09/23/12 Black Walnut Gathering

Did you know that the Maryland Department of Natural Resources collects Black Walnut pods that have dropped into people's yards? These pods are collected at various sites all around the state and transported to  the state sapling nurseries where they are planted and cared for. The resulting sapling that grow are then sold to the public at cost for private planting. All of this to help re-establish the black walnut tree in Maryland, a native species!

Our next door neighbors, Andy and Robin and their kids collected the walnuts from our trees a few years ago, but we decided to gathering them this time ourselves. George bought us two buckets at Home Depot while I emailed the DNR to make sure they still wanted them and to find out the procedure for turning over what we collected.

There is a drop site up at the Maintenance Building near the Ranger's residence in Gambrill State Park, a few short miles from our house (and where we got married). So, out we went into our great backyard to see what we could find. We managed to collect about 11 gallons of walnuts! Both buckets were mounded over, and of course, tipped over in the car on the way to the park. My hands were a little stinky after the pick-up because the walnuts "skunk"  their odor on your hands.

  

When we got to the drop off site, we followed the signs around to the back of the building where we found transport crates to deposit them into. We dumped in our haul and filled a crate just over half-way full. Examining the other crates, we noticed that people had dropped off some walnut pods that were partially rotted or the pod was punctured or broken open. We had sorted all of these out from our load into a lawn/leaf bag and had planned to drop them out at Heritage farm to be composted. Perhaps we will have to bring them up...

 
 We each posed with the transport bin. I think I held Sutter too tightly, as he mushed his eyes shut while we smiled for our picture. Of course, he was much happier riding home on George's chest, smiling while the wind whipped his fur around. Sweet boy.

(09/22/12) Saturday Morning Lard Sales

My family has had and gone to Yard Sales for as long as I can remember. When Emily and I were very small, Dad went alone and we would anxiously await his return for two main reasons: he always brought a dozen donuts from the Donut Shoppe near the hospital (long gone now) and to see if he found anything for us. Helping to unload the car and ooo and ahh over the treasures was and is an ingrained part of our family culture. Favorite items for us were sports equipment, new Big Wheels (I burned the tires out of mine faster than Lindsay Lohan goes in and out of rehab), art supplies and the big one - Barbies.
 
A house near our Clover Hill home was selling the long-grown daughter's collection of stuff - 70's style houses, cars, clothes, dolls and accessories. Dad actually came home, picked us up and took us over there to let us "shop". The yard sale was closing and he basically gave us free reign to pick whatever we would like. Even sweeter, he went back the day after and bought most of the remaining stuff for us as well. When my parents finished our basement, dad included a 12 foot by 12 foot room with lights and plush carpet that was dubbed "The Barbie Room". Finishing the basement ruined our large in-house roller skating track loop, but we definitely needed the converted space to play in. I'm sure my parents envisioned this as our playroom, but Emily and I had no intention for it other than Barbies (and the occasional My Little Pony play session).
 
Dad never really went yard-sale-ing for us personally though. Most often, it was for his antiques business, with the occasional find for him or mom for their classrooms. Dad's business plan works like a charm. Buy an item that needs cleaning, repair or is ready to sell at a low price, spiff it up and resell it for a higher price. Fairly simple, he makes sure not to max the price out, giving others the chance to roll-over the item as well, with the result  being his inventory is constantly changing. Our family even had our own store across from the C. Burr Arts library on Patrick Street when I was a teenager. He now rents booth space in a co-op situation at an antique mall in Frederick.

Over the years, Dad has come home with some amazing stuff as well as some bizarre stuff. Of course, the bizarre stuff is what made the greatest impression on me. In no particular order, here are some of the oddities that have found their way to our home: a 3 foot long alligator skull, a taxidermy bear rug, lots and lots of old records, Civil war re-enactor uniforms, mannequins, estate jewelry, tools that my sister I had never heard of, odd furniture (ceremonial gothic-style chairs from a church, Mid-Century Modern pieces, an electronic quack-medicine thing, a collection of hand-decorated eggs from around the world, a tanned skunk pelt, and even a glass eye! All of this leads me to conclude that for every thing that exists in the world, there is probably someone who collects it!

Things were always interesting at our house on Saturdays as we ran around on major sugar highs from the donuts, playing with whatever Dad had found. By all accounts, I have handled things that most other people have never touched and will never touch (i.e. a Civil War Battle Flag) and it has all colored my life in one way or another.
 
