The Reasonable Quest.

Guest Post by Husband and Chief Editor, Chris.

Hi.

My name is Chris.

I’m low-key obsessed with buying an NES Classic Edition. It’s a tiny box that contains 30 classic Nintendo games, all in the tiny box, no cartridges required.

nes-classic-edition

But low-key will not get it done. There are too few of them trickling into stores. There are too many people trying harder than me.

So I should just try harder, right? But life, and work, and family, and responsibility, and maturity, and reality.

The Evil Kermit meme series is very applicable here.

evil-kermit-meme-dark-side-funny-memes-221Me: It’s a video game. You are 40. You have responsibilities.
Me to Me: The fate of all mankind requires that I own this obsolete device.

I’ve had 10 browser windows open on my phone for 6 weeks. All of the online retailers, a Target inventory checker, an online inventory aggregator, Google news search results. I have a constant Twitter search term for all of the latest news.

I’ve had one in my online cart on multiple occasions at multiple retailers, only to have it disappear from my cart before I could checkout, thanks to the scalper bots buying them all in 30 seconds. The scalper bots, whose Grinchy owners take and list them on Ebay by the thousands at triple and quadruple the retail price. And they sell them for those prices, to desperate parents and dedicated gamers who care more than I do, or more than I am willing to admit.

evil-kermit-meme-dark-side-funny-memes-221Me: Don’t pay these inflated prices. Just wait until after Christmas. Be a grownup.
Me to Me: It’s just money. You can’t eat money. You can’t breathe money. Drop the money
.

I’ve stood outside a closed GameStop in the cold, knocking politely so the irritated manager could say for the millionth time, “We don’t have any.”

I’ve chased internet rumors to stores and lines outside stores. Nada.

I’ve watched bleary-eyed teenagers, spouses, and grandparents shuffle into a Best Buy with golden tickets they received by waiting all night outside the store, and walk out with that beautiful tiny box.

nes-classic-edition-box

The Target inventory checker occasionally shows small stock at 1 or 2 stores within 100 miles. Maybe 5, maybe 9, once 14. But within minutes of the store opening, they are back to 0, bought by the tired throng who lined up throughout the night, who care more than I do, or more than I am willing to admit.

evil-kermit-meme-dark-side-funny-memes-221Me: You have to go to work. You have to do Christmasy family things. You cannot wait all night on the sidewalk and be an exhausted waste of humanity.
Me to Me: Sleep is overrated. I can go one night without. It will be fine.

There are constant news stories about the quest to purchase the NES Classic.

Here are 2 headlines from December 20th:

Is the Nintendo NES Classic Edition the Key to Father-Son Bonding in the Digital Age? (WSJ) This article about a 40- year-old father and his 7-year-old son will bring a tear to your eye.

My children will remember this for the rest of their lives.

It’s time to give up on getting a Mini NES Classic Edition This Christmas. (Forbes) The article begins “Lose all hope”.

But its fine. Really, it’s OK. I’m sure they love me either way.

The FOMO has never been so white hot.

Is this what it’s like to grow up? To slowly strangle the unreasonable decision-making out of your inner child?

It’s almost Christmas. I’ll keep watching and waiting and half-heartedly trying. I won’t succeed. I’ll be smugly self-satisfied in my adult decision making.

I’ll buy one in February, when all of the Grinchy scalper bots are choking on plastic because they got stuck with them and have nothing else to eat.

Merry Christmas.

What’s That Sound: Birthday Edition.

Today, this kid is turning six.

Noah_MG_9471_1718

He’s become quite an adventurer this year, always willing to take on a challenge. And ask questions. And ask more questions. And also more. Questions.

Zannis-Family-Vacation-2016-Noah_MG_5984

Here are a few things he’s said or asked recently…

“These mints are too spicy. I’m going to save them for when I’m older. I’ll like them then.”

“Uh, you probably should just give them to your sister.”

“No! I’ll be six in just a few days!!”

161122c-Red-Mountain-Park


“You know what would be nice?”

“What?”

“To have a little brother.”

“Oh really? You want me to have a baby in my tummy?”

“Yes. Can you do that?”

“Not anymore.”

“But you could put a baby in your tummy?”

“Well, me and Daddy could…”

“And how exactly do you make a baby be in your tummy?”

“Well, that’s an interesting question…”

Tannehill_MG_8934_2764


Stomping off to the bathroom after a particularly tight hug….

“Mom made me pee in my pants! That’s how hard she squozed me.”

Noah-Indignant


“Your shirt smells like coffee.”

(I smell it) “No it doesn’t.”

“Okay well then your chest smells like coffee.”

Noah-Race


Me: “What is this gunk all over your fingernails?” (I start scraping) “Wait. Is this poop?”

“Yeah I did poop last night….”

“Let’s go wash your hands.”

“But I just did.”

“There’s POOP on your fingernails. Not good enough. What happened last night??”

“I had to change my pants and my underwear…and I got most of it off the floor…”

“What went wrong???”

