The first song I remember hearing on the radio was Elton John's "Yellow Brick Road."  It always sticks in my mind with a trip my family took to the Grand Canyon when I was about three.  This song still fills me with a wordless nostalgia, even though I don't like it much.

We moved to Missouri when I was seven, and lived right next door to my Mom's parents.  Grandma loved to sing, a kooky mix of Depression-era songs, Methodist hymns, and ditties of her own invention.  I didn't know "Big Rock Candy Mountain" was a real song until I watched "O Brother, Where Art Thou."  That movie has so many of her songs in it that it always brings a lump to my throat.

When I was ten or twelve years old, my family owned a red 66 Chevrolet Impala for a while.  Dad would have us all pile into it and go cruisin'.  We'd listen to the oldies station, to the Rolling Stones and those girl groups that had four girls in graduated sizes in matching shift dresses and bouffant hairstyles.   We'd roll the windows down and just drive.  Oh, the days of cheap gas.

Some of my favorite songs from that time?  Del Shannon's "Runaway," "House of the Rising Son," "Spirit in the Sky," "Paint It, Black," and probably anything by The Beatles and The Beach Boys.  By this point in my life, I'd had almost no exposure to the day's pop music, except for a neighbor kid before we moved to Missouri who listened to Michael Jackson's "Bad" all the time.

There were some brief encounters with country music, mostly in the form of a heavy Garth Brooks rotation in late Junior High.  There was also some Accapella (instrument-free Christian music).  I blame the crowds I was hanging out with.  Lets face for the moment that I was an innocent kid growing up in a very rural area.  I didn't know any better...It was probably about this time that whatever music my parents were enjoying seemed not so hip.

Then I went to High School, and found my true calling as a Band Geek.  Mr. Smith was a fun teacher and we Geeks loved him.  I dropped out of Ag and switched to playing drums in the Jazz Band as soon as I could, much to the chagrin of my grandparents.  They gave me a hard time about leaving a class that "would prepare me for the future" and wasting time with "the little old jazz band.''  Either they were resigned or impressed the first time they attended a performance, though, because they never complained about it after that.

When we played "Hey Jude" my freshman year, I experienced a thrill of recognition.  This was my music.  I started listening less and less to the pop station and more to the classic rock station.  There might have been a boyfriend who liked Aerosmith.  I fell in love with the oddness that is They Might Be Giants at this time.  I listened to Meat Loaf, Simon and Garfunkel, Pearl Jam, Metallica, Def Leppard, Led Zeppelin, always the Beatles, and Queen.  Mr. Smith showed us the music video to "Bohemian Rhapsody" once for a holiday treat.  I told you he was awesome.

I graduated, started college and was married within a few months.  Toby has always been the type to love the electronics, so we drove a crappy car with a loud stereo for a long time.  (Now that we have kids, I can only turn it up when I'm in the car alone, so almost never.)  We still listened to the classic rock stations, up until a few years ago.  I don't know if I was getting old and boring, or what, but suddenly the station seemed to play the same fifty songs on a constant loop.  Yes, I love "Stairway to Heaven, "   but I don't want to hear it every hour every time I turn on the radio.  Then, I also have to hear stuff I hate, like Springsteen.

Instead, I like to turn on Slacker or Pandora and see what happens.  I don't even know what's cool anymore, since every time I turn on the local pop station it's all rap.  If rap is cool, I am not.  Internet radio has brought me some new favorites like Muse and Ok Go.  It has renewed my interest in old favorites, too, like Weezer and Queen.

We have a friend we meet once a year at the festival in Muskogee.  He's twenty years older than Toby and I are, but he doesn't seem to be.  Late one night, we were all sitting around in a frozen yogurt shop and he started singing and dancing to a Lady Gaga song that was playing over the Muzak system.

That's when the light bulb went off for me:  It doesn't matter what age you are, you can enjoy new things.  I sort of had it in my head that I was too old to find any new music to love with the passion of a sixteen-year-old.

I still love most of the music that I've been loving for years.  But I'm looking for new things, too.  I have realized that as I look back, I have intense memories of what was going on in my life when I heard a certain song frequently.  I don't want to stagnate my songs, because then all the rest of my life will just be repeating previous ones.  It is hard for me to branch out into new things, but it is worth it.

This last year, I've been listening to Mumford and Sons...obsessively...like a sixteen-year-old.  It has been the soundtrack to Cora's first year, to the Dresden Files books we've listened to on audiobook, and to me being a grown-up that still likes new things.  I'm glad I took the risk and bought that album, and I'm looking forward to the next one, and to whatever I find to love after that.

