like a great book." You buy it, and then, well, it wasn't such a great book."

It's hard too picking out books for others to read. I mean, you have to take into account other preferences and not just your own, which is really hard when you don't know your constituents yet. I nailed it when I chose some graphic novels, some manga, but other graphic novels have bombed. And here's something of note...I am secretly pleased when a book that I bought, and I chose gets stolen.


Yep, if it's stolen, that means that someone loved my choice and loved the book, or DVD, or audiobook, whichever. They loved it enough to steal it. Yeah, that's warped. Because it usually means that I have to re-order that title, but still, it's nice to know that someone wanted something I chose., I'm reviewing a book that I bought for the library, and no one else has read it yet. There's still hope that someone will pick it up and read it. It's gotten great reviews, so I hope it catches on.

People of the book by Geraldine Brooks is a great novel. In 1996, Hanna, a rare book restorer, is called to Sarajevo to repair a rare fifteenth-century illustrated Jewish manuscript, a Haggadah, which is read at Passover meals. This Haggadah mysteriously traveled from Spain to Sarajevo, and has survived Nazi book burnings, Vienna's anti-semitism, the Inquisition, and exile from it's native Spain, when Ferdinand and Isabella kicked all Jews out of Spain. It has recently survived the bombings of Sarajevo's libraries..

While restoring and documenting the repairs to the book, Hanna finds various stains and artifacts in the binding of the book. These artifacts lend to the book's history over the centuries.

Each chapter of the book details some of the events in the life of the Haggadah's journey. One chapter describes how it was slipped out of Sarajevo--right under the Nazi's nose and kept safe in a Muslim Mosque, high in the mountains. Another chapter shares how the book was saved from burning during the Inquisition. The final chapters describe how the book was created, from the scholar who wrote it's text, to the artist who, using a brush made from the fur of a cat, created the illuminations.

Interspersed with the book's personal story, is Hanna's own story of discovery. She learns about herself, her past, her heritage and her future. Both stories are blended together beautifully. As each artifact share's it's part of the Haggadah's story, you, the reader, learn about not only the history of the Haggadah, but also about the history of European Jews.

It was a wonderful book that I really enjoyed. I came away with a greater appreciation of ancient books and with the skill it takes to conserve them. I learned more about the trials and struggles of European Jews in a predominately Catholic Europe. It was a fascinating journey.

So, step out there, pick up a copy of People of the book.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Can someone tell my why I love this man?

On Sunday evening, Kev got a call from his boss telling him that he'd have a short day on Monday and that he'd have Wednesday off. It's slow at the clinic and at the hospital right now. Kev didn't have a problem with that, and I didn't either. I was taking 4 days off, and to have him home with me, without the kids...well, that was wonderful!

Then, on Tuesday afternoon, he called and said he'd have to work after all on Wednesday. I was disappointed, but understood. This has happened twice before, Kev thought he had a day off, but wound up not getting it because they'd admitted more patients and got busy enough for him to work.

So, on Wednesday morning, the alarm went off at 6 a.m., like usual. Kev got up, like usual. I dozed off, like usual. I decided to get up around 7 and wandered out into the living room where Kev was watching the news, like usual. I sat down on the couch and sat there about 5 minutes or so, when I realized that it was time for him to leave, and that he was wearing sweats, not work clothes.

Looking at him, I said, "You liar. You don't have to work, do you?"

Kev grinned and said, "That's not nice, what makes you think I don't have to work?"

Me--"Because it's time to go and you are still sitting there in your sweats. You liar."

He just laughed and told me that he loved me being gullible!

Why do I love this...person who would so easily lie to me?

Here's another situation....

Last night, after a long day of planting in the garden and painting, Kev and I were snuggling on the couch. My legs were draped across his, and he was gently rubbing my feet and calves. Out of the blue, he says "I should be out doing some kind of woodworking."

Confused, I said, "why?"

He replied, "Well, there's enough stubble on your legs to sand the roughest piece of wood I've got!"

Now, is that nice? No, it's not. This is my life. Now, why do I love this man? I will never know.


Right now, I'm sitting on my couch--wearing nuthin' but my robe at the late, late hour of 8:21 a.m. I ran out and let the chickens out, they were very happy about that, but sad that I didn't take the time to toss them some scratch grain. It's just too windy to toss around scratch grain when you are only wearing a robe and the wind likes to whip it up and around in the air. Too much traffic on our dirt road for that nonsense; and I'm sure the folks who might drive by and see me outside in my robe, with it blowing all about are grateful that I didn't take the time to toss grain!