“I pooped.”

161103f-Ruffner-Adventures


Upon taking a hilarious video of him, he demanded,

“Delete it!!!!! And kick yourself!!!!!”

Tannehill_MG_9119_2949

Speaking of, here’s a little compilation of a few fantastic seconds of Noah Videos from the year…

And now I’ll go kick myself.

Happy sixth birthday, kid.

p.s. This year, Noah especially enjoyed watching these old videos of himself from when he was two and a half. He had no idea he was such a fashion icon as a toddler. He requests that for his birthday, you watch and enjoy as well.

To Bake or Not To Bake.

In my B.K. era (Before Kids, or Before Kaos, or Before Konstant Losing Of My Mind, but that, I suppose, would be B.K.L.O.M.M.), I enjoyed taking on Extreme Holiday Baking.

I reveled in making lists of the various homemade treats I would create, then keeping a tally of the number of each I created (often doing double and triple batches to maximize my output.) They would be gifts for my co-workers, my husband’s co-workers, neighbors, and of course, gifts to myself. Baking was a delightful, introverted activity in which I could pour 100% of my focus.

I attempted it A.K. in 2009, (while my one kid was at my parent’s house), and then again in 2012, (but requiring my mom to entertain my then two-year-old.)

So although most years I see the logic that I can no longer, at the life stage I am in, bake and actually enjoy it, I do still get the wistful, annual urge to bake every December.

This year was especially strong as we’d picked up an Alabama cookie cutter on one of our field trips, and it just seemed right – we needed to do some baking in celebration of our Alabama History project in addition to Christmas.

So I chose one single item: Gingerbread Cookies.

It seemed simple enough, except that Gingerbread Cookies have more steps than Forrest Gump’s FitBit on a Long Run day.

1. Make the dough.

2. Let the dough refrigerate.

3. Roll the dough.

4. Cut out the cookies.

5. Bake the cookies.

6. Make the icing.

7. Color the icing.

8. Decorate the cookies with icing and toppings.

9. Let the icing dry.

10. De-ice the kitchen, paying special attention to the splattered, hardened icing on the grout.

11. Give up on the grout icing and resign yourself to having a new hue of kitchen floor cracks.

12. Wash 5 baking pans and 8 icing bowls, all with glue-like icing now coating their every surface (and your every surface, as well.)

But my holiday spirit of optimism outweighed the risks, and so I set out to do the impossible. Bake with children.

And not only bake while in the ownership of children, but actually bake with children.

(Not bake with children as the ingredients, although I might’ve been tempted a time or two, but bake with the assistance* of children.)


* The equation of helpfulness when baking with the assistance of children is scientifically proven to be:

((.034 x child’s age) + (.034 x child’s age)) / number of children

So my personal level of efficiency equals out to be:

.306 + .17 / 2 = .238, meaning I am running at approximately 23.8% of my normal efficiency when allowing my children to help me.


I hedged my bets by making the dough when the children were busy playing Lego with their father, then let it refrigerate overnight.

But the next day, it was time for helpers.

IMG_2597

(Why yes, that is, as Noah calls it, his ShadeStache. It’s pretty spectacular. And definitely aids his baking game, along with his game with the ladies.)

IMG_2596

The kids each took turns rolling out the dough (or, more appropriately, patting the dough lightly with the roller while getting flour all over their clothes),

IMG_2607

Then took turns cutting out cookies. Which, with the exception of a lobotomized Gingerbread Man here and a mirror image Alabama there, went fairly well.

IMG_2606

My friend and History Cohort Carla Jean was coming over to help decorate, and I’d already put her off once due to the time it took to make it this far in the process, so I had asked Chris to preheat the oven to receive my states and men.

…But when I arrived at the oven with my first and second tray…it was cold.

And no, it wasn’t a faulty husband. Of course the oven would break. Because it has recently decided to panic in high-pressure moments…like Thanksgiving Day.

(It worked just fine the day after Thanksgiving and the day after that and so on…until I was ready to bake cookies.)

So after turning it off and on and off and on and unplugging and replugging it and deciding it was truly not going to perform that day, I did what anyone would do in that situation: I filled my trunk with raw men and land masses and drove around the block to Not-Crazy-Renee’s house.

IMG_2612

(But not before texting Carla Jean and backing up our décor date by 15 more minutes.)

Renee and her family welcomed me in, graciously loaned me their oven, and happily took their tip of warm cookies.

Then I rushed back home, trunk filled with Gingerbread goodness, and began making the icing just as the kids were about to jump out of their skins with the NEED to decorate cookies.

IMG_2626

Chris got all the toppings out for me, and then we began the coating of my kitchen with sugary magic.

IMG_2627

Noah was immediately into it.

IMG_2628

Well, both kids were,

IMG_2650

But Ali was more studious and processed,

IMG_2632

while Noah simply glowed.

IMG_2633

After the first few cookies, I told myself “There’s no way we’ll finish decorating all these. There are twelvety-thousand, and I know my children – they will get bored at cookie number 6.”

