Montana - Part 4 - The Fam

We frequently talk to Gramma and Grandpa over Skype and Nat loves to talk to Uncle Mark on the phone, but was so neat for them to get to see each other face to face. Nat was happy to see her Grandparents, but was ELATED to hear they had a tire swing. You see, she (and her two cousins) used to LOVE to swing with Grandpa at his old house in PA. It was a special little thing they had together. Julsie got in on the fun for the first time too! It’s always nice to visit Amie. Neither of us are phone-talkers so we usually have a lot to catch up on =) Baby Garrett is so cute and a good little boy. I think he’s pretty strong too. I wanted my hands on him right away. (I have no good pics of Amie and I know she'd hate it if I stuck a stinky one up... and its not easy to get a pic of her, ask my MIL) My nephew Wyatt is 8 now. How time has flown. He has grown sooo much. I really noticed how tall he was on this trip. He’s a nice boy and well behaved. I just really enjoy him, always have… I mean, we ARE “buddies and jerks and pals!” (what he told me when he was 3). He’s into animals, hunting, four wheelers and all the regular boy stuff. And like most boys his age, his dad is probably his favorite person and role model. (It’s funny to see the change, from momma’s right hand man to daddy’s …from my best bud on our first trip to Toby’s pal on our third.)

He and Nat had fun together too. She couldn't wait for "the boy" to come home from school every day. They played hide and seek in the house quite a bit and almost every night they would walk to the pond and throw rocks. He was really good with her. (Julsie and I like to throw the rocks too =)

I think Mark liked the girls. I know they liked him. It's funny, Jules has been in a stage where she cries anytime anyone other than mom or dad pick her up. I mean anyone. She had absolutely NO trouble with Mark. She went with him right away. It was really cute. Oh, and Jules learned the word "No" just before the trip and mastered it while we were there. THAT was not cute. =)

Montana - Part 3 - The Hunt

We arrived on a Thursday so Mark took off work from Friday – Sunday for both weeks we were there. During the week, Toby was going to have to hunt on his own. He had Mark’s GPS, so the biggest thing he was worried about was being able to bugle. You see, finding an elk is like finding a needle in a hay stack. If you can get the needle to talk, it would be a little easier (especially since in archery you have to be sooo close to get a shot). So he practiced, and Oh Heavens! Sunday night he barely paid any attention to anyone. He sat outside and bugled. Wyatt, a great bugler according to the experts, bugled along with him. Oh, the cacophony! I was ready to shove that vacuum-hose-grunt-tube down his bronchial tube! But anyway, he went out on Monday and actually got one to call back. Tuesday he actually chased one around the canyon for hours but the bull never let Toby get closer than 50 yards. Wednesday it was pouring rain so he stayed home (elk don’t talk when it’s raining). Thursday, he had a lovely assistant and got within 30 yards. (I’ll tell you about that day in a later post.) Friday I prayed like a mad woman. In order to get meat back on the plane (my main objective), we really needed to get one no later than Saturday. I was on pins and needles until I heard news… and then I was devastated. They bugled, called him in and got within 20 yards. He was standing behind a Christmas tree type pine and Toby needed just one more step to get a good shot. With his bow a quarter of the way pulled back, they waited. Later, Toby said that he was pleased with how calm and focused he was. So, he and Mark are on baited breath. Toby was certain he was just going to take one more step….. but NO! All of a sudden he took off in the other direction, NO!, leaving Toby with nothing but a full quiver. This pic was taken from where Toby was standing to shoot. Can you see Wyatt in the center of the screen? That's where the elk was. That would be his best position of the entire 11 days. We came home with suitcases full of clothes instead of bricks of frozen meat. Oh, how I longed for a freezer full of a healthy, lean, (the original) “organic,” protein source.
However, we also came home with a ton of memories made with our family. We are so thankful to Gramma and Grandpa for transporting us everywhere and spoiling us, to Mark, Amie, Wyatt and Garrett for opening their home to us, providing meals, and just taking care of us. Not only do they put us up, but Toby gets a world-class hunt from an awesome guide for just the cost of his license. Mark could have worked or hunted himself on those days. Instead, he took his tag-along younger brother out to get one. We would never be able to afford to send even Toby out west on a hunt of this magnitude not to mention sending us girls too. We really appreciate it. Thanks Mark!

