KWW -- Fall is upon us

This was the view this morning at about 8:30 when I meandered out into the chilly living room to check the temperature.

The unit registered a brisk 67 degrees inside.

And the outdoor thermometer was measuring 54 degrees.

As I stepped out to free the chickens from the Eglu, I smelled Fall for the first time this year. If you know of a place where the temperatures are in this range year-round and the leaves are in a permanent state of changing, please do let me know. I'd like to move there.

Two Blue Ova

Every day for the past few months, one of the first things Seth says upon his arrival home in the evenings is, "Any eggs yet?" He's been bitterly disappointed with the continual no reply.

His patience was finally rewarded this evening when he went out to have a little chat with the girls. In a corner, he found two blue eggs.

He was thrilled.

And I was, too. I was beginning to think that we'd been sold defective chickens. Or maybe roosters. At least now we know that one of them works the way she's supposed to (I'm assuming that since the eggs are the same color, they came from the same hen--apparently she started laying yesterday). Here's hoping the other three learn their lesson from whichever one is the producer and start earning their keep, as well.

Now I just need to train her to lay her eggs in the nesting box . . . .

Seth rewarded the chickens with a bit of "fancy scratch" I bought a few days ago. Kieran helped spread it.

And there was great rejoicing all around. Let the egg counting commence (again).

Things We Take For Granted

Sunday evening, we were driving in the truck after taking the Golf to get its exhaust system replaced. Kieran was pretending to "talk" on my cell phone, so Seth got his out and played along . . . while he was driving.

I admonished Kieran, "When it's your turn, make sure you don't use your cell phone and drive at the same time, like Daddy is doing."

Seth quietly replied, "Do you think he actually will drive someday?"

I really don't know--I've not heard of any with WS who do.

Sunday morning, our pastor asked about the WS get-together from the previous week. "Now, is this something he'll eventually grow out of?" No, he has a genetic disorder--not a disease--which pervades every cell of his body. It's with him for life. "And, is it one of those things where he'll live with you forever?" Possibly. It's difficult to know at this point how severely he'll be affected and what his limitations will be.

In a very real sense, there's a mourning that goes on when a diagnosis such as Williams syndrome is received. You begin to think of all the things you took for granted that your child would do: talk, run, color in the lines, learn to read, learn to drive a car, easily make friends at school, play sports, leave home, go to college, get married, have kids, pursue a career path. And you realize that many of them simply won't happen.

Although the initial shock of the diagnosis wears off, that sense of loss continues to present itself in various and sundry ways. It's not something that we morbidly dwell on but it does constantly reside in the backs of our minds. And it's the reason that we're involving him now in as much therapy as possible, so that his life is as full as it can be.

Why I Married Seth

Notice the broad shoulders? (On Seth, not Kieran, that is.) I first noticed them when I sat behind him at a Rook party we attended in 2002--the party where we were supposed to meet . . . but didn't. "Hmm, broad shoulders," thought I.

His shoulders aren't the only reason I married him, of course. But they're a definite perk.

KWW -- Our Wednesday excitement

Our usual excitement for Wednesdays is a visit from Angie, the occupational therapist (OT). However, this week, Angie came on Tuesday.

And so we were forced to look elsewhere for excitement.

It came in the form of a garbage truck. Kieran watched as the driver dumped the trash into the truck and, as he drove away, Kieran signed, "All done."

Macho, Macho Man

He wants to be a macho man, apparently.

He takes his flexing seriously.

Picnic at the Park

There's an instant connection between families of those with Williams syndrome. They know about SVAS, failure to thrive, developmental delays, OT, PT, hippo-therapy, and that feeling you get when you first receive the diagnosis. We enjoyed being with such families today at a WS picnic in a park about an hour away.

We met a lovely 70-year-old woman, who apparently began the national WS association 30 years ago, and her 45-year-old daughter with WS. They were both very sweet to talk with.

And Seth was encouraged by meeting a 14-year-old Garrison, whose specialty is playing the harmonica. (This is a video of him playing elsewhere, although he also played for us during the picnic.)

I wasn't as camera-ready as I usually am, so only got a picture of Kieran and Seth at the last moment before we left.

We're hoping to attend another picnic near Indianapolis in a few weeks to meet even more families that share that WS bond.

KWW -- The Recycling Place

Ours is not one of them thar fancy-schmancy hollers wherein recycling trucks make the rounds to collect the recyclables. In fact, we're lucky that the trash truck swings by our place and we don't need to drag our trash cans to the end of the lane every Wednesday.