But they didn’t. And in fact, they kept exclaiming how amazing this was and how very unbelievably much they were enjoying themselves.

IMG_2640

And, in a complete life plot twist, we finished decorating every single one of those cookies – in a fraction of the time it would’ve taken me to do it alone. My efficiency formula was completely turned on its head.

IMG_2644

IMG_2645

IMG_2642

IMG_2643

IMG_2652

Now I realize that a good citizen of the internet would have staged these cookies on a lovely holiday platter with perhaps a tiny pile of ginger in one corner and a loopy line of icing outlining the opposite corner to really stress their achievements and in hopes that you would add their artistry to your Pinterest board,

But I am not that person.

I’m more of the Rusty Scarred Cookie Sheet Chic type.

IMG_2641

p.s. – I’m sending out a few Christmas-ish cards this year to blog readers. If you’d like one, email me your snail mail address at rachel@graspingforobjectivity.com. 

Everything is Awesome…in the Nativity.

For those of you who have been around for a while, you might remember Chris’ Lego Nativities.

They started out rather normal, then grew into something more grand, then took a plot twist, then added wheels.

My mantel has still hosted Lego Nativities the last couple of years, but I’ve been on a break from blogging about them.

Last year, the Lego nativity, and a lot of other things, were stolen by the Grinch who hit Christmas head-on. We did our best to keep up the cheer, even decorating water leak damage in the living room, known as “The Holiday Hole.” And Christmas still came. And my husband’s Lego/Christmas heart grew 3 sizes, as always.

This year, putting the past poo of 2015 aside, and boldly charging into 2016, Chris said the mantel was going to be AMAZING. To ensure this, he started working on his design in February.

“Do we really need Lego above the fireplace in February?”

“I’m working on it. It’s going to be great.”

But…nothing changed from February until November. The same few buildings were there, waiting to be made into something spectacular.

Enter Thanksgiving morning.

While watching the parade, Chris and the kids were building a Lego set from The Lego Movie when he was struck with inspiration and completely scrapped the languishing design-from-February.

Because why not.

And so, with the help of a few other characters, this year’s nativity is from The Lego Movie, written in three scenes.

IMG_2450

Let’s start with the manger scene.

Vitruvius is happily playing the part of Gabriel, and Princess Unikitty is leading the charge of lowing cattle. The shepherd/sheep government has apparently been replaced, Monty Python-style, by an anarcho-syndicalist commune where each animal takes it in turn to act as a sort of executive officer of the week.

IMG_2443

Meanwhile, Lucy and Emmet have just birthed….a baby President Business. A king should always have a nice coif.

IMG_2437

(At this point in the explanation, I wrinkled my brow. “But…why would President Business be Jesus?”, and I was quickly told, “Don’t overthink it. Just go with it.”)

The visiting Wise Men are fairly on point. Except maybe Batman – he’s always seemed a bit too self-focused to follow a star halfway across the known world. Frodo is a bit more committed to the cause. Harry has attitude issues but they all managed to make it to visit the baby.

IMG_2435

Scene two finds us in the overcrowded inn. It’s kind of an ultra-mod, pseudo-industrial hostel. A real hip kind of place.

IMG_2439

It really was no place for a baby to be born, anyway.

Hermione and Ron seem to be casting a vengeful spell on El Chupacabra after losing a game of poker while innkeeper Hagrid turns his back at the mayhem,

IMG_2441

Merida is hitting on a couple of dudes who name-dropped that they knew Frodo,

IMG_2442

And Ma and Pa Cop appear to be filming an episode of “Where are my Pants?”
Hey, you have to keep it spicy, right?

IMG_2440

Lucy would have spent the entire night screaming at everyone to be quiet so she could PLEASE get some rest (and by the way does anyone have any hemorrhoid cream?), so the manger was a much better plan.

(But if only there’d been a double decker couch…there could’ve been room in the inn.)

Scene three takes us to Herod’s Castle. Darkness. So much darkness.

IMG_2444

Ring Wraiths guard the scene,

IMG_2448

And Lord Business stands by, ready and waiting to Kragle any challanger to be King of the Jews.

IMG_2449

While he waits to find him, he makes good on his promise to Kragle every baby boy in Bethlehem,

IMG_2447

even if they do already have facial hair. Or lipstick.

IMG_2445

Don’t overthink it. Just go with it.

Merry Christmas.

Drought Updates from Lake Purdy.

On November 4th, right before it was announced that we were in a Stage Four Drought Emergency, I took a trip to our water supply, Lake Purdy, to see what it was looking like.

November 4:

161104-Lake-Purdy-Drought-_MG_8150

A few days later, I went back to take sunset pictures.

November 11:

161111e-Lake-Purdy-Drought-SunsetFor more of the sunset pictures, click here.

For reference, this is what Lake Purdy looked like in June:

June 10:

160610-Lake-Purdy

It finally started raining a little over a week ago, and has rained what has felt like quite a bit since. The rain let up yesterday, so the kids and I fled the house for an Alabama History field trip today. While we were out, I decided to take them to Lake Purdy to see how things were looking.