I had 14 days of vacation to take by July 1. I've taken 4. Still need to take 10. And, as usual, when I take time off from work, it means more work for me. when we moved into this house, I hated the fact that all the walls were white. So, for six months, I've been trying to decide what color to paint the living room and the dining/kitchen area. I finally decided. I painted the living room a pale yellow. Paler than I usually do, but it's a nice golden color. I then picked out "rosemary green" for the kitchen/dining room. It's very green. The kids came home last night and told me it was very avocado green. Now, they aren't from the 70s, so they don't know that by using the phrase "avocado green" they sent tremors up and down my spine. It's NOT avocado green, but it's in that color family. It's brighter than the 70's avocado, but o my, it's a big bold move for me. I thought it was more of a sage green, but it's too dark and has too much of a yellowish undertone to be sage. Part of it for me, is that I usually use a satin finish, but picked the more washable semi-gloss for the kitchen. It's pretty bright, and I think that's the cause of some of my unease. But, I do like the color, and I like the statement.

Curtains are next on the list. (well, today, I have to touch up that green, and do a second coat.) But, I have a problem...the curtains in the kitchen are a gingham. A Navy and Cream gingham. I'm not sure it will go with my green. And, many of my accessories have lots and lots of blue. Not sure how they will look against that green. I'll play and see how it goes. But, I imagine I will be looking for fabric to go with my green walls and then, I'll have to make some curtains.

The living room had nasty transom drapes in the lovely color of burgundy. I hated them and they didn't match a thing. So, down they came. I think I'll just use the mini-blinds that are here and lose the curtains. Kev hung up the big-screen TV above the fireplace, which we like. And that allowed us to re-arrange the furniture, which we REALLY like. We've got a short, narrow living room, and furniture arrangement has been a challenge since day one.

some day, I need to learn how to actually "vacation" when I take a vacation.

Friday, May 16, 2008

In memory of...

Mr. Peter Cottontail didn't make it. We found him in the nest, but he was gone. Kat thought he was sleeping, and I think he was probably alive in the morning, but had died by evening time. I really hoped he would make it. I'm guessing that he died of exposure, or shock, or internal injuries, or maybe starvation. If Mom refused to feed him after his little excursion because he smelled like dog, or something strange, well, that would do it. They aren't weaned yet, and need their mama.

Miss Kat was heartbroken. Have to admit that I was to. I'm a softie for babies of any sort...well, not baby snakes. ick. But, this bunny had the cutest coloring and I really wanted it to make it. Sometimes, having animals is hard.

Luckily, the remaining 5 are healthy and bouncing all over the place now. No, I still haven't taken pictures. We had a band concert last night and then planted a tree, so no time for pictures.

The neat aspect about the band concert was that the 6th and 7th graders from Greensburg came over and played with the Bucklin kids. The second neat aspect as that it was over by 7:30! (That was Kev's favorite part.) Our band teacher teaches band for both school systems, and they sounded really good! I wonder if we'll have to drive over to Greensburg sometime for a band concert...once they get their school rebuilt that is. (Remember, Greensburg is the community that was wiped out by a tornado last year. Believe me, there is still NOTHING there. A very few houses, but there's NOTHING there.)

Anyway, we had the concert last night, then Kev and I worked on planting our Apple tree. It was very root bound, and we wanted to get it into the ground. We decided to just remove one of the trees that didn't make it through the winter and put the apple tree in it's spot.

Easier said than done. The tree was dead, but the trunk was still pretty tough and it had pretty good roots and the idiots who planted it left it in the wire basket it came in, so the roots had grown out of that basket and we had to work hard to get it dug out. I used the tractor to push and pull on the tree. We did finally get it, but I almost rolled the tractor once. Scared me half to death! I was using the bucket and let the rear wheels come up, and it was tipping too. We got it back on the ground OK, and I was much more careful after that. We got the tree out, but then had to get that root filled wire basket out. That was the more difficult part. But, it's out, and the apple tree is in. Maybe we'll live here long enough to get apples off this tree...

So, see, I was way too busy to take pictures.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

baby bunnies

Miss Kat's rabbit, Romeo had 6 babies. I thought there were 7, but either I miss-counted, or one died and she disposed of the body. They are a little over 2 weeks old now and actually look like rabbits instead of naked mice with big ears. We've held a couple of them the last few days, as they are starting to get out of the nesting box and jump around the cage. On Sunday morning, Miss Kat and I moved the family into the bigger cage so they would have more room to move around.

Last night, we were all standing outside on the porch watching it sprinkle. Andy was cooking supper (burgers and fries), so we were staying out of his way. Kev was watching Emily, the lab, and saw her pick up something from the ground, then she put it back down. It was white. He said, "Is that a rabbit?"

I didn't think it could be, but then thought that maybe the cats had gotten a hold of one of the babies. So, we decided we'd better investigate.

