Just an update.

Two summers ago I planted four strawberry plants. They grew quickly and soon I had probably 10 plants. Last summer they took off and I had a mess of strawberry plants. In May I decided to thin them and make nice rows of plants for easier picking, when my bushels of strawberries started coming off. I soon discovered that I had many more plants than I had thought. I spent the afternoon digging and seperating plants. Keeping them alive by putting them in bukets of water. By the time one of my daycare parents arrived I had decided that I needed to share. So she took all that I had dug. That evening, my back hurt. The next day I continued to dig and separate plants, feeling like I never really did make any progress in my attempt to tame the strawberry patch. On that night I could barely move. Digging in the garden has always given me back pain, so I just decided to give the strawberry patch a rest for a few days until my pain was more manageable.

That was in May. In fact, after taking a small fall onto my back end, my pain got worse. Never before has my back taken so long to feel better. At the end of June, when I couldn't even sit down anymore, I finally went to the doctor. After trying pain meds and rest, I was sent for an MRI. Turns out I have some protruding disc down at the base of my spine and back. Three to be exact. My pain has lessened, thank goodness, but continues to hurt. Yesterday I went to a physical therapist. I will now be doing physical therapy two times a week, until my 20 insurance approved visits are over or until the pain stops. Which ever comes first. I am hopping the pain goes first.

My cleaning secret

I don't like to clean very much. I do it any way because I like a clean house more than I dislike cleaning. This afternoon when I climbed on my kitchen counter to remove clutter from off my cabinets I had no intention of cleaning them, but once I got up there I saw what I had been avoiding for 2 years. That nasty grease residue that some how finds it way way up on top of the cabinets. No more pretending it wasn't there. Grease, plus 2 years worth of dust, not an easy task. I first tired to vacuum as much dust as I could. Only managed to get a few cob webs. Now I don't know if you put off cleaning this area like I do, but if you do you know that no ordinary cleaner will do. I tried 409, usually works pretty well. Not today. Lysol, no good. Hot soapy water, comet, still no match. I honestly thought of giving up and waiting another 2 years. Then I started searching through my kitchen and saw the vinegar. Which of course made me think of baking soda.

I first sprinkled the baking soda, then poured the vinegar. Cool bubbles, my own private volcano. It worked! Kind of. I noticed as I wiped away the vinegar that the dry soda was doing a pretty good job all by itself. So a little elbow grease, a lot of paper towels, and the tops are clean. It was so cool! It left no sticky residue either. I never seem to be able to get all the sticky off. I love baking soda! Who knew? Not me. So now you know too. My new cleaning secret!

Before. After.

Old Boots

I cannot recall ever owning a pair of "cowboy" boots. Give me flip flops and I am happy. My son does not follow in my foot steps. Somewhere around the age of 4, when he got his first pair of boots, he decided they were the only shoes for him. We have bought him "fast" shoes (tennis shoes that make you run faster), and hiking boots, and flip flops, and Converse, to name a few, but for Gabriel none hold the same comfort and ease as his trusty old boots. We have got him countless pairs now. As you can see he wears them out! We bought him a new pair some where around the first of April. This morning as his is putting them on to go to school he tells me the don't feel right. His left foot gives no problem, but the right just is wrong. I tell him to "just put them on, it's almost time to go!" He contiunes to insist that something is wrong. So finally I investigate. Sure enough he is right. The inside seam of the boot has come apart, leaving a flap to push against his heel and cause great discomfort. My quick solution to the problem, duct tape. Of course I cannot find any tape.

Two of my daycare mom's show up at about this time, one of which is ready to take the kids to school. Gabriel has no shoes on. He insists he can't wear the broken boots. The tears start to swell when I suggest he wear his fast shoes. He tries to wear the old worn out boots, way to small. We are heading for a melt down. It is 7:40 in the AM. I am not ready for melt down mode. I take a deep breath and beg him to just wear his fast shoes. His answer, "can't I just stay home?" I can't let him stay home over shoes, can I? Some where, from across the living room, his Converse are calling to me. Just remind him Dad bought these shoes for him. His dad is his favorite person. One last hope. Please! Success. Dad did buy them. We have to struggle a little to get them on, but they go on and he appears content. And out the door he goes.

One of my mom's, as fate would have it, is heading to the same store we bought the boots from today, she offers to take them back for exchange. Hopefully they will take them back with no receipt. The benefits of small town living. If they don't I may have to go tonight so tomorrow morning we don't have a repeat of this morning!

