Update: I've been Shot! Again!

Ian was so sore this morning from his shots that he had to be carried from his bed to his chair in the living room. Then he was cold, so he needed a blanket draped around him just so. He definitely needed some extra loving today....the green cereal bowl, Crackle Pops (Rice Krispies) and extra milk. Then he needed some medicine. Bunches of medicine (he asked, but only got one dose of Ibuprofen because we all know that when we flinch (don't fib! Everyone flinches!) when we get a shot it hurts for 2 weeks. So he got some ibuprofen and eventually felt better.

Later, at Walmart, he told a grandmotherly employee about his ordeal. He ended with, "those shots hurt me! I want to kick the doctor!" I'm sure the nurse was right when she mentioned that small children run crying when they see her in public.

Erin seemed to be okay, other than sleepy. :D

I've Been Shot! Again!

I cannot go to bed tonight without recounting our trip to the doctor this afternoon for checkups. Erin's birthday is the day after Ian's, so I scheduled their checkups together. I knew that Erin would need her 12 month shots, but I wasn't so sure about Ian. We have the added benefit of have our doctor's office in town, so it's about a 3 minute drive if there's not a train blocking the road. As usual, we got there and waited. And got weighed and measured, etc and shown to a room. And we waited. An hour later, we were waiting for the nurse to come and give both kids their shots and HC and Steven came. HC had had a work thing to do, a statement to get or whatnot, so he had been unable to come. Boy I was glad that he came anyway because it was Shot Time. We decided that Ian would go first before he could hyperventilate about how bad it would be and work himself into a faint. Later, I wished I would have waited for the faint.

The nurse showed me how she wanted me to hold him--the "I-Am-Your-StraightJacket-Lockdown" and yes, told Ian not to flinch. I repeat, how can Anyone relax when someone is about to insert a long needle into the side of their leg??? It's just not going to happen. And it didn't.

He screamed like a Banshee the entire time, like someone combing a cat the wrong way. He screamed even louder when she put the band-aids on his legs. Then it was time to switch sides and give the last one on the other leg. Ian wanted nothing to do with me, the nurse or the world and just Forget about school. If this was what it took to go to school, he'd take door number 2. Not even the Garfield band-aids would cheer him up.

Erin sat there in Chris's arms the whole time with her eyes as big as dinner plates. She looked like she wanted a recap of those 2 minutes when she hadn't been listening beforehand. Had she Really heard someone mention that her turn was next or was that just some sick misunderstanding?

Ian screamed so loud on the last shot that I heard my brain rattle around and spin my eyeballs.

Then it was Erin's turn. She didn't scream, she growled at the nurse during the first one. HC couldn't handle holding her down and instead held Ian while I held her cute little leg. The last shot though, given in the fatty part of her little leg, she had had enough. I was holding her leg and her other foot, since she was bracing it against the nurse to keep her from getting any closer with that needle. Then she wrestled the other leg out of my hands and the nurse's hands, squalling/yelling/Braveheart battle cry ringing out "Freeeeee-dom!" She almost made it, but the nurse finished and snocked that last band-aid on.

Erin later tried to express her rebellion by eating that band-aid, but I caught her and threw it away.

So we went home and had some Tylenol (and some medicinal peaches, in Ian's case).

At bathtime, Ian peeled off his band-aids and proclaimed himself 'all better.' Now he's ready to go to school.

But first, we have to get through kiddie pictures tomorrow.

Sheesh. The things no one mentions when you say you want kids.....

Party Pooper

The week of birthdays is over. Not quite a week. 4 days. Wednesday was Ian's birthday and we went to Eureka Springs to ride the train and to see the Turpentine Creek Big Cats. It was SO hot! And expensive. I'm known to be...uh, to put it nicely, Thrifty (capital T). I had a hard time shelling out all those clams for our two attractions. The parts Ian liked the most was getting to put money on the railroad tracks and watching the engine 'smoosh' them. He also liked feeding time at Turpentine Creek. We got to watch the employees/zoologists throw raw chicken, etc through holes in the cages. There was some impressive roaring and growling. There were also some BIG tigers and lions. We didn't go on the guided tour because we have small children that would not have enjoyed it. Which equals out to "we wouldn't have enjoyed it" which also equals "no one would have enjoyed it." Has anyone else noticed how these things happen?

