Boots or Barefoot

It's the middle of winter. February 17, to be exact. Considered by most to be the height of the cold season.

Not this year.

The snow has pretty much melted in a few day's time, the skies are blue, the sun is bright and the air is warm.

The thermometer reads 70F. Yeah. I'm serious.

Hello to my long lost, neglected blog on this perfect day! For once in the middle of winter, the place I hail from is beautiful. Bouquets of flowers are evenly posted on random tables indicating the special event that took place just two days before: our 8th anniversary.

The grill on the deck is screaming for hamburgers and the scent of summer in the air gives one an uncontrollable desire for picnic weather food. Soft wind floats through the house from the open windows, beckoning all to follow its trail to the great outdoors. A week ago we were wearing boots. Today, sandals are even too much for this barefoot weather. Like I said, this weather couldn't be more perfect.

It may sound like I'm describing a tropical location where it's always warm and the skies are always blue and the weather is always perfect. Actually, I'm not. I'm describing the same place where a year go, people were dying from Cabin Fever and the roads were iced over, forcing people to stay inside their warm homes where heating bills sky rocketed for months. The skies were grey and cloudy. Blowing snow shrink wrapped our houses. No one dared to go outside for fear the very skin on their faces would become charred with a bitter frostbite.

Okay, maybe it wasn't quite that extreme but sub-zero temps that lasted over a month, sure made the winter long.

And now summer is here. In the middle of February. In the Midwest.

Of course it won't stay long as snow is predicted in the near forecast but knowing that winter has been overcome by summer, even just for several days, brings hope that soon winter will be gone forever.

We love you, Summer. Thanks for the visit.

My Blogging Debut

So, I decided to make a come back. You know, a come back to the blogging world. I have nothing to blog about today but since I do have a blog, then certainly I'm entitled to blog about whatever I want. Even if it means to blog about nothing.

My brain is like a wilted flower that got too much rain and then stood in the sun for too many days without rain until it got completely dry and then was suddenly watered on by a dog. Just kind of limp and burned out and wilty. If you don't know what that looks like, plant a flower, over water it for 6 days and then set it on the picnic table to dry out in the sun. When it's dry, set what's left of the flower out in the middle of the yard and just wait for a willing neighbor dog. Take a picture and tag it with my name. Now you have an idea.

There's no reason why I'd have to look like this either. Or feel like this. I mean, we did only have a nasty cold for a week and if Toby wasn't getting me up during the night to mumble at me in some strange language, Janae was trying to slip into MY side of the bed for a middle-of-the-night snuggle. Not to mention the fact that my normal eleven-o-clock-bedtime was rudely switched to 2am. I know; my bad.

But that cold was sure a doozy. We all had it but my dear Toby had it the worst. He didn't take too well to my doctoring abilities since I also was under the weather and seemed to fail to remember any type of effective cold treatment. I caught him guzzling cough and cold syrup right out of the bottle one day and soundly scolded effectively reasoned with him as to the anti-health benefits of such practice.

When my head cleared a bit, a faint memory of something called Bite A Man Sea flashed a merry tune in my head. I kept hitting my forehead trying to remember why I was experiencing Deja vu all over again when it dawned on me that the memory stick in my brain was a little coated with snot cold drainage and I was hearing the message unclearly. So, I de-coded the message and sounded out "Vitamin C!" I took that as a sign that I should give Toby some vitamin C. And I continued to do so until the promptings ceased.

The kids fared pretty well. They all got sick a few days before their parents did so when we were at our sickest, the kids by that time were back to feeling pretty perky. Real perky. Like, poop-all-over-the-house perky. Of course it would figure that I'd get a phone call at the same time, have a text to respond to on another phone and find out right then that my husband was leaving for the rest of the morning. I've tried to space out such abnormal happenings in my day but it never works. It's like the phone call just can't wait for the poop to get cleaned up and my text blocker just doesn't activate automatically when it's obvious I'm doing 23 other things right then.

Sunday rolled around and we were desperate for social interaction. You know, like church or something. Of course, hacking and sniffing and blowing snot everywhere wasn't a very presentable way to go to church so we decided that just getting out of the house would be the best idea.

