You CAN Get A CAN

Remember my post a few weeks ago, “But My Actions Don’t Show It”?  Well, have I got news for you.   Check out these photos.  We did it.

  

We’ve recycled for two weeks now and it feels great.  We only had three bags of trash in our normal trashcan this week.  Three.  You think I’m joking, but it’s true.   Who knew so much of our trash could be recycled?   It’s a great feeling knowing we have done our part these last two weeks to help cut down on the exorbitant amount of trash that goes out into the world.   

The best part is we actually get “credit” for recycling.  There is a little microchip on the front of our recycle bin that weighs the amount of recycling and “credits” our account with points.  The points (just like travel miles) add up and can be used for free movie tickets, or coupons at restaurants, etc.   It’s a win win situation for everyone.

The best part is that it feels good to be doing good.   We had to make space in the garage for another large trashcan, but we managed to do it and have all been surprised at how easy it was to do.  I probably spent and extra half hour over the last two weeks rinsing bottles and cans, but that’s it.  It really wasn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be.

I would encourage each of you to call your trash company and ask about their recycling program if you haven’t already done so.  They’ll bring you the supplies to do it and in a matter of minutes, that can will be filling up with every used plastic, tin and cardboard scrap you have.  I think I’m going to start saving our “credits” for a trip to Hawaii.  Won’t that make a great blog post!

Do You Hear Voices?

We all want to be heard.  Clearly.  Fully.  Completely.  I think it’s our nature to speak and expect a response.  We want acknowledgement from that special someone, and some days, from anyone, that our words are worthy of someone’s ear.

I was only there for four hours to fill in for their teacher.  They needed to be heard.

“My little brother lost his two bottom teeth and I think he’s growing now and is almost as tall as me.”

“I got this one from my friend’s dad, who travels for work and gets lots of cool things.”

“I love this book because it’s got drama and action and made up things.”

“If you want us to get quiet, you have to turn off the lights.  I don’t think it’s a very good idea to do it all the time though, because then we get used to it and don’t actually get quiet.”

“I have a joke for you.   Knock, knock. Who’s there? I love.  I love who?  I don’t know, you tell me.”

“Is it raining outside yet?  I hope it rains because I don’t want to go to soccer practice tonight.  I don’t like to run.”

Their little voices could have told me stories all day.  I tried to listen as time allowed, but had to cut some of them short so as to stay on task.  That’s hard to do because once one of them gets your attention and tells you their little nugget of a story, then the rest see that you provided attention and a reaction, so assume you will do the same for their story. 

This was only four hours of my day yesterday, but as I sat in bed going over the day in my mind, I realized that we all want someone to just listen to us.  We don’t always need a solution or a huge reaction, but just an opportunity to be heard and be understood.

I find myself cutting off my own children because the phone rings or because I’m getting my shoes on or the cat just threw up.  What am I telling them?  I don’t have time for you right now?  That’s never my intent, but am sure it’s interpreted that way sometimes.  I’ve tried to say, “Let me finish this.  It will take three minutes then I can give you my full attention.”  Easier said than done.   It’s a good practice on paper, but in the midst of things it gets lost.  I need to be more mindful of them and just listen to their voices.  They need me to listen. I need to hear their voices.   Do you hear voices?

A Pretty Little Box

Is it too late to try and decide what I want to be when I grow up?  I hope not because I feel like I’m in eighth grade again and am trying to figure out what I like and don’t like; what is interesting to me and what is not.   It seems this last month, my mind has been spinning in every direction.  Finding focus has become a challenge. 

One minute I’m dreaming of starting my own magazine, the next I’m jotting down ideas for a book, and a minute later I’m thinking about buying a goat and trying my hand at soap making.  Maybe I’m going through a creative dry spell?  Whatever it is, it’s been challenging to say the least.

Maybe I need to keep a journal of all these random thoughts to see if there are any common threads that I can piece together. Maybe I need to just sign up for a class of some sort.  Maybe I need to do a little of everything.  It’s not about being bored, because I am not bored and I have 368 things to get done by the end of the week and love the sense of accomplishment I have when I throw the “to do” list in the trash recycle bin. It’s more about direction.  There are too many paths in front of me that all look very enticing and could sure use a big sign to suddenly drop down from above and point me in the right direction.

I think we are all continually searching for our purpose and perhaps that is what this is about?  I’m not sure.  I’m happy and love being wife and mom at home.  I wouldn’t give it up for anything.  It’s not even about that either.  It’s knowing that I have many talents and gifts that I’ve been given and I’ve put them in a pretty little box on my shelf and keep staring at them instead of opening the box and using them.  I need to act and stop thinking, but act on what?  That’s where I get stuck every time.   Perhaps being stuck is where we have to be at times in order to appreciate the times when we’re not stuck.  Does that make sense?  I hope so. 

Maybe the best solution is to simply put every idea and interest I have into a jar and just pull one out and go for it.  Hmmm.  I wonder if I have a really big jar?  Off to the kitchen.

 

I Got Me a '79 John Deer Combine

On any Sunday morning, driving across Iowa, hit the scan button on the radio…

“At the top of the hour, we’ll have our traffic report, so stay…

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We got the beat, We got the beat, Yeah, We got the…

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Now will our ushers please come forward to take the morning offering, while we sing…

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It’s 74 degrees right now and it looks like we might have a chance for some…

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Hi. This is Joe. I got me a ’79 John Deer combine.  It don’t work no more, but it’s a beauty. And I got me a blue recliner with a cigarette burn hole in the arm, but it still rocks.   I’ll take $3700 for the combine and $35 for the recliner.  My number is 524-5547 and I’m here in Clarinda, but ain’t home on Tuesdays so don’t call then.”