"Mom always said if you married Toby you'd end up a baby machine."

It has been two or three years since one of my dearest high-school friends said this to me.  It still stings, for many different reasons.

Let me fill in some back story.  Not trying to brag here, buy my future was promising in high school.  I scored very well on the ACT and SAT.  I even won the National Merit Scholarship, which was a big deal at the time.  I'm talking I had my picture in the paper and everything. 

I planned a brilliant career in Engineering or Astronomy.  I was going to fulfill the dream of all rural kids:  I was going to GET OUT.  I would be a success, by leaving the land of my childhood far behind. 

Toby and I began dating at seventeen.  We decided to get married the summer before our Senior year.  I had not been looking for a life-long, life-changing relationship.  It started out that I liked him and he liked me, and then things snowballed.  It wasn't complicated, but at the same time it was VERY complicated.  What was going to happen when I went away to school?  Was he going to go on a mission? 

If you have read my blog very many times, you have probably realized that I am the type to over-think every situation.  I worry endlessly about making decisions and whether or not I'm choosing the best thing.  It was never like that when deciding if I was going to marry Toby.  I felt sure about that, more sure than I have about most everything since. 

I have regretted so many decisions I've made.  But not these seven.  Not the ones that brought Toby and each of our children into my life to stay.  It hurts sometimes to think of the people who are disappointed in how my life has gone.  I know it is very different from what I envisioned for my future. 

It's easier for me because I know what I got in return.  I have lots of interesting things going on at all times.  I get to laugh at invented grammar in kids who aren't old enough to speak as conventionally as the rest of us.  (Examples:  Loch says "we's" for "ours" and Ivy conjugated "freaked me out" into the past tense, "frucked me out.") 

It's not just the funny stuff, either.  I have had a baby to snuggle for the past twelve years on a near-constant basis.  How many people get that?  It's almost enough to make me take it for granted.  I certainly have.  I have six kids who are not perfect, but I think they will make the world a better place than it would be without them.  I am proud of them.  Dang proud.

Sure, there are downsides to having a lot of kids.  I would love "sleep through the whole night" as my default setting.   I would love to have a conversation with my husband without scheduling it on the calendar.  Couch that doesn't smell like urine?  Count me in.  Drive a car instead of a gas-guzzling people-mover?  Oh, heck yes.

It should not matter to me what others think.  It is my life.  Women have the right to choose school and work as their path, but act like the decision to have kids is only for the ignorant and unambitious.  Heaven forbid a woman might actually choose to have more than two.  Obviously, we had six kids because I married a Mormon, not because I think my kids are so awesome the world needs more of them.

When my friend dropped that conversational atomic bomb on me, I didn't know how to react.  I don't remember what I said in reply.  I wish I had said something breezily inappropriate and sarcastic, but I probably blushed and looked at my feet instead.  I wish I had said instead:  "When I married Toby, my ovaries high-fived the universe."

Only one of us is teething, but neither of us can sleep.  YAWN.

I'm still sloowly accomplishing things around here.  I posted last night, but the internet ate it somehow. 

Yesterday, I managed to get henna applied to my hair and Maggie's hair.  No pics yet, but if you want to see my hair before, you can look at the jam-making post again.  I had Laural bleach the back underside and the underside of my bangs.  I did like the platinum blonde, but it was a bit too contrasty with the rest of my hair.  I had contemplated letting the henna color grow out, but then when it does, I remember just how mousy blond-brown it is.  Auburn with orange highlights is more my style.

I had a few minutes to myself while Liv prepared supper.  She insisted that she could make spaghetti without help.  I was in the middle of cutting and sewing some cloth napkins when she came in and asked if it was all right to put in the tomatoes before the sausage.  Oh, I hoped that didn't mean what I thought it did. 

"Did you already put the noodles in, and the sausage is raw?"  I asked.

Yes, that is what happened.  How were we supposed to cook the raw sausage and not mush-ify the noodles at the same time?  I told her to spread it all in a baking dish, cover with cheese, and bake it for a long time.  Supper was an hour later, and it was good, and I don't think we'll get worms.  Hooray!

Also, napkins.  I hate using paper towels, since we'd go through ten rolls a week if we used them for napkins.  We could tear them in half, like my grandpa always did, which is a running family joke.  We could use our dish-cloths, but they are ugly and usually mostly need washed at all times anyway.  I especially love to see my offspring using their shirts as a napkin.  Mostly Ivy, but I've seen them all do it to some degree. 

