First of all, I just want to say (while I remember), that there is nothing so cozy, nothing so comforting, nothing so ‘safe’ as the feel of my husband’s big hand on top of my head.  It has carried me thru all sorts of crisis and non-crisis alike.  And the only thing better than that, is when he is also praying out loud for me while he’s got his big ol’ hand on my head.  I hope he is around for awhile.  I don’t think there’s another hand out there that could fit my greasy head like his does.

Ok, so my field trip to the UT Medial Blasting Zone was, um, entertaining.  I guess it would have been fun except for ‘pain’ was involved.  And any sort of pain, in any form, negates any level of potential fun.

So first thing I saw (as I checked in late) was a lady in an orange jumper, complete with handcuffs and ankle chains, escorted by a policemen filling out paperwork.  I wondered at my chances of getting her as a roommate, but as it turned out, I didn’t get a roommate.  That would have undoubtedly made things more interesting.

I got checked in and then after an x-ray (done by three overly chipper blonde girls who must’ve been 13 and 14), I made my way up to the surgery room.  Room. Ha.  It was a little cave in the wall with a curtain pulled across the front. The whole hall was full of other little caves.  Most of them had their curtains open.  I kept mine all the way closed.   The nurse told me to put on a ridiculous purple gown and then when I was halfway thru changing she flung open the curtain of my cave and asked some dumb question. Unpleasant.

She was nice enough to come back when I was fully concealed in the ridiculous purple gown and then she asked a billion questions. 

“Hello again…. Mrs. Ug-sha-wishuh?” 

“Sure”

Do you smoke?  Do you have a tumor?  How many cats do have?  What’s the square root of thirty six? Are you able to stand on your head? And so forth.  My answers were ‘no’ to all, and happily, my husband did not contradict me when she asked if I had a history of mental problems.  

Then she asked if I had any fears or anxieties over the surgery.  And I told her “Yes, actually, I do”.  Which is the truth.  Anything hospital related gives me a beastly fright.  She looked concerned but I assured her that they were all unfounded and unreasonable. 

Then she asked, “Well how do you cope with your anxiety, is there anything you’re able to do to pull you thru stressful situations?”  So I told her, “Yeah, I panic.  That’s my approach to pretty much anything scary”.  And she said, “ha. ha. ha.” and left.

The next thing I knew a creepy guy with a white coat, decorated with sharp shiny needles, came shuffling and hobbling over holding up a large spike filled with smoking, bubbling yellow liquid. 

“Are you Jenefer Eshu-ee-mushga?”

“Sure”

Then he aimed that spike at my IV.  Panic struck, I asked him, “Uh…. What the heck is that?” 

And he replied, “bwwaaaaa ha ha ha ha hee hee heee… you will likey.  All people in hospital bed likey likey”

And then he squirted that stuff right into my IV tube and the next thing I knew – to my horror—I started giggling like a loon.  

Then suddenly, I opened my eyes and I was in this weird circular room with about six men in their separate beds wearing ridiculous purple gowns.  Half were sleeping but the ‘awake half’ were all staring blankly at one another. I realized I was staring, too.  And then I started shaking.  Hard.  Like I was afraid I was going to shake myself right off the bed, and a nurse came over and stared at me and started talking to me about the Olympics.  I’m almost positively sure that happened.  And then she signaled for Igor and he shuffled over and started poking around with my IV again.

Sometime later I woke up again in that weird circular room; I think there were new ‘blankly staring’ guys but I can only remember one very large and hairy man who was directly across from me who had his mouth wide open and he was snoring.  His ridiculous purple gown did not fully fit. 

I was suddenly struck with a dreadful thirst.  So the Olympics nurse came over and I told her, “Could you pl—what in the wor--? How come I can’t talk?” and she told me, “You had a tube down your throat; it’ll probably smart for a day or so”.  

So I rasped, “Please get me some water” and she told me, “No”.

No? What do you mean no?  So I repeated, “Please get me some water, I’m really thirsty”

And she said, “No.  You can’t have any water.  It'll make you sick”.   

You can’t imagine how thirsty I was.  And then she started to walk off and I began to panic.  “Hey,” I rasped, “Then get me some ice, ok?” and she turned around and real sing-songy like she snickered, “Ummmmmm, ICE... is… *WA-TER*”. Smart alek.  So then I got mad and I told her, “Oh yeah?!! Well that’s what they give you when you’re in labor!!!!!!!!”  

Thinking back on it, that isn’t as cuttingly clever and triumphant as I thought it was at the time.  None-the-less, she came back at some point with a cup of ice a little flat popsicle stick to eat it with.