And so, every few months, when the recyclables pile up to the extent that they're spilling out of their containers and spreading across the kitchen floor, Seth says, "Um, you might want to take your [somehow, the recyclables are "mine," not "ours," even though we both use plastic, glass, metal, and paper, and we both throw said items into the recycling bags] recycling things to the recycling place."

And then I sigh and wait a bit longer until I can't stand it, and then I pack it all into the car and drive to the recycling place to drop it all off.  

This is what happened today. (Kieran decided that a picture of the recyclables would not be complete without him (not that I was planning on recycling him, too).)

And this is why I call it "the recycling place" -- as opposed to something a little more poetic or descriptive. Our nearest dropoff isn't a recycling center, per se, it's a recycling, um, trailer. Or place, which is simply easier to say without needing to offer additional explanation about why I'm shoving metal cans into a trailer.

And there you have it. Another brood of baby turtles saved thanks to a recycling trailer.

"What a wonderful world"

I love the song, "What a Wonderful World." In fact, I often sing my own version of it to Kieran: I see eyes of blue, cheeks of red, a button nose, a curly head . . . and I think to myself, what a wonderful world.

I was reminded of the song by a friend's status update on Facebook today: "Enjoying God's beautiful creation with my kids at the river."

And I was reminded of the theological problems with the song when I thought to myself, "Yeah, and watch out for water moccasins while you're there."

(Note: If the thought of getting bit by a water moccasin has ever deterred you from swimming merrily through a river or any body of water, you may want to refrain from reading the rest of this post.)

My new BIL Nate enjoys the great outdoors--God's beautiful creation. He enjoys hunting, fishing, and the like. Last Friday, he was fishing with a buddy on the banks of a river near Tampa, Florida. As they were strolling through the long grass on the banks of the river, waiting for the fish to begin biting, Nate felt a sharp pain in his foot and thought perhaps he had been stung by a bee. Soon enough, however, his foot swelled and the pain became unbearable.

It wasn't a bee that had stung him -- an adult water moccasin had sunk its fangs into his foot, unleashing all its venom. (Lest you think I'm being overly dramatic, the know-it-alls at the hospital were able to gauge the size of the snake based on the spacing of the fang marks and the amount of venom based on what the toxins did to Nate's body.)

Some "wonderful world," eh? Yeah, it's somehow easy to overlook Genesis 3 (and the rest of the Bible which deals with the effects of Genesis 3) when we contemplate Genesis 1 and 2.

For those of you who do not have an aversion to snakes, I'm sharing a picture of Nate's foot, taken the night he was bitten. The pen marks indicate the swelling, which was measured every hour on the hour. 

Nate has been carefully monitored in the hospital's ICU since Friday and has received several doses of anti-venom, which seem to be working. The Lord has dealt graciously with him, and he's hoping to be released soon. And I'm hoping that in the future, Nate takes better precautions against Genesis 3 while enjoying Genesis 1 and 2.

Battling the Curse, Part Zwei

I'm of the firm conviction that a garden should mimic the doctrine of eternal security: once weeded, always weeded.

Sadly for me, my garden doesn't agree with this doctrine (heretic!).

And so, Saturday morning, I set out to tackle the other side of the garden, freeing the blueberry bushes from their weedy captors. In the process, I also found the 3 squash plants and a cantaloupe plant I had put in the ground earlier this year. I thought for sure they were goners.

At some point during the afternoon, this little guy wandered by to say hi.

Five hours and another sore back/arms/legs later, I had reclaimed my garden. Now it waits for Seth to trim the sides with the weed-wacker.

9-11

I was sitting at my desk when I first heard the news that a plane crashed into the World Trade Center. How odd. And then the second plane crashed, and it was no longer an odd "accident" but a deliberate act. But why? Why in the world would someone do that on American soil?

As I watched 102 Minutes that Changed America on the History Channel tonight, I felt the punch in my gut all over again and remembered the vivid feeling of complete vuneralbility that washed over me even though I was hundreds of miles away. If someone could plow two planes into buildings, what else would they do? And where would they do it? And when?

This year, the memory is all the more poignant in light of the plans to build an Islamic center near the site of the two towers. Do Islamic leaders have the right and freedom to build the center? Yes, of course. Is it a wise decision that takes into consideration the feelings of others? No.

It's the same with the guy who wanted to burn Korans. While I agree with him that Islam is a false religion and believe that he has the right and freedom to do such things, it's simply not a wise and kind decision. Although, as my friend pointed out, doesn't the fact that burning the Koran has incited so much violence among Muslims merely demonstrate that Islam is not the "religion of peace" claimed by so many?