I used this tutorial, the one with un-mitered corners.  Mitered corners are pretty, but square corners are faster for the win.  Thanks to the raw-meat spaghetti, I had enough time to make six napkins:
Notice that I chose dark, busy fabrics.  That's so they won't look gross as quickly as white cloth napkins.  We're realistic around here.

 This hasn't been the project of one day, but rather many days of smaller projects.  We picked the peaches about five miles from our house, so yay for local food!  Then we brought them home and got so busy they sat and festered in the dining room because we didn't have room in the fridge for all of them. Finally, I decided they were all going to go bad unless we did something, and SOON.  So, I did all the sturdy survivor-type peaches up into freezer jam, which is awesome because the fruit doesn't get cooked too much, so it's more fresh tasting.
 I worked in a few small batches while other things were going on...one batch was actually made at Mom and Dad's house while we also made supper.  The next two batches I made while Toby made breakfast or lunch.  It turns out, I can make a batch of peach freezer jam in about the time it takes to prepare a meal.  I didn't count exactly, but it seems like I made about sixteen pints, plus two almost-quarts.  We also had some leftovers that were eaten immediately.  Oh, and I gave some away, to Laural, Mom and Dad, and Jerry and Mary. 
 Also, cute pictures of Cora!  And me, with mascara smudges!
Today is a LOOOONG workday, as in, we just bought pizza to keep the kids happy and so we don't have to spend time cooking tonight.  We'll probably work a few more hours before bedtime.  My plan for "changing something that will last" for today?  I will install three switchplate/outlet covers over open electrical fixtures in the bathroom and kitchen.  See?  I'm still going.

We can always tell if Cora bit the watermelon.  She has a distinctive bite profile:  two giant teeth on top and two tiny teeth below. I will be a bit sad when this girl's grin becomes more populated. 
She has the most mischievous, nose-wrinkling smile.  I love how her ears flip out at the top.  Her eyes are huge and round, and sometimes I think she is cute because she's a wee bit goofy-looking.  In a wonderful and endearing way, of course.

...You're me.  

I am up way too late.

We had a nice visit with BAWb and Amanda tonight and I didn't get much done besides that and work today.  I'm still checking in, but that's about it.

Good night.

I'm still here and still writing most everyday.  We did a lot of housekeeping yesterday since Josh and Tami came to visit us and watch a Mystery Science Theater episode with us.  PUMAMAN!  It sure was nice to have Liv back from Girls' Camp.  For my project yesterday, I put dirt-catching mats down outside both doors, to keep dirt from coming into the house.  See, Rebecca, I listened!

Today, I am taking a day off.  If I feel like overachieving, I might just change the sheets on my bed because some kid keeps eating toast in here secretly.  MMMMMMmmmm.  Crumby.

 This is what the north wall of my kitchen looked like before:
 What, you wash the dishes and clean the sink before starting a remodeling project?
The little girls spent an hour finding old clothes they could wear while painting.
 Masonite board in place, pre-painted and needing touched up.  Sink still filthy.  Notice Hollis helping Cora drink from a shamefully large styrofoam cup.
 The kids took turns painting the bare, un-taped sheet rock in this corner with a crappy  little foam brush.  It looked terrible while wet, but surprisingly fine when dry.  I know you're not supposed to just paint it, but it looks a mile better than it did, and I doubt it will ever be finished the right way, so why not make it look pretty anyway?
 Uh, I forgot to take a picture of it all cleaned up, because it hasn't happened yet.  Here's a picture of the boys instead.

and not getting much of anywhere?

I'd like to write a long, well-reasoned blog post about why I don't ever seem to get anything done besides the minimum.  Problem is, over-analyzing the situation has got me nowhere, just more frustrated, and more than a bit irritated at others.  So I'm not taking that road today.

Here's the deal:

Each day, I will do at least one thing that will still be there tomorrow. 
It must not be cooking, cleaning dishes, washing laundry, sweeping the floor and the like.  While those things are all well and good, they are fleeting and I'll just have to do them again tomorrow, anyway.

It can take two hours or it can take five minutes, depending on what I've got to give.

I have to write it here on the blog, so I can remember and see what I've been up to.  Pictures optional, but appreciated.

Now I am off to put a masonite backsplash in the kitchen.  It's cheap and won't last forever, but this house's days are numbered anyway.