So we were in the car for a total of 4 hours and got very overheated. But Northwest Arkansas is beautiful.













Thursday was Erin's birthday. We chilled out at home and tried to recover from our excursion of the previous day. We made and consumed strawberry cupcakes. Mm. Erin got tired of opening presents so we saved the rest of them for the party (don't spaz out on me, she didn't get THAT many. She's 1; she wants ribbons and boxes).





Saturday was supposed to be a nice quiet day when Ian's friends (all 3 of them) would come over and play in our back yard. Then more people were invited and we almost didn't have enough food and one child (who will remain unnamed) informed me that my party punch was disgusting and wanted chocolate milk. I could have curdled said milk, but I toned down the Look quite a bit and sweetly (hey, I tried, it may not have been as sweet as I'd hoped) told the child that there was only punch available. The child drank it anyway, but did Not ask for more. The mother didn't like the punch either. The sibling loved it and drank about 4 glasses.



And then there were the pizzas. I made homemade garlic breadsticks and homemade cheese pizza for everyone and the kitchen was HOT! So I was all sweaty and gross in the kitchen, going out into the yard to serve everyone. The grownups were all clumped in a circle in one part of the yard talking, I'm sure, of Important Things. The children were running rampant like hoodlums, since they have a 6th sense that enables them to detect when the adults are not paying attention to them. Of course, one of those hoodlums was my child, the birthday boy. The birthday girl was napping inside. Fast forward a bit. Everyone was fed, caked, presents were presented and exclaimed over and everyone went outside to play some more. I was stuck with cleanup and a cranky baby.

Rewind a bit, I forgot something. Then there were the Worms. We had the slip'n'slide out and everyone knows that there is little more frustrating than an unslippery slip'n'slide. Where you run and plop and stick to the plastic? No fun. So HC (my Hot Cop) decided to dump a little--in this case, a lot-- of Palmolive and then shoot the kids down the slide. He then left the Sam's sized container of Palmolive in plain sight and rejoined the oblivious circle of adults. What do you think happened next? Any kid with a brain would've done it. In this case, there were 4 kids with active brains (the 5th one was too young to think such devious thoughts, he was only 3). They dumped about 30 oz of dish soap over a period of an hour. With the hose attached to the slide, it wasn't long before our yard started looking like a cheap car wash. And that's when the worms came up out of the ground. I came out to serve the breadsticks and saw the grass writhing. There were worms everywhere. They don't like soap in their underground kingdoms, so they come up to give their opinions to the world (and to find a place where they don't gag on soap fumes). We collected a lot and threw them into the garden, but there were just too many. Later that afternoon, I collected 6 off of the slip'n'slide alone. Eeek.

The 3 year old adopted one and played with him for about an hour. He'll have a great story to tell to the grand-worms.

Anyway, my kid was being a brat. He was being mean to the other kids, not sharing, not taking turns and getting in everyone's way. I got down to his level, spoke in a firm voice and gave him the ultimatum. Either he would listen or get time out. I could see (on his face!) the decision being made. He did something else that went beyond not listening. So I did it. He got frogmarched inside and put in the tub with his very grassy, grubby, wormy (she almost ATE one! Gag!), baby sister.

You could just tell. My little guy, newly 4, had been partying for over 4 hours and he was done. The baby was beyond done and just wanted her crib and some quiet. So what do you do when the party's over and NO ONE WILL LEAVE?!
(Update: I realize that I sounded frustrated here, because I WAS. I had done so much by myself and had gotten up too early after not getting enough sleep and I was frustrated with my own children as well as hot and sweaty. I hope it's understandable why I was aggravated. Apologies to anyone who attended the party who is reading this.)

You bathe your children, clean up as much as possible and put them down for a nap. Then you sit inside with a book and put your feet up until people get the picture. Aaaaaah!

And you know what? They did.

Get Up, Uncle Steven!

Last Friday we went to the airport to pick up a special visitor. He is the first of Chris's family to visit us out here and we are so happy about it! We all call him Uncle Steven and he thinks it's funny. I tried to stop, but I just can't.

