So, I Didn't Choose Fight or Flight....

It is pretty common knowledge that those are our two psychological & biological responses to fear.  Adrenaline-pumping fear.

Yes, when I saw her wild white hair, heard her angry, possessed voice calling out...my body had some auto responses.  My tummy dropped.  I shook.  I felt numb.  Think of the movies, y'all.  These encounters are that eerie.  She is typically dressed the nines in 1950s era silk clothing & jewelry.  And handbag.  But her face is contorted and her eyes are always faraway.  

As I processed my fear, I first made certain the kids were indeed all the way in the car (we were loading them up for school, all 3).  Then, I called to Tanner.  I honestly don't know what I blabbed, I was still trying to NOT BE AFRAID at this point..  Then something clicked.   Then a wave of peace was over me & I knew what I had to do.

I could now REALLY listen to her grievances.  "You guys cut off my power!"  she cried as she shook a fist.  She kept walking up our drive and glared.  "My power is out!  You did it!  Everyone is dead!"

"L^, our power is out, too.  Many of us have power out.  Tanner is talking with OG&E to get it fixed.  We did not cut off your power, hon."  My voice was even, calm, and gentle.  

And then, much to my surprise, she softened.  Not totally, mind you.  As much as she probably could.  But it is as if a tiny, tiny light in her eyes vacated the static that I've seen over the past year (in the three times of seen her fairly close).  "Your power is out, too?"

"Yes, dear.  Isn't it just awful?  It is no fun, huh."  I fearlessly walked a little closer to her.  (holy crap, I can't believe I'm not scared!!)

"I've been going up and down your street.  Everyone is dead!  The devils!"  Now her typical bewildered, untamed expressions seem to hold more of an innocent, helpless perplexity.  Her anger mask revealed more of the fear.

I tried not to look too shocked at these statements by her.  It may have been 9 am, but it was HOT for a 84yo woman in full cocktail attire to be wandering these streets. 

"Hon, let's get you some ice water (meet eyes with Tanner, we communicate a lot in our stares) and have you rest a minute.  You must be hot.  And tired.  Here, how is this chair on my porch?"  By this time Tanner has gone inside to make an ice water and she has warmly received the offer.  

As she drank the cool water, she relaxed...as much as she can.  She went into a myriad of stories about ghosts in walls.  One of them is a lesbian that tries to kiss her every night. Some of her 'devils' behind her live in our house and range from a school teacher (male, so not me!) and a praise & worship leader.  She talks about voices she hears, the gift she has to hear them, and the devils.   We quickly turn to the biggest issue at hand:  Who does she think we are?

We assure her multiple times that we have lived in that house just over a year.   She keeps trying to wrap her mind around that.  Now, most certainly, gentle reader, you recognize that we are at this point attempting reason with one who is not totally in reality.  And it was more me than Tan that wanted to explain who we were.  Perhaps he recognized the attempt is probably futile.  I recognized that tho a sliver of a chance, she just may lose some of her fear/rage/anger of the people who live behind her. 

Futile or not, I was going to try.  Maybe, just maybe some of it would stick. After all, other things have.  She asked if my husband was a school teacher.  "No."  She shared a few of the things that, evidently, the woman* who lives BESIDE us has told her.  She softened & appeared to semi-process the idea that we maybe, just maybe, could be a good neighbor.

I assured that Tanner felt a peace about being left with her, and said my goodbyes.  After all, my sweet kiddos had been patiently** waiting in the A/C of the car during this.  As another good gesture, I rolled the back window down and smiled at her:  "L, these are my sweet kids.  Say Hi boys!"  And she smiled.  Tanner drove her around the corner to her house & dropped her off.  This just blows my mind to picture.  I can't even list or fully describe the many, many nights she has stood in her windows shaking her fist, calling out (this was back when there was a mere chain link fence) in rage.  She has called Tanner every name in the book, including ones that weren't allowed to be published in the book.  She has damned him to hell so much that I really had begun to wonder what spirit lurks in this gorgeous old home of ours.  And apparently they had a quiet, gentle truck ride around the block.  They said goodbyes and she safely returned home.

I may or may not have a direct encounter with her for another 6 months.  She may be incredibly angry at us when it occurs.  (That is highly likely, because she otherwise seems to keep to herself).  She may or may not remember anything from our conversation on the porch with the ice water.  The entire encounter may have been self-serving, as I got a resolve that I had longed for since I moved into this crazy, wild area.  I finally got to demonstrate to her what I'd been hoping to all along.