It was fairly disheartening at first – it didn’t look that different.

December 7:

161207-Lake-Purdy_MG_9972_3951

November 4:

161104-Lake-Purdy-Drought-_MG_8030

The “stream” seemed slightly wider, but not by much.

December 7:

161207-Lake-Purdy_MG_0096_4075

November 4:

161104-Lake-Purdy-Drought-_MG_8261

But the kids found the whole scene amazing. We pretended to find giant dinosaur bones,

December 7:

161207-Lake-Purdy_MG_0109_4088

And they seriously enjoyed the challenge of “walking on the cracks:”

December 7:

161207-Lake-Purdy_MG_0033_4012

We came upon a couple of delightful gentlemen who showed the kids arrowheads and 1800s pottery they’d found, and tried to give them pointers on what to look for.

December 7:

161207-Lake-Purdy_MG_0086_4064

As we got further down the stream toward what is left of the lake, things definitely started to widen out. This looked much better than last time.

December 7:

161207-Lake-Purdy_MG_9993_3973

November 4:

161104-Lake-Purdy-Drought-_MG_8114

There were birds chirping and flying overhead,

December 7:

161207-Lake-Purdy_MG_0009_3989

December 7:

161207-Lake-Purdy_MG_0014_3993

and despite the giant expanses of dryness, life seemed to be coming back to the lake.

December 7:

161207-Lake-Purdy_MG_0045_4024

November 4:

161104-Lake-Purdy-Drought-_MG_8062

But the most exciting moment when we started back toward our car and noticed tiny, vibrant streams seeping up through the cracks.

December 7:

161207-Lake-Purdy_MG_0077_4055

November 4:

161104-Lake-Purdy-Drought-_MG_7903

The dry earth is slowly giving away, from the inside out.

Alabama History…Err, Geography: Horse Pens 40

All I knew about Horse Pens 40 was that it was one of the places that will live in infamy of the “embarrassing” stories my parents tell about me.

(I’m not really embarrassed but I assume they keep telling the same stories over and over in hopes that I will become so – revenge or something, I assume.)

All our parents have those stories, right? For me, there’s the time I cleaned the kittens with my tongue, the fact that every Thanksgiving they prepared “chicken” for me in the kitchen because I hated turkey (yeah, it was turkey), and the infamous Horse Pens 40 camping trip where I screamed all night long, to the point that one of the other campers called the cops to come check to make sure my parents weren’t beating me.

I had not been there since, and I don’t know that they ever wanted to visit again, either. Perhaps we were on a “Banned Visitors” poster somewhere as well – who knows.

But I decided it was worth the investigation for our Alabama History project.

So Carla Jean and I loaded up the kids and drove to Steele, Alabama – right on the other side of Ashville.

The basic premise of Horse Pens 40 is that there are lots of rocks. And people have used these rocks as hideouts for many, many years – early civilizations, Native Americans, Civil War soldiers, moonshiners, and the like. There were also multiple battles fought amongst the rocks.

Now, it’s a rock-climbing mecca and Bluegrass concert venue. My kids love climbing rocks, so it had to be a good decision, right?

We arrived and the place looked deserted. No one in the ticketing office, or at the entrance. We wandered into the general store and restaurant and no one was there, either.

We tip-toed back out of the abandoned store and walked toward the rocks. Horse-Pens-40_MG_9657_3635

At first glance, it appeared that there was just one wall of rocks and then forest. But we quickly discovered that the rocks went on…and on.

Horse-Pens-40_MG_9351_3329

Horse-Pens-40_MG_9276_3254

The formations were fabulous. Caves and cracks and footholds and nooks and crannies.

Horse-Pens-40_MG_9318_3296

Every formation had its own unique and fun features for the kids to play on – trees to climb,

Horse-Pens-40_MG_9436_3414

Troll heads to defeat,

Horse-Pens-40_MG_9373_3351

Cracks to wedge into,

Horse-Pens-40_MG_9419_3397

Horse-Pens-40_MG_9425_3403

Cracks that actually looked like (butt)cracks…

Horse-Pens-40_MG_9324_3302

Flat vertical rocks to pretend to lie down on,

Horse-Pens-40_MG_9463_3441

Horse-Pens-40_MG_9469_3447

Bumpy rocks for learning yoga moves,

Horse-Pens-40_MG_9519_3497

Smooth rocks for not falling while perfecting those moves,

Horse-Pens-40_MG_9540_3518

Horse-Pens-40_MG_9544_3522

Rocks that look just like elephant carvings,

Horse-Pens-40_MG_9549_3527

And finally, a rock with the best view.