But he's been playing with the kids, rough-housing with Ian and playing with Erin and riding in the cop car with Chris. And me? Well, he fixed that broken light switch in the laundry room so I don't have to prop a flashlight spring on it anymore to get it to stay on. Poor Uncle Steven is sleeping on the couch, since it's the coolest place in the very hot house. This means that no matter what time he goes to bed, he is the focal point of everyone's morning as soon as they get their little keysters up and at 'em in the morning. At 7am. Yawn.

Usually I stumble out of bed to monitor playtime. This morning, I was kind of grumpy, having been up with a grouchy, sweaty, teething Baby Noodle the night before. But it was hard to stay grumpy when I was fixing breakfast. Because Uncle Steven Moved.

Ian had been studying him for quite some time, hoping that if he stared hard enough, Uncle Steven would wake up to play. Every time Uncle Steven twitched, moved or breathed hard, there was a newsflash.

"Uncle Steven is A-wake, Mommy!" he announced about 476 times in the short time it took me to take the eggs out of the fridge and crack one into a skillet. Ian puts a little extra emphasis on the first syllable of the word so it comes out "aaahhh-wake." After about 15 minutes of this scrutiny, I'm sure Uncle Steven felt small beady eyes on him and squinted around with one eye. I happened to be checking on Erin at the time. She spotted the movement and went 90 mph across the living room to pull herself up on the side of the couch and emit something between a squeal and a whinny at her new favorite playmate (I knew I shouldn't have let Uncle Steven get her from her naps over the past few days; it puts me further and further down the list).

The whinny did it. Uncle Steven was aah-wake and pounced on. So much for sleeping in!

But we've been having a great time. On Sunday afternoon, we mosied on over to the Prairie Grove Battlefield Park (something like that) where a Civil War battle was fought. I won't go on about the details because I don't remember them, but it was pretty neat to read about the battle and to see where it was actually fought. Especially the ones that were ordered to go up this steep hill and go get the enemy, who was at the top, picking them all off one by one. And they had cannons. Ian liked those. But the neatest thing to me was all the houses they had relocated to the park. They were from the 1800s and we had a great time peeking through the windows and door cracks. I am very grateful for my indoor plumbing, air conditioner and not having to wear layers and layers of petticoats. We had a great time. And if you are wondering why I wore pants when it was 90 out, it wasn't exactly a planned trip. We were driving around aimlessly, making our way towards Fayetteville, when we noticed that the park was open and turned in to explore. So we did. :)

This was the church. It was a mansion compared to the school. It had an old organ with a pedal to pump the bellows. It was really neat. But the roll of paper towels and bottle of Windex that somebody left on the pulpit kind of killed the authenticity a bit.

And then yesterday, a friend came to the house and gave us a digital camera!! It came with a picture printer and everything! It can take pictures and video and I've been playing with it almost nonstop. We love it! And it's just in time for everyone's birthday! We are thrilled! So just for fun, I'll post a few more pics that I took yesterday.

Ian is very seriously playing video games. I was in his way. The flash was messing up his game. He was very focused. Now take the picture and go away, Mommy!

I was attempting to take a self- portrait and I was happy with the way this one turned out. I really like having a delete button. See my little redheaded offspring? See how blue her eyes are? See how blue my eyes are not? But I've got some impressive bags under my eyes from that last little tooth coming in.

I was faked out by this picture. They were both looking at the camera and Ian was smiling nicely. Then I pushed the button and everything changed. As my mom remarked with a cute little comment, you can clearly see that Erin is giving Ian A Look. This is a "Men are from Mars" look, if there ever was one. At least they have a good time on Mars. hehehe.

This is what happens when you are talking to someone who thinks it is funny to take pictures of you at various strange angles. Believe me, this is the best of the lot. At least I know what my armpit looks like from the back though. And this one is not as close as the other that showed exactly what you would see if you were a little shorter than me and looked up my nose. I was fixing my hair here, by the way. Notice the smirk on Chris's face? He knew exactly what he was doing, the scamp. Wow. So that's what the underside of my neck looks like. Hmm....

