Rabbits on the horizon....

I have all these stories about our trip to Peru that I want to get down before I forget, but I have not found much time. I have been too busy biking through the most gorgeous Minnesota spring in my memory. But, here's one little tale of our vacation that is looking like it's going to have a lasting effect on our family:

While we were in Peru, visiting our old housemate Jackie, she took us on a little overnight to 'the country'. We boarded a bus at 7 in the morning and settled in for a 3 hour ride. The ride wasn't too bad- not too crowded and with a soundtrack from the 80's which brought back memories of my senior All Knight Party in '87. I was signing along with "Big in Japan" when I looked across the aisle and saw that a small Peruvian girl (maybe 5 years old?) also knew all the lyrics. I don't think she technically spoke English, but she had these songs down. I particularly enjoyed her rendition of "Part-time Lover". Anyway- for two and a half hours of our supposed three hour journey the scenery was downright depressing- a wasteland or moonscape of shale and rock and dust. The road twisted up a mountain valley, but the slopes on either side were void of anything but the grittiest of homesteads scratched out of the side of the hill. My eyes stung and I was getting wheezy when we rounded one more curve and the color green started creeping back into the picture. 15 mintues later we were in a very fertile valley with a waterfall cascading down one side and terraced fields stretching up out of view.

We disembarked at a farmhouse called Tambo that was built over 300 years ago. The owners were supplementing their farming income by letting people camp in their fields and renting little 'cabanas'. We moved into a little two bedroom unit for the next 24 hours. Jackie told the woman of the place that the boys loved animals and she let us know that they could adopt a rabbit for the duration of our stay. We just had to find Alfredo, her husband, and he'd set us up. We found him a couple hours later and when Jackie mentioned that the boys would like a rabbit, he asked "Para comer?" (to eat?) but Jackie assured him it was just to cuddle. Alfredo took Eli into the barn and had him pick one out, gave him a cage, and then brought him to a field of what looked like weeds. He motioned Eli over, and in English said, "You see this? This is Alfalfa. Rabbit loves. This is dandeleon- Rabbit loves. This one here (holding up a plant that looked very similar to alfalfa)- if the rabbit eats this, he takes long sleep up in heaven." He patted Eli on the back and walked away. Eli and Theo looked nervous, but they nevertheless jumped into bunny fostering. We were able to pry them away from 'Patch' to walk to a waterfall and to check out the llamas, alpacas, foxes, and other critters on the farm, but they were awfully content sitting and petting Patch. The boys were up before 6am the next day, eager to spend the last few hours before we left getting some quality time with Patch. About an hour before departure the boys started getting sad. At T-30 minutes there was outright bawling. The woman who owned the place happened by and said, "Oh, how sweet! You can't take your rabbit with you, but when you get home, you should get one and name it Tambo after this farm!" The boys nodded through sad tears, gave Patch one last loving look and slumped into the taxi that was to take us back to Lima. By the time we arrived at Jackie's apartment, most of their tears had been shed and they were starting to perk up a bit.

Once back in Minnesota they put on the full court press to get a rabbit of their own. They researched online, gathered books from the library, and found out about a 'bunny basics' class held at the local animal shelter. And now, 2 weeks later, we are on the verge of bunny ownership. But it has not been an easy road! There are applications to fill out, phone interviews to 'pass', and cage preparations to make. We're in the middle of building the 'bunny condo' (not a cage, apparently) we saw on a website and have begun to gather other supplies. We're ready! We managed to get approved and have been emailed an appointment time and the secret location of the adoption event on Saturday where we get to pick out our pet from a number of rabbits we saw on the Minnesota Companion Rabbit Society's webpage.

I hope that we are happy bunny owners. But I'm also hoping that we don't get so far in that we become regulars at the 'hoppy hour' events, or that we start calling the rabbits our 'buns'. The people we have met through this society seem like that they are quite a ways down the rabbit road- there's a hint of zealousness that makes me nervous. I'm hoping that we can keep some perspective.

Oh, and please note that we are not getting a rabbit as a pet. We are getting a rabbit companion. Apparently there is a difference. If you have any insight there, please share it.