It was a rabbit. One of our babies. It was alive! Unharmed, except for a nick off one ear. It was very wet and very cold and very scared. So, Kat and I took it back to the shop and found an old sock of Kev's. We put the bunny in the sock to dry it off, and Kat held and cuddled it, drying it off until it seemed pretty dry and more alert. While she was taking care of the baby, Kev and I were trying to figure out what happened.

We decided that the cage's walls would be easy for a little rabbit to squeeze out of. And, we guessed that the baby got out of the cage and then basically got lost. So, I got some cardboard boxes, and we jerry-rigged lining the cage walls with cardboard, hoping it will stay in place long enough for the babies to get too big to squeeze out. I hope it will work, because the rabbits share the shed with the kittens, who like to play under the rabbit cages and would probably love to play with baby bunnies. (They loved playing with the little bull snake their mommy brought home Sunday afternoon, so bunnies might be even more fun!)

Once I was done rigging this up, Kat put the baby back into the nest with his siblings. All snuggled down for a nap, and I'm sure he warmed right up. She told me this morning that they were all still snuggled up sleeping. So, I'm hopeful our rebellious little "Peter Cottontail" is safe and will recover from his adventure. That's what we're going to name this little bunny, Peter. I think it fits.


Have you ever watched rabbits nurse? They are so cute! The few I've spotted, trying to cop a drink outside the nest, lay upside down, on their backs with their little feet up in the air. They're the only animals I've seen nurse up-side-down. Just adorable.

I need to get the camera out and take some pictures, cause these guys are just cute, cute, cute.
(By the way, does anyone want any free baby rabbits???)

Kev the birthday boy

Today is Kev's birthday. He's 40 something. He's 2 years older than I am, but somehow, in my mind, I'm still 42, so that makes him 44...even though I'm not 42 anymore. I just keep forgetting to add numbers to that, so he's really 44, no matter what the calendar says.

Being the good wife that I am, I made him a pie last night. He loves Sour Cream Raisin pie. I got my Aunt Lela's recipe and made one for him last year and another last night. I have to admit, it's a pretty pie, my crust came out beautifully. But, I won't be enticed to eat a bite, because I happen to believe that raisins are the nastiest fruit out there. I like grapes, but detest raisins. Kev likes it when I make this pie, because he will be the only one eating it. That's fine. It is his birthday, he deserves something special, just for him.

Because I'm such a good wife, I also got him a very special present. I bought him a rock. Yep, he got a rock for his birthday. Now, how many people get rocks for their birthday? No, not those rocks, no diamonds for my manly macho man, but a real, honest-to-god rock. A nice big 900 lb. Moss Rock. It's for our pond. Kev saw it at a local landscaping place and thought it would be perfect for his waterfall that he's going to put in this summer. (Maybe, he's got a long list before he gets to do the pond and stream with waterfall.) So, last week, we stopped by the landscaping place, on a day when we had the diesel in town, and picked it up. I told him then, that it is his birthday present because I didn't know what else to get him. He's fine with that. (We have got to be the most romantic people on earth.) So, for his birthday, he gets a 900 lb. rock and a nasty Sour Cream Raisin Pie.

We also have this family tradition that the birthday person gets to pick out what we have for supper. Since we have a band concert tonight (a 6th grade band concert, o joy,) Kev said he'd settle for brats and chips for supper. He can top it off with a piece of pie. Hey, it works for me!

Happy Birthday Babe!

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Fire...and wind

My Dad is the Fire chief of Big E's volunteer fire department. As the chief, he has radios, and scanners always attached to his hip, and in the pickup, and in the house. Anywhere Dad is, there's some kind of radio. He always has the radio turned on, and since he's hard of hearing, it's rather loud and annoying to the rest of us.

Right after we moved, in fact, it was the weekend of my birthday in January, there was a big fire. Oh, it was in Oklahoma, but the wind was blowing and they were calling for help of all the area fire departments. But, Dad was at my house, not at home. He was ready to drive home, but Mom made him promise that he would stay and visit with us. He was a nervous Nellie. He kept listening to them call out one county, and one town after another until they had a pretty large force called out. He fielded phone calls from his fire-fightin' buddies, who wanted to know where he was... He pouted. He worried, he wondered if they were getting it under control, and he wondered how they were managing without him.

They managed. It burned over 5000 acres, and they got it stopped--without Dad's help. But, he was so disappointed that he missed out on a big one. Now, my Dad is 65. He has asthma, and his lungs aren't good, haven't been since he burned them with anhydrous ammonia years and years ago. So, being in smoky air isn't good for him either...but you tell him that, cause we all have, and he refuses to listen.

There was another fire recently, one that Dad did get to fight. He was like a kid in the cookie jar, excited, talking about how they couldn't get to the fire because it was at the bottom of deep canyons, so they waited up top for the fire to come to them. He talked about how ceder trees burn and explode. I swear, if he was a teenager, he would have used adjectives like "awesome", and "cool" and would have used sound effects.