A Painted Dessert

When I hear the word dessert I think of sand, and heat, and cactus. Death comes to mind, as does rattlesnakes and other dried out reptiles who hide in the shadows of tumbleweeds. There is no color other than brown, and one drives through such places as fast as one can, if for no other reason than to not fall asleep during the most boring, need I say ugly, part of the trip. Since Phoenix is in the dessert the trip from here to there has it's share of desolation. I usually just drive through it without much thought, just a part of the trip. This time the dessert surprised me. We have received a lot of rain around here this winter, and it was apparent. The first signs where hills covered in yellow. Then beside the road new specks of color. Blues and more yellow. Before I knew what I was doing, I found myself slowing down! Just to check out the flowers. Every color of the rainbow. Flowers that reminded me of Texas Bluebonnets, buttercups, and varieties I cannot name. Bright pink, light pink, blues, yellows, and oranges. Flowers to rival any home grown garden. Nature had out done them all. And green. Wild grasses turning this usually dead wilderness into a lush inviting oasis of beauty. Beside the road cars stopped as people took pictures of something only God could have masterminded. A Painted Dessert.

I forgot my camera. So I have searched the internet to find some one who remember to bring theirs, so I could share some what I saw.

Sring Break

It must be spring if it is already spring break! We are heading out to Phoenix for the week. I am so looking forward to some "no one else's kids" time. Yeah! Arnold got a little apartment of his own, and we are taking him some things to furnish it. We have decided that right now for the kids and I it is best to just stay here in New Mexico. Even if it is a little yucky to be apart from Arnold. Now that he has his own place, we will be much more likely to visit him.
I have yet to do anything with the garden as far as planting is concerned. But once I get back from Phoenix I intend to get busy. It has just been so wet this winter. Every time it seems like the ground is getting dry enough to do something with it rains again! Not that I am complaining, the rain is good. My grass already looks good, well as good as my grass ever does! I need to re-seed a few places.
Yeah Spring!

The kids room is painted, except for the closet, which is still purple. I have yet to find the time to get every thing out of there in order to paint, so it sits purple, very purple. Arnold was home for a week (YEAH), but doesn't like the idea of wood floors. BOO! For some reason he thinks the house is to cold to have bare floors. Maybe he is right. I do hate walking on cold floors. But my poor little dream bubble has been deflated. There is a very sneaky part of me that wants to just do it anyway, and not just that room but the whole house! I know there is wood in my room, the living room and the dining room. To bad the pellet stove is in the dining room and I can't move it by myself to remove the current flooring.
In other news, it is raining, again! I love it. Except for the mud that is tracked in. I am so excited for spring to spring! My tulips, daffodils and hyacinths are poking there heads up getting ready to bloom. The garden lays sleeping. I started to dig in it the other day, but my poor body has sat far to long inside and left my in pain. I'll dig some more when it stops raining! I will not be stopped by pain. Just have to get use to it again. Not the pain, the being physically active again.

Wood floors?

My house is old and small. The floors have creaky spots and sag in others. For two years now I have been planning on painting, getting new carpet, fixing cracks, but for one reason or another it never gets none. I did manage to turn my bathroom from black to white. The paint was peeling, (helped along by my children) I hated the color, it seemed easy enough to just peel the paint, right? Wrong. Whoever had painted the sheet rock in the first place didn't think it necessary to primer it, so when the paint started to peel off it took a layer of the paper off the sheet rock. To make a long story short sheet rock doesn't like to be wet, even if it is primer you are putting on it, it makes more layers peel. So I had to mud quite a bit of my bathroom, good thing it is small. It is still a work in progress, as I don't think I want to keep it primer white, but I still have yet to decided on the perfect color. Plus I was a little put off by how long it actually took me to finish what I did.

I now have a new project. The kids room. Which also has peeling paint that has been helped along by children, not only mine but little hands who do not belong to me. The color is not a horrible color, it is just not one that I would have picked, nor would any of my kids. Plus it is peeling, so I have taken on a new project. This time it appears that the task at hand will be easier in the fact that the sheet rock was primer, making the paint peel right off, but the room is bigger, and has much larger furniture in it. Which brings me to a whole other issue.

The bunk beds. I have moved them around that room a hundred times, or at least ten, with no problem. But as I was trying to move them this time I became a complete wimp! I could not get the post in the corner to budge. Which was unacceptable. So I pulled with all my might, and low and behold it started to move, I continued to tug with all the strength I could muster. At this point Breana informs me that I a pulling up the carpet! Yes it is true. My strength is more than even I am aware of. So I squeezed myself between the wall and the bed to see why the carpet is coming up with the bed. It looks like the post has been glued to the carpet! I kid you not. Upon closer inspection I notice the "glue" is blue and smells like blueberries. Ashley admits that it maybe some of her goo candy that she left on the bed. It had spilled down the post and dried around the bottom, holding the post in place, very solidly I might add. Getting the post unstuck from the carpet was, let's just say not easy.

Now I have the carpet unpeeled from the floor, and since it was up I had to look. Guess what? There is hard wood flooring under that stinky purple carpet! It is not the best I have ever seen. What can you expect it has been under carpet for 20 years. A little scratched, but have I found my next project? Surely I could learn to redo a hardwood floor?