George and I go to Yard Sales (I capitalize because for us, they are an Event!) for entertainment. We find things for our house as well as things for my job. I cannot begin to describe how much of our home has come from Yard Sales, but I would guess at least fifty percent. The hard part is that some days I have gone for four hours and come home with nothing; defeat is disheartening. Other days, we have to call my mom to bring the truck because we found "a big one". 

We have even stopped at Yard Sales on family vacations. Usually, west coast and mid-west Yard Sales are not as great because I truly believe that on the East Coast we buy unnecessarily and are quick to get rid of things. There is a lot of product turnover to get the newest "it" thing. Out west, you buy one of something and make it last. There aren't enough stores around to do things any differently! I do remember one good one though: we were driving up the west coast when my sister and I were in our early twenties and stopped at a Yard Sale. I had to buy a second suitcase at the thrift store later that day so I could get 16 inch tall Tigger, Pooh, Piglet and Eeyore home from CA! The lady who sold them to me for $5 each used them to decorate her son's nursery. They now live at my school and I remember that trip every time I look at them. Dad is much the same way.

If you visit my parents' home and remark that you like something or think it is neat, Dad will tell you all about what it is, where he found and even how much he paid for it, even with things from decades ago. He has SUCH a memory. So, we have had a plethora of oddities in our house, more than enough to restock the Hall of Curiosities at the Walters Art Museum in Baltimore, at least twice over. 

None of my friends' parents are like this, just mine. (My extended family members will probably stone me to death for my involvement in this next part...) About two years ago, I was watching the Palin family reality show and the family took a trip with the Gosselin kids, who had come for a visit, to see Sarah's Dad, a retired schoolteacher, I was on the floor howling with laughter. I watched the show for the travel and adventure aspects (not political), but I nearly peed my pants. Sarah's dad is a retired science teacher. He was showing the Gosselin kids all the stuff in his garage, including some porcupine quills. He took one out and jabbed it in his hand and tugged on it to show the kids how the ends are barbed. Sarah was grossed out, embarrassed and telling her dad, "Oh, no! Stop, Dad. Stop that!" This, very possibly, could have been us. No joke.
 
Today was a huge day; many neighborhoods had their fall sales. We had a ton of places to choose from: Mt. Airy carnival grounds, Worman's Mill neighborhood, Gettysburg Antique Sidewalk Sales, Keys' Stadium Flea Market, and on and on. We left our house at 6:45 AM and finished well after lunchtime with a full car. Of course, we stopped at my parents to check out their haul and to show off ours. Here is some of what we came home with...

 Paddington Bear $5, Rainbow Magic Sun Fairy $4

Two sets of 4 napkin rings, $2 each (I collect napkin rings!)

Worn once Birkenstocks IN MY SIZE $10

Necklace $1, Silpada posts $10, Hammered Silver Hoops $2

Brand New Router in Packaging $10, Set of Eight Lightbulbs $4

Picture Frame $5, Trivet, signed $3 (I collect Native American pottery)

Puzzles $0.50 each (I only pick the really hard ones, minimum 1000 pieces)

Tin fish $3 (going in my bathroom on the wall)

Old postcards of places we've been (we have an album going) $3 for all 4 (Redwood Highway CA, Fire Tower Allegheny National Forest PA, Court House Warren PA, Grizzly Giant Tree on Road of a Thousand Wonders CA)

(09/09/12) Whitewater Rafting... Sort Of

I'm writing this post days after the craziness went down because I simply felt like before now, there was no way I was capable of writing anything, much less writing about some drama. Tonight, after a nap after work, a gluten-free pizza with my family, I feel rejuvenated enough to try to tackle a post.

