Wherein I Nearly Lose My Sight and Preform Electrical Acts of Derring-do

La Keira and I painted the kitchen a lovely shade of grey yesterday.  Things went well and then I spent 5 hours painting the trim "Snowy Pine.'  I finished the last touch ups just as Moose walked in the door.  

Now we are just 2 small armchairs, a rug, a clever side table and a Dala horse away from realizing my decorating vision!

Moose began helping me move the fridge back to it's proper location when SPARK, FLASH, CLICK, Squeal, jump away.

Apparently, when we moved the fridge in the morning we had the power cord was beneath the fridge and we scraped off all of the insulation on the cord so that the copper wire was exposed.  As we were moving it back the exposed, live wire connected with the copper water pipe and Blamo!

We have a "new" refrigerator coming on Wednesday but this old fridge was meant to be my food storage/garage fridge.  I have been waiting a LONG time to have my refrigeration needs met and I was NOT going to let the dream die.

I spent the night worrying over the food in the fridge, whisking my meat supply over the Keira's Garage freezer and waiting for the appliance parts store to open in the morning.

In the morning I learned that the appliance parts store couldn't help me but Home Depot could.  That's correct, I could have solved this problem last night and slept soundly knowing that I wasn't going to lose this month's budgeted food supply.

Moose was still in bed when I left and I said to him "Don't go to work until I get back I will need your help with the fridge."

 I went to Home Depot and got supplies and detailed instructions and came home to find Moose had GONE TO WORK.

"Okay, I can do this myself, This will be a great blog post.  I will even take a before picture."  And I did.

"This is going to be a great post. Look, I even have wire strippers!"

I lined up the tools and supplies

Wire strippers, wire cutters, new cord, wire nuts, electrical tape

See how this is going to be great?

The gross wires coming from the fridge.  There was loads of lint and cat food back there.  I don't have a cat. EEEW!

I sat down, clipped of the cord and began stripping.  This is where it is all Moose's fault because if a strong man had been doing this the tragic event that followed would not have occurred. And then the wire cutters slipped off with all the force I had been applying to the cord and went INTO MY EYEBALL!

This is also where I am glad that I homeschool and that My 11 year old was home to assist me.
I screamed for Commander C while lying on the floor holding my eye and crying because I was A) in PAIN, B) So really mad at Moose and C) utterly defeated.  I just wanted to save the fridge and the food and now I was BLINDED!  He called Moose to let him know that I was dying on the floor and it was all HIS FAULT.  I managed to look out of my one good eye to see blood on my hands, "GREAT, I AM blind!"  Eventually I realized that I was crying and the tears didn't hurt so it might not be SO bad.  Commander C said that it wasn't so I mustered up the guts to look in the mirror.

After a few minutes of crying and a liberal dose of Arnica

It was all purple and bruised but I took some Arnica and in just a few minutes the bruising was all but gone.  My actual eye seems to be un-injured but the eye hurt for a few hours and now if I close my eyelid and touch my eye it still hurts.  I would like to thank my cheek for taking the brunt of the blow in order to save my eye.

I dispatched Commander C to the garage for some SAFETY GOGGLES and went back to work.  That food wasn't keeping itself cold (well actually it was but it can't keep that up forever.)

 Wires were stripped but there was a problem even though Home Depot Electrical Department Man said that they would the wires from the fridge cord did not match the green, white and black wires of the replacement cord.  There was a green cord but the other two wires were no color, just brown like the whole cord.  I called my Brother in law but while I waited for an answer I just guessed and did it.

If I did this wrong and Starlings is in danger, please, let me know.

I plugged it in and the power was on! But the compressor wasn't running and I was a bit worried and just when I was about to despair it kicked on.

I fixed my refrigerator.

On Target

 This is a copy of my post today at Latter-Day Homeschooling.

I am a very reluctant soccer mom.  I really, really hate taking my kids to and from practices. Games are once a week and I can handle that, unless it is really cold and raining which it often is. I was so unbelievably happy when, last season,  my son's team was assigned the practice field right across the street from our house.  All I had to do was hand him a bottle of water on is way out the door.