But the ice water.  She definitely needed the ice water.



^privacy respected

*the woman next door is an entirely new path of stress.  i've never been targeted with what I can only describe as 'evil' as directly & painfully as this, and if only for therapeutic (and documentation) purposes, I plan to unfold that entire story here in chunks soon.

**patiently for toddler= intervals of calling out to momma, a teeny bit of sibling fussing, but overall not too shabby

Dementia, Alone or With Family

Juxtapose.  The dictionary will tell you it means "to place two things side by side to compare and contrast."  That truly is the first and maybe best word that I came up with to summarize a small window of time-- last Thursday night to Friday afternoon, to be precise.

Within that window I was interestingly shown the many sides of dementia and/or Alzheimer's.  And how the pendulum can swing both ways depending on how a sufferer is living with it.

I've been learning about dementia for a while now.  I'll only briefly mention the study of it in my textbook for a neuropsychology class in graduate school. Neurology is fascinating, we all know that.  But that's where I stop my nod to academia. That is not truly how I've come to understand dementia.  Our sweet grandma lives with dementia, and we've been attempting to navigate through it with her for several years now.  Others who have been on this journey with a loved one know it is so painful to watch.  So very very painful.

Last Thursday night my mother and aunt were my grandma's champions.  She was showing signs of a virus or infection, and they took their 92-year-old sweet mother to the ER.  Grandma is in assisted living where full medical care, to my understanding, is not available.  She definitely needed to move up a level or two in care due to her symptoms.  These sisters, who are both grandmas as well, sat by her side for hours to be certain she was not fearful, didn't pull out her IV, or that she didn't try to escape.  These are all incredibly common and normal behaviors when your memory is so impaired that, basically, everything around you is "new" every 20 seconds or so.  The disorientation is extreme.

By the time I was able to come sit with Grandma, my mom and aunt were tired and hungry so they both had a short dinner break.  They both ended up staying the night with Grandma in their clothes and the cot they were able to order from the hospital did not even arrive until the next morn.  Oh, and the next day they repeated all of this, as they took turns leaving so one could shower/rest/eat.  Grandma got upgraded to a bed with an alarm, but without her loved ones there, she was scared, combative, and ready to escape.  Her eldest son also drove into the city to take a "shift" of sitting with her.

So, the day after I had spent time with Grandma, singing little hymns to comfort her and just letting her know she was safe, I was doing my regular duty at home. I was caring for my very young children and Tanner was gone to work.

Now, I need to give brief backstory before I tell you my next encounter with dementia.  There is a woman living directly behind us with dementia.  There is likely other serious diagnosis attached to that, we will probably never know, but her behaviors that we've seen indicate that. In the short 10 months we've lived in this home, there are many behaviors that can draw this conclusion, yet I'll only highlight a few.

Her house is grand, old, and deteriorating. From the moment we started having family backyard time (it backs up to us and a chain link divides us), I grew fond of the Great Expectations-esque property.  She rarely comes out, but her house has many windows and no blinds.  She has curtains that she only draws when she is spying.  Ah, the spying.  We've determined it happens almost all the time.  You can see a head bob or a shadow behind a curtain whenever you go the backyard.  My husband spends the most time in the back room, as it is his office.  He has had few but memorable encounters with the petite, elderly woman.  Each one involves her shaking a fist at him and yelling curses and names.  She definitely thinks he is someone from her past, though we can't deduce who.  She once told him he was the "devil from hell."  We've learned she did this to the previous owners of our house. There is a pattern, and though I didn't let myself get obsessed enough to track it, I'd guess about every 3 weeks she puts on a large sombrero and dances around each window, often until the wee hours of the morn. She wears capes and robes and often shakes her fist at our house through her kitchen window.

Though afraid, I once walked around the block to check on her after we heard a questionable, loud sound.  "Is everything okay?"  Her glazed eyes didn't truly see me as she opened her mouth, where most teeth were absent, and said, "Yea."  Then the door slammed.

There is so much more to describe, but that gives you the glimpse you need.

For the past week, I felt my uneasiness about the situation grow.  I'd been discussing with my husband everything from whether or not she may have weapon access to what she'd possibly say to the kids if she ever approached them (she hasn't).  And the one gnawing at me:  what would I do if she broke in?

Well, the afternoon after I had been at the ER with grandma would answer that.

