Everyday stories

Letter 27 {Heated}

July 23, 2017 by Rachel

Dear Candace,

The demise of our air-conditioning unit was conveniently timed with hottest week of the summer. There was no fix to be had, no replacement parts to be switched out, there was only the hot, sweaty silence of a broken HVAC system.

The temperature inside the house quickly climbed to 87 degrees and then some, despite my best efforts to keep fans running and blinds closed. As long as there was air-movement, it didn’t bother me too much at first. That first night we slept as au naturel as possible in order to be as comfortable as possible, taking nice cold showers before bedtime and being so thankful for electricity. Only, we hadn’t seen the hottest days yet!

On the first day that temps climbed to 100 degrees*, Tom brought home a portable window unit to regulate the main floor. It helped keep the living room area cooler. Yet even with our fans continuously on, it began to feel oppressive inside the house. The next night he bought a bargain priced old-fashioned window unit and stuck it in our bedroom window, which helped tremendously. I began to see we were becoming collectors of small AC units and fans of every shape and size. Besides all the ceiling fans, we have 4 portable fans also running constantly. The whirring and droning noises sound like a small airplane is about to take off inside the house. If the children had a hard time hearing me before, it’s impossible to get them to listen now. “What? Huh? I can’t hear you mom. I had no idea you told me 49 times to pick up my socks/shoes/dishes/books/toys.”

I just checked on Drew-he’s fast asleep on the basement floor, snuggled on a sleeping bag with his head against a large floor fan. Literally his head is on the fan.

Did you see this post about the St. Louis heat wave of 1934? I have nothing to complain about.

I have many words about my current situation, but I’ve limited my FB updates to these:

When it is 87 degrees in your house because the AC unit chose the hottest part of the year to die a permanent death, do you want to bake in the oven or cook on the stovetop? No. Use the dryer, take a relaxing bath? No and heavens no. Eat ice-cream three meals a day and dream of plunging into icy glaciers? YES
#wewillsurvive #butourdeodorantwillbetested

It’s cooling off in STL! A temp drop of about 10 degrees leaves us with a comfy 95! #rejoicealways

Stay cool my dear,

Rachel

*104 the last two days!

Letter 26

Letter 28

Letter 26 {Blackberries + Nostalgia}

July 8, 2017 by Rachel

Dear Candace,

July is in full-swing and with it some familiar heat and humidity, but it’s still such a beautiful summer!

Blackberries. With July comes memories of blackberry picking as a child and all the scrumptious treats first my mom, and then my sister and myself, would prepare; namely: jam, cobblers, and best of all PIE. Blackberry pie is my jam. The butter to my bread. It’s only contender is peach pie with warm cinnamon sauce. But in July, there can be no other pie except the humble yet remarkable blackberry.

In the early nineties, before cell-phones and helicopter parenting, Mom would drop Mara and I off at a nearby conservation area. We were given a wagon, buckets, water, and instructions to be at the rendezvous point at a specific time. Then we were left alone, trudging through the wilderness, to a familiar patch of wild, thorn-encased blackberries sharing space with poison ivy.

It’s remarkable we didn’t meet our demise in those lonely woods, by wild animal or serial killer hiker. One hot July afternoon, Mara began to feel the twinges of heat exhaustion so I laid her out in the shade and kept right on picking. There are sacrifices to be made for blackberry pie, you know. I would often get poison ivy on my face from those outings, turning into an oozing, puffy spectacle known as Cauliflower Girl. The boys were mad about me in those days.*

We’ve been traveling deep in the Ozarks for Hosanna’s horsemanship lessons, to a little farm nestled by a creek and woods. It’s a lovely drive through rich green countryside, and I’m never exactly sure what the speed limit is, though farm trucks and motorcyclists pass me regularly on corkscrew roads. We drive by old white farmhouses, garden patches, fields of corn, and homemade signs that say things like WE HAVE WORMS.

During our recent visit to the horse farm, the owners graciously led us to their blackberry patch to pick the biggest, sweetest, juiciest berries I’ve ever seen! True story. Those blackberries were the epitome of everything a blackberry should be. Three times larger than my thumb, one berry filled your mouth with its juicy goodness. While Hosanna was working with the horses, Drew and I stained our fingers and mouths roaming through the bushes. In short order we picked enough berries for a pie, which became my one fixation. No matter how tired I was, or how many dishes and chores needed to be done, we must! have! pie! Back at home that evening, I quickly put together a homemade crust** and filled it high with the glossy berries. Pie for dessert, pie for breakfast the next morning; that’s how July is done! Until peaches are in season, I’m quite content in my current relationship with Missouri’s obsidian jewels.

Thinking now of blackberry wine,

~Rachel

*There were no boys. Mad or otherwise.

**I must be out of practice! It was not the best crust, being a bit chewy and rather a poor representation of the large amount of pies I’ve made in my lifetime. Such things keep me humble.

Letter 25

Letter 27

Letter 25 {Freaky Friday Arm}

July 2, 2017 by Rachel

Dear Candace,

I’ve been sleeping so much better lately so naturally it was time for a bout of insomnia.