Horse-Pens-40_MG_9640_3618

Horse-Pens-40_MG_9596_3574

Horse-Pens-40_MG_9620_3598

I can’t say that we learned much about Alabama History on this trip, but we experienced where history happened and oh-my-goodness did the kids LOVE it. They both declared it their favorite field trip yet, and we could have stayed for hours longer had our stomachs not all started growling (the weakest link in our field trip game is that I don’t believe in packed lunches.) The infinite fun to be had on the rocks, the countless caves to explore and paths to walk – it really was just spectacular.

Horse-Pens-40_MG_9354_3332

I was ready to go back as soon as we left – and so were the kids.

Horse-Pens-40_MG_9646_3624

As usual, Ali’s report tells the story better than mine, so here you go:

horse-pens-40-low-res

Cheer Amidst Chaos.

November and December are the busiest, are they not?

I’ve barely been able to put coherent thoughts together to talk to my children, let alone write. But I have been taking pictures and screen shots. So I’ll share those with you to buy myself some time.

Audible has decided to really hedge their bets on their advertising plan. I think it goes something like this…

“Okay guys. This ad will be directed specifically at moms. But we have no way to know if their children have been cuddling with them or LITERALLY torturing them. Or both.”

854707A1-8A63-491B-AF1D-C52E28F28B51
Saw this box. Immediately assumed “Take A Kidney, Leave a Kidney?”

1E8F1D47-6A86-4EF8-B8CE-325D73CC425F
That feeling when you agree to meet someone at their house to purchase something off of CraigsList and you show up and you’re not so sure it was a good idea…

IMG_0044

Personally, when I go into a public bathroom, I prefer to not need to identify whose poop is in there.

IMG_0065

Who doesn’t love a good custom fitting.

IMG_0295 3
I hope Bonnie Ree also has an obscene amount of hand sanitizer.

Confession: I still have a home phone. I do not know why. I never answer the calls.

But WHO WOULD, with the calls I get??

IMG_0367

I feel like we’re to the point that biologists are just trolling us with creature names.

IMG_0156

Oh – Biologists AND lake namers.

IMG_0519

And while we’re at it, candy makers.

IMG_0204

Can you really trust a Pest Control guy that seems to be under siege himself?

IMG_0577

I have many thoughts about this window.

IMG_0578

a. I love being loved, but preferably in a non-violent manner.
b. I am impressed with the excellent window penmanship, but
c. It appears that, although Jess is still loving faces off, Tiff has moved on from the practice. Maybe she’s now just loving people in a standardized way.

Do you really want to be sitting behind your friend the inflatable unicorn? What if it all of a sudden feels the urge to deflate?

IMG_1529

I can only assume that there is some seriously championship liquid that comes out of that machine.

IMG_1947

Thank you, V-Tech, for teaching vital life skills at such a young age.

IMG_1950

We found the most royal tree on a walk the other day.

IMG_2146

It’s not simply a Sparkleberry Tree.

No.

It insists on being referred to with its royal name,

Tree Sparkleberry.

I guarantee you that Tree Sparkleberry has her Siri refer to her in the same way that mine refers to me.

IMG_2227

And finally, I’d like to say:

My dad is the best. That is all.

IMG_1231

…or at least, until I asked his permission to share the above screenshot.
IMG_2226

Not-Crazy-Renee and the Big, Big Favor.

As all good adventures do, it all started out with a text. A text from Not-Crazy-Renee, specifically…right before she headed out of town for the holidays.

Renee Text Snake

IMG_1696

Explanatory Footnotes for this text:

1. SBB refers to Snaky Butters Buttercup, Renee’s five-year-old’s pet Ball Python, who has grown a good deal since I last shared photographs of her.
2. She wouldn’t starve. Snakes eat once a week but she sometimes gets a two-for-one week when Renee misses a week. This was just discussed in the last Not-Crazy-Renee post.
3. Another neighbor’s chicken did indeed pass on to the wild eternal yonder (via a black trash bag) while I was on chicken duty. No one has trusted me with anything larger than Fuzzy the Betta Fish since.

So although I knew I didn’t have to feed a Python, by myself, with no instruction booklet, I’m always down for an adventure.

But this one worried me more than most.

I admit it: I was a more than a little nervous about my ability to not botch this up.

I mean, I like Snakey Butters Buttercup a good deal, and I’ve held her once and seen her fed twice, so obvs I’m an expert.

But what if the unexpected happened?

What if, when I pulled the top off, she took advantage of my newb status and suddenly leapt out of the cage and sprinted under a heavy piece of furniture?

Or what if she choked on the mouse?

I mean, what all could go wrong while I was alone in the house with a python, a mouse, two cats, and my children?

But despite my misgivings, I added Snaky Butters to my color-coded to-do list.

IMG_1697

…and I asked Siri to remind me about meal procurement.

IMG_1740

And so we went to the pet store – not a place I frequent often, due to my anti-pet status.

I did a slow walk around the store, looking for mice, while the children fawned over the adorable bunnies and gorgeous parakeets and in general upped their desire for pets by tenfold.

I walked to the counter, picked the guy with tattoos and gauged earrings (because he wouldn’t be grossed out by the fact that I was buying something alive that would soon be dead), and told him I needed one adult mouse.