Soccer season is but a memory now which leaves us time for really COOL ways to develop our bodies, like archery.

I am a closet archer.  I love bows and arrows, I also like them old school, none of these aluminum compound bows with their wheels and carbon arrows. I like wooden arrows and a beautiful wooden recurve bow, like Robin Hood. Now, I don't approve of Robin Hood. Stealing from the rich to give to the poor? What a thug, however; he had some wicked skills with a bow.  But, I digress. I like a little target practice and I am so happy that both of my boys like it as well.

Our local archery store/shooting range holds homeschool lessons twice a month.  The rate includes rental AND instruction and the cost is significantly less than the regular rental rate without instruction.

If you live in the Portland, Oregon area you are in luck and can come join us at our local range, but if not maybe you could call your local range and see if they have a homeschool plan.  If they don't offer a homeschool time perhaps you might suggest one.

Here are some tips for the archery range:

*Leave the little ones at home.  The shooting range is no place for little who want to run about or hang on mom's skirts.  I find a stitter for kids not old enough (in my opinion) to shoot yet.  Sometimes I offer to take the sitter's older children with me in exchange. 

* Never dry fire a bow (pull back and let go of the string without an arrow in it.) You will get yelled at and it will be embarrassing. Ask me how I know this.

* Talk to the kids beforehand about following instructions.  This is not a time to choose not to obey or listen.  Arrows are dangerous and people who don't follow instructions could get killed.

* Join in.  Archery is good for moms too!

It's a Retro House Cleaning Party!

Yes, it will be as awesome as it sounds.


Please join me on Tuesday May 11th at 9 am for a Retro House Cleaning Party at my new digs.

We get the keys to our new house on Monday evening so Tuesday we will be cleaning. I have no idea what the house will look like. It might be a complete mess or it might be spotless. In the event that it is neat as a pin, in lieu of cleaning, we will tour the house and eat Milanos and giggle.
Please bring something to clean with and if you want to dress the part you can go to one of my favorite blogs and learn how to tie a headscarf.

To RSVP send me a request of a song to be added Hausfrau Cleaning mix (music to clean to.)
If you don't know where my new house is call, e-mail or Facebook me and I will give you the address.

Don't Forget the Jell-o

A friend and I are doing a little blog post swap today...she would like to remain anonymous.
When I was married, my mother hired a friend to cater a small luncheon for family and friends who had traveled for the wedding. I can’t remember a thing about it, except that it was delicious and there was a delightful lemon sponge cake for dessert with a raspberry coulis.

Evidently there had been a Jell-o salad.

A few months into my marriage, my sister-in-law called to request my Jell-o recipe.

“Jell-o recipe?” I asked.

“Sure. That delicious recipe you served at your wedding luncheon.”

“Um, that was catered. I didn’t make the Jell-o,” I said, wracking my brain to remember eating Jell-o at my wedding luncheon. Or in the last 7 years.

“Oh, it was delicious,” she said. “I’d love to get the recipe from you.”

“Well, it was a caterer,” I repeated. “I don’t really have the recipe.”

“Whenever is fine.” She said. “I want to make it for Christmas dinner.”

I called my mom:

“Mom, was there Jell-o at the wedding luncheon?”

“Oh yes. Wasn’t it delicious?”

“I don’t remember eating Jell-o, but Bjorn’s sister wants the recipe.” I said.

“Oh, well, you just throw together the frozen raspberries and the sour cream and, you know, it’s very easy. You need to let one layer set before adding the sour cream of course. Don’t forget to tell her that.” Mom said.

“I think I’m going to need to write this down.” I said.

Long story short, I got my new sister-in-law the recipe and I got myself a reputation.

“Could you bring one of your Jell-o salads?” My new in-laws would ask whenever we got together for a shared meal.

“One of my Jell-o salads?” I complained to Bjorn. “It was the caterer’s Jell-o salad! Why do they think I have a cache of Jell-o salad recipes.”