Montana - Part 2 - Camp

When we got to Mark's Toby didn't even have much time to tour the new house. He was packing his hunting clothes into a duffle because he and Mark were immediately heading up to the mountains to camp a couple days (ie hunt during the day, but instead of coming home at night, sleep right there.... in amongst the bear and mountain lion and wolves and I was sure glad I wasn't there). The tent they slept in was about 2 ft high, 4 ft wide, and 6 ft long (if they were lucky). I saw it when they set it up to dry back at home. Good thing they are related. I don't even think Nat would have used that thing as a play house. I really wish I had a pic (Toby deleted it I think.)

They took food and supplies (ie. baby wipes) with them, but did manage to round up some fresh meat for dinner one night. Other than the brotherly camaraderie, the camping trip was sort-of a bust. The canyon was full of signs of wolves, but no sign of elk. They came home empty handed but had a new appreciation for their beds and their age.

Speaking of age, it really doesn't matter that Toby is 8 years younger and hits the gym most days of the week. It probably helped that Toby was training on the Stairmaster in prep for the trip, but Mark still just flies around those mountains like Tarzan did in the jungles. The way Toby talks, he'll literally run for yards across a downed log spanning a ravine 30 ft below. He'll glide down the face of a cliff 5o ft, just touching his feet to the ground at a couple points and swinging off snags along the way. I went out with Toby one day (you'll hear that story later) and I can really appreciate the sheer Craziness of that! Especially when Tob said, "you know how you trailed me at times? That's how far I trail Mark at times." Holy mackerel. You may not be able to tell here, but he's a fearless, high-flying mountain man.

Back to the Good Stuff - Montana

I know, I know, no one cares about the other blog, just get back to the good stuff - my kids. =)

So, we were in MT from Sept 4 - 15 visiting John's brother, wife and 2 boys and my in-laws. Oh yeah, and John was also there to try to bag a trophy elk. I was off-line out there, but wish I could have been writing every day. There were so many funny little things, I could have 10 pages of stuff. Here's my attempt at brevity:
Let's see - where to begin... We flew out of Philly very early on Thursday so we stayed in a hotel Wednesday night, taking the hotel shuttle to the airport. We checked in around 9PM. Why so late? Well, you see,
1. I babysat on Wednesday (but she actually helped to occupy Nat while I finished last minute chores)
2. I had to make dinner when John got home (If you've ever seen me cook you know I make such a mess it takes a while for me to clean up)
3. His suitcase broke as he was zipping it up to put in the car so we had to make a mad dash to the outlets on the way out of town.
4. We had to stop at Walmart (not on the way) to get him a stinkin' pad lock for his bow case. (The girls and I stayed in the car. He took the keys and it was stuffy. So there we were, like a bunch of hill billies, my shoes off, the kids climbing around the car and the door open for everyone to see. Oh well)

It took us a while to get settled. The girls were so wired. Plus we had to transfer John's clothes to the new bag, and unload all our junk. Nat started out in dad's bed but soon after he fell asleep, she crept over to my bed and snuggled in the crook of my leg behind my bent knees. Jules was snuggled in my arms. How cute. Then Nat touched Jules and Jules sat up and was excited and on and on!

Anyway, we slept a few hours, got ready, took the 4AM shuttle, schlepped 2 kids, 2 car seats, 2 carry-ons, a camera case and one bow case containing a firearm to the airport. Sigh

We were able to get seats together and flew our first leg without incident. Despite the early hour, and to daddy's dismay, the girls were too excited to sleep. Jules was a little loud (happy loud) and John and the others were struggling to get their cat nap in.

We landed in Minneapolis just fine and spent our lay-over in a kids play area. We ate snacks I'd packed, the girls played and John again tried to get some rest. Here are the little stinkers posing in the MSP airport.









The kids slept during the second leg of the flight and we landed in Missoula on time. Grammy and Grandpa came to pick us up (bearing cookies=) and we were all happy to see each other. We loaded up the truck, hooked up the car seats and off we went for the hour drive to Uncle Mark's house.