Then all of a sudden I was in a new room with a TV, and Little House on the Prairie was on.  Mr. Edwards was singing about a frying pan and brushing his teeth with a wagon wheel.  That was a very irritating way to wake up.  And then minutes later Geoff the Great was shown in and he asked me, “Uhhhh, are you watching that or can I put on FOX news?”  Which was sort of funny but I think I got offended.

And then a new nurse came in.  I think.  And I sat up a bit and GREAT JEHOSAPHAT, I felt like somebody harpooned me straight thru the side.  YEEEOUCH.  I asked the nurse if it was supposed to hurt that bad, and she told me, yes, in my case, it would.  But then she told me she’d get something for the pain, and at that point I was hoping to see my little buddy Igor again.  That guy and his magical needle was starting to grow on me.  But nope, she just came back with a big white horse pill.  

Then Geoff the Great said that the doctor told him that they put me on the machine and ended up cranking it to the highest possible level and my bowling ball refused to crack.  I’m sorta proud of the little fella.  The dr. said they gave it all they got but he didn’t think he was able to break it up enough. The rock was too hard.  SO, not only will I have some ‘minor discomfort’ (minor. Ha), but he said I will have to come back soon and undergo the exceedingly horrifically unthinkably unpleasant option number 2.

Plus, as a bonus, soon after being wheeled into the Little House on the Prairie room, I realized that I had lost an important body function vital for survival.  Alarming.  The nurse was able to help (and I use the term ‘help’ loosely) by use of a long tube and a pouch.  Ok...  GROSS and YEEEOUCH.  They said I would have to stay until my body started working again, but nope, my rebellious body refused to corporate.  But it was not practical for me to spend the night, so they ended up reluctantly giving me and Geoff and quick EMT lesson and sending us home with that diabolical tube and pouch “to use if needed”.  They told me to either do that or go into the Emergency Room if my body still wouldn’t to what it was told.  

I’m happy to report, as of this morning, my body has begrudgingly begun to cooperate again.  We had stopped at a health food store on the way home yesterday and I was able to remember a concoction that my sister once used to cure me of kidney / bladder issues and it seems to be doing the trick again.

So there you have it.  More info than you wanted or needed.  It will be fun to read this tomorrow because I’m writing this shortly after my breakfast of hot tea and a big hearty bowl of Vicodin Flakes.   And I don’t know when I’m supposed to go in for option number 2.  

I am very tired. The End.

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Um… something weird is going on.  And I think I know what the source is.  It’s drugs.  Drugs in the water.  Lots of drugs, especially hallucinogens.  Today I got two emails almost at the same time.  One asked if I’d like to be interviewed as a featured homeschooler, and another asked if I would be a speaker for an upcoming conference.  Drugs in the water.  At any rate, if I end up doing either, perhaps I will offer pillows and blankets for the poor unsuspecting attendees (snore drool).    

In other news, I’ve been to the doctor 'more times than what’s pleasant' within the last two weeks.  Zero, actually, is the only number of times that would be pleasant, but alas.  Dumb dang darn dumb old dangitty dang blasted bowling ball of a kidney stone.  The doctor has given me two surgical options.  One option is very unpleasant.  The other option is exceedingly horrifically unthinkably unpleasant.  So I’m thinking about just leaving my bowling ball alone.  He’s a part of me now, and perhaps I should not be inhospitable. 

Anyways, I’m supposed to go in this Monday to get it dynamited.  It’s super creepy to get put under / knocked out.  Hopefully they will wake me up with no prob when they're done.  All in all, I suppose it will be relatively fun.

In different other news, the goat stew was a great hit with half the family.  I was part of the half that didn’t love it.  Marshiemellow suggested that I try making goat jerky.  I bet I could do that.  I have a dehydrator.  Did you see the goat pictures on Coie's pg?  My apologies if you did.

Lastly… My sister comes in just two and a half-ish weeks.  Hippity hip hip hooooray!  We’ve got a list of things we’re gonna do, roller skating being one of them.  Admit it, there are very few things in this world (besides playing softball and disco dancing in the living room) that’s as fun as roller skating.  Its been a loooooong time since I've been, and I don't think any of my four youngest kids have ever been.

And oh yeah, it's almost Mother's Day.  Believe it or not, I am not in an adamant frenzy of dislike over Mother's Day.  I actually like that one.  I can't help it.  Maybe it's because I had such a sweet mother.  And now I have such an excellently great mother in law.  And plus I have such ridiculously entertaining kids whom are quite easy to like.  Mother's Day is one of those rare holidays that's hard to find reasons to rant about.

