The Countdown

There are a few approaches to how we look at Halloween.  There's the horrifying, utterly grotesque side of goblins and ghouls and bloodied body parts alluded to in the Sunday newspaper flyers and on the Walmart shelves.  Then there's the cute, sweet side of rolls of Smarties, making handprint spiders, and weeks of trying on princess and froggie costumes from our stored Halloween tubs.  Depending upon the time of day, it's all fun.

We have neighbors down the street who really go all out in decorating their front yard.  Mr. B. spends all of October setting up his own cemetery, stringing huge spider webs, inflating the Grim Reaper's chariot, and installing batteries in the eye-blinking/ghost-howling/mummy-shaking/rat-gnawing ornamentations that adorn his trees and front porch. 

At night it's justifiably spooky.  But in the light of day it's absolutely fascinating, and our daily walks either start or end up with a prolonged visit at "The Halloween House".  We hope Mr. B. doesn't tire of our pestering, because his efforts have given a lot of joy to the children in this house.  He has ramped up the kids' Halloween Anticipation volume single-handedly (and you'll find the other hand, gooped in fake blood, hanging out of the wishing well by the sidewalk). 

The anticipation, though, is less about flying bats and all about getting The Loot.  Our little town really gets into the spirit and is known for super generous candy distribution.  Older couples spend days in front of their TVs assembling bags of goodies and trinkets to pass out to Trick-or-Treaters.  At some houses you'll get cans of pop, gift certificates, or even full sized candy bars.  And when you Trick-or-Treat at a house, you don't get one measley piece of candy, you might get handfuls!  Even better, you might get offered the whole bowl to grab as you wish!

All this, of course, has the potential to demonize even the loveliest of princesses.  But the reason people are so generous is because they know one another.  On All Hallow's Eve, people visit at doorsteps before moving on to the next home.  They dote and fuss over the children and take pictures. The Spidermen and Harry Potters and Cinderellas are kids you've been watching grow up for years and years now.  And when some of these kids are old enough to drive, they still come around to visit and collect canned food for the local food pantry.  You get a sense of "Neighborhood",  and on one thrilling night you get to see the bare bones of what makes up your community. 

And you find yourself looking forward to The Countdown.

Our Garbageguys

We are still cleaning out after 6 inches of rain water swooshed into our basement.  (Take note:  Rubbermaid totes are not truly waterproof if they float and then tip.)  And while I was able to salvage lots of things, much of it required laundering. I am the Queen of Laundry. 

The rest had to be pitched.  Big Black Bags of Stuff, now in a trash heap...  Stuff I've been holding onto "for one day" when I can do things like cross-stitch again without fear of children picking up stray supplies and using them to puncture their siblings' body parts.  It's a gross thought, but it could happen.

Okay, maybe that's the only thing I regret losing... the supplies, that is.  The rest of it really was excess and should have been donated somewhere a long time ago.  I'll do my best not to cringe when it all gets set out at the curb, not because I regret the loss, but because our Garbageguys will have to pick it all up. 

I love our Garbageguys, and so does my family.  We'll hear Josh and crew in their huge garbage crusher truck clamber up the street.  My kids will drop what they're doing and run to the front porch windows hoping to catch a glimpse..."The Garbageguys are here!!!!  THE GARBAGEGUYS ARE HERE!!!".  Or, if we're already outside, the kids will run up to the sidewalk's edge for a real close view.  They'll be greeted with a huge "HELLO!!!"  and "Are you kids having fun today??"  And then their big eyes will watch in awe as the men haul our big green bags and cans over their shoulders and toss them like paper wads into the mouth of the machine.  A lever will be pulled, and a claw-toothed arm will screech and squeal and engulf  the stuff that came from our house.

The kids will step back a bit, because it's noisy and intimidating.  But the men will grab the now empty cans and lids and race them up to the front of our house, taking care on especially windy days to ensure they won't tumble back into the street.  One of the Garbageguys might run over to the kids for a whole Victory Lane of High 5's.  Waving goodbye, the Garbageguys will hop back on their ride and clamber to the next row of houses, and they will hear me, and all the children, yelling "THANK YOU" and "THANK YOU SOME MORE".

If we are lucky, we will see them again when we are out on our walk, and don't you know our Garbageguys will beep the horn and wave to us across several streets.  They're good like that.

Tomorrow night our family will unfortunately be setting out more garbage than usual, and my conscience is tweaked because of it.  While we do Reduce/Reuse/Recycle, what is left over is put on our Garbageguys, and for me those are the first real faces of who has to deal with "too much waste".

Vacation Day

I don't want to be a complainer, but I've been having some back trouble, and shoulder pain, and neck strain.  Not surprisingly, I'm a mom and it's easier to defer aches and pains for more convenient times.  Still, this started during my last pregnancy, the baby's already 18 months old, and I still don't have an open afternoon.  When I had several of those "THIS IS IT, I'LL NEVER BE ABLE TO GET OUT OF THIS COUCH" episodes, Kel insisted I not wait until Rosie could fetch me ibuprophen herself. 

X-rays were inconclusive, so I had to move on to plan B:  The MRI. 

At first I was actually looking forward to the test.  A quiet drive into town, lingering forever in a waiting room, not minding one bit because I can catch up on my 3 back issues of Good Housekeeping...  Sipping a cup of coffee from the cafeteria, browsing the gift shop... Then participating in a non-invasive assessment in which caring and professional technicians would make sure I was comfortable...  Perhaps catching a few Zzzz's during the test...  Stopping for a bite to eat on the way home...  By myself.

