A Door!!! A Door!!!

Not exactly the door I was expecting...but we decided to walk through it in April after a new volunteer coach at the YMCA asked my daughters if they were interested in playing club ball on a JV team (God works in mysterious ways). We missed the cutoff for sign ups at one of the more popular gyms for club ball, so we were stuck playing in a different league at this high school nearly an hour away from home. I never stopped feeling creepy in this place.




















The price for the spring session was right (I didn't have to sell my soul).




















I confess, I became eager to repent my sin during every game.




















Why would a school go to such lengths to glorify the devil, who by the way, was also displayed as a statue on a pedestal at the front entrance to the gym? (I couldn't bring myself to photograph it, it was hideous.)




















Summer session countdown: 3 weeks from...TODAY!

The Business of Basketball

Once upon a time there was a home school dad who taught classes at the local YMCA to encourage home schooled kids to get involved in sports. One day he invited two girls, then 10 and 12, to come to his practice at the gym to see if they might enjoy bouncing a dirty brown ball on a shiny wood floor with funny lines painted all over it.

Their unsuspecting mother figured the first practice would be their last, and she could say when they were older that she never kept them from trying new things. But when she picked them up from the practice that afternoon, the first thing they said to her was, "Mom...the coach says we need our own basketball."

And then my life changed. I began to watch for sales on basketball shoes, and basketball socks, and basketball ankle braces, and basketball gym clothes, and basketball bags, and basketball sweatshirts, and especially basketballs!

The real dilemma was finding a place for them to compete that wouldn't break the bank. Club sports are expensive and the local high schools don't allow homeschoolers to participate in their sports programs. So over the last three years it's been hit and miss finding a league that was both friendly and affordable to homeschoolers. This past year, we could find neither for the older girls.














But little sisters were showing promise with the dirty brown ball, so we signed them up a year ago to play their first session at the local community center.














Fast forward 12 months.




















Bigger little sisters are now playing at the YMCA in a division with 10-13 year olds.




















And guess who's coaching them?

There's No Place Like Gym

In the face of a difficult year for two teenagers who desperately loved the game of basketball and could not find a team to play with, I encouraged them do something noble while waiting for another door to open.




















Basically, to enter my world...the one where children prefer to be a distraction and think they know better than me.




















Of course, there was no resistance when I asked them to volunteer to coach their younger sisters' team because it meant they could retain a meaningful connection with the dirty brown ball and those smooth, shiny floors.




















Two times a week.




















It meant they wouldn't be far away from the one thing they loved more than me.




















Their little sisters!















Waiting for a door in March, 2010...















Waiting for a door in December, 2009...















Waiting for a door in September, 2009...

A Whole New World

Young bunnies previously content to remain huddled together, burrowed deep within their nest box, turn avid observers, gazing about the endless blue sky above them.




















Tiny feet rise above the wire in the crisp air of a winter morning to assist bright eyes and curious noses in further exploration.




















And then comes the irresistible human urge to cuddle and love this precious face...




















not yet three weeks old.

Little Surprises

Pink, hairless kits turn white over night.














Baby 1, Baby 2, Baby 3, Baby 4, Baby 5, and Baby 6, finally receive the special gift they need to keep from "freezing to death."














One week old.

Then, yesterday around noon, long-time neighbors pack up the electric skillet, chicken scissors, and spices, to treat four young ladies and their mother to some good ol' fashioned fried chicken and fries, after it is discovered earlier in the week that "fried" is not a word in this mamma's vocabulary. (BAD MOM?) All we had to do was clean up the pan.


















And we couldn't resist sending the skillet home with one of our favorite recipes.

Pass the Art, Please

Six days ago, my 13 yo daughter entered HSLDA's annual art contest. The category was "Tenacious." For Christmas, we gifted her with a real drafting table. I'm quite pleased (okay, I'm really proud) to see that she's becoming rather fond of it.

Preparing For Babies

I never thought I would get so attached to our New Zealand bunnies (which are now young adults), but after raising them for nearly a year, I have found myself to be quite taken with the task of getting to know and understand these sweet animals whom are both curious and affectionate; characteristics that have made the work of caring for them more rewarding than I could have ever imagined.














In early January, we were expecting Stella (Latin translation: Star) to give birth to her first new litter of kits, but the 31st day came and went, and Stella remained bunniless much to our disappointment, maybe not to hers!




















But the following month, right on schedule on the morning of February 5th, Stella began to pull her belly hair to make a soft, warm nest for six, hairless newborns.

24 Hours Old

By the Seat of Santa's Pants...

and only 3 days before Christmas, we had a party! With less than two weeks to prepare, I spent my entire Saturday baking enough gingerbread pieces to construct 12 houses that we glued together with Royal Icing the night before. We never expected the guys to get into it like they did. Their homes were fully equipped with satalite dishes, plasma T.V.'s, and decapitated snowmen. I must admit, the candy/construction zone proved to be an awesome ice-breaker for the kids.


Then we clocked the fastest time at a game of dress-up, where everyone came to realize that Santa has a pretty tough job; driving reindeer is the easy part.


This Santa needs retraining!

We couldn't resist the temptation of "Oh, look how cute you are in Santa's clothes," with little sister.

We couldn't resist the second temptation of "Oh look how cute you are in Santa's clothes," with other little sister. Truly, all Santa's look alike!


Happy Birthday, my Sweet 16.

A December to Remember!

When the chill of winter begins to wrap itself around us in early December, the girls begin stacking oak on the front porch for our wood stove. Several weeks ago as I was gathering up the last of the logs just beyond the front door, a slithery tongue hissed out at me from the concrete. I continued to pick up the wood, assuming that the harmless critter who partially identified himself had been enjoying the last warm days of November when December took him by surprise and forced him to scurry under the wood pile for protection against the freezing bite of winter weather.


















It was my daughter who pointed out to me several seconds later that he was a baby rattler. Knowing that I had neglected to put on my leather gloves that night, I quietly wrestled with a chilling thought or two about his indecision to strike me and where I might have ended up if he'd chosen to do so. He wasn't so lucky. His death was certain and swift.

Life is precarious, isn't it?

The girls were invited in early December to a house decorating party where the host built her houses out of home-made gingerbread cookie dough.



I never gave much thought to this holiday tradition because the kits in the craft stores always looked like they tasted like cardboard.


I marveled over the girls' creativity and made a mental note of the smiles that stretched far and wide across their faces.


After eating everything BUT the cardboard, we decided to have a party so that we wouldn't have to wait until next Christmas to make them again!

Organic Gardening

Pesky critters are much more daring and optimistic in an organic garden where they often face minimal opposition for their out-of-control feasting. I confess, I briefly admired my woodlice (roly poly is way too PC for me) for their steadfast determination in carrying out a fatal attack from the underside of my pumpkin before I recognized and/or could minimize the damage.














I've learned in a very short period of time that neglecting to inspect every side of the fruit regularly, means I end up with no fruit, and that makes me a very unhappy (and hungry) farmer.

It WAS a clever and inconspicuous endeavor; a community effort from the looks of it. No doubt, the work of a community organizer. See him up there...at the top?

The facts are, that my organic garden provides plenty of rotting vegetation on the surface of the soil to keep every one of them critters happy and well nourished. "Greedy, ungrateful, stupid woodlice! Didn't your mother ever tell you not to bite the fruit of the farmer that feeds you?"

I called in my reinforcements: the Chicken Party Express: Taco (above), Emma, Kiwi, Bluey, Silva, Liz, Jenna, and Elmo.














I told them they couldn't have mousy because it would be too painful to watch (and my youngin's were already calling me a murderer), but they sure made short order of those woodlice.