Dinner plans

State testing time is upon us and one of my least favorite parts of my job is being the District Assessment Coordinator. Last Monday, after coming back from a wonderful 12 day escape to Peru, I spent the day digging through 29 boxes of tests, trying to make some sense of it all. I left at five, jumped on my trusty bike and sped toward home. By the time I pulled into the garage, I was still carrying a good deal of the day's stress with me. This is not normal- usually I am able to leave the stress behind as I pedal for home. Anyway- Monday I walked into the back door and before really even greeting my kids, started rummaging through the fridge, trying to figure out what to make for dinner. Eli was at the sink messing around with some tea bags- I thought for sure he was into his 'backyard stew' mindset. The snow was gone, the sun was out, and that usually means the boys like to 'make soup' outside. He asked for something, but I didn't have time to help him out. I had to make dinner! I had to put my work stuff away! I had to pee! But persistent little Eli grabbed my elbow, looked me in the eye, and said, "Mom, me and Theo want to make dinner tonight, it's a restaurant." Sure enough, when I took the time to look up, I saw that they had carefully written out a menu and were asking grandma to try to find a tablecloth and a candle before she left. Turns out all I had to do was sit down at the table and order up a meal. Once Jon got home Theo offered up some wine. So we ordered 'noodles with cheese' and an appetizer of nachos. Then we sat back and tried not to get involved. This was easier for Jon than me. I kept saying, "Jon- maybe you should help them drain the noodles....maybe you should....." but he shushed me and refilled my wine. And they did it- they got dinner on the table with no major issues (ok, we did have to pick half of the cooked noodles off of the floor at one point, but I had washed that floor in the past 3 months, so that was just fine...) and Jon and I just sat. It was lovely. As dinner was served the cooks did ask for permission to join us at the table, which was a nice perk at this restaurant. Loved it.

Sugar high

Last week one day after school our lovely babysitter (and I do mean lovely) took the kids to SuperAmerica after school. They each got to pick out a treat. Theo chose a grab bag of Doritos. He told me later that he had every intention of saving some for me, but he didn't know what happened. He looked in at one point and they were gone. Believe me, I understand. Eli chose one of those slurpee things- Mountain Dew flavored. This is a kid who does not consume any caffiene in day to day life. Rebecca noted that she was not sure if he should have the dew. But he did. And a few hours later, as he was sitting quietly and reading in his favorite comfy chair, I walked by and heard him mutter under his breath, "I think I'm having a sugar high." Then he kept right on quietly reading. I looked real closely to see if there were any indicators of such a sugar high- and sure enough, he might have been turning those pages a little more quickly, and perhaps with a little extra flair. It made me chuckle. Sugar high. Just imagine if Theo had consumed the mountain dew. yikes. But later that night it did become apparent that old Eli was revved up a little higher than usual. He couldn't sleep. He wasn't bouncing off the walls, jumping in bed, or anything like that. Just laying there rather peacefully, but with his eyes wide open, and anytime Jon or I wondered past we'd get a whispered, "Guys. I can't sleep. I'm kind of jittery." Then nothing. But the eyes stayed open til almost midnight, well beyond his usual bedtime. Thankfully the next day showed no signs of a 'sugar low'. He took his short night in stride- but did make a vow to avoid the dew in the future... or atleast consume it a little earlier in the day. I love that his sugar high only caused him to read a bit more quickly.

After dinner bike ride

This past week we had a grab bag of weather- some days were drizzly and awful and others were bright but cold. On one of the bright days Eli asked after dinner if I wanted to go on a bike ride with him. Of course I did. So we bundled up just a bit and hit the road. I convinced him that our bike ride should have a destination, and that destination should be the grocery store so that I could pick up a few necessities. He didn't argue. All the way there he plied me with information about school and friends and such- we had a lovely time. Then we shopped and I loaded up my panniers with the goods. As we were starting out, up the big steep hill back to our house, I asked Eli if he thought he could make it up the hill. He said yes, of course. I said, "Well, you don't have 20 pounds of groceries on your bike..." (I was nervous and already building my case for why I might have to dismount and walk) and he shot back, "Yeah, and I'm not 42 either." Dang. Neither am I!!! 41. And he better remember that. But the guantlet was thrown and there was no way I was going to be able to get off and walk. I had my 41 year old honor to uphold. We both made it. I will not tell who was breathing harder.