We went to the lake and got a good dose of sun, 'presh air' (as Landon calls it) and water. We caught a couple dozen little fish because Toby accidentally dropped his line into a school of fish. I didn't know fish went to school on Sunday. Come to think of it, maybe they were having church...

Apparentely the preacher was preaching on the dangers of hooks with worms. Or maybe it was a teacher teaching the class on what to look for in a worm. Either way, Toby was an excellent assistant and aided the preacher/teacher in teaching the church/school the dangers of fishermen. The preacher/teacher used that time to inocculate the audience/class to the wilds of a baited hook and since each one of the parishoners/students were too young for the frying pan, the preacher/teacher was confident they would learn their lesson AND gain permanent freedom. So now there's an entire church/school of fish in a lake in Nebraska that will never bring joy to a fisherman's heart thanks to the hands-on, life-lessons they learned that day.

We played "catch and release" for an hour or so and the kids were thrilled with each little fish they pulled out of the water. I did the honors of pulling the hook out of the fish's mouth and was pleased with my abilities to handle live fish, bloody worms and staring at fish tonsils over and over. While I did that, Toby was casting in another line and setting the next kid up for their fishing experience. The four of us had a regular system down while Alex ate sunscreen fresh out of the tube. He's a little over cautious about the effect of a sunburn on his tongue.

My late grandpa, who was an avid fisherman, would be impressed with my fishing skills. I owe all my luck talent to him. I think it's genetic because nothing in me enjoys pulling sharp objects out of paper thin lips and reaching my fingers into toothless mouths of living things while they stare at me with huge, beady eyes. But when it comes to casting the line in, well, we just won't go there yet. (My Grandpa would NOT be impressed...)

The wind was blowing pretty strong that day (welcome to Nebraska) and there were hundreds several speed boats on the lake. That combination made for some pretty impressive waves. Bear in mind that I've never been to the ocean so it doesn't take much to impress me when it comes to waves. Even my bathtub can produce some pretty sweet waves.

The combination of the beautiful day (it wasn't too hot), the sound of the waves, the 'presh air' and the nice time to just be out together like one little happy family on a lake, made for a peaceful and relaxing day.

Not to mention that subconsiously it created many blogging moments. Which gave me a ticket back into the blogging world. Which is a good thing since how can a blogger have a blog if they never blog like a blogger should?

"I'm back," said the little fish as he swam swiftly from the treacherous shore. Never mind there's a hole in his lip and his scales are a little messed up; he's off the hook and no longer a fish-out-of-water. He's happy to dive right back into the life he loves.

And so am I.

Fun In The 'Good Life' State

I've been in Nebraska for 5 years. Over 5 years, actually. And I've done a lot of things in that time while in Nebraska. I've lived in 4 different houses, owned 5 different vehicles, resided in 3 different cities, birthed 3 children, laughed, cried, cooked, cleaned, etc. BUT, I have never found a nice place to go in the dead of summer when all you can think about (at least when you're from Wisconsin) is a good, old fashioned, swimming hole.

Until recently.

At last! I have found the place! It really helps to have friends in high places... ie., friends that are aware of such a wonderful retrieve from the summer's heat. I guess I should've just asked a lot sooner.

My friend/beach buddy, Sarah, is one of those "think of everything" moms so of course, she didn't forget to suggest buckets and shovels and sand toys for the kids. The boys (and maybe the girls did too) would drive their dump trucks at full speed into the water and race them around on the lake bed. It seemed like an imaginary way to play with a dump truck but I've heard that imaginiation stretches a child's thinking habits and developes their brain better.

So, yeah. Our kids should have better brains now because Sarah thought to even bring dump trucks to the beach which resulted in good brain expansion through imaginary comprehension of driving truck under water.

What fun it was. 9 kids, 6 and under really made it fun. It was like watching a whole flock of fishing bobbers float in the lake. Only these "bobbers" had arms and legs and a mind of their own to head deeper in the lake.

We had a rushed lunch, since everyone wanted to get in the water, and even had a couple dads/husbands show up in time for the food. It was great fun for everyone.

