Teller 2

Justin works part time as a bank teller at our one and only local bank. Like most working environments it has it's dry days along with it's more eventful ones. As a stay at home mom, and having missed out on this fortune/misfortune for most of my adult life, I ask the same thing of him that I ask of Bert. I ask him to regale me with a weekly experience that will entertain me vicariously. Call it my own private episode of "The Office."

He never disappoints.

One time it was about the lady that comes in weekly dressed as the Queen of England. She has him kiss her bejeweled hand before he patiently waits on her as she withdraws or deposits her 'gold'.
Another time it was about the man that came in and handed Justin his personal manifesto. He then required Justin to come out from behind the desk, stand in the middle of the foyer, and loudly read it to everybody in the bank. It stated:

YEAR OF 2010

To our city fathers:
We must tell old uncle Pop-a-Pill and Grandpa Cannabis that none of their friends can come to our town. Also, Those that are here must leave by tomorrow night and not come back again.
If all is gone from personal property, business locations, streets and alleys, every household, truck or car, and storage structures then the town of ________ will be the most desired place to be in the U.S.A. A place where people are in bed by 11:00 pm and get up around 6 to 7 am in pursuit of productive days in their lives, living without chemical dependency. Good character and goodwill must prevail in ________, Ok.

G. Gibson
But I'm pretty sure my favorite was last week:

Monday Justin came home and told me that at the end of the day his drawer was off $___ amount.
Tuesday they found the miscalculation.
Wednesday was a normal day. Everything matched up.
Thursday he came home and wailed, "My drawer was off again!"
Friday when he discouragingly walked into work, his boss and the rest of the branch were laughing. They had photo i.d. that not only uncovered the exact date and time of both flubbed transactions; it also uncovered that both miscalculations mysteriously happened with the same customer....

Blocking out the eyes protects me from any lawsuit, right?

This weeks pictures in review...

...because I'm behind.
And just not feeling it tonight.

Bert's 'broken' hearts for Valentine's Day.

Aunt Jane loves us.
(She's the best!)

Record amount of snowfall for Southeastern Oklahoma.
I do not get how it can be so warm out during a snowstorm.
I also have never seen flakes as big as feathers before.

Grinding wheat... and worms, after playing in the snow.

Our new pond resident. He is ugly as sin.

Jesse finished and sold a painting. We miss it.

The overflowing pond after the snow melt.

And in case your stomach has a tendency towards queasiness,
you can skip the last two.

Goodnight.

Company

I come within a hair's breadth of breaking down at the thought of company.

Company scares me. In complete earnestness,
it debilitatingly scares me. Shuts down my brain to all reason.
I would rather sleep on a haunted Gettysburg battlefield to get my thrills.
Company coming means somebody might uncover the other us.
The (Cough *Boring/Average/Reclussive* Cough...) us that we're all privately,
perfectly content with;
but that I tend to conveniently brush over
in the public email/blog/Christmas card us.
(What? I flatter myself? My brush strokes aren't broad enough, nor the paint
thick enough? Pshaw. You do go on.)

Fortunately every time, and just in the nick of time,
Bert snaps me out of the thumb sucking, fetal position with this pep talk;
"Geez Rachel, they're not coming to see you put on a show.
You're not that good of an actor.
They're coming because they love us.
Nobody takes time out of their own busy schedules to visit unless
they love you."

That hope- along with the thought of missing out on something-
or not seeing some of my favorite people in life-
or missing the opportunity of getting spring cleaning out of the kids,
is just enough
to resuscitate me.

And afterwards. I'm always so, so grateful.
What a blessing company is!
There's nothing better in the world than to be reminded that you're loved.
Especially when you seem to easily forget that.
Nothing.
And I fervently hope that our company knows we love them too.

Abe and Grace, thank you. From the bottom of our hearts,
thank you. We are so excited for you both. Abe, your West Point picture goes on
our hero wall as soon as you are deployed. Would you prefer to be between Winston Churchill and Ulysses Grant, or are you more of a John Brown and Stonewall Jackson type guy? All of them kicked butt... so I'm thinking either would be appropriate.

Morgan, Jesse tries to claim you just for herself,

but it doesn't quite work that way...
You've been in the family too long for that.

Any more company ready to come this month,
while I'm still in the right frame of mind??
Please?
We need you.


Because without you, trash and dish 'Jenga' might go on indefinitely...
And even the most competitive gamers- like ourselves,
have a limit to such fun.

The Proposal

20 years ago this Sunday I asked you to marry me.
Thank you for saying yes
and giving me 20 years of happiness.
I Love You!
Love, Bert

I made it clear many years ago that flowers are totally wasted on me
(unless they come in little, chubby, grass-stained hands.)
Especially roses.
That Bert should never spend money on me for such a thing.
That the only expectation for receiving flowers I had, was immediately after giving birth.
And then, and only then, I would appreciate one rose for each child.
That was it. That was all I needed or required.
And for the most part, Bert's stuck to that deal.
So, how did he ever guess that a surprise like this, totally unexpected and out of the blue,
could make me soooo very happy?

He probably learned from his proposal...

