Another Tate in Cyberspace

Check out Grace's blogspot, http://www.gracesusannah.blogspot.com/

Soccer!

Kids on the sidelines . . .

Praying before the game!

Caleb taking a much needed rest.

Elisabeth is in the middle.

Grace is out there . . . somewhere.

Thier next album cover . . .

Grace, ready to go!

This is Hard.

I brought Obie to preschool today and as soon as he saw his locker he broke down in tears. I comforted him while I took him through the routine of putting his backpack away, visiting the bathroom, and washing his hands. Once these things were done he had pulled himself together but he made it clear that it was not in his plan to let me leave him there. I found myself there a half hour later, after all the other parents went home, with Obie still on my lap. Eventually, at a point when the speech therapist had his attention, I snuck out of the room. When I went back two hours later, I found him outside with his class and he was wearing a huge smile because he was the Line Leader. Afterwards, when we were home and I was telling Joel the events of the morning, I began to cry. I cried a lot. I know why we are doing this. I know he is benefiting from it (we really have seen progress with his verbal skills) but it's hard. It's hard having a kid who wants to speak but can't. It's hard dropping off a child at school and then picking him up and not having that child be able to tell you what they did. It's hard dropping Obie off and watching him break down in tears and not being able to tell me why he is crying. This is hard.

The God of My Lawn Mower

Twice in recent months we have faced the prospect of a mechanical breakdown.
Earlier this summer while returning from Benson our van began to overheat in the middle of long swamp road. It was late and we simply did not have the option of pulling over and walking to a gas station. By the time we got home we were suspicious that the engine was ruined. The mechanic gave us little hope, voicing his strong suspicion that the head gasket was blown.
But he changed the thermostat and filled the system back up and much to his surprise and our delight seems to have fixed the thing. It has been running without a hitch ever since.
And more recently our lawn mower mysteriously ran out of oil and it seized up on me. I did what I could, replacing the oil and removing the spark plug, but I couldn't get the cord to pull out more than a few inches: it was that messed up.
All the knowledgable people in my life shook their heads ruefully and advised me to take the thing to the dump and forget about it. But two days ago I paused while walking past the derelict machine and spent a few minutes working on pulling that cord. I figured it was good exercise, if nothing else.
I was surprised and delighted when it started up after all. Yesterday, when I went to use it to mow the lawn, it started up easily on the first pull.
I hardly know what to make of it. My instinct is to attribute the recovery of my machines to the operation of providence. But the biggest reason that's hard for me is not because I doubt God's ability to heal a seized up motor. It's hard for me to believe that he would bother to.
I need to get over that.

The Vermont State Fair: 4H Club

We (Joel & I) reluctantly agreed to bring in some of our birds to the fair today for a 4H display. The girls were excited, we were not, however, we did it and are now glad that we did. We had a blast! We had to borrow our neighbor's truck and strap the bird cages in the back. We were able to fit our entire family into the cab of the truck and we took off, listening to bluegrass music on the way. The girls did a great job, presenting their birds and answering questions and they all came home with ribbons. We will definitely do this again next year.

Harvest Time

This is the time of year when during meals we can't help noting the source of all the ingredients. I'm sure more accomplished homesteaders eat their produce in a more blase manner. But I still get giddy.
Yesterday we found our first duck eggs (I was hoping I had another couple of weeks to work on the nesting box) and ate them for breakfast. We had beets and potatoes out of the garden with lunch and blanched and froze a bunch of swiss chard and broccoli.
But it was Obadiah who demonstrated the most radical commitment to being a localvore. A couple of days ago he took it upon himself to harvest a bunch of Hungarian wax peppers out of the garden. He was soundly disciplined for this presumptuous activity, but we had to admit that they made a beautiful centerpiece until we were ready to pick the rest and make hot pepper jelly.
Then last night he got hungry and decided to try one out. The funny thing is that he took two bights. That apparently is how long the delay was between the exposure to the heat and his mental apprehension of it.
We'd like to say that what does not kill Obadiah makes him stronger, but mostly we just find that what does not kill Obadiah only gives him the runs the next day.

Cult of Personality

I can't believe what I hear today about the President's address to the nation's school children. At first I thought that the matter was overblown and benign. But the more I have looked into it the more distressed I am. This is sinister stuff.
I get the horrible feeling that this morning in the White House there is a task force meeting to discuss what they will call the re-education camps. "How about Mental Therapy Clinics?" some young hot shot is asking?
If my children were in public school they would not be going to school on the 8th. They would somehow have to get by without the wise, paternalistic expressions of concern from Chairman Obama. They would not be writing themselves letters about what they could do to help the President; letters for the teacher to collect and hand back to them later in the year so that they can be accountable to their commitments.
As it is, I'm going to go to Barstow that afternoon to clean my rooms and everything, but I'm thinking about doing it in a countercultural way. I want a t-shirt with a big smiley face on the front. The grin on the smiley face is loopy and the head is bandaged. On the back of the t-shirt are the words "Since my l-Obama-tomy I feel so much better!"
I wonder if they'll let me wear my t-shirt on the bus to the Mental Therapy Clinic.

And now the countdown starts. We'll see how long before my wiser-than-I-am wife makes me remove this post.