There.  Don’t touch the dial. That would be it, my favorite radio show, Radio Tradio. If you’ve never listened to a radio tradio type of program, then you’re missing out.  It’s AM radio at its finest.  It’s basically a Midwest garage sale on the radio, without all the neighborhood traffic or lemonade stands.  Simply call in, tell them what you’ve got for sale, (and it can be ANYTHING and I mean ANYTHING) how much you want for it, and your phone number.   It’s that easy. It’s usually on any AM station across, Iowa, Nebraska or Kansas on a Sunday morning from 9:00-11:00AM.  The host is kind, usually as bland as warm water and never laughs at anything his guests offer up for sale. 

For me, it’s better than any comedy show out there.  I’m completely drawn in to the sincerity of the guests and the absurdity of the items they are actually trying to sell.  They try to sell their old washing machines that don’t work, the deer head that their wife can’t stand “no more”, their old alfalfa seeder, a box of old door knobs, a ’76 GE deep freeze that’s still kickin’, their grandpa’s old saw with a few teeth missin’, and even their three pet chickens that just make too much dang noise for their city folk neighbors.  All this for a few dollars and on a good day, they’ll throw in a bag of horse feed for free if you come by 2:00 PM that day.

I’ve never laughed so hard in my life listening to these shows.  It’s the most entertaining hour or two of any drive you’ll ever take across the Midwest.  (I can say that because I used to live in Iowa and there’s not much to see except corn fields and more corn fields. And, I can say that about Nebraska and Kansas too, since I’ve lived there as well.)  I don’t exactly know why I’m so fascinated by it, but it’s truly a piece of Americana that you can’t find anywhere else.  Promise me you’ll turn on your AM dial and hit the scan button next time you’re on the road.  I guarantee you’ll be glad you did.  Plus, you may just get yourself a copper boiler, a rusty birdbath, an old loading chute or three gently used cowbells you didn’t know you needed for a steal.  Oh, and don’t call Joe on Tuesdays ‘cause he ain’t home.

I Survived the Tent

Well, I did it.  I went camping for the first time in a tent under the stars and I have to say it wasn’t too bad.  When your nine year old is excited, you tend to get excited as well. This was something he’d been looking forward to for quite some time, so didn’t want to spoil any of his fun by complaining or being the wimpy mom on the trip.  I had to be on my best camping behavior, for him.  

We set up the tent at dusk, drove into town (which comprised of a 50 year old bait shop, a propane company run from a trailer and a pizza joint) and ate pizza at the pizza joint.  Once we were back at camp, the six boys, five dads and one mom (that’s me) set up our chairs, chatted under the stars and played ghost in the graveyard.  It was during this time that the temperature began to drop, I’m guessing about 20 degrees in a matter of minutes. I rounded up my scout and headed to our tent. He went to bed in his hat and gloves, jeans two pairs of socks, a long sleeve shirt and a hooded sweatshirt and in three minutes; my little guy was sound asleep. Forget about the pajamas and clean underwear or the toothbrush and toothpaste I had meticulously packed for him so he’d be comfortable.  We were camping!   You sleep in what you have on.   You don’t brush your teeth.  How was I to know? I, on the other hand, did not fall asleep in three minutes or three hours.

Did you know that when you sleep in the woods, it’s very quiet?  Quiet enough to hear everyone whisper in their tent at 2:00 AM and debate whether or not to wait it out or walk the tenth of a mile to the bathroom.  It’s quiet enough to hear everyone turn in their sleeping bags all night and quiet enough to hear every nocturnal animal within 500 feet of your tent.  I was thankful for the full moon, an instant nightlight in the tent, but as the night passed (at the pace of a sleeping turtle I might add) the temperature kept dropping as was evidenced by the frost on our blankets, tent and cars the next morning.  Yes, there was dew on our blankets, inside the tent!!! Thirty-three degrees.  It was cold.

We made our breakfast over the propane stove and had turkey bacon, eggs, pancakes, hot chocolate and orange juice, then got ready for the day and waited for the other scouts to arrive and set up their tents.  

My husband and older son joined us in the afternoon for day two, and the rest of the day was spent fishing, playing capture the flag, hiking uphill both ways, geocaching, making dinner for the group, singing songs, telling jokes and performing skits in the kiva around the fire.  We ended the day with smores made in the fireplace at the lodge complete with a second round of hot chocolate. (We have bears in our area remember, so no food outside! This is camping rule number one and my worry number one.)

We headed back to the tent and crawled under our nineteen layers of blankets and once again, the boys, in their shirts covered in fish blood and slime, dirty socks and jeans, fell fast asleep in minutes. I decided that I would try to make myself more comfortable this time and put on my camping pjs in hopes of falling asleep this time.  Have you ever tried to take off jeans bent over while standing on an air mattress, trying to be quiet so as not to wake the rest of camp and get redressed again all in 35-degree weather?  It’s not easy.  It would prove to be a waste of time essentially, because I didn’t fall fast asleep, despite my exhaustion from the day and hiking uphill both ways (wait, did I already say that?). 

Morning finally came with the hoot of an owl and a choir of morning doves and I couldn’t have been more relieved.   Still wearing my mother smile, we dismantled the tent, packed the car, had breakfast, sang a song or two in the lodge and then headed home (first ones to leave I might add).  I couldn’t wait to get into the shower and wash the three-day layer of dirt off my body.   My little guy slept on the way home and before nodding off, said he had a great time and loved the hiking (uphill both ways) the best.   I smiled and knew that it was all worth it in the end.  He had a good time and I never once wimped out on him or showed him my “do we have to” face!  I was a trooper and am glad I did it. 

Just for the record, however, I will not be subscribing to Camping Life magazine, nor will I be purchasing an outdoor stove anytime soon.