Whale Song

If I think back to one of my earliest memories, I gradually start to remember flashes of things. I remember being very young and watching Ghostbusters at the movie theater. I was terrified that statues would come to life and hide in my closet for years after that. Between Ghostbusters and Gremlins, my nightmares had a lot of material to choose from. I also remember going to Lassiter's Store for bottled Coca-Cola. The lady who owned the store, Mrs. Lassiter, would give me a Charm's Blow-Pop and I would eat it with my junior bottle of Coke. My dad always got the big bottle. It still amazes me how much better Coca Cola always tastes when it's cold in the bottle.

Now that I'm a mommy, I have to wonder what incidents will forever be branded in the little minds of my offspring. What, 20 years from now, will they receive counseling about? What will make the sweetest remembrances at family holidays and birthdays? What will they promise never to do to their kids that I had done to them? Today I think I ran headlong into one of those Memorable Moments and plowed right over it. Don't worry, it's kind of funny, even if you weren't there.

First, to really get it, you have to know two things. You have to know this little song that most kids seem to know, either through day care or Barney. "Three little ducks went out to play, over the hill and far away. When the Mommy duck said, "Quack, quack, quack," two little ducks came waddling back." You keep going in the song until NO little ducks came waddling back and then the Daddy duck says, "QUACK QUACK QUACK!!!!" Three-little-ducks-came-waddling-back!!!" This is a household favorite, especially with hand motions and funny voices.

When we had finished the song, my very-soon-to-be-4 year old wanted to sing another song. "Okay," I said. "Which one now?"

"The Whale Song," he replied with a little grin.

"Uhhh...okay. Which one is the whale song?"

"Three little ducks," he said. "But with Three Little Whales and a Mommy Whale."

This sort of blew my mind. It was a favorite thing for my friends and I to do in high school, taking the lyrics of a well known song and changing it to fit circumstances. Or pulling a George on Seinfeld and doing your answering machine message. But it seemed that we were starting pretty early. Creative minds. I was so proud.

Until I started thinking. "What do whales say, Ian?" I asked, really wanting to know.

He just grinned at me. "You figure it out," his twinkling eyes seemed to say.

Which brings us to the second prerequisite. You have to have seen Disney's 'Finding Nemo', especially the part where Dory, the little blue fish, insists she can speak Whale and proceeds to speak several different dialects of whale. So I started the song.

"Three little whales went out to play, over the waves and far away." Two pairs of eyes were trained on me expectantly. I was almost heady with glee. I can count on one hand the number of times I have had their full attention. Both of them. Their FULL attention. Since they were Born. "When the Mommy whale said---" Uhhhhh. Then I started speaking Whale. "Whooooooop! Whooop! Wheeeeee-ooooouuuuuuuh!!!" Snorts and giggles filled the air. My almost one year old looked at me like I were something she had found under the couch cushion.

"Two little whales came swimming right back!" I finished triumphantly.

I stopped.

Two pairs of eyes were still looking at me expectantly. Ian seemed to be daring me to finish. He was still giggling.

I got to the second verse. Two little whales went out to play but only one came back. It was time for the second Mommy whale call. I changed to a different whale dialect. Whoops, a little too squeaky. The baby was wincing the way you do when someone claps too close to your face.

Ian's giggle had changed to loud guffawing. His face was red and he was holding his side. I had started laughing now too. This was turning out to be worse than karaoke on a first date.

One little whale went out to play, over the waves and far away. When the Mommy whale said---I'm not sure exactly what sound came out, but it was a cross between the first two, punctuated with gasping laughs and teary eyes. The baby let out a short courtesy laugh, but I think it was only because Ian was laughing so hard.

Uh- oh. "But when the Daddy whale said "Whaaaaa-oohp. Whaaa-oohp. WHAAA-OOHP!"

Two pairs of eyes were as round as saucers. Everyone listens to Daddy. The baby looked like she might cry. Ian just looked surprised that I could make a noise like that.

"Three little whales came swimming right back!"

It was quiet in the room. There may have been a cricket chirping in the distance. Then came a piping voice. "Let's do it again!"

"Hold on a minute, Ian. Mommy needs a drink."