Basically, a vacation.

I wish.

I had to be up at 5 am, to be out of the house at 5:30, to arrive by 6, to avoid construction and park by 6:15, and to be checked in by 6:30.  Waking up to the same rain to which I fell asleep, I was dismayed to find some type of "leak" in the bathroom cabinetry, so dumping the contents into several large laundry baskets delayed my departure.  (The six inches in the basement Kel later found himself).

The rain pummeled the car on the drive into town, but I counted my blessings when I found a parking spot just a block from the hospital, and I actually felt a huge sense of accomplishment that I had arrived by 6:29!  (The Krenz's are noted for always running in, late.). 

I had forgotten my magazines, and had no interest in the hospital's Computer World, and Field and Stream.  But I still embraced the early morning quiet until Jeff appeared to escort me back to the MRI area located in the bowels of the hospital. 

Now, I'm pretty "long suffering", and if I ever get into a position of needing to suck it up and be a martyr, I have enough confidence in myself to think that I could do it without much of a whimper.

But let me tell you, the test started out with much difficulty for me, and about 2 seconds in I was hitting the panic button. All of my expectations of vacation days and catching Zzz's were dashed the minute he slid my strapped self into that paper towel tube of the MRI machine. 

Thankfully, Jeff offered me an opportunity to watch a little documentary dvd during the test.  He produced a pair of goggles which he strapped on my head, and before long I was swimming with the dolphins in the coral reefs of the Fiji Islands.

Vacation.

Motivation

One of our big summer projects this year involved hooking up electricity to the ceiling fans and overhead lighting in every room on the main floor of this old house, including the enclosed front porch. (Mind you, the ceiling fans and overhead lighting were already there and had been for years... but that's another story of self-sacrifice).

By the time Kel finished cutting into tiles and through plaster, repainting the ceilings was necessary, but that made the walls look awfully blah and dingy, so a different color scheme ended up making the fabric on the couch just "pop". And while we were at it (since the two front rooms were already empty of furniture) we refinished the wood floors in those rooms too. This is how we get things done, and a little rewiring job becomes Extreme Home Makeover. 

When we first moved into this house with its exterior of gross white tiles and icky green trim, the landscaping was made up entirely of rocks, discarded railway ties, scraggly shrubs, and broken cement walkways. I recall the time I pruned an overgrown forsythia bush outside our kitchen door. The kids and I would nearly poke our eyes out as we maneuvered around the limbs to approach the slanted steps and crooked backdoor. A quick "clip clip" with a pair of over-sized shears and I had that problem taken care of.

Boy, was Kel surprised when he got home from work! Typically he would appreciate my efforts, but this time he strained to hold his tongue and applaud my ambition.  That overly cropped forsythia couldn't hide the fact that I'm really not a great gardener.  However, it's funny to think that the space we now enjoy outside that reconstructed kitchen door is a direct result of a bad pruning job.  If only I had a "Before" picture!

As having nine kids might indicate, this Krenz family has been known for a willingness to take on more than minimally necessary.  We live big. I hesitate adding, however, that the kitchen ceiling still has a hole in it the exact shape of Brennan's foot, there is only one piece of crown moulding in there, and the windows have yet to be primed and painted. That remodel started in the summer of '02.  But we'll get to it, eventually.  We're just not motivated enough... yet.

When you put forth such effort (Kel doing the work, me keeping the kids out of the way), you hope things stay "nice" for a while. In our house, I realize that keeping things nice (landscape pruning not withstanding) is an especially idyllic notion, but I am entitled to hope for the best. Really, it's only October and the smell of the paint of the summer project is still fresh in my memory. So when I recently caught a glimpse of our 9 foot living room ceiling and saw what looked like WRITING, my initial reaction was "WHICH DERELICT DID THIS??"


(Note: Some might find it remarkable that I wasn't the least bit surprised there might be a scrawled message on the ceiling. Others might appreciate that what is utterly inconceivable in parents' wildest dreams actually does occur as fanciful thoughts to their children, and my kids happen to be the kind to act on them.)

After closer look I could see that this was really an index card adhered to the ceiling with 12 inches of strapping tape, and to my surprise it included Kel's handwriting!  "Palming the ceiling will give the girls a great vertical jump for volleyball!" he explained.  Considering Brennan's dunking skills started with hanging from the transom frames, I believe him.

I wonder what it would take to get the roof over the upstairs bathroom reshingled? 

Inspiration. Motivation.
It's all about what moves you.

Struggle

Ya know, I have been unofficially shooting for every Tuesday, and every Thursday, at the very least.  Maybe a push back to Friday if we get too busy.  Just twice a week. 

But the posts have been a little infrequent lately, and I apologize if you have been disappointed when you might pop in looking for an uplifting note, new perspective, or a belly laugh. 

I just have not been writing.

It's not that I have not wanted to.  I have not been idle.
And, I can always make time.
Really, it's
Same old, same old here.
However, I've been attending to other concerns.

Many people about whom I care deeply are really struggling. 
Poor health, depression, uncertainty.
Loss of employment, loss of insurance, loss of direction.
Loss of a child, a spouse, a parent.
Moving, staying, change.
Grief.

Yet, during this same time, I am inspired by the action of faith, of compassion, of genuine love of neighbor.

So,
If you would, please, take a brief moment and offer a prayer of special intention for someone you may not even know... for that unnamed person who needs your prayer the most, right now, for this very moment.

It is all For Good.

Memories (unedited)

Just a few minutes in the Krenz household... for real.