I was wrapping the baby in a big towel, the 3-year-old was finishing the draining tub, and I went to the rocking chair in our front room.  I suddenly heard a "ruckus" approaching my porch until there was loud, frantic banging on our door.

"Open this door!  You are the devil!  Open this NOW!" she cried.

I only had to see her flowing, white hair to know who it was.  My fingers steadily dialed 911 while my heart beat in my throat.  I hugged the baby as a slunked back into a room where she couldn't see any of us.  She turned the doorknob with urgency (locked, yes!).  "Let me in!!"  She proceeded to bang on windows around the house.

Police and fire were there quickly, and when all was said and done, they said I did the right thing.  Of course I wrestled in the aftermath....really, call 911 on a little old lady?  Turns out, she turned violent on the officers, including smacking one upside the head with a heavy ashtray.  My police relative/friend told me from experience that a tiny woman in a psychotic state can get much stronger! She thought she was tracking down her sister, for whatever reason.  She called all the police and firemen devils.

There are so many more details, but I'll summarize to say that the 911 call led to the discovery that her water and electricity have not been paid in months.  The water was already shut off (thus, she hadn't bathed in a long time) but the electricity was still on grace period.  She was taken in to be washed, treated, and medicated.  This apparently is just one of several occasions when they've gotten her back on meds for a few weeks, only to return her to her solo living.  Oh, and we called 911 the next night, too....we witnessed two men burglarizing her home!  (insert heart in throat again).

You may be asking....where are her children?  A friend?  A long lost niece?  The police (and even my husband) have tracked down kin before....only to hit dead ends.  No one will have anything to do with her. Not even her daughter who lives about 6 miles away. My fear of her has grown much more into sadness.  And frustration.  I'm personally at a loss right now as to how to help when she returns since she is often hostile and/or having an episode.  And of course the safety of my babies is top of my personal list.

But I share all of this to step back and observe the juxtaposition of it all.  I saw two faces of severe dementia, though not exactly alike, but both very serious.  Grandma can definitely be an entirely different person when she is scared and having nurses poke and prod while doing their (very important) job.

But Grandma has people that love her.  Many.  Her family is going to sing to her, sit with her, hold her hand, give her grace.  Even when she is angry.  Even when she is so severely confused.

The woman who lives behind us does not.  She is in her own private hell and there's no family to reach through the flames and just comfort her.

I'm still reflecting on all of this.  Still praying about it, too.  I just want to share with you, my friends, who may be at the early stages of the dementia journey with a loved one.  Every time you just sit with her.  Every time you hold her.  Every time you just let her ask the same question again (and again) only to smile and answer....you are doing SO much for her.

Why I Believe

We've been hearing some great messages at the church we are attending as a family.  Granted, the last few weeks have been Sundays at home, with Luke recovering from a horrible rash... then my broken toe incident last Sunday morn (ouch!).  Today was one easy to skip... first Sunday all is well, me well-rested finally, the sun shining.  Yet I am glad we did not.  So many great words to soak in & ponder.  He posed the simple question: Why are you doing this?

'THIS' meaning church, Christianity, faith.  I took a moment to jot down my gut reactions, no deep reflection.  Here is the list of my initial responses:

1.  Jesus spread a message of love and acceptance.  I want to live that.

2.  The Lord pricked my heart.  He sought me.  I must respond with obedience.
  -I can distinctly recall the time, the place, the surrounding occurrences, of when I know He called to me.  I was 27.  I had wrestled with faith but in that day, there was no more question.  I KNEW.  It was powerful.

3.  I don't ponder the afterlife.  It's really not a tug for me to believe.  However, Heaven sounds amazing, so if given the choice, why would I not want that?

4.  Life makes so much more sense when I am turning to a power bigger than me & bigger than us all.  I see His work... when I am seeking to find it.

A Drive Down Walker Lane

Ok, it's actually Walker Street, not Lane.

Despite details, I want to share on my virtual blog at lil' memory worth remembering.  (hey, I truly forget "the little things" a lot these days...what did I have for lunch today? got me!)

Every now & again, I take alternate routes home.  Sometimes it's just to see a different view.  Maybe see a nice string of houses that I don't normally see.  But the trip back home via Walker Street coming from 23rd is of special importance.  It tells a story.  A love story!  Those are fun.