We took the kids to the library on Saturday.  I warmed my nerdy little heart to see how excited they all were to pick out some books.  Hollis wanted some of the Percy Jackson books, Maggie wanted some of the Little House books, Ivy chose two picture books about chickens, and Loch picked books about trains.  Olivia, having her own card, selected five or six young adult books.  I was also like a kid in a candy store, and instead of the two or three books I planned on searching for, I ended up with a pile of my own.

I have been going to the Neosho library since my family moved here when I was seven.  It used to be in an old church building a few blocks from where it is now.  There were always lots of beautiful rose bushes planted out front and all along the side facing the parking lot.  We'd always go in the side door, to the ground-level basement under the ex-sanctuary.  That's where the childrens' section was located.

I spent many, many a happy hour digging through the racks.  I remember the day I discovered that L. M. Montgomery had written more books about Anne.  Oh, happy day!  It was like having my best friend move in next door.  Ironically, as a child, I wasn't as interested in Anne after she married Gilbert and had children, but now those are some of my favorite books in the series.

I must have read Laura Ingalls Wilder's books a hundred times.  Ma and Pa and Laura, Mary, Grace and Carrie were as real to me as my own family.  I loved My Side of the Mountain and The True Adventures of Charlotte Doyle and Charlotte's Web and The Boxcar Children.  I would read anything I could get my hands on. I read books about paper airplanes, the Black Stallion series, Ferdinand the bull, how to make toys out of cardboard boxes, and...you get the picture.

After choosing the books I wanted, we'd take the windy little stairs up to the adult library section, where the checkout desk was located.  Being a former church, it was a big long room that had pendant lights and tall frosted windows.  There were lots of tall racks and dark oak tables and chairs.  Plus, libraries always have those neat round stepstool things, which we were not allowed to play with, even though they looked fun.

I always checked out ten books, the limit on my childrens' library card.  I'd lug the pile out to the car, and then make myself carsick all the way home, schizophrenically trying to read all the books at one time.  It was not unusual for me to work my way through several of the books at once, instead of reading them one at a time.  I'm a binge-reader.  I was always ready and eager to go back to the library and get more books at the end of three weeks.

I now realize how grateful I am to my mom for taking us to the library so often.  Thanks, Mom!

Toby and I have kicked around the idea of having some livestock, but we always get bogged down by business.  If we have to travel to a show, who will care for them?  Our family has been caring for a large half-Siamese, half-fluffy cat for several years, and we've managed him okay.  Maybe, just maybe...later when we're not so busy.

Our family has made several steps toward growing and making more of our food, and procuring it locally whenever possible.  We sound like such yuppies.  What I mean is that I'd rather give my food money to the guy who produced something by the sweat of his brow than to the Walmart corporation, who make money by being Nazis to their employees.

Even better, of course, is to make our own food by the sweat of our brows.  Progress made:  we recently acquired chickens, 25 or 26 of them (they don't hold still, and many look alike).  Now we're discussing finding a dog to protect the chickens.  I've realized that I don't actually dislike dogs, as I previously thought.  I just don't like misbehaved ones.

The thing is, I want a dog that will (non aggressively) scare people who don't belong here, protect kids and chickens, and be laid-back and calm.  Toby's sister has a Great Pyrenees who is a really nice dog.  The larger animal guardian dogs tend to be naturally protective of livestock and gentle with kids.  I hope that we don't manage to find the only one with the temperament of a chihuahua.

You heard me.  Well, you read me, anyway.

I'm trying hard to keep up the habit of writing, so that it becomes one.  I'm trying fuzzily to think of something...

Toby and the kids and I went to the library yesterday, and I checked out way more books than I planned, as usual.  I have two or three fiction and about six nonfiction.  Cookbooks count as nonfiction, even though I read them like novels.

We worked yesterday on blowing insulation in the attic of the house, so that maybe some of the cold air we're paying to make will stay in the house.  Cellulose insulation is messy and gritty and itchy to install.  Toby climbed up into the attic with the end of the hose, and I opened the bags and fed them into the blower machine.  It only took a couple of hours, and we woke up early to get it done before the day really heated up.   I kept worrying that Toby would pass out up there, I wouldn't realize, and just keep stuffing the machine with more insulation, smothering him.

The playhouse for the kids is nearly done.  Today we hung an old canvas drop cloth over where the roof will be.  It might have walls later, but for now, it's open for any breeze that might happen through. We put an old orange chair in it, and the kids brought out a little table.  They played out there for about an hour, even though it was sweltering.

Next week will be busy.  We've got Girls' Camp, Josh and Tami visiting, 4th July, lots of orders to make and ship, and a birthday barbecue for Toby's brother.  I should sleep.