I Can Can

Canning was interesting. I didn't expect it to be so hot in the kitchen the WHOLE time. I guess all that brine and that big water bath canning pot boiling and the dishwasher and boiling lids and the 90 something degree weather outside all combined to make one wilted Mama.

And the crying baby/needy preschooler/curious-but-I-have-to-go-to-work husband was a factor as well. We started our Saturday by going to the Farmer's Market, a new institution in our county, part of the state, etc. We drove all the way to the town that has the Other Walmart (very small and not much selection; we kind of stopped going there) and through small, somewhat sloppy homemade signs, found the library whose parking lot housed the FM. There were 4 or 5 trucks with people sitting on tailgates with tables set up in front of them. Some had little tent/awning things set up. They all mostly had the same thing I have in my garden. No okra. That's what I really wanted, since my garden won't produce enough at a time to pickle. 'Next week,' said one farmer (he had the John Deere hat, the suspenders and the straw in his teeth; he was a farmer), "I'll have enough next week; Got a handful yesterday. I got 16 rows of okra. You come back next week." I assured him I would. To cut it short some, I got some zucchini from one lady who informed me that I needed to start growing my own food and asked Chris what branch of the Army he was in (???). After a puzzled pause, he said he wasn't. She nodded and said "Guard?" Before he could respond, she busied herself with my zucchini and change.

We were heading back to the car when we passed one last table with a mound of cukes. I buzzed over and asked the fateful question: "Are these pickling cucumbers?" "Uhhhh," said the husband. "Let me get my wife." He did and she assured me that they were. Obviously she scented an eager but somewhat naive wannabe canner, and told me that even the big ones would be great for bread and butter pickles if I sliced them up. (I ended up chucking the big ones because of the huge tough seeds, so that was all right.) I bought two cartons of beautiful cukes for $4. She gave me more from the u-pick box for free.

We headed to Walmart to get some pickle mix. I was relieved to find a mix that did 8 pint jars and not 16 quart jars, like the other recipes I had seen.

I went home and stuck my jars in the dishwasher and started slicing. (see pictures!)

Chris had to go to work before the real work got started, so these are the only ones we have. His camera phone does all our candid pics. The other camera is still collecting pictures for developing and has some cute 4th of July pictures on it, including Ian wearing a long black, curly costume wig. Hahaha.

Anyway, I sliced the cukes and put them in the prepared jars. I fixed the bread and butter mix (5 cups of vinegar, 5 cups of sugar!, and the mix packet) and ladled it into the jars of slices. I stuck a knife in the jar to remove air pockets. I wiped the rim of the jars and magneted the lids out of the boiling water. I stuck the lids on carefully, screwed the rings on and waited for the water in the canner to boil. And waited and waited and waited and waited and waited.

I went to Harp's to get some dill pickle mix, since I had some cukes left (and 3 jars; they didn't carry jars or I would've gotten more of them too). I came back and the water was still not boiling. Eventually it did and I stuck the jars in the wire rack and lowered them into the water. Whoops, not enough water. Added some more and waited for it to boil. It did and I timed it, took them out and added the rest.

The dill mix made my eyes burn something fierce! The bread and butter mix was like pine sap. Wherever it dripped, it stuck. The spoon had to be pried off of the stove. Erin stuck to the floor and screeched. My foot got sappy spots on it (what can I say? I'm a messy cook). Ew!

But this morning when I got up, I had 12 beautiful jars of pickles on my counter, each one sealed. I got out my Snoopy labels and now they are on my pantry shelves.

Now I'm excited about my okra next week!

Today, I didn't feel so Donna Reed. As usual, we waited until the hottest part of the day (when the baby was napping) and went outside to do yard work. I got to mow, Chris did the weedeater and Ian rode bikes, picked up toys, and asked me what was wrong every time the mower turned off. (One time I hit a dirt clump, but the rest of the time, I just needed a break! :)

And announcing to everyone, Erin got her 3rd tooth. A top tooth this time. It is sharp.