Mouthfuls of water and sand. Buckets of sand clinging to wet clothes.. Scattered sand toys across the beach. Basically, there seemed to be a lot of sand. But it was still fun. Especially for those that used it for other purposes: you can't tell from the pictures very well but Alex topped his lunch off with a generous serving of sand. "Some like it hot; some like it cold..." he liked it just the way it was.

No matter how careful I am to put on even amounts of sunblock, or stay directly aimed under the sun's glare, I always always get burned on one side of my body and hardly warm on the other. This beach day was no exception. They tell me that the sun is more direct in Nebraska than in Wisconsin because of elevation. But, wow. This is pathetic.

I think I need some type of scope like guys put on their guns in order to zero in on the target with precision. Only this would be used the other way around: I would be in the scope, all zeroed in and slowly adjust to the sun's position in order to not become a half baked lobster instead of an evenly ripened strawberry. No pictures of this but I can assure one arm is dark/red and the other is light/white. And it just looks weird. I suppose after it happens enough times this summer, I'll eventually be evenly roasted like a rotisserie chicken.

The beach was public but we were surprised to find it large and private and the water not too sea-weedy. I think it helps to go in the morning and then leave right after lunch. Not only do you avoid the hottest sun of the day but you also can find your swimming hole to be quiet, partially secluded and fun to be had for everyone.

We're already talkin' about doin' it again. Anybody wanna come?

The Ins and Outs of Interesting

Today looks like an interesting day. And I mean interesting as in fun, not boring, lots to do, happy, relaxing, productive, and sunny.

It started with Alex waking up at 4:30am for a bottle and then when I got back to bed, Toby was up. Though I do lose some sleep, it's fickle compared to the fun it is of waking up next to the one you love and enjoying the early morning alone, with no distractions, noise or kids. We had coffee and toast and devotions together before he headed off to work.

The interesting part of the day happened when I saw what Janae got dressed with. I wanted to get a picture of her but didn't get a chance. She had a purple night shirt on, backwards but buttoned correctly. Pink tights on her legs and bright pink Dora crocs on her feet and she was all set. She planned to go outside and play like that. (we are very thankful for our privacy fence.)

Then she decided to put Alex down for a nap and made a pallet of blankets on the floor with a pillow. She dragged him to his "bed," covered him up, turned on the sound maker and shut the light off before closing the door as she left. He wasn't too happy about it.

I have some landscaping and yard work to do today but not entirely motivated to do it since I need to get some supplies before the project can be finished. The sun is so inviting though and I would love to get the kids out in it.

Before the interesting conglomeration of kiddos sitting in the corner of the kitchen gets anymore interesting than it already is, I should quit being distracted and get back to work. "Interesting" can be fun but when out of hand, "interesting" is, well, just plain interesting...

The River That Wasn't There

It's summer time here in hot Nebraska and I'm dying to see water. You know, the lakes with dainty white caps on a windy day or a swelling river trailing through the country side. To just dip my toes in, skip a few rocks and watch my kids take in the expanse of a bowl of water bigger than their bath tub, is all too thrilling of a prospect.

When Toby suggested a day trip to a local state park recently, I was totally enthused about our "mini vacation." WATER! YAY!

Some of you blessed folks out there may not understand what is so thrilling about seeing water. Of touching water. Of driving over a bridge with real water under it. Of actually saying, "hey kids, lets go to the river!" But, if you lived in Nebraska, you would understand why it's so rare. A real live river to us is like the ocean is to you.

You may find it interesting when I tell you that we actually live in "Big Blue River" country. But don't be deceived. Trickling through our local country side is a muddy, messy trickle of brown water (if you're lucky) that proudly boasts signs of, "Big Blue River." When you come to a cattle crossing bridge, you'll even see the charming sign there. Very deceptive. In Wisconsin, they have large bridges expanding rivers with no name on the bridge. Humble folk, them Wisconsinites are.

The first time I saw the sign, I immediately thought of three words: BIG. BLUE. RIVER. I craned my neck out the car window and hung my head way over just to get a glimpse of this big blue river. And what would I see but a washed out river bed with branches and sticks. When I looked real hard, I thought I could see a faint line of some kind of water trickling through the over grown mess. Maybe the water was actually just a mirage, now that I think of it. But, it definitely wasn't blue.