Last Friday was the start of the insanity. I was at work; George was home alone with the kitties. He hears the fish tank filter motor start and stop and work to start again. He assumes that the filter is getting old and is simply dying - a reasonable conclusion since we've had said filter for more years than a filter probably is meant to last. So, George unplugs it. And then he hears other motors and electrical devices begin to behave erratically. The lights dimmed and then everything plugged into our living room surge protector went out. The surge protector is smoldering and the house stinks of electrical burning. Poor George. He trooped down to the basement to examine the fuze box to see if we had blow a fuze. Nothing, not a one. So he experiments by cutting power to various switches, but our house is apparently possessed. So he cuts power to the entire house and calls my dad for help. Dad is in York, PA and not headed home anytime soon. But this is where "being a Hauver" has its benefits -- Dad has a friend who is a trained electrician! Dad has many, many useful friends all of whom have saved us at one time or another. So Dad's electrician friend, Lonnie, comes over and works with George to find the problem. Five hours later, they are kicking themselves when they realize the neutral wire outside our house has been severed, probably by a suicidal squirrel. Apparently, they like to chew the metal! George calls Potomac Edison, our power company, who promptly sends out a truck to make the repair. An hour later, all is well, George is rattled and I arrive home from work, knowing nothing about any of this. To combat the smell of the toasted surge protector, George has FeBreezed the entire house. It now smells like burned electrical flowers. It was a valiant effort. He unloads the entire day's events and we both arrive at the conclusion that had he not been home to cut the power, it is likely our house would have burned down from the smoldering circuitry. 

We woke up Saturday morning determined that it would be a better day. We were headed out to ASCI (pronounced ASK-ee) in western Maryland. About a two and a half hour drive from Frederick, this place is mecca for competitive kayakers, canoers and whitewater enthusiasts. It is a closed-loop man-made river built for safety. The rocks that create wave features are affixed to the river bottom and engineered so that you cannot become trapped on or underneath one if you are dumped from your vessel. River guards are stationed strategically along the banks, ready to throw you a rope and tow you in if you end up swimming. The loop feature ensures that a swimmer will eventually be spit out into the end pool. The water volume is adjustable using one to four of the pumps on site. For recreational rafting, two and three pumps are used. At the time of our visit, ASCI staff were running two pumps. 

We left Frederick under clear skies in the convertible with the top down, both of us wearing shorts and t-shirts. We packed no extra clothes, jackets or anything. We did have our bathing suits, our closed-toed Keens and a beach towel apiece. We passed through Hagerstown, pulling off the road to put the top up. And we drove the rest of the way there in pouring down rain, not a good omen. We arrived to find there was a large event going on at the facility: National Canoe and Kayak Championships. We found the rental equipment booth and each acquired a wetsuit. Oh man, getting that thing on was quite a trick. And of course, I'm changing clothes amidst these perfectly toned super athletes - not good for one's self esteem. So, after I poured myself into my wetsuit, I shuffled outside to realize I cannot wear my glasses while on the boat. Why did I not think about this before? I am so blind without my lenses it is unbelievable. But, unless you have a strap to hold them on (and I would not trust a strap with these babies knowing how expensive they were) you can't wear them. Our group gathers to walk down to the staging barn and George tucks our car key inside his wetsuit. We were encouraged to hand them over to be hung up, but more on that later.

We march over the bridge and get our first good look at the rapids. Gulp. It is chilly and breezy. I am cold and blind, so of course I am whiny, whimpering and crying. We get to the barn and are given life vests, helmets and oars. These life vests are excellent with four clasps holding together in case any fail while in use. We get paired with a group of four guys, making six total rafters in our boat plus our guide, BamBam. 

Lesson One: Do not get into boats with people named BamBam.

We learn that the guys are doing this as part of a bachelor party. They are hung over in a bad way. I think the dude beside me does not have any interest in rafting. I learn later that I am right. We exchange names. Larry, Moe, Curly and Lazy are all in their mid-forties and are not exactly in great shape. We carry the raft down to the staging pool and take turns climbing in. BamBam teaches us the basics: how to row forward and how to row backward. If he says "Right, forward 2!" then the people on the right take two forward strokes. If he yells, "Bump!" learn in to the center so you don't fall out. I think to myself that, "this is not too hard" and. "I think I can do this". I am so totally wrong.

Lesson Two: You have the right to refuse to raft with people you are assigned to. If you do not feel safe, don't do it. Ask to be put with a family. The guides are very careful with children. If you cannot get out of that bad group, walk away from the experience. You will thank me later.

Up we go, up the conveyer belt, on our raft, headed for fun, adventure and thrills on the high seas. Wrong! We get to the launching pool, 25 feet higher than where we will ultimately finish, we bump into a rock, the raft bounces off and somehow George and I end up in the water, swimming. We get to the shore and are standing fairly quickly. "This is ominous," says the voice in my head. We load back in and away we go. George and I quickly realize that it does not matter what directions BamBam yells at us, these guys cannot paddle worth a crap. Somehow we make it back to the staging pool, and I am thrilled that I am still in the raft, although it has not occurred to me that falling out is a common occurrence. BamBam encourages us to listen to him and to work together as a team. I think these guys are already on the Johnny Walker team and are preoccupied.