I was nearly in tears that night, and didn't even notice his suit when he picked me up to go to the laundromat. When he called to postpone the arranged pick up time, (for the fifth time) I was sure the worst had finally happened; he was tired of me, I had too much baggage, and I was too young. As he'd been aloof, distracted, grumpy, and withdrawn all day, I was sure that I was to be gently let off the hook that evening. Besides, who proposes during their weekly laundry date? Apparently Bert. In his mind, wearing a suit and taking me out for ice cream, in the middle of the spin cycle, counteracted the unromantic-ness of washing our socks.
Let's not be too harsh on him though, for while there are many neat, exciting proposals going on out there, you must admit there's not much surprise in them. Just between you and me, if you're on one of those perfectly orchestrated dates, the "will you marry me?" line just isn't going to shock you much, is it? Surely you've got to be looking for it around every corner.
Therefore, as unromantic as it may have seemed on initial inspection, The "Really?",
"Who, Me??", 'Throw my arms around your neck and kiss you in shock' response, was 100% the genuine article. And that's got to count for something.
Agreed?
Please agree, because it's taken me twenty years to come up
with a reasonable excuse for the poor man.
And he deserves it. He's provided 20 of the greatest years
I ever hoped for.
Love you too, Bert.

The Emergency Broadcast System pauses regular posting...

We will be taking a brief hiatus from posting any further pictures of Hy. Probably about three and a half weeks. If he ever had any ambition to join a motorcycle gang... -the dream is dead. Although we appreciate and love him even more since his recent mishap, it still can not deny the U.G.L.Y truth about his new haircut; Hydn was never meant to be a skinhead.

HOLES

Calder got fish for Christmas. Or at least he got the items needed for fish. Then, when the tank was finally ready to his satisfaction, he and I headed out to pick the lucky ones that would call it home. We don't have the greatest track record with pets, so we decided to start with just two; checking out his 'fish pet skills' before he did an accidental mass slaying. As we pulled out of the drive, we saw Pal heading to the pasture with the post hole digger; he solemnly waved. When we came back- no Pal, but in his place were two holes about two feet deep, side by side.

One day passes-
Two days-
Three-
and finally four, before one of the fish gets something called 'ick'. Sunday I went to wake Calder for church and found him curled on his futon, staring at the sunrise out his window, and stroking a dead fish in his hand. "Ohhhh..., I'm so sorry Calder. Better go dig a hole for him before church." Pal, smiling from ear to ear, sits straight up on the top bunk, and says, "HEY! Don't worry Calder, I already had it planned for you!"

Although we haven't had to use the second hole yet, we are all walking on egg shells. Hydn at times, has been seen with a suspicious sleeve, wet to his shoulder. And, as his current pastime is to growl his terrible growl and roar his terrible roar -while walking around trying to feed his plastic, finger puppet dinosaur, we have sufficient reason to be edgy. I've been playing the 'Jurassic Park' soundtrack recently, hoping to give that little fish significant warning...

He's the Man...

(That would be Bert; for those of you scratching your head and not quite as in love as I am.)

Last night after watching Jack Bauer save the world, we noticed a suspicious sound. Silence. A sure sign of trouble if you're supposed to be watching a toddler. Cache found Hy in the boy's room with a little sack of pills (I had packed them a little first aid kit when they went to Europe and Justin still had his in a backpack.) Hydn held them up to Cache, with pink dust suspiciously caked around his lips, and said, "Mmmmm..."
P.A.N.I.C.
That little bag had started out with a varied assortment more valuable than 'Dragon's whiskers and Dragon's toes' were to Dr. Terminus. It had something to cure everything; from warts and migraine, to diarrhea and bee stings. But when Hy proudly held it up there were only five, of about twenty, left...
My mind was in circles:
What was in there?
How many has he taken?
How long has it been?
Ambulance, poison control, or emergency room?
The emergency room is forever away!!
Uh.... what's poison control's number again? 911?? Where are those darn 'ick' stickers when you need them!
What, no ipecac?? Oh yeah, I threw that out when Pal turned six and forgot about the 'new' kid. Like I ever had to use it before anyway...
Should I just kill Justin now, or let him die of guilt later?
How long will it take for Justin to turn the tables, and say I should have been watching him in the first place??
Two years of raising him, for this?!
How much will the emergency room cost...?
Shame on you for thinking such a thing at a time like this!
Etc, etc, etc...

Luckily one of us had a head.
Bert didn't berate. Bert didn't blame. Bert calmly got in the car and zoomed to the gas station three miles away to get some 'stuff' in record breaking time. (I won't say names of items he used, as I would like him to keep his license. It comes in handy for income.) He gave us instructions when he left, to get him to throw up. When most of our fingers were permanently scarred, or in some cases left hanging by a thread, we found objects, less in objection, to stick down his throat. It only took two of us to hold him, one to open his mouth, and one to gag. Large families come in handy at the oddest of moments...
Then Bert was back, and quicker than split (although not quick enough for this poor mama's heart), he had that stomach completely emptied (without a tube down the throat), had refilled it with a substance that would absorb toxins - much to Hydn's everlasting disgust and my complete fascination, and had given him a priesthood blessing.
My hero.
He may not be able to figure out how to fix the car or the lawnmower. He may break my pipe when he's trying to 'fix' it. He may never build that tree house he's promised,

but when it comes to saving my world...

He's the man...