He started toward the back of the store, and I followed.

“What do you need it for?”

“A snake. My neighbor’s. I’m feeding her while she’s out of town. Because I’m the best neighbor.”

He looked at me with distrust in his eyes.

“Do you even know how?”, he said rather condescendingly.

“I’ve watched twice. I’m going to call and let her walk me through it.”

“Do you know how to stun the mouse first?”

“Yes.”

“You really should do it OUR way. You just put the mouse in a plastic bag THWAP it on the counter. And why does she feed the snake LIVE mice anyway? You know she can get them frozen.”

“Yeah, she tried that first. It didn’t go well.”

“I bet she just likes watching the snake eat live food. Most people do.” He waggled his eyebrows menacingly, implying that Not-Crazy-Renee has a sadistic streak.

We walked into a tiny closet that smelled of a twenty year collection of artisan mouse pee. As I choked and stumbled out the door, he asked “Do you want to pick out which mouse you want?”

“No. I just need a mouse.”

He reached in and grabbed a mouse by the tail as it wriggled, desperately trying to reunite with its family of 47. “If you want to really impress your neighbor, I can give you some tips about how to swap her snake over to frozen mice.”

“She’s really good at googling. I’ll let her do that if she wants to.”

He plopped the mouse in a flimsy box and headed back up front. “Okay…are you sure? My snakes used to eat live, but I’ve successfully moved them ALL to frozen…”

“I’m good. I promise,” I said as I quietly wondered how many, exactly, “ALL” meant.

“Frozen is cheaper….” He rang me up. “That’ll be $2.71.”

I think Renee can handle $2.71 per week of snake food.

We got out to the car and I realized that I didn’t have a secure place to store my wiggly, squeaky, rocking-the-paper-thin-box snake food on the way home. I didn’t trust the mouse (after all, they sometimes chew through their containment), and I didn’t want to put it in the seat next to me and then stop quickly and propel the box to the floor, setting the food free in a moving vehicle.

So I did the most logical thing: I handed a live mouse-in-distress to my five-year-old.

sbbIMG_1746

“Hold the box carefully. Don’t put your fingers in the air holes. Do NOT open the top.”

“Okay mom.”

On the way home, I listened to Noah and Ali’s running commentary on the new friend.

Noah: “His name is Dunlop.”

Ali: “If I were to make a movie about Dunlop, it would be titled ‘Dead Ahead’.”

Noah: “Dunlop smells like shrimp. Want to smell him through the hole? Ack! He keeps nosing me through the hole!!”

We pulled up into Renee’s driveway and I sighed with relief – we did not have a runaway situation.

I put Dunlop on the table and watched as he nosed his last airhole.

Snakey-Butters-5

It’s the Circle of Life, Dunlop. The Circle of Life.

Snakey-Butters-5

I put Renee on speakerphone, and I started rehearsing what I knew.

“Okay. I know I have to stun Dunlop, but first, I need to put SBB in her feeding box, right? How do I get this lid off?”

“Loosen the strap. If she’s under her rock, lift it straight up. Then find the metal hook in the windowsill, and lift her into the box with it. Did you find the hook?”

“I’ve already gotten her into the box.”

“Whoa. You’re quick.”

The hardest part was transferring Dunlop. He did NOT want to leave his cozy new home.

His tail snagged.

Then his little foot snagged.

The cat was waiting right under my feet to take care of any escaped snake food.

Finally, Dunlop was transferred, then stunned.

“Did he faint, Mom?”, Ali asked, intently attempting to understand all the steps of her first feeding.

“Yup. So he won’t bite Snaky Butters.”

I dropped the mouse in and Snaky immediately began constricting.

Snakey-Butters-3

“It’s almost like they’re hugging!! ….. Why is she hugging him so LONG?”, Noah asked, quickly growing bored with the process.

Noah moved on to the kid’s riding toys, but Ali watched as Snaky arduously worked the apparently largish mouse down the hatch.

Snakey-Butters-2

Snakey-Butters-1

sbbIMG_1747

And then we were done.

And I immediately knew I had solidified myself as THE Number One Neighbor in The United States of America.

I’ll be waiting by the mailbox for my official commendation from The White House.

Hands On History: Alabama’s Origin Battle.

First of all. If you’re following our history journey to either emulate it now or later, I have recently discovered a complete game-changer: the dream series of books about Alabama history. I happened upon them at the Vestavia library, thought they looked interesting, and grabbed them to look at later.

When I finally pulled them out and began reading the prologue, I literally squealed with excitement. When I told Carla Jean about them, she might’ve cried.

See, here’s the deal. There was a journalist/editor here in Birmingham named Clarke Stallworth. He worked for The Birmingham News, and in the 70’s, set about writing a series for the Sunday paper about Alabama History. He wanted to make it come alive and tell about the characters and personalities behind our history, rather than just the dry (and often very unattractive) facts.