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I suppose I’ll get the grodie news out of the way.  My dear darling fellow Watch-From-A-Distance-And-Make-Snappy-Comments-Until-We-Laugh-Ourselves-Silly-friend came over with her family, and her highly well-rounded and diversified husband talked Geoff and Coie thru butchering two goats.  Boy that was a long sentence.  I wonder if it makes any sense to anybody besides me.

Anyhow, back to the story, my daughter (mostly) killed the goats (long and gross story) and then gutted and cleaned them.  Um…. Sick.  And then the talented Mr. Roy and Geoff the Great skinned and carved up the goats.  I won’t give the details, but it was not as gag-inducing as I imagined. Me and Maria sat in our Princess Chairs and watched the whole thing. They almost looked like large piñatas – never mind, I said I wouldn’t give the details.

So now, we have over 30 pounds of fresh goat meat in our freezer (and two bagged goat hides that we’re bringing to Bo’s friend today so he can tan them – I cannot BELIEVE I actually have those things in my fridge right now).  So if you are planning on coming over for dinner any time soon, you’re probably gonna get some goat meat on your plate.  (That means YOU Charlie and Jess and Dad)   Our friends from MO are also coming down to stay a few days in July and we’re gonna spring some on them without telling ‘em what it is first.  That’ll be fun.  I’m gonna make stew.  Which I think will be good.  It always makes me hungry when I read about the goat stew that Jacob brought his dad when he was weaseling his brother’s blessing away.

Ok, in non-carnage news, I thought I’d share an email with you guys (I got permission first), I’ll also share the answer I gave.  It’s an interesting question and I thought getting other thoughts on it would be interesting as well.  I think this is something that a lot of us hyperventilate about around this time of the year... 

Hi Jen,

I have been a "blogstalker" of yours for a while now.  I don't believe I have ever written you though.  I really enjoy your advice and your approach to schooling most mimics my own so I wanted to ask for some much needed advice if you wouldn't mind giving it. 

1. Do you always finish your curriculum for that year?  For example, we use mostly Abeka books...some Saxon...and Spelling Power.  Out of all the lessons the books offer, we have just now reached lessons in the 80-90 ish range.  Granted we do lots of field trips, zoo and museum trips, etc. I am fearful that if I stop at the end of May they will be behind when we move up to the next level in the fall.  I am mainly talking about the subjects of math and phonics/language.

It just feels like crunch time to me right now and I could easily lose my mind over it! :-)  Not to mention now is the time of curriculum fairs and matters of the upcoming year....I haven't even completed this year!  Ergh!  Any advice would be greatly appreciated!

Talysa

Dear Talysa, ok, your email totally made me laugh.  i will tell you the absolute truth.  We have never ever ever in the history of homeschooling ever EVER finished a curriculum book within a school year.  Most the time i skip around and pass over lessons or add ones of my own.  I've been going thru our Mystery of History book for THREE YEARS.  And i love it.  This is *our* class room and we get to pick and choose and pull and skip or re-do just as much as we want.

It is very easy to fall into the government school way of doing things... and just looky how well it works fer them!  no thanks, that's one system i do not want to follow or reproduce in my own home.  Believe me, if you are consistently teaching your children, they are more than likely already way ahead of many of their public school peers (except in the lessons they would have learned on the playground... teasing, fighting, relating the latest rated R movie, playing doctor, etc).  

The goal of curriculum is not for it to be completed... but rather it is a tool for you to implement the lessons you choose to teach -- and on *your* timeline.   Don't let those schoolbooks hold you hostage, sister!

 Much love, jen

******

I think a lot of us deal with that – or have dealt with that – especially when we are relatively ‘new’ schoolers.  I still will have those days where I will begin questioning my methods – but I think that is a good thing.  Self evaluation plus a little bit of stress and/or worry can be a good motivator to make sure we are doing well.  But it is easy to cross that line and start blindly running around and bumping into walls inside that ‘paralyzed with fear / overwhelmed / ready to quit’ crazy lady room. 

In other news, our tree is starting to get plums on it, but I’m not getting my hopes up because every year the birds eat every single last one of them.

Ok, I’m off to make something goatmeat-ish.

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Ok, so anyways, our water *really* smells.  It’s heinous.  But that’s what you get when you live out in the country and have well water.  I actually prefer well water to city water, but it’s a trade off.  It stinks.  So to counter-reek our house, Bo periodically “treats” the well, which simply means he dumps a bunch of bleach down it.  