A Sparkled Bum

Cops have interesting schedules. Since our weekend falls on Wednesdays and Thursdays, we do things a little differently. I have no idea what will happen when the kids start school. Nor do I want to think about that right now. Instead I will think about how much fun it is when your kids get old enough to enjoy fireworks.
This reminds me of when my niece Taylin was a little sprite and my brother Danny gave her a sparkler to hold. She flung it his way, not thinking of anything but pretty colors and he jumped back. She did it again and he jumped again. Then she chased him all over the yard laughing and squealing. He did some squealing of his own. His hair has never been the same. With this in mind, I squeezed my eyes shut, prayed, crossed fingers and watched Chris give Ian a sparkler to wield. Ian didn't like it, it was too hot. "It might burn you," he told us. "Danger Rangers say 'No get burned by a pockler.'" Danger Rangers is his second favorite show on PBS. So Chris held the sparkler and we oohed and aahed.
We were supposed to do our big fireworks extravaganza on the 3rd, since Chris had to work the 4th. Well, there was a deluge. It rained REALLY hard and just didn't stop. Ian was very disappointed and eventually went to bed. Chris was really disappointed because he works evening shift. We would have to wait a week until we got a chance to do the fireworks again. Ugh.
On the Fab 4th, Chris went to work and the kids and I went to Momo's house for a barbeque and playing with other kids and fireworks after dark. Why am I the only one who likes PBS? I mean, HEY, they showed the DC 4th of July shindig. Huey Lewis and the News, a few interesting operatic people (wince, okay, maybe that's one of the reasons why some people don't like it...). We didn't watch Taylor Hicks. I thought it said Taylor Swift ([singing] 'I hate that stupid old pickup truck you never let me drive...'), so I was very disappointed when the gray haired guy from an old American Idol started bellowing and booty shaking on the stage. The show was booed by everyone in the living room and the channel was changed to 'The Twilight Zone' in black and white. It was changed back to PBS in time for Jerry Lee Lewis, who is 80? 90? There was a brief discussion of the other Jerry Lewis. It was decided that while his movies were Not Funny at all, he is responsible for great things like Multiple Sclerosis help and research, etc. I did not participate in this discussion, as I was singing along with Great Balls of Fire and dancing with Erin.
Anyway, after the food was grilled and eaten (there was some reconstruction of the grill burner...how many grown men will it take to put together a grill burner correctly?? How long will it take?? Uh, 6 grown men 4 hours. Yup. Yeah.), there was ice cream to crank. Momo asked Ian if he wanted vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce. He said "No, just chocolate sauce. Buncha chocolate sauce." She laughed and got him some and helped his spoon find his mouth and not the carpet. He had 2 bowls and a messy, happy face.
After a lot of fidgeting and chafing and begging, the men were prevailed upon to get their full carcasses off of the furniture and mosey on outside to do the fireworks. This is when the Sparkled Bum occurred.
What do you get when you have 5 packages of short, medium and long sparklers and 6 kids between the ages of 3 and 10?
Chaos, my friend, complete and utter chaos. You get kids who wave the sparklers around madly, trying to write their name or just make pretty shapes (only half of them can read). You get the oldest one trying to re-enact the opening bars of the Sound of Music, flailing her sparkler at the eye level of the smaller ones. You get really preoccupied youngsters who are so mesmerized by the burning and crackling that they don't realize how close they are to the Bums of Others. And that is how Emily almost set Ian's bum on fire. :) There was a lot of screeching and 'Oh No!'s and the crisis was averted. After that Ian kept a very close watch on Emily, who still didn't see what the big deal was. She then snuck over to the sparkler supplier, her cousin, got 4 or 5 and then saved them until the fireworks were all done. Later, the rest of the kids watched her with pitiful expressions on their faces. She was very gracious and gave a couple away, but mostly just had a good time being the envy of the older ones, who wished they would've thought of it.
But when Ian saw all the other kids doing sparklers, it didn't take him long to get one too. And that was it. He still doesn't like the short ones all that much, and has to be reminded to hold it at the end of the stick, but he had a blast.
The whole flock of kids had a great time going with the grown up (it was the men, like it always is) to light the Big Fireworks. The One with the Lighter would light it and yell "Run! Run!" The kids would all scream and run back to their seats, hopefully in time to actually see the fireworks in the sky. I think they had more fun running and screaming than they did watching the sky.
But we didn't get home until quarter after 10. Since we all reeked of bugspray, it was tub time. The kids were out by 10:30, all 'clean and shiny,' and I called Chris. Ian was way too keyed up to sleep, so we waited until Chris got home at 11 and Finally got to do our Fireworks. Erin wasn't interested in more fireworks. She went to bed. But the rest of us went outside, in the middle of the night, waaaay after bedtime, in our pjs, and had a grand old time.