And goodness did he. Every chapter I’ve read has made me more and more excited about our History project this year. In Ali’s words, “Well HE’S quite dramatic.”

The fact that he wrote these weekly features for the same paper that is now featuring Ali and her walk through history feels too beautiful to be true. He was basically doing our project 40 years ago, sans the kid and the field trips.

(The Birmingham News articles about Ali’s journey through history can be found here online, and are showing up in the Life section of the Sunday paper roughly every week.)

IMG_0963

Mr. Stallworth’s articles were later compiled into three books, all out of print, but there are a few copies floating around at various libraries and used on Amazon. Here’s the library link for those of you in Jefferson County, but you’re going to want to own these books – Carla Jean and I both already bought all three – so here are the links on Amazon:

1. A Day in the Life of Alabama: Life on the Frontier
2. One Day In Alabama – Statehood to Civil War
3. One Day In Alabama: The Civil War Years

Clarke Stallworth

These books will be a favorite part of our curriculum moving forward, so I’ve added a column on my Alabama History Spreadsheet just to match his books up with our timeline. You can find an updated copy of my spreadsheet here.



Moving on…in this episode of Alabama History, we learn about how and when Alabama became a state.

The complicated thing about this project is that Alabama doesn’t exactly have the prettiest of histories (nor do most places or people, I presume.) When Carla Jean and I sat down at the beginning of the school year and discussed my objectives, near the top of the list was “present a balanced, two-sided view of Alabama history.”

This becomes pretty difficult for the first time right around the point of statehood, and more specifically, what precipitated statehood – the Creek Indian War. I reminded Ali that there are always two sides to every story and that people aren’t usually “bad” or “good”, then we read a couple of really great articles on the Encyclopedia of Alabama. At the end of them, Ali said “They did a REALLY GOOD job because I’m totally confused on who the good guys and bad guys are.”

But it didn’t take long to start feeling that it was most likely the Americans.

Ali had already been dismayed at how many times the British, and then the American Government, deemed it their right to take land from the Native Americans. So naturally she was relieved to find out about the Treaty of 1790, where George Washington PROMISED to NEVER take Creek land ever again . . . . (in exchange for 2 million acres of their land. But Still. Thanks George.)

Unfortunately for all of us in SO MANY WAYS, George Washington did not find the Fountain Of Youth and live to be our eternal president. And his successors were not so interested in honoring his commitments.

Especially one particular Andrew Jackson.

What started out as a civil war among the Creek Indians became the Creek Indian War. This war was won by the later-President Jackson at The Battle of Horseshoe Bend. That battle led to a treaty being signed at Fort Jackson (visited in our last Alabama History post) where the Creek Indians “agreed” to give 20 million(!!) acres of land to the US Government.

Those 20 million acres are now known as Alabama.

This smashing victory led to Andrew Jackson being celebrated as a war hero, and eventually to his presidency. During that presidency, he signed the Indian Removal Act, initiating the horrific Trail of Tears.

So to recap,

1790: George Washington signs a treaty with the Creek Indians promising to protect their lands (in exchange for 2 million acres of land, among other things.)

1814: As a condition of their surrender, the Creek Indians sign a treaty with Andrew Jackson, turning over more than 20 million acres of land.

1830: Andrew Jackson attempts to banish all Creek Indians, along with Chickasaw, Choctaw, Seminole, and Cherokee Indians, to Oklahoma.

So yeah. We’re good at keeping promises.

(Note: all of this is rather oversimplified and leaving out the extremely gory details that I did not want to find while researching these facts.)

So of course, we visited Horseshoe Bend National Military Park.

Like Russell Cave National Monument, the children were given activity books to earn another Junior Ranger badge.

IMG_0746

The museum was also great and informative, as was the movie you had to watch to earn your Junior Ranger badge.

IMG_0754

IMG_0750

This is the battle field, the inner ring of the Horseshoe (a bend in the Tallapoosa River), that led to Alabama’s statehood, the loss of Indian land, and a eventually a presidency for Andrew Jackson.

Horseshoe-Bend_MG_9705

IMG_0771

They built an awning at the top, with information about the battle. We discussed how it all went down, then the children moved on to the game of “Who can jump across the middle and land on the other side.”

Horseshoe-Bend_MG_9712

(That’s the nice thing about being a kid – even when history is pretty horrific, you don’t take it seriously for too long.)

We then went on what was supposed to be a short-ish nature trail, but ended up being much longer than we were told.

Horseshoe-Bend_MG_9819

We enjoyed the beginnings of fall colors,

Horseshoe-Bend_MG_9742

Tried to walk quietly like Native Americans and had a “walking quietly” contest,

Horseshoe-Bend_MG_9750

And then ran into this guy – the second Armadillo we saw on our walk.

Horseshoe-Bend_MG_9799

The first one came rolling down the hill toward us like one of Andrew Jackson’s cannon balls, then scampered off when he saw we wanted to take his picture.

But Arma #2 was more than willing to nose around in the pine straw at our feet for a good ten minutes. He continued getting closer and closer, completely unfazed by our presence.