I gave up trying to convince Bjorn’s family that I knew nothing about Jell-o and started searching for recipes. In those days, many of my requests were by mail, to old college roommates and resulted in little recipe cards being sent back to me weeks later.

So I brought Jell-o salads to the family gatherings.

Eventually, my food assignment morphed into green salads. No one else replaced me as Jell-o maker and I suspected the assignment had been superfluous--a test maybe--to see if I could be trusted with more important dishes. Green salad must be the next rung in the family gathering food assignment ladder.

I began with basic green salads: Lettuce, tomato, cucumber, celery. Maybe a radish if I was feeling adventurous. But after three years of nothing but green salad assignments, I began to feel under-appreciated.

“I can do so much more!” I said to Bjorn. “What about desserts? You like my desserts. I should do dessert.”

However, my subtle hints to the sisters-in-law that I would be happy to bring anything else to family gatherings went unheeded.

I had no choice but to sabotage myself and get fired from green salads.

Bjorn’s dad is a strictly meat and potatoes guy. He feels no need to try anything new, or that might contain a seasoning other than salt and/or pepper. I figured I could make a salad so strange he wouldn’t eat it. And if dad wasn’t happy, changes would have to be made.

My new salads now featured mesculin, blue veined cheeses, pomegranate seeds, candied nuts. I scoured the internet for strange green salad recipes that would shock the family into giving me a different food assignment.

My plan backfired. “Oh, your green salads are the best! We could never make anything like this.” They all said.

“It’s cutting up things and throwing them in a bowl,” I told Bjorn later, at home. “Any kid old enough to use a knife could do the same thing!”

Now the assignment always came as, “Please bring one of your green salads.”

At least this time I did have a stack of recipes I could claim.

Then, one day the call came. It was Bjorn’s dad’s birthday. Could I bring his favorite: a pumpkin pie?

The clouds parted and I think I heard angels singing: I was being promoted to dessert.

I labored over that pumpkin pie like I was birthing my own kid. The crust was perfectly fluted and I made the filling with the freshest canned pumpkin I could find. I covered the crust towards the end of baking so the edges wouldn’t burn. I let it cool and carefully transfered it to the fridge.

It wasn’t until much, much later that I realized my epic mistake: I’d added a whole can of evaporated milk, instead of one cup.

“That doesn’t look quite right” I said to my sister-in-law when she stuck a candle in the middle of the pie and it almost fell over.

“Something’s wrong.” I said as she carried it over to the table.

“I don’t think it set up correctly.” I said, my heart going a million miles a minute.

Abort! Abort! I thought. Please don’t let this fluke pie be the thing that represents my baking skills!

Did I mention that Bjorn’s family is polite? So polite in fact, that they cut that pie like it was the most natural thing to have pumpkin filling the consistency of pudding. So polite that each person commented on how tasty it was. Even my niece who doesn’t like pumpkin pie ate some and gushed about its tastiness.

Meanwhile, I wanted to rip the pie out of everyone’s hands and throw it down the garbage disposal in disgust. But there was no other dessert. Nothing else to serve. Just my disastrous pumpkin mistake.

I wasn’t too surprised when the next family food assignment I received was for a green salad.

And you know what?

I was OK with that.

How to be Awesome - A New Series

How to be Awesome? Write like Cjane.

Nutmeg, just moments after she was born, in my bedroom. Don't you just love her "hospital bracelet?" I had a matching one.

I have had 3 babies, 3 labors, 2 homebirths. I don't really like to share my birth stories online because to me they are just too personal and spiritual. That is the thing about a natural delivery it is the difference between driving to the top and hiking to the top. There is a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction that prepares you for the spiritual moments.

This birth story is the best I have ever read, and I have read a LOT of powerful birth stories. It takes skill to write a birth story like this. It is written in installments so scroll down to the last post and read up.

In my quest to be awesome I would like to be able to write as well as Cjane.

And while I am at it, I will add:

How to be awesome? Have a homebirth. It's like hiking to the top, totally worth it.