Along with fighting fires, the fire department is responsible for storm watching, watching for tornadoes. Last Thursday was Andy's birthday, so Mom and Dad came up to have supper with us. It was stormy, and we were in a Thunderstorm Watch. It started to look bad, and a report of a tornado came over the radio. So what did Dad (and Kev) do? They went outside, with binoculars, and watched to see if they could see any tornado's form. The wind was blowing, the sky had some lightening, it was that dark, dark blue-gray...and they were standing outside watching for tornadoes. Actually, they were hoping for tornadoes.

We did see some try to form, saw some short tails drop down, but they would go right back up and none ever touched ground. But, Dad had to watch, and he was on the phone with his cronnies, sharing what they could see from all their viewpoints. Dad's phone would ring, or someone would call over the radio... "Woody, where the heck are you?" "Is anybody else around to watch? "Yeah, we're at the Meade Junction, there's nothin' here." "What the heck are you doin' in Bucklin?" "Oh, well, you need to get home, we might get to see some action." "Well, you just tell your wife that you need to come home!" And Dad, is agreeing, and laughing, and sharing what he could see and finally, telling them that nothing is going to happen tonight. They all finally agree and the excitement is done--for tonight.

Who says boys grow up? I personally don't think they EVER do.

Saturday, May 10, 2008


At this exact moment in time, I'm sitting on my couch, next to my favorite person in the whole wide world, and I'm watching the wheat ripple, wave, and blow in the field right outside our house. The wind is blowing about 25 mph and that wheat is simply rolling and waving. For those of you who live by the ocean, imagine the water moving in the wind, but imagine it being green, not blue. That's just how the wheat moves. You can watch "waves" ripple across the field. It's actually a very pretty sight. Granted, 25 mph is a little strong, and I'd prefer it to be blowing less, but the wind is a part of life on the Great Plains, and to live out here, you have to learn how to deal with it.
The wind blows almost daily. Sometimes it's a light breeze, other times, it's rather nasty and can just about blow you over or blow your car off the road. During storms, the wind can push the rain or snow until it is moving more horizontal than vertical. Days like today are also extra hazardous if there were to be a prairie fire. The wind can move that fire very quickly making it very difficult for fire fighters to get under control. I know about that too, I've seen a couple of very big and very scary prairie fires. Blizzards, tornadoes, fires...all are additional factors you have to deal with when you have wind like we do.

I've read stories about pioneer women who were driven mad by the wind. I guess, growing up with the wind, I thought of them as being "weak," but, as I've aged, I've realized that they weren't weak. They didn't have well-built, solid houses, that could keep out the dust and dirt that was blown about. Their houses didn't block the sound of the wind, nor did the houses block the wind itself. Some didn't have windows. Some lived in soddies. Living more closely to the environment, it must have been very difficult to cope with the wind and all it brings...

Most of the time, I don't mind the wind. It's a fact of life, has been my entire life. It doesn't bother me too much. Oh, it is annoying, and for someone with hair like adds to my natural beauty. Yeah, my naturally curly hair, which seems to get curlier the older I get, just loves to do it's own thing when it's windy and humid. (Like today...) Poor Kev, he has to look at me and my hair on days like today...

But, all negatives aside, the wind can be a thing of beauty, and it is right now as that wheat field ripples outside my window.

Wednesday, May 07, 2008


It's a beautiful day. It's raining! I love rain. It would be more perfect if I was at home enjoying the rain from my house instead of at work, but it's raining. I love rain.

I love the sound of rain on the roof. I love the smell of rain. I love gentle rain, without wind and thunderstorms and lightening. That's the kind of rain we have at this minute, it's falling straight down, gentle, soft...sigh.

I think I like rain so much because it's almost a rare item these days. We've been in a drought for so long that all rain is seen as a blessing.

I'm taking two days off this week, tomorrow and Friday. Not sure what I'll do with two days to myself, but I think I will work on that last room in the house that is still stacked high with boxes and is totally unorganized. I've been wanting to tackle it, and think I will tomorrow. Of course, tomorrow, I also have to bake a birthday cake and make Carmel frosting for the first time ever. Mr. Andy turns 17. He's so gunning for unlimited texting. (Don't spill the beans yet, but he's getting it!) He also wants steak for supper, but since we are out of beef, he'll have to pick something else. Maybe I'll offer to cook venison steak instead... Miss Kat has her last track meet (I hope it's the last, we thought the one she had last Thursday was her last track meet.) She's mentally ready to be done, primarily because she has miss so many gymnastic lessons. So, my evening will be busy, with track meet and Andy's birthday supper.