It's easy to say "God bless America" on a day like this, but can He? Can He bless America when it embraces a plurality of gods and advocates "all ways lead to heaven"? When it condones homosexual behavior and the killing of babies? Sadly, I don't think so.

As has been said, "Those who forget the past are condemned to repeat it." It's important to remember what happened on 9-11 but also to look at what needs to be changed in the future.

Name that spider

Ten points to the first person who can tell me the name of the spider that makes this type of web.

And, so as not to leave you grossed out with the image of a spider web, ten points to the person who comes up with the best caption for this photo.

22 Months

This is a few days late, but he's 22 months, nevertheless.

Today, we began a new chapter in our lives. When Kieran was born, I stopped working full-time to stay at home with him. There were several reasons for this: we weren't aware of any nearby daycare places, and I didn't really need to work.

Recently, I've been thinking that more social interaction may be good for him. He's the only child in the church nursery every week, and we have no friends or family nearby with whom we socialize regularly. If I were him, I'd get mighty tired of being with me all the time. And so I began looking into daycares around the area. A few weeks ago, I found one, and we went for a visit. Since I liked what I saw, we decided to enroll him in daycare for one morning per week.

I settled on Thursdays as that morning, and today I dropped him off at 8:30 and picked him up at 12:30. He seemed to enjoy himself, and Miss Andrea gave him a glowing "daily report." I think we'll keep writing this new-found chapter.

KWW -- I. Am. A. Nerd.

I once read the entire Chicago Manual of Style, 15th edition. Not in one sitting and not for fun, mind you, but because I worked as an editor and figured I should probably know what I was doing when I added a serial comma in red pen to the documents I was editing.

I still do a bit of freelance editing and thought it might behoove me and my mad editing skilz to stay current on the latest in editing trends. (Did you know there are editing "trends"? There are. And they are so fascinating.)

So, I ordered a copy of the 16th edition of the Chicago Manual of Style.

And today, the mail lady brought said copy to my doorstep. And it's a good thing she did; otherwise, I may have had to blog about Kieran, yet again.

Laborless Day

Seth's employer isn't known for having a good vacation policy. He gets 10 days of vacation, no sick time, and usually is required to work on holidays. So, we were understandably surprised when he found out on Friday that he would have Labor Day off.

He wanted to make the most of it and decided that we would take a trip to the zoo.

And so we did.

The weather was nice, the zoo wasn't the crowded, and Kieran enjoyed looking at the animals.

It was a good day with no labor.

Battling the Curse

I realize that "weeds" aren't specifically mentioned in the curse God placed on His creation after Adam sinned; however, I think they're definitely implied:

Cursed is the ground because of you; through painful toil you will eat of it all the days of your life. It will produce thorns and thistles for you, and you will eat the plants of the field. By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food . . . (Genesis 3:17-19).

On Saturday, I did battle with the "painful toil" aspect of the curse in my garden by weeding it. I had let my garden go to pot this summer. (Not that pot.) Combine the hot weather with little time and I've ended up growing weeds instead of vegetables.

On Saturday, thanks to the gorgeous fall weather and a husband who had the time to stay with Kieran, I set out to tackle one side of the garden.

This is what it looked like before I began.

While I was painfully toiling, this little guy stopped by to cheer to me on.

And this is what it looked like when I finished, three hours and a sore back later.

I trimmed the blackberry bush, pulled weeds from around the blueberry and strawberry plants, and then finished with a layer of stray to mulch it.

Next week, after my muscles have healed, I'll tackle the other side.

A friendly visit

Judi and I worked together for several years. We chair-danced at lunch and tried several of the items on this list at the office. In short, we had fun together.

I haven't seen Judi for quite some time, as she's been busy taking care of herself and her husband, whose cancer is now in remission. Last Thursday, Kieran and I went to visit her. We swam in her pool and dined in a delicious lunch. And then she loaded me up with extra Creative Memories scrapbooking supplies that she wanted to get rid of. In short, we had a great time.

Thanks for the cucumber sandwiches, Jude!

Kitchen Window Wednesday -- A Masterpiece

I've kind of missed the discipline that comes from blogging every day. And I've wondered what it was that I found to write about on a daily basis. So, I've decided to reinstitute an Out My Kitchen Window series. Only it won't be daily. It will be a weekly feature. On Wednesdays. Or another day, should the mood strike.

I've been introducing Kieran to crayons these past few days. It took him awhile but I think he's beginning to understand what crayons are really for -- besides eating and demonstrating the law of gravity.

Today, he made this on his own. I call it "Lines with Colors" and am thinking about submitting it to the local art gallery under the guise of "modern art."