First Things

Here it is, the blog that I promised my family and friends. I don't want anyone to feel that we are less connected simply because there is some distance between us (and I don't get cell phone reception. And internet is come and go. And we're Amish now.)

Mom was wondering how my trip up went. Well, mother, I made it about a half a block before I realized that this ride would be horrific. First of all, my flip flop had broken in mom's driveway right before I got ready to leave. Since Shawn and his dad had taken everything up north a few days before, these were my only shoes. I now had one. Frodo, our Conure, was put in his cage in the back, where he instantly started screaming. For those of you who do not know, Conures are very loud when they want to be, and Frodo was sure to let me know that he did not appreciate this indignity. The parakeets were as happy as little larks, and sang a constant stream of warbling. It was cute for an hour; too bad the trip was seven hours. The cats were petrified with fear, and yowled incessantly. I had a three hour drive to Welcome, MN, where I would be picking up yet another animal, our Rottweiler, Emma. Emma is only 18 months, and I wondered what in God's great army what I was thinking by taking all of the animals up to Randall at once. I remained optomistic, thinking that my zoo would all settle into the ride and quiet down. They did not. The original plan was to have Emma be in the back of mom's van with Frodo and his big cage, but the cats were driving me so insane that I had to stop along the way and put them in the back. Therefore, when I picked Emma up, she sat in the front passenger seat. It was a bit too small for her, but I couldn't imagine having the cats yowling in my ear for an additional four hours. She was a sport, and curled up with her nose in her own butt and layed silent. From then on, the trip went relatively smooth. I had covered the birds' cages and all was quiet, except for the muffled mewling in the rear. At one point, Noya came climbing over the seats to get to me; I was afraid that Emma was going to try to attack her and upset the fifty plants I had stuffed into mom's van. While trying to drive, I held Emma's collar and beat the cat back with a map until she disappeared back down into cat hell for a while.

Finally, after a long 7 hours, I was in Randall. Right now we are living in Shawn's grandparent's house while we work on the house we just bought. It's very awkward, because we know that we will only be here temporarily, although how long is uncertain. What should we unpack? What do we really need for right now? Furthermore, a lot of Shawn's mom's stuff is here. Was that our peanut butter, or was I making lunch out of Mary's? I have yet to come up with a system that works. Another thing to get used to is the quirks of a different house. You know how some places make certain noises, or you have to shut the door just so for it to work? Well, this place has magnificent water pressure in the shower. I dragged myself in, hardley still alive, and turned the shower on. I screamed and scrambled to find my nipples, sure that they had been sluiced off and were about to go down the drain. Once you get used to it (and keep your back turned), the shower feels pretty good. There is certainly no worries that you won't get all of the shampoo rinsed out of your hair, for it is bulletted from your skull the moment you put your head under the water. I have asked Shawn how tall his grandparents were; the shower head is about four inches shorter than I am, which presents a problem of strength and flexibility when one must rinse off backwards or risk never breast feeding again. I didn't know Shawn had Pygmie in his bloodlines.

Shawn's friend, Joe Denman, is stationed up here at Camp Ripley, so he often times comes over for dinner and company. He is a very sweet, very polite man, and Olivia is in love with him. Poor Joe listens to all of Olivia's never-ending stories, and nods and smiles appropriately. She tells him about her birds, her beanies, her sister, her daddy, her dog's saggy teats, her teeth, and her best jokes. When I say something about Shawn's excellent grilling skills and our dinner, Olivia says "thanks, Joe." When we look at her strangely, she blushes and says, "Oh! I thought you said Joe grilled our dinner." She gives a coy smile to Joe and continues eating. Come to think of it, Joe has been awfully "busy" lately. Shawn assures me that Joe just has guard duty and will be back, but I'm not so sure.

The last thing that I will write about is my surprise at the wildlife up here. I was walking with Genevieve the other day when I noticed a deer fly trying to land on her. Now back home, the only time we had problems with deer flies was when we were riding horses. Here, they will carry off your young if you don't react quickly enough. I was certain I was going to be reported for child abuse, because all the way home I was slapping her on her back and her head. Maybe that one lady that I saw yelling "goddamit, stop!" and smacking her kids around wasn't really that trashy? Perhaps I had judged her too quickly, I don't know. Also, last night we made s'mores over the grill after dinner, and it was perfect- the air was still and cool, the butterflies were circling about, and we were all having a total "Leave it to Beaver" moment. Then, about 30 yards away from us, a turkey vulture attacked and killed a Robin in front of us. The girls were stricken with terror and anguish, and we went scurried inside before the vulture could turn his beady eyes on the girls and decide that they would be better prey.

It hasn't quite been a week up here for me yet, but it has certainly been an experience. I will keep you all posted on the daily happenings, and let you know when I have a cell phone network that actually works up here.

Love,

Katie