Sea Salt Makes Everything Better

JoJo has a stopwatch hanging around his neck, drooping down towards his pants, giving his appearance a slightly yucky look, but it isn't what it looks like. His SAE project required eight hours of participation and he sure wasn't going to do a minute past anything.

Special thanks to Suzanne who sent me to one link that evolved into me spending the entire rest of the evening, lost in the farming worlds of others. This 40 Farmers under 40 was exhilarating.

I'd spent a beautiful Sunday afternoon, outside working with Lily, Chuy and JoJo, finishing up their SAE Projects, but getting a ton done on my own. So much rain has fallen, here some three months later than I would've liked, standing water on the stone paths, I'd pull weeds and hear the slurpy liquid sound of mud loosening its grip on the plant roots.

My pepper plants acting as if they need to produce for millions, yes guys I'm suitably impressed. Somehow Grandpa and I, with the help of Grandma and Martin, plus others, managed to disembowel every mower we own, leaving me looking at acres of grass in disbelief. Oh brother, we shouldn't own anything with a motor, see what we do to it.

My roses must think it's spring, blooming like they're wont to do, from here until December quite often. I dug in coffee grinds and compost, shook seed heads of wildflowers around for next year, figuring the four o'clocks would be flattered to be in that company, so domesticated have they become over the years. Finally seeing honeybees at work, I was reluctant to cut the flowering heads off the basil, but if I don't do so, they'll quit producing. This is the kind of conflict I like, not fistfights and broken windows.

Uncomfortable with calm, Tony ratcheted up his disruptive behaviors, comfortable only with negativity and strife. Boy do you think that's the way to make friends? He finally irked even my most easy-going children, earning him a trip to his room alone, early before bedtime where he retaliated against me by kicking his bedroom door over and over. Such logic.

A friend of mine had pointed out Tony's armpit tendencies, always hanging close to me, I can hardly make a move without finding him burrowing there up against me. Yet he also pushes everyone, including me, away with his annoying antics. Developmentally delayed and emotionally immature, half the height of his peers, and trapped within by some limitations of Cerebral Palsy, he has a jumble of stuff to sort through in therapy, yet very little insight is ever available knocking about in his mind.

Hazel quietly turned two over the weekend, Sarah's so tired of the drama that ensues when we try to do anything positive, that she held celebrations to a minimum, including only Preston's side of the family. Occasions like these just give my still angry children a chance to lash out, to ruin it for everyone. BTDT, moving on...I'm a take them, Sarah, Ray and Hazel, out for breakfast this morning.

I'd already put my foot down about Thanksgiving, knowing there'd be High Drama Involved and they've taught me too many lessons about family holidays. Finally my parents are seeing it as well. The more I try to provide, the more the kids try and take down, me standing there aghast at the unnecessary battlefields. Gimme a break.

OK, behavior modification is working on me, not them. The end result is me retreating emotionally over and over, running to my gardens for logic and comfort, frustrated by my own lack of visible progress outside, too little time, so much to do...my mantra, ain't it?

I'm going to dump a couple dozen beautiful and colorful bell peppers on Grandma, Yolie and Sarah, overflowing with the bounty and my family alone can eat two dozen a day, fresh and sliced with sea salt. Sea salt makes everything better.

Sarah's made an Italian Creme Cake that is truly to die for. Oh my goodness, she must blog it soon. There's our new standard for birthday cakes. I practically licked the plate clean and I'm not even that much of a fan of cakes.