My new Political Blog

(names have been changed to protect... well, me =)
Picture it: Homecoming 1995. We were all anxiously awaiting the announcement of King and Queen. As I stood on that field on that dreary day, right beside the boy who would later be announced king, all I could think of WASN'T "Please let me win." It was "Please don't let it be 'Donna.' Please don't let it be 'Donna.'"
Why single out 'Donna'? I mean, one of the other girls would have surely broken down into a nauseating emotional outburst post her coronation (and the rest of us would have been forced to feign concern and support while we were all really thinking "c-ra-zy!") Another's head would have swelled to astronomical proportions and she would have been a complete bear to live with... to this very day! But why was it 'Donna' who I was hoping wouldn't win? Well, my "friend" 'Donna' was just plain mean to me. She may not have been very talkative to most people, but when she DID talk to ME, she was condescending and demeaning. She'd frequently give me (and another 'friend of ours') her patented eye-roll and corresponding "ugh" as if to say, "how lame can you be, loser?"
Did I have anything to worry about though? 'Donna' wasn't the most athletic or the most confident nor was she historically the most popular. In fact, she had never been nominated for a 'court' before. She was smart and skinny and moderately pretty (more so from afar.) But mostly, she was a dark horse. She was a CHANGE from the 4 to 5 girls who were consistently voted to 'courts.' (No, I'm not going to tell you if she won or not, don't want to reveal identities.)
I'm worried that this is what is happening in the present election cycle. No, not that John or Barrack are going to make me feel stupid, but that people may see a skinny and moderately handsome (more so from afar) candidate who seems to be a change from the barren white wasteland of Washington politics and vote for him without really knowing him.... just like what happened with 'Donna.'
Back in '95, in the aftermath of that Saturday in October, I wished people would have known what I knew about 'Donna's' personality. In the case of this election, I just don't want to have that feeling again. I want people to know what I know about these choices.

This new blog is
http://hodayselectioncoverage.blogspot.com

I'm thinking this could get me in a lot of trouble with friends and acquaintances, but I just really felt like I should do it. Feel free to disagree with me ... and post a comment about it! I don't mind at all. I'm not trying to tell people they are wrong and I'm right or questioning their judgment, just putting some of my ideas (and other people's) out there. (You may question MY judgment now though, haha). Forgive me!

My Gram

I tried to write this post on 9/3, just before we left for Montana. I just couldn't finish it and it was getting so long, I just had to stop and put it away for a while. I hadn't been sure whether to write about this subject or not, but decided I NEEDED to write it out - even if after I was through, I erased it all.

(Sigh) I lost my Gramma Sanner on August 22. (I pause and read it again then watch the cursor flash... sigh). Sometimes I feel just devastated and my heart broken. It may sound naive or ridiculous, especially because she was 90 and in light of her long battle with Alzheimer's, but in my heart of hearts, I did not think that day would ever come.

I mean, I have thought about that day and worried about that day ever since I was 3 years old. Yes, literally, three, but when push came to shove, in my heart I believed what I'd told her once as a small child. She was standing at the kitchen sink, I walked directly to her from the living room and frankly announced, "Gram, you'll never live without me and I'll never live without you. Either the the Rapture will come or we'll just die in a car accident together." I know, a little morbid, especially for someone not big enough to see over the kitchen counter, but that is what I said. And ever since, something in me really believed it. Even as we prepared to drive up home on Wednesday night as we knew she was failing, I was paranoid that I would be in a car accident. The other half of me was waiting for "the trumpet" to sound. I guess I stopped thinking like that once I got to the Home. It was less about me having to live without her and more about her being okay... I mean, not in pain or distress.

At least she was not alone throughout the last days. My aunt took the day shifts and we (mom, Jess, and I) took the evening/overnight shifts. Luckily for us, Jess and I were there at the moment she took her last breath. We figured she knew that was as peaceful and alone as she was going to get. She could never get rid of us in her lifetime - two little stinkers following her around, hanging on her - why would it be different now? Maybe she waited for my kids. I don't know. She had seen everyone else and she passed about an hour and a half after my kids and husband left. Or maybe she didn't want Nance or mom to have to be there...... Or maybe she just wore out.