So, as we headed out of Big Blue River country and made our way towards the Platte river, I was envisioning real water. Of course the Platte river in our parts isn't much of river either but its definitely bigger than the Big Blue River. They say you can walk across the Platte river in most parts. And not even get your belt wet. Pretty shallow but at least it's big.

We got a pass to a state park that advertised of being on the banks of the Platte river. After circling the entire park twice looking for some sort of beach or fishing dock, we found a rugged foot trail that led in the general direction of the river.

Our anticipation mounted as we slipped and slid down the well trodden dirt path towards the lighted sky at the end of the trail. We lugged a camera, hauled the stroller over a fallen tree and carefully led the kids through the rough spots. Quite the effort. As the trail came to an end and the sky opened above us, what should we see but a huge, gorgeous river! Only, it was about 50 feet below us with two railroad tracks and a small lake-like outlet of the river between us and the real river.

So much for throwing rocks, let alone dipping my toes in, I thought.

As we took in the view and headed back through the woods, we decided to just go to the Platte River State Park.

Good idea.

Surely with Platte River and Park in the same sentence, you'd be able to actually get on the river from the park. I should've taken in the "State" part and realized the name only meant that the park was in the same state as the river was.

We circled this park too and found animal petting barns, a large and well occupied swimming pool, a few family reunions and paddle boats. But no river. I wanted a river, not an amusement park or zoo. "Come to our park! We have ponies to ride!" I could just about hear. What is wrong with these people? This is a state park, not the state fair, I moaned.

Wisconsin does it right when it comes to water. You can actually drive up to a river, and get out of your car and walk just a few feet to its shores. No day pass for the river bank is needed either. And if you have your kids with you and they're not used to out backing it when you just want to look at some water, no worries! You won't have to take a half mile hike through rough woods to get to the river. The parks in Wisconsin are family friendly. You could even drive your car into the water if you wanted.

But, in Nebraska, they make it difficult to have a good time around or in water.

At this point, we gave up the river idea and decided to just sight see around the area. As we drove, Toby noticed a small and vacant parking lot in the park with a sign that read "Falls" with an arrow. "Whatever," I thought, still disgusted by the Platte River-less State Park we had driven a long ways to see. If they can talk about the Platte river like its some tangible amenity of this park when its not, don't even try to get me to believe there are "falls" in this flat country.

The kids were antsy, the baby was fussy and one of the kids had just puked all over herself. The van reeked so we decided to try for these "falls." We made a mad dash down the little foot trail that was in the direction of the arrow on the "falls" sign.

The trail circled through some pretty dense woods on our way. The kids ran ahead of us, behind us, collected sticks and tripped on tree roots jutting up on our trail. One of them ran into a tree. Falls or no falls, this was turning into a fun hike.

Teasing us along our way was a really muddy canal of branches, sticks and a trickle of water. I wondered out loud several times if that was the "falls" the sign referred to. Until we finally came upon the falls.

They were actual, real, live falls. It was a perfect little paradise. In Nebraska even. I couldn't believe it. We were welcomed by a little sitting area, observation "deck," and a cute arrangement of natural falls. The sound of falling water could be heard even before we saw them. The setting was ruggedly beautiful and there was just enough water for the kids to play in.

The water above the falls was so shallow, you were lucky to get the top of your feet wet when you walked through. I kept waiting for the water to stop; I thought for sure if we stayed long enough, we'd see the end of the water supply. "Okay kids, time to go! The water is done...." But it kept coming consistently. You could see the erosion around the flow of the water that indicated there had been much more water here at one time but now just a delicate stream trailed through the woods and crashed over the water worn rock and ledges. It was a simple beauty but very satisfying. And impressive.

We basked in the peaceful and cool setting all by ourselves. It was so quiet and serene. Definitely beat the Platte River, I decided.

So, the next time we're ready for some water time and nice drive in the country side, we have our own signature water park, hidden in the middle of large state river-less park.