So, first I pass a few scary abandoned buildings.  There's not really a love story there...except I could mention that my love once had a stray bullet enter his living room window that originated from that direction. Anyway, you get just a few blocks more and there's the house that my then-boyfriend lived in.  Many wonderful memories are there.  As silly as it may sound, I distinctly remember our first "electric" contact on that couch.  We both went to click something on the keyboard of his laptop at the same time, and, literally, our hands touching did a little static/electric thing.  Ye of little romantic, whimsical thinking may try to explain that phenomenon with science & logic...I choose to see the poetic foreshadowing in the situation.

So on we go.  We pass a few funky art houses as we approach the Paseo.  I then reflect back on the many strolls we took past all of this on spring & summer nights during the dating days.  We'd walk over to catch First Friday, maybe a coffee at the "old" Sauced.

Immediately following, we come to Samir's.  It's perhaps the only topaz-painted grocery/convenience store you will ever come across 'round here.  Some may not realize that Samir is actually the owner's name & he is usually the one behind the counter (or, at least, that was the case in 2008 & 2009).  I giggle to myself in this part of the car ride; the thought just occurs to me that Samir may have witnessed our blossoming romance more than anyone during that time.  We went in there a lot. I will always think fondly of Samir for this reason.

Next, I pass a few houses--houses that I once had memorized down to the porch decor since I made that drive from the boyfriend's home to my own quite often.  At a small stoplight, I see the Red Rooster on my right.  We didn't go there a ton while we dated, but I recall a distinct memory there.  It was early on in our dating days, perhaps just a month or so in.  We sat under the awning of their tiny patio.  As we watched a summer rain & saw a bright flash of lightning, I felt at peace.  I just felt...really, really good.  It was definitely at that moment that I KNEW I could very easily be falling in love with this person.  It's one of those moments that you wish you could recreate.  I kinda always wanted to go back and sit under that awning during a summer storm.

I pass more houses, and finally come to the church that I've for years referred to (in a loving way) as the Boob Church.  (CAN that be a loving reference?  haha).  I laugh out loud (for real, not a computer screen lol) as I think of our memory there.  We were in the "good side only" phase of dating.  Ya know, every move made is just to be sure & let this person see how funny/pretty/smart/clever you are.  In this particular instance, I wanted him to see how athletic I was.  By now, friend, you MUST be laughing.

One pretty day we decided to ride bikes the 25 blocks from my house to his.  Boob Church is a little over the half way mark.  There is a hill (it's one of those sneaky, doesn't look steep but is a beast if you are biking it) around this point.  It was hot outside.

Oh yea, I am not athletic.

So, by the time we finished said hill, I was out of breath and literally seeing "stars" as my vision was beginning to turn into a tunnel.  I tried to casually mention that we should rest in the pretty grass at Boob Church.  He may recall the time frame better, but I must've laid in that grass for at LEAST 20 minutes trying to regain composure, breath, and, oh yea, NOT PASS OUT.

I pass some more lovely houses and then I am home.  Home that I now share with my sweet lil family.

Samir always wished us well.  I should stop by sometime to let him know we are now married with two kids.
 I should stop and buy some candy and just tell him about how I will always cherish that time in my life.
The time we frequented Samir's.
We never go there anymore.

But I still take these occasional alternate routes home.

My Cyber Cents on Tragedy

In our social media world, we all get a chance to share our deepest thoughts with the world.  Just as I am doing now. ;)  Sometimes, I am not so sure we've really sorted them out before we start jumping on Twitter/Instagram/Facebook/blogspot.

And when 20 small children have died at the hands of a gunman....we desperately want to make sense of it.  There is a new stage in grief (the classic seven is now eight).  It is the cyber stage.  We type our anger, our sadness, our shock.  It could very well  now be part of the healing process for humans.

For what it is worth, it's just lil ol' me talking here, may I supply a voice of caution?  I am reading some things that concern me a tad.  The latest example was someone I know (and love!) praising Mike Huckabee.  I don't have cable, I've barely seem the media coverage....but I hopped over to Mike's site to see his quote.  I am gonna assume my  relative/friend was referring to his sentiment that since God is no longer "on the front end" we can't be so quick to pray to him "on the back end."  I get it.  It is an easy argument to jump to as one tries to make some sense of this.  It is also easy to spout off one's view on gun control, whether for/against.  (although, let's face it, it's not a black & white issue at all).

Prayer in school now becomes another political hot button in the wake of tragedy.  People want to finger point badly (which is a totally normal response in grief)...and blaming the government is easy.

