Our oldest is in the Bering Sea on The Bountiful. He is fishing, processing, and, of all the weird twists, cooking thanks to being the only one on board with a health card. He also has a girlfriend, who he adores.

Kary is in Cabo with a girlfriend of hers, Kim, and Kim’s childhood friends from Alaska. First trip on her own in our married life, I think. She is missed very much.

Andrew is really tall. Gabriel got another cut with the machete. Noah is wrestling this year. Demetre  continues to watch football. Asa loves to shoot his .22.

Off to Mars Hill Ballard for a special service after Pastor Mark’s trip to Haiti.

She drove to the NOAH animal shelter in Stanwood to get our Chocolate Lab fixed at 8:00 this morning.  Yes, the calendar has “Rufino Nut Job” written on next Tuesday’s box.  She just thought she wrote it down wrong.

She did not see the 3 x 5 card-sized NOAH sign (if she were a tourist looking for food, the signs practically took her by the hand) getting lost, dealing with a dog who somehow knew the jig was up, and discovering the time really was next week, she was mad.  So mad she said a bad word.  I only heard one, but it was good one.  Sometimes those are the only words that work.

It makes me love her more, actually, which doesn’t seem possible.  A salty word gave me a new appreciation for her.

I don’t know what got into them after dinner, but they ended up drawing facial hair on each other, joking, making weird faces, and laughing hysterically.  At one point Miranda was dancing with the broom.  The kids did not know what to think and were feeling awkward; not too often the moms are the silly ones.

We walked to the beach afterwards, the ink not completely washed off, and watched a beautiful sunset.  The sun, clouds, and water combine into something words can not capture.

Discussion began about the challenges we face as parents when someone with small kids said, Oh, but the rewards later are so worth it.

I asked him, When does that happen?  What rewards?  When I get grandkids?

This past year has been loaded with injuries, surgeries, and disappointments on spiritual and moral grounds with some our boys.  Recent revelations have been the most disheartening in our lives as parents.  Are these the rewards?  I hope not.  The negative tends to overshadow the positive, with a ripple effect in the house.

If only the reminder, Children, obey your parents in the Lord: for this is right (Eph 6:1), was heard and not written off as being a nag or distrustful .

This week was a strong reminder to pray for the families within my sphere.  Please pray for ours.

When we arrived, two fawns and a doe were grazing in the orchard and M. Evdokia with another sister were painting the portable chicken coup frames in the backyard while a cat sleepily watched.

M. Thecla put us to work on the trails, where Gabriel and Garrett spent more time getting the lawn tractor and trailer unstuck, yelling directions at each other from two feet away, and sword fighting than actually clearing; but we did get some work done.

Afterwards, they graciously fed us veggie burgers with lettuce from their garden, coleslaw, pop, and brownies.

I love the smell of beeswax candles, and had to browse the store before leaving and picked up a few items. Andrew wanted to steal their stirring stick from the back room, which looked more like an Irish walking stick or a giant Q-Tip with all the wax build up.

He also took a small ball of waste wax, fashioned an “interesting” sculpture, and stuck it on the dashboard in the car. I kept waiting for a bolt of lightning.

It was a loud, running argument of “I want to work; I have no clothes; Denny’s coming to get me; I can’t wake up; I don’t want to go; What’s the benefit of me going; Can’t you get it in your head I have no clothes; Why can’t I work with you instead; I hate family functions…”

My reply to each was, You’re going.  Except the why can’t I work for you.  Why would I want to work with someone that fights and argues like that?

So, he was forced into going.  Staying home and playing WOW for two days straight was just not an option.  He’s like that every Sunday morning, too.  Kids rock.

The irony is that Andrew was swimming in the pool 10 minutes later and bashed his nose on the ladder.  I came in to the kitchen to find him bent over sink, no clothes on, with a huge nosebleed.

Noah has a heat exhaustion after babysitting five kids last night.  I guess he was upstairs, hottest part of the house, cleaning like a mad man.

Always something.

.

Asa

I think I’ll make cinnamon rolls for breakfast.  That statement morphed Kary extending an open invitation at The Commons this morning, with over 30 takers. 

On the menu was homemade cinnamon rolls, cajun-seasoned fried potatoes with onions, fresh fruit, juice, coffee, scrambled eggs, pounds of bacon, sausage, and a colorful boquet of flowers for the centerpiece. 

It was chaotic cooking as people arrived, with the fans going full force, bacon sizzling, and people getting assignments as they stepped over the baby gate into the kitchen.  (No babies, but our Chocolate Lab is shedding a ton and needs to stay out.)

How much to delete?

Unfortunately I did not stop and take pictures of the spread or the group as a whole; too busy cooking and cleaning and wasn’t in photo mode.  But the food was excellent and the company was first rate.  A fun mix of personalities, visitors from out of town, kids, dogs, dirt bikes, the trampoline and pool.

The younger boys ran in a pack and spent a lot of time in the woods.  Doing what, I don’t know.  Andrew is on Camano and Alexander was working. 

She handled the banter well.

Cassie, around Alexander’s age, was visiting as part of the missions crew for Sports Camp, and the good natured match-making banter on Alexander’s behalf went on for a bit while we were cooking and many of us were gathered around the island. 

After all were fed and cleanup mostly done, I did take a few pictures, and one caught someone making a candid goofy face.  I was seeing who would pay me the most to either delete or keep, which is the reason for the dollar bill.

Alexander hangin' out.

All went home with full bellies and hopefully had a nice time.  It is now quiet, for the most part.  Gabriel is riding his dirt bike in the woods.  His friend Garrett ( two peas in a pod) just called.  I asked him where he was, and he said, Uh, I don’t know.  Stuck in traffic coming back from Eastern WA.  His mom piped up in the background, Southern WA!  Classic.

The boys kept themselves busy all day building a new tree fort in the woods.  There have been three or four forts built over the years now, used for wars, adventures, and sneak attacks.  Not one tree in our woods lacks nails or the random hack mark just because they felt like it. 

I kept busy, all day, too - eating.  Three  scones from the batch I made for breakfast, smothered with butter and fresh strawberry jam; left over noodles with bolognese; and a salted chocolate chip cookie that was stored in the freezer for camping.  By dinner I was not hungry and if I’m not hungry, I don’t cook.  That brings us to the Cookout.

THE COOKOUT:  Late in the afternoon the boys kept making trips back and forth between the house and the shop, so I went to investigate.  Someone had come up with the idea of starting a fire in the wood stove and they had set up a hobo-style kitchen, with buckets and tool boxes for seating, complete with cast iron pan, knife and fork. 

In search of dinner, they found ribeye steaks that I was “not using” in the freezer.  The menu grew to include a big can of beans, scrounged up chicken burgers, corn, and  some canned corn beef.  Yuck, I thought, who bought that?  They thought the same because it smelled like dog food.  Gross.

The boys jumped on the trampoline, swam in the pool, hammered things, dug in the garden and sat by the stove cooking and eating in shifts.  It was perfect boy time, and they said they were the best steaks ever (I am sure they were at  $8 lb.). They even had sautéed onion from the garden.  No pots were ruined or burned, every bit of food was eaten, except the can of corned beef.  Even the dog turned his nose up at that.  Some great memories were made and I didn’t have to cook.

Thank-you, Jesus, that my boys are creative.