Round 2 goes fine, but we encountered every single obstacle and feature... backwards. That's right. On approach, BamBam would yell directions and Larry, Moe, Curly and Lazy would sometimes sort of follow them a little bit. For me, it was terrifying to be myopic and trying to raft, but rafting backwards was a whole new nightmare. Had I known that was a possibility, I do not think I would have gotten in the raft. 

And now we arrive at the drama. Round 3. I like to call it Round 2.25... 

Lesson Three: If you manage to complete an entire circuit of the course backwards and have not fallen out of the raft, get out now. The odds are no longer in your favor and yu should expect to swim. If you don't like that outcome, get out of the boat NOW.

It is my turn to sit in the front of the boat, right-hand side. Friends, I now refer to this position as "the ejector seat".

Lesson Four: Never sit in the ejector seat. It functions exactly as named.

Over the first drop we go and surprise, surprise, the boat ends up backwards again. Larry, Moe, Curly and Lazy aren't paddling and we are moving downstream and a pretty swift pace. And then the rear of the boat (remember, it is technically the front at the point) strikes an obstacle. Normally, the raft  bounces off, but at the point, the sheer volume of water presses against our raft and instead of bouncing, it buckles. And I find myself in the water. Moe, who was in the front on the other side, looses his balance and falls in too, on top of me. I am now on the bottom of a river with rapids, underneath of a 250+ pound man. This situation is very bad.

I am an excellent swimmer. I have been trained as a lifeguard, taught deep water safety, ocean swimming safety, river and lake safety, etc. I am as educated as one could possibly hope to be in my situation. I have had two friends lose their lives by drowning. I have almost drowned twice myself. I know how this can pan out, even if I do everything right. So, I start trying.

The best thing to do when someone is trying to use your body to get up to the surface is fight them off. I know this sounds terrible and silly, but I kicked and punched at Moe and he got away from me pretty fast. Making yourself as unappealing as possible ends up being a good thing. I surfaced alone, only to find myself under the freaking raft. I get sucked back into the currents and come up again under the boat. I clearly remember seeing the brown and white water swirling above me. I pop up again and smash into a rock. I think I banged my head, but my helmet was on! I remember looking at BamBam and him saying slowly and gently, "swim for the shore, sweetheart." Was it really in slow motion or was it me? I tried to grip the rock, just to get air, but I was swept back into the current. It was a calm surface of fast moving water, headed for the next drop. A river guard yelled to us to see if we needed help. After swallowing more than a few cups of nastiness, I choked out, "Rope! Here! Now!" He threw it. The rope landed spread across the water in front of me but the current took it away. The guard yelled at me to swim for it and from somewhere came the strength to make four of the most powerful strokes I've ever swum. I do not remember being towed in. I do not remember getting to the side. I do remember the guard yelling into my face, "Are you OK?" At which point, I started shaking and crying. I expelled some of what I had downed. I announced, "I am done." And I meant it. I discovered that the current had sucked my Keen right off my right foot and the side of my foot hurt terribly. I looked down to find a nasty abrasion on the side of my foot caused by coming into contact with the rock and concrete surface of the river rocks. I am bleeding enough that the guard sends for a cart to come and take me to the medical station. I am still crying.

I decide to doctor myself because the cut was deep and I didn't want anyone touching it or me. I get myself bandaged up (poorly) and go to wait for George, who finished the run and got dropped off at the launching pool at the top of the course. He finds I have bled through the BandAid and am still crying. He retrieves our dry clothes from the car, we get changed and return our wetsuits. Before we leave, I walk down and tearfully thank the river guide who drug me out. I know deep down that had I gone over the next drop, things would have been much, much worse. He hugs me.

Lesson Five: There are good people in the world. Some of them will even watch out for you. A few might even throw you a rope.

We leave and I am shivering. I am in shock. George gets me a coke (for sugar) and a hot cocoa (more sugar and warm). He feeds me. He stops at a souvenir store and buys me another shirt to layer up and graciously rides the entire two and half hours home with the heat on full blast, despite the fact that I know he was uncomfortable.George did not get to see everything unfold. He knew when he fell out that I had fallen out too. He kept counting people, but could not find me until I was already on the shore and the drama was over. My only other saving grace is that I had asked my parents to come along and watch us raft, but they were busy with other things. I am so grateful that they were not there to wait during those moments while I was trying to surface, but under the raft. I do not wish for them to see that.