But I must tell you this from my personal experience.  PRAYER HAS NEVER LEFT SCHOOL!  I promise.  Here is my firsthand experience in that truth.  I moved back to Oklahoma in 2003.  Shortly thereafter, I took a teaching job with OKC public.  Some of you know the school, and I will keep it nameless here, but it was most definitely not your momma's sweet little suburban school. ;)  I learned so much in those 3 school years!  I also deepened my relationship with Christ in ways that I never could have fathomed, and I will always attribute that to my time at that school.  I tagged five women on this facebook link.  They worked at that school with me.  Anna, Piper, Samantha, Erin, Stephanie.  They are all incredibly prayerful women.  We also had some very prayerful men there.  I can guarantee you that every single DAY multiple prayers were uttered over our students, the school, our mission.  No, we didn't have an "official" prayer over an intercom.  No, we didn't have official teaching lessons about God.  But if ever a student asked one of us about our faith....are you kidding me, of course we told them what we believed!  And many of these kids were looking for something.  Oh, friend, God was in that building all the time.  Great things happened there.  Sad things happened there.*  God was with us, through it all.  And, see, that is just one tale among THOUSANDS to attest to the fact that many prayerful people are in public schools.  Besides, don't you think even thousands MORE who are not teachers pray for our school children?

I am not attempting a school prayer debate here. I just want to illustrate that that argument is a pretty weak one.  Whether or not a governing body mandates prayer, you bet your Bible verses that I was praying at my teaching job!  And so very many others do!

My caution is this:  Let's not take our grieving processes and make them political warfare.  No doubt ALL of us humans--liberal, conservative, Christian, left-wing, etc--- MUST agree that this crime was horrific and unacceptable.  We all agree that LOVE is the only way for us not to extinct ourselves.  Right?

Bless you in your grief, bless your children as you talk with them, and bless us all as we seek comfort from our Lord.  "Get behind me, Satan!" Satan sucks. I hate Satan. Let's hug one another and not quote politicians & celebrities.



*My saddest memory from that school will always be hugging the neck of a crying, grieving momma.  One of my students died in a gang fight.  I learned of it on the news.

Minimalism of Gas, Part 2

Ha, if you are just now tuning in & read that title....I'd love to know what you thought this quick post was gonna be about. ;)

So here's two things I want to note about the gas hiatus for today.  (And it's officially been 8 days, peeps!)

1:  I finally did it.  I take cool to luke-ish warm showers right now, but today I needed a BATH.  A real one. And I didn't want to leave my house to do it.  Actually, I couldn't leave the house, it was L's nap time.  And, see, it was time for a good leg shave, a nice thorough clean.  (After all, going to the OB/GYN today, haha).  So...I began the venture of heating tubs of water in the micro and intermittently pouring them in.  Tan came home for lunch and he poured the last big one in for me while I was already plopped in the tub as to allow me as much time with the heat as possible. ;)   I was so  happy to be in the warmth.  Granted, the water probably filled an inch and a half of the tub.  And it took a while to get that far. LOL.  But I appreciated that tiny bit of water so much!  Heaven, I tell ya.

2:  I meant to share this last week.  Ya know, if ever you only have a microwave to cook with.  So, it may not be the most nutritious way to eat....processed and all....but here is what I did to add some excitement to one of those bland, blobby TV dinner thingys.  (Cuz they all get pretty bland, no matter what they try to tout on the label).  I cut up fresh bell peppers, onions, & tomato and tossed those on top of the burritos.  All local produce, either from me or mi pappa.  (Do I get cool points for that?  haha).  I also sprinkled on some herbs, I think red pepper flakes & parsley.   Then, a dalop of sour cream.  Voila!  TV dinner with a kick....

A different kind of minimalism?

The minimalism BLOGGING may have dropped out of cyber world…but the purging, I am glad to say, continued on into this summer.  Craigslist has been a big tool.  We sold a bed set, a guitar case, and a few other smaller items that I obviously didn’t need because they are already forgotten!  Granted, I’ve acquired things for the newborn…but I am only saying yes to offers of giving if I truly need it!  And being that I am SUCH a pro now, I know exactly what to expect this go round.  (haha…that’s what I think, huh?). 

And here as we begin August, I want to take a turn into something that is a bit of a twist in minimalism.   Sure, the chain of events that I’m about to tell you (in summary) are not the circumstances we prefer….but being that things happen & you can either find the positive or wallow in the negative…I am looking upon it as a new challenge.