Yesterday I woke up to a rotten egg house, so I told Bo to do his job.  And I don’t know what that boy did, but about 12 hours later I stepped into the shower and nearly passed out from the fumes.  TOO MUCH BLEACH.

So then this morning rolled around, and I would have skipped the shower altogether, except my husband decided to take half the day off and whisk me off for an extraordinarily romantic date to Sam’s club.  So once again I braved the deadly acidic cascade, and then happily dried off, slapped on some lotion (I was feeling QUITE parched), lightly painted my big pancake face and then dashed out for my afternoon get-away with Geoff the Great.  

About two hours later I was feeling rather itchy, but didn't give it too much thought. And then Geoff decided to really spice up our shopping date by taking me to lunch first.  Yipppeeee!  It’s a little Mexican restaurant across the parking lot from Sam’s Club and boy is it good.  So anyways, we get into the restaurant and I go to the bathroom to wash my hands and GRACIOUS HEAVENS I about fell backwards when I looked in the mirror. 

My whole face was completely peeling off.  But the worst and most noticeable peeling was happening all around the outer rims of my nostrils.  Not Pretty. There were hundreds of these little white flakeys lined all around both nose holes.  So in desperation I started picking at them and trying to pull them all off – you would have, too.  You can imagine what they looked like.  And then a toilet flushed so I was forced to stop my frantic picking and escape the bathroom before the stall intruder caught me.  So I gave my big old schnozzer several hard rubs with the back of my hand and helplessly went back to the table.  My husband pretended not to notice but the waitress kept looking at me as if she were trying to decide whether on not to offer me a box of Kleenex with my enchiladas.  

So, yeah, that’s my whole story.  But my date was still splendid.  My husband was exceedingly funny today and made me laugh so hard that I got a headache. And then we went to Sam’s Club and I got a very swishy, twirly new skirt.  And I also got a chocolate malt shake from Hardees (whom I’m still boycotting since they have such ridiculously dumbed-down commercials).  Holy moly do they make good shakes.  It was a perfect date.

And my last bit of news… even though you thought I was finally done talking about goats, we just found out that Bobo’s goat, Spot, is pregnant.  He is quite thrilled.     

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My Son, Bo, and my daughter, Emmiko have been talking a lot about becoming missionaries.  About two weeks ago my daughter asked me to pray because she wanted an opportunity to tell a little girl (her age) about the Lord when she visits her grandmother, who lives at the end of our road.  I told her I would, but quite frankly, I forgot about it.  Today, tho, the little girl came over with her brother, so my kids went out to visit with them for a little while.  About a half hour later, Bo and Emmi came racing into the house (absolutely beaming) and told me what had happened. The little boy had gone off with bo and dippy, and while they played on the tree swing, the boy said how much he hated his sister.  Bo told me that he told him that he needed to love his sister and asked him if he wanted to know about God – and then he listened to my son present the gospel.

Meanwhile, Emmiko and her little friend were playing elsewhere and the little girl asked Emmiko if she had trouble with her brothers and if she wished they weren’t around (I’m guessing the boy and his sister must’ve just had a fight since they both seemed mad at the other).  Emmi told me that she stopped and told her, “No, I love my brothers, they are my best friends.  Are you a Christian?”  The girl said no, and so Emmiko asked if she’d like to learn about God, and the girl said yes.  And then when they walked their friends home, they asked their grandmother if the kids could come to church with us this weekend.

I am delighted.  But I am also convicted.  I had not prayed for Emmi’s little friend.  I might have said a quick prayer right after she asked me to, but I forgot about the kid as I was dealing with my own busy ‘grown up’ life.  But God hears the prayers of children.  And He blesses their efforts.  Both my son and daughter now have a renewed enthusiasm about becoming missionaries.  They both also told me they want to study God’s Word more intently so they will have the right words to say.  That is so incredible to me.  When I was a kid, that was simply not the type of thing that was ever on my mind.  So if you think about it, will you pray for our neighbor’s grandchildren, Kaylie and her brother, Manny?  

Thank you, *so* much, Lord, for giving me children who love You.  Please keep them tightly, and don’t let them lose their exuberance for sharing Your love and Your Word.  Let them also love one another and have an unbreakable bond as they serve You. Let me also have the courage, when opportunities come up, to share Your love with others.

In other news, Ryann and Emmiko butchered two chickens for me this morning.  They have been boiled and de-boned and are ready to become chicken tacos for lunch tomorrow.  The chickens, I mean, not my daughters.  Hooooray for fresh poultry!  And hooray for good fruit. 