Either way, she was a fighter. She was a fighter by nature. From the moment she was born at around 2 pounds, she fought. She survived while her bigger, seemingly healthier, twin brother died in infancy. She dealt with a sick child and when he was diagnosed with cerebral palsy, she and grandpa worked for a dollar a day on a neighbor's farm to be able to get a ride up to Shriner's Hospital to see him every Sunday. That went on for about 3 years. She buried her husband when she was 54, all 4 of her brothers and her sister, all three of her step-children and all of her brothers and sisters-in-law except one.

I know many other facts and figures to describe her. I know lots of stories about her life like they were my own. I often asked her to tell me stories, even the same ones, over and over again. We were together a lot. I spent my entire childhood right next door to her and spent every non-school night sleeping in her bed until about the 8th grade. (The only exception was Christmas Eve, when she would sleep in my bed. ) Her house was my favorite place to be and she was my favorite person to be with. I still clearly remember saying good-bye to her as I left for college. We were both crying our eyes out. (My sister was beaming, because she finally got my room and gramma all to herself =)

Instead of more facts and figures, here are some adjectives: honest, hardworking, virtuous, loving.

She was insanely honest. I remember playing hide-and-seek at her house and having to make up a rule that you couldn't ask Gram where the hider was. You'd ask "Did they go upstairs?" and you'd know by the look on her face. She didn't WANT to tell you, but had to. (I only know of one time in my life-time where she held something in, not lied, but didn't tell. It caused her actual physical illness.)

She was a hard worker. Another farmer's wife described my gram as the hardest working woman she knew. I only saw her in her sixties and beyond but even then she was still a wonderful example of (... I looked it up in the thesaurus, there are no good synonyms for hard working.... industrious, no... diligent, eh... I propose a new adj: Weaziness ... (from Louise)...) I remember her throwing hay bales from the wagon onto the escalator in her seventies, hauling water 100 yards to her parched garden, and beating back huge cows from a watering hole with a big stick. (I also remember her being kicked against the barn doors by one of those same cows, breaking her ribs. Did she go to the hospital? You can probably guess, she didn't.)

She was caring. When my grandpa was alive, their house was like a half-way house; supplying a home to most anyone, from a wayward teen, to a distant relative, to a swarthy North Carolina chicken fighter. Her brother's mother-in-law and an old ailing farmer each asked to come live with Weazy and Mose in their final days, just knowing she would take good care of them and be of a good attitude in doing it.

She was loving. She loved her grandchildren. We knew it from her hugs, her kisses, her kindness, her generosity, her delight in taking care of us, and because she told us (and you just knew it was true.) Jess and I clearly spent a lot of time with her and if there is one thing I know, it's that she loved each and every one of us the same. Even if she didn't see them much, she had a story about each one and would beam from ear-to-ear while telling me of this cherished memory. I have to be honest... sometimes her fairness in love with us irritated me. I felt like, "she loves them just as much as she loves me!..... but I love HER more!" The "I love you more" game was a favorite of Jess and mine... each telling her we loved her more than the other. =) ... then mom would always trump us with "I loved you first."

Finally, she was a faithful Christian. If you'd come to the house and didn't find her doing chores, you'd find her reading her bible. She took me to church, taught me to pray, and had a huge impact on me being saved. Accordingly, I felt a very special and unique bond with her. We were even baptized together. She is what I aspire to be, as a woman, as a worker, as a Christian, as a grandmother.

The Prodigal's Blogger Returns

First, to all my loyal reader(s): Sorry for such a long absence with no explanation.
Second, to all my other readers: Yeah for you! You won't have so much garbage to read through before calling or seeing me again. =)

I have been pretty much off-line for almost a month now. We spent 11 days of September in Montana visiting Toby's brother Mark and his family and my MIL and FIL. We just got home on Tuesday so that post will come shortly.

But first things first, I'll blog about what we were up to between my last blog of 8/18 and the start of the MT trip.