That was me....

I was just driving home from the Y through the drizzly gray and I caught out of the corner of my eye a gangly pre-teen jogging down the street- dribbling a basketball. Instantly I flashed back to my own gangly era- back in the heydey of Title 9 when I was a proud member of one of the first all-girl basketball teams in the revered IBA (Irondale Basketball Association). I would come home after school, grab my basketball and head out around the block. Dribbling. I had developed this training regimen all on my own- and I was devoted. I can still remember the gritty feel of the ball when I would first head out in the spring, before the street sweepers had come through to get rid of the leftover sand from the winter. And now, some 30ish years later, it comes to me in a flash of insight as to why I was never a superstar player. The game of basketball does not depend on the well honed skill of rather slow, long distance, straight-line, unchallenged dribbling. This is why I was never so hot at the quick short drive to the basket. But if the game ever evolved to utilize 1/2 mile long courts I would totally dominate. Still today. My only challenger would be the young one I saw out just now on a lonely dribble around the block. She would clearly have a foot up on me if the game was played outdoors on drizzly days- she's clearly an all weather long distance basketball dribbler. Me- I am pretty sure my outings were limited to the sunny days. I hated the feel of a wet basketball. My devotion was only so deep.
Another thing I remember- if I accidentally dribbled off my foot when making the turn on to 17th avenue (turns are hard! I was all about the straight lines)- that ball would roll down the hill for blocks before I caught up to it. I am sure some of the neighbors spent a number of afternoons getting some chuckles at my expense. I did not chuckle at the dribbler just now. I tilted my hat to her and her (seemingly misguided) devotion.

Amish New Year

Last November the Amish Envy Club convened in our kitchen to install the new cork floor. This March I looked real closely and realized it might actually be time to wash it. Love that floor. It is so fabulous at hiding the side effects of poor cleaning habits that when I do sweep I have to really search for the piles of crumbs I have created. I couldn't be happier with the results of that club gathering.
This past Sunday we came together again- this time over at Jason and Shannon's to do a little painting and possible carpet removal. The laughs came early and often (I do think that had something to do with the lack of ventilation in the back room) and the paint looked great. About 2pm Jason and Shannon were debating (while Jon was applying coat 7 to the door he'd been working on all day) if there was time to take on the carpet removal project that afternoon or if they should postpone. I think they were just about to come down on the side of postponing- but an ever-eager Amisher did not get that memo and took the utility knife to the stairs. So out it went. I think that the homeowners were ok with it in the end...
The evening ended with a fabulous meal and many laughs, as usual. Another year's cycle of the club complete. New Amish year on the horizon- excited to get people over to prep our yard for a fabulous gardening season. Great idea Amy. As she says: Franchises available.

Can I get a little woo-hoo?

Eli is not my demonstrative son. He glides through life on a spectacularly even keel. He does not wear his emotions on his sleeve. And this is only partly because he never actually wears sleeves- t-shirts year round for that kid. He doesn't ever seem to be physically hot or cold either. Just fine. Comfortable. Quietly content. So it is pure joy to catch him letting out a little woo-hoo every now and then. This winter it happened out on skies. He'd be striding along next to me, narrating some event in his head or his book or a comic. Then we'd crest a hill and head down, Eli still narrating away, but in the middle of a sentence a quiet little woop would sneak in. Then back to the confident quiet striding forward (with narration- nothing is done without a little narration).
This past Sunday we were treated to the most fabulous March 14 in the history of Minnesota. After a bleary week of grey drizzle the sun popped out and the temps hit the mid-60's. The day before people had been skiing over at Wirth! And here it was suddenly summer. Eli got a little extra sparkle in his eye and asked us to dig out his bike. He then cruised the sidewalk in front of the house while I soaked up the sun in one of our adriondack (sp??) chairs. Our street is flat. Maybe a 1% grade when you come from the north. But the sun, the breeze, the littlest of slopes was enough to ellicit a couple quiet 'woo-hoos' from Eli has he spun around on his bike. Made that already fabulous sun shine even a little more brightly for his old mom. I love that little whoop.