Luke 6--44"^(A)For each tree is known by its own fruit. For men do not gather figs from thorns, nor do they pick grapes from a briar bush.

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Lucky for me, no kidney issues yet.  We fly out of Boston tomorrow, so hopefully it'll stay a non-issue till I get to my cozy little house. Thanks for all the tips and the helpful-hint emails.  You guys are awesome.

And the conference went really well. Superbly well, actually. This job is *the* greatest.  I love Rosetta Stone, and they even surprised us by having lunch delivered to us both days.  That’s just plum nice.  And see? I finally got my affiliate banner up over there in my side bar, so iffen you’re planning to buy the greatest language program know to humankind, feel free to buy it over here

And the workshop I taught went well. As tempting as it was, I ended up *not* giving the presentation in song or with dance numbers.  A lot more people showed up than I expected. But I didn’t get nervous at all, and it was nice because everybody asked a lot of good questions. 

One of the best parts of the weekend was getting to hang out with fellow blogger, Prodoceo.  She and her crew were manning the Alpha Omega table.  She is so great – despite the fact she is extraordinarily pretty (seriously, it was intimidating).  Me and Coie went with her whole crew to a 50’s diner the first night and we had a great time.  Our waitress’s name was Flo.  How can you not have fun when you have a waitress named Flo? I hope I get to see her again soon (Prodoceo I mean… not Flo).  One warning tho… do not drive with that lady.  S.C.A.R.Y.  Linda, next time let me drive, K?

 And the saddest part of the weekend was seeing Maggie Hogan the Magnifico ...but only in passing.  We didn’t get to hang out once -- talking in the convention hall just doesn't count..  No worries, tho, we’ve got a party planned for our trip to FPEA.  Whoo hoooo!  I wish I would have gotten a picture of her.  My eyes popped out when I saw her. She has lost like 100 pounds.  She looks like a super model.  

In other news, taxi drivers are not normal.  I never knew that before. *yipes*  But I figured out that I do like MA.  It looks nothing like what I pictured.  I mean, you can’t even SEE it on the map.  I figured it would just be a little hill with about four streets, but it’s actually big enough to hold two cities.  And it’s really beautiful.  So that was fun.

So now we’re done with trips until the end of May.  It’ll be good to get back to the farm.  Happy sigh. 

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So, the day after tomorrow Coie and I are off to the MASSHope convention.  I *was* looking forward until I found out (today) that I’ve been scheduled to do a workshop.  Eeeeeeps! Actually… after the room stopped spinning and the hot flashes subsided, I’ve started looking forward to it; I think it will be pretty fun.  And if I run out of things to talk about, I suppose I can always segue way into my interpretive dance routine.  

In other news, I remembered what I was going to tell you last time I blogged.  This is so cool – you know how we had a new bunch of eggs in the incubator?  Well, eleven hatched over the weekend, but what was really neato was last Tuesday Emmiko heard some noises coming from the old shed, and when she went to investigate she found a bunch of broken egg shells and a mama sitting on four fluffy little fellas.  We were all so surprised.  I suppose we shouldn’t have been, I mean, I suppose that’s the natural way it generally happens.  Golly are they cute! and it is so sweet seeing them skip after their mommy. 

In other other-ly news, I’m sorry to announce that I’ve been having discipline issues with my kidneys. They’re totally working against me.  I have *no* idea how they learned to manufacture their own gravel, but they did, and they’re good at it. So anyways, a couple weeks ago I had to go in for a CT scan, and then this morning I drove allllllll the way down to Knoxville to hear the results.  My doctor confirmed that *both* kidneys have created quite a collection for me.  And then he tells me that my right kidney has also made a rock about the size of my head.  Yep, I don’t know how I’m gonna get it out, but I hope I can think of something because I’m not particularly keen on the doctor’s quacky solution.  I didn’t catch the all the details on how it works but I distinctly heard the words: Laser, Explosions, Blasts, Particles, and three tons of Dynamite.  

Coie said they ought to just poke a hole in my back and then turn me upside down and shake me.  That’s how I get the picks out of my guitar when James drops them in the hole. Anyways, I’m just praying my bowling ball stays put until I can get back home.  I can’t think of anything *less* fun than giving birth to a kidney stone on a crowded airplane.   

Ok, I guess I better go start packing again.  And if you are going to be at the convention in MA this weekend come see us at booth 200!  And feel free to bring us pretzels and/or cookies.  Last weekend it was so busy that we almost starved to death.  

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