Now, instead of "These many days until fireworks, Mommy," I get to listen to "What many days until my birthday, Mommy?" It's so much fun, but it goes by SO fast.

Tomorrow, I'll tell you all about my first canning project: PICKLES! And the pictures of Erin are of her wearing another cookie. Ian was just being funny and thought we should get a shot of his nostril.

Burpless is Bad!

My garden is still going. The squash is on hiatus, the carrots are just weird and the okra is just getting started. So I did some Googling (be proud, Mom and JD and others to whom the answer is always "Did you Google it?") and found a great site that tells you how to can, preserve and anything else you want to do to produce. So I have great plans for my okra and tomatoes (which are all humongous and STILL green). I DID have great plans for my CUCUMBERS, but...sigh. Sigh. SIGH.


http://www.pickyourown.org/allaboutcanning.htm
"Burpless cucumbers are not recommended for use in fermented pickles. This is because at their normal mature size, they produce an enzyme that causes the pickles to soften during fermentation." Mushy pickles? Ewwwwwww.
When asking certain knowledgeable persons about which seeds to buy for my garden, I was advised repeatedly to get "Burpless Cucumbers." So I got them. A lot. And now I can't even can them!!! So we are giving them away. If you are close enough, you can come and Pick Your Own. Please. I shudder to think that I might have to BUY the canning cucumbers to make into pickles. But I may.

First, however, I am going to go for pickled okra. I am going to try a half batch first to see if it worked out (and because I don't have 7 lb of okra ready yet, all at the same time).

Happy for me, I have connections in town. The mayor's mama. She knows all about canning because she did it for years. Now she is a retired canner/gardener and gets her produce from industrial people with big gardens and too many of the wrong kind of cucumber. And her best friend, Millie the Mailperson, has a garden so big she bought a brush hog to till it with. So MoMo doesn't need a garden unless she needs a tomato or two to grow for fun. She has all the canning stuff and know-how, so she's letting me borrow a big vat to make the brine and her canner. She will also be available for assistance when (not if) I call her about how long to boil the lids and is the brine supposed to look/smell/fume like that?

I will be faithful to my readers (all 4 of you are great) and report any and all successes and mishaps. It will be Friday before I go to MoMo's house to get the canner because she invited the kids and I over for her family 4th get together + fireworks. We really love MoMo. She makes us feel good (and she laughs at my lame jokes. Kindred spirit).

We stopped at the fireworks stand today too and got some kiddy type fireworks for Chris and Ian to do together. Ian is really getting into the fireworks, since he had so much fun last year. This year he might even get off of my lap. His favorites are the poppers (sometimes they don't go off and snap. He doesn't always throw it down hard enough, so you learn very quickly not to go barefoot on the driveway unless you want to step on a 'live' one), the smoke balls (pretty!) and the really silly pointless ones shaped like boats, tractors, motorcycles etc that crackle and smoke and don't do much else but cost more. The upside is that when they're finished hissing and smoking, Ian plays with the charred remains until they completely disintegrate. Erin doesn't really care right now. She just likes to be outside and watch Ian have conniptions. He's funny that way.
My favorite are the ladybugs. We got 3. Woo hoo!

Oh, and Ian REALLY likes the parachute ones. We got a daytime one and a nighttime one. We did the daytime one this afternoon and this time, we caught the parachute! Last year it narrowly missed the powerline and got caught in the neighbor's tree. It is gone now, so I assume some industrious squirrel is saving it for emergencies. Or for his Tarzan routine.
But it's so hard to believe that it's July already. Three weeks until my babies' birthdays. Sigh!!

At least they like cucumbers. For now. And just in case you wanted a closer look at that carrot, there you are. I think our garden plot used to be radioactive or something. We have yet to get Just One.


Ian thinks these are hilarious. He still laughs every time he sees the picture. boys.