Ok, I don’t feel like telling every single detail because it’s exhausting, but here’s the gist of what happened:

It’s Friday afternoon now.  Well, on Monday, I heard a noise that I was becoming all too familiar with:  a clanging on what sounded like the hot water tank area.  Tan & I knew the dogs had found a new cool hideout under the house via our crawlspace, but I knew Tan had rigged up a temporary “gate” to keep them out while we figured out a permanent solution.  (bear in mind these dogs have full access to a often-AC’d garage).  He had also (somewhat) convinced me that the dogs can not do anything to the gas or water pipes…too sturdy.  However, hearing that sound again on Monday morn left my “gut” feeling funny.  What does a girl do?  Call Dad!  And Dad about hit the roof.  He stays out of the Hubbert business, but on this he was pretty vocal about how those dogs can NOT be under there, period.  Danger, danger.  So the protective momma in me went into high gear & I called ONG to request a pressure check.  The info I gave them garnered an “emergency” response…I tell ya, I had a guy knocking at my door within 5 minutes!  

He did find that we are leaking gas at 3ft/hr…the equivalent of what you need to light a pilot light, I know now.  He shut off our gas & told me I must call a plumber to do further inspection, then we’d need a city inspection.  In my head I am feeling relief & thinking a couple hundred dollars to keep my babies safe is no biggie. 

We have an honest, fair plumber…been through a few ice storms with us ;) ….yet he was the bearer of bad news on Tuesday.  He had to be the one to tell us he found a tiny, tiny leak ABOVE the house, right near the hot water tank (not one that was even remotely dangerous) and being that we were now shut off by ONG pending city inspection, we’d be required to fix everything that was out of code.  Apparently, it is very easy to fall out of code, as it changes a lot.  He told me he sure wished I had known to call him FIRST instead of ONG.  Apparently this cycle of turning off the gas then getting a mandatory city inspection is a tangled web that you don’t wanna get it.  I get it, ONG has to be safe, has to avoid liability.  I won’t harbor anger at them.  We just had a new hot water tank put in 3 years ago, but plumber man found $2000 worth of things on said hot water tank that would have to be updated to be ready for the city inspection.  And as for under the house….he would have to reschedule to come and check for any more leaks, which is more $$, not to mention the costs if he does find any more.  So, we are suddenly needing $3000-4000 in the midst of a season in our marriage that is already ‘lean,’ if you will.   We are floating through this season on almost-maxed credit cards, a lifestyle neither of us had even remotely lived before, as we get past this time of me almost done with a Masters yet pausing to have babies. ;)

And that last part is not woe-is-me at all.  Tanner and I have a game plan with an end in sight, so being in a temporary lean time is not anything we worry about.  However, making a phone call to ONG because you wanted your babies to be safe leading to 3 or 4 thousand dollars to come up with was not in the plan!

All that to say….. we are brainstorming before we call back dear plumber.  We are considering selling Tanner’s truck and becoming a one-car family for a while.  (and how he loved his ol’ beat up truck he just got merely to get to work in!).  I’ve got to get an antique dealer over here, which is something we were gonna do eventually anyway.  So, when there is a will, there’s a way.

But…here’s the thing…we’ve been without hot water and our (gas) stove for five days now.  It’s not that difficult!  Electricity would be tough, yes…but gas, not so much.  Tan & I both agree that lukewarm showers aren’t bad at all.  Yes, that is correct, our water does not even GET cold due to our lovely 112-degree days.  In these dog days we don’t crave steamy showers anyway.  Same goes for the stove---definitely not wanting to heat up our lil’ house with the oven.  But, yeah, I am already missing my sautéed fresh produce I was in the habit of serving up via stovetop since we have three gardens giving us fresh food (thank you, God, for Joanna’s bounty, my dad’s bounty, and ours!)

If it were winter time, we’d be up a creek…our heat is gas…..but I have managed to find one sliver of positive in this record-breaking  heat---you don’t need gas for the home!  I almost want to now see how long we can go without.  Oh, and in case you are wondering, I do a sanitary job on the dishes. J  First, you microwave a tub of water & then pour it in the sink.  Voila!  And, sorry granolas, we are totally buying paper plates & cups this week just to minimize the amount of dishes I must do that way.  It’s mostly knives (for cutting the produce!) and baby items.   So, getting this city inspection will eventually happen…but it’s not a threat.  We can take our time.  I may get creative with more cooking ideas with the toaster & microwave as my only tools!