I spent Sunday very subdued. I have napped extensively through the day. George says I have a very flat affect. I am just in shock. Yet, I had not decided that rafting is not for me. I have not concluded that this is something I don't want to do. I understood the inherent risks when we booked our seats and signed the company waivers. I understood what I was getting into when I climbed into the raft with those bozos. Did I think it would turn out as badly as it did? Of course not! It remains to be seen if I shall tackle this again in the immediate future, but at least the desire is there.

Lesson Six: Be safe in what you do, but also be adventurous. Don't let your fear of what might be prevent you from enjoying a moment. But always listen to your inner voice, especially when it says not to get into rafts with bozos.

(09/02/12) Life Goes On

I haven't written in a while, partly from the onset of the school year and less time, and partly because with less time, we don't get to do as much outside of day to day living.

We did manage to have dinner with Trisha and Nic before the school year got going. Trisha made us an entire gluten-free dinner -- chicken, salad, pasta and cake! We had a chance to exchange b-day gifts as well. Behold my new birthday shoes! They are Jambu shoes and more than a few people have asked me about them. I don't know where you originally found these, Trisha, but good spot! I made my mom try them on and now she's eying a pair of her own.

Sweet George drug my exhausted self over to Berkeley Springs, WV for a nice, long soak. We were approaching the bath house when I heard, "Oh hey there, Mrs. H." Are. You. Kidding. Me! Yeah, two kids and their dad from Brunswick spotted me. We chatted and then I hightailed it out of there into the bath house. I had not showered (because we were getting in the bath, so what was the point?), was not wearing makeup and I think my hair was more rat's nest than bird's nest. I really am not uptight about being seen that way if I am on the trail or similarly engaged, but to scare the children by letting them see me festooned as the Bride of Frankenstein, well, I draw the line. So, of course, after the bath, when I am red-faced, sweaty and still rocking the rat's nest hairdo, we run into a new teacher from my school. Why can't people just stay in their own state?!?!? I was thrilled when she introduced us both to all her friends. "I'm Janice, nice to meet you. Oh that? Yeah, the thing living in my hair is my pet rat. He's really friendly!" Sheesh.

Work has been going well for George, albeit busier than usual. Work for me has been up and down. The teacher work week went well as did the first week of school. I am always surprised by the "condition" of my kindergarten classes in the first few weeks. It is honestly amazing how much a kindergartener grows over the course of a school year and I try to remind myself that we start from "zero" in the fall -- zero ability to follow directions and for some kids, zero manners and zero ability to play nicely. It seems that some years I get surprised though. This time, I had to same "trying to herd cats" sensation with some classes, but this year, I just got the sense that some of the cats were... feral. They truly had no desire to get with the program. Sigh. I did have one little one that cracked me up... Here's what happened:

Scene: Teacher in classroom, assigning kids to their flavor-themed table seats. The character Susie has a very high-pitched, anxious munchkin voice.

Teacher: Which one of you is Susie Smith?

Susie: I am.

Teacher: Susie, you are going to sit at the Meatball Table in seat number 1.

Susie: (very alarmed) I CAN'T sit at the Meatball Table! Oh no. Oh No.

Teacher: Why not? (Teacher is going to make her sit there anyway.)

Susie: Because (she pauses) I am a vegetarian.

Teacher: Oh. (Wonders if the kid really knows what that means...) Is your dad a vegetarian?

Susie: Yes.

Teacher: Is your mom a vegetarian?

Susie: Yes.

Teacher: Do you have a dog?

Susie: No.

Teacher: Do you have a cat?

Susie: Yes.

Teacher: Is your cat a vegetarian?

Susie: No! Cats can't be vegetarian. They have to eat meat.

Teacher: (Sighs and thinks "This kid knows what she is talking about and I really don't want to traumatize her...") Okay, Susie, you are going to sit at the Banana Table. 

Susie: I don't like bananas.

Teacher: Oh, that's too bad. And no worries, because they're not real. (And teacher moves on.)

I decided this week that reviewing hand washing and sanitizing procedures was going to be be necessary for all grades this year because some kid gave me a terrible cold on day 3 of the school year. I am so bummed that I am already sick. How charming!

I am on the prowl for a movie and TV show widget for this blog. If anyone knows of a good one, let me know. I just want something that functions like Goodreads. Our TV watching is so limited that we thought people might be curious as to what we DO actually watch.