Finally, Ali exclaimed, “He must be deaf and blind. He’s like the Helen Keller of Armadillos!!”

And there you go. My daughter made her first Helen Keller joke. Clearly we’re winning at Alabama History.

Later, we came to this gravesite – the first American soldier killed – the one who decided to first scale the wall that the Creeks had built.

Horseshoe-Bend_MG_9810

Noah studied it, then said to Carla Jean,

“So where’s his head?”

“Probably up there – where the gravestone is.”

“And where are his feet?”

“Probably down here. Where the plaque is.”

“Wow. How’d they take his feet off??”

After laughing for a few minutes, we taught Noah that people are buried laying down, not standing up with their feet removed.

Near the blessed end of our hike, we found this old cannon.

Horseshoe-Bend_MG_9822

It distracted the kids (for a second) over the fact that they were both about to cry from exhaustion and heat (because this Alabama summer will never die.)

Horseshoe-Bend_MG_9825

Horseshoe-Bend_MG_9843

So, visit Horseshoe Bend. But beware that the 2.8 mile hike is more like 4.5. But hey – at least you’ll see Armadillos.

And, since she’s way better at summarizing than me, here was Ali’s report on the field trip:

horseshoe-bend-field-trip-report

Not-Crazy-Renee and the Creepy Middle Child.

“How’s Not-Crazy-Renee doing?”

I’m sure you’re asking that right now, since that’s what all blog readers want to know when they see me. She is, after all, the all-time favorite blog character.

With good reason.

To answer your question, she’s doing fine.

She still feeds Snakey Butters Buttercup, her five year old’s pet python, every Wednesday night (or every other, if she forgets, and then Snakey gets a two-for-the-price-of-one night.) I was honored to be invited over for the grand event recently. I got to hold Snakey before the meal, letting her snake up my arm and waggle her tongue in my general direction. I was fascinated by how smooth she is – “scaly” doesn’t mean what you think it means. After that, I was privileged to watch as she gave little Mickey one last good hug, then swallowed him with less trouble than I have swallowing a french fry.

Everyone needs this experience with a python.

The week before I visited had been a two-for-one night, and I got this series of texts from Not-Crazy-Renee about the mishaps therein…

IMG_1082

 

IMG_1083

IMG_1085

IMG_1523

I know. At this moment you can do nothing but be intensely jealous that she’s my not-crazy friend and not yours.

Changing the subject.

Earlier this week, I agreed to do her family photos – you know, for Christmas cards and such. I do not do this for many people because OH THE PRESSURE of taking portraits. But I did hers last year, and her kids are super photogenic and therefore easy to photograph at their best, so I agreed.

Last year, her middle child, Jonas, was my favorite to photograph. He’s beyond adorable. (They all are, but he’s my favorite. Can I have a favorite?)

Besides giving me the precious shots I wanted,

_MG_8835 Jonas Fave

_MG_9018

he gave me the best “OH NO YOU DI’INT!!” shot of all time:

_MG_9043

Right? Right.

So this year, I expected more fantastical photos from him.

However. He decided to remove himself as my favorite and instead, offer me a different sort of treasure.

Out of the hundreds of pictures I took, I got maybe 5 good ones of him.

The rest were his apparent audition photos to be the next Hollywood Evil Villain Child.

He started out playfully evil. The Doofenshmirtz of bad guys.

Creepy1_MG_9518

Then he moved on to Cedric the Sorcerer.

Creepy2_MG_9552

From there he went full-on Joker…

Creepy3_MG_9565

And just a bit of Draco Malfoy.

Creepy5_MG_9642

(Positive he was casting a Cruciatus Curse here…)

Creepy5a_MG_9642

But then, when it was time for family photos, is when it got weird.

I told him to smile,

And the kid turned into a …

Creepy4_MG_9633

straight-up…

Creepy4a

Chucky.

Creepy4b_MG_9633

We tried one more picture up against the ivy-covered wall. We all begged him to smile. And as his sister looked toward the heavens, looking as if she’d seen an angel,

Creepy6_MG_9644

He looked like he had seen something…

or was something….

Creepy6a_MG_9644

quite different.

Creepy6b_MG_9644

He may not be my favorite anymore, but he’s for sure ready for Hollywood.



Epilogue: In fairness and to soothe the nightmares I just provided you, I did get a couple adorable shots of him,

7-2016_MG_9833s

7-2016_MG_9782s

And precious shots of him with his siblings.

7-2016_MG_9566s

7-2016_MG_9749s

7-2016_MG_9818s

Also, I was able to make this fabulous music video, thanks to his superior inter-photograph dance skillz.

And then, my masterpiece of the year, was this sick beat…

(Y’all remember this post one day when Photographical DJing is a thing. Remember that I, and Jonas, were the pioneers.)

….so maybe he’s still my favorite. Maybe.

(But I’m only retracting my renouncement of him because he looked at me like this after reading this post…)

_MG_9706