The other night at 2am I woke abruptly, feeling odd. I quickly realized I couldn’t move my right arm! It was asleep, with that funny deadened sensation. This was not a usual occurrence. I moved positions, trying to stimulate my arm. It would not be stimulated. I sat up. My arm began to feel tingly, but still it would not go back to being my arm. I got out of bed and stood up, fully awake yet wondering if I was dreaming that my arm wouldn’t work. I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and left for the bathroom. There, I googled “why is my right arm dead” and received terrifying answers about my heart. I did little pumping motions and tried squeezing my hand into a fist, well aware that these were not my preferred hours for exercising. Eventually, the feeling returned but not before I was fully freaked out. Upon my return to bed, I had to be careful about how I placed my arm so as not to let it fall asleep again.

And then I lay there for one hour forty-five minutes.

Finally realizing that my reassurances every 10 minutes of “I’ll be falling asleep any minute now” weren’t working, I turned on the phone light and grabbed my book off the nightstand. {That’s how I finished Hatching Twitter so quickly.}

Other things I did to pass the time: go potty and while walking through the dark kitchen, think about how horrible it would be to see a silent figure standing in the corner. Walk faster to the bathroom with the echoes of true crime podcasts filling my sleep-deprived mind.

Eventually, I was afraid all my tossing and turning in bed would bother Tom, so I finished the night {er, morning} in the living room. I felt mad at Jack and sad for Ev (you’ll have to read the book).

After 6am I crawled back in bed, mercifully sleepy and hopeful I could get in a couple hours of rest before taking Drew to his morning swim lessons. That 9am alarm was not easy to wake up to! But I rallied and rushed out the door as one does when life must go on.

In other news, the deer ate the new growth off my new hosta plants and now I hate them. Not the plants, the deer. It’s war.

Still sleepy,

Rachel

Letter 24

Letter 26

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Letter 24 {Scotch Eggs & Life Contemplation}

June 25, 2017 by Rachel

Dear Candace,

The weekend is lazy, breezy and bright. June’s last parting gift, a reprieve from summer heat. I’m loving this Missouri spring and summer! One never can tell with Missouri.

Last weekend’s camping adventure was a delight. Specifically, camping in CABINS and not in tents or hammocks IN THE RAIN. I could get used to that kind of camping! Your breakfast of Scotch eggs was so delicious. The perfect marriage of breakfast food staples: eggs and sausage. I want them in my life more. Crispy spheres of perfection.

As I reflect on the past week, two things stand out. The importance of relationships, and the brevity of life. We hosted a few visits from family and friends at our home here in STL, and mis-mashed between those was a car accident.

The boys were driving with one of the aunts to a nearby park when their car was rear-ended. Tom and I were able to quickly arrive at the scene, even before police did, and found everyone shaken but unhurt. Drew was in the backseat. I have to stop myself from letting my mind consider all the “what ifs”…our time isn’t in our hands, and I can’t live in fear. The “what ifs” are in God’s hands. We know this, but when something like a car accident happens or cancer is diagnosed our focus becomes more narrow, more exact. Suddenly we see everything which had formerly been overlooked or not given its proper attention… the feel of warm summer, freckles on a child’s nose, being present in a moment, the full gift of life being lived.

The boys have been checked out and both received chiropractic treatments which were helpful. Then I started developing neck pain and tension with a side of massive headaches, because clearly I wanted it to be all about me. I have some thick muscle-relief salve which I applied on Thursday and am still trying to wash out of my hair. It’s very hard for me to be glamorous these days.

I am currently reading: Hatching Twitter: A True Story of Money, Power, Friendship, and Betrayal. I’m a fairly new Twitter user, tweeting in stops and starts, but always mesmerized when I scroll through my feed. That 140 character limit is BRILLIANT! It’s all so very succinct and clever. Foodie bloggers, spiritual leaders, politicians, comedians, authors, that one guy with the big family I met once who likes to #humblebrag, it’s all remarkably out there in the world, in 140 characters. It feels less cluttered than Facebook to me, which is probably why I gravitate to it more. The book delves into the people and stories behind the startup of what is now a world-wide phenomenon.

Yes, I did once tweet a message I meant to text Tom. Since I discovered this months after the fact, I could only be grateful no one really reads my tweets plus it was mundane and appropriate for all audiences. One must be very careful which platform one’s 140 characters land on.

#love

Rachel

Letter 23

Letter 25

Letter 23 {Flowers + Owlfred}

June 16, 2017 by Rachel

Dear Candace,

It’s a beautiful morning and I am pleased to report all the new flowers we’ve planted have so far survived. I didn’t realize until everything was in the ground that the color palette I chose is predominately purple! Purples and blues.

The garden owl statue you gave me for protection has been named Owlfred. He sits on the back deck and regally overlooks the yard.

The house smells rich and wonderful since I just finished baking cinnamon rolls. For our camping adventure this weekend. With you! It’s going to be fun having our families together. Let’s not get sunburns m’kay?

I finished The Foundling. Wow. So interesting! It’s hard to believe the stories in that book are true…yet they are. The truth really can be stranger than fiction.* Its been fun to read more. I’ve missed devouring books! These days I try to keep one with me wherever I go…

See you and the ticks and chiggers soon.

Love,

Rachel

* on my list of fave movies

Letter 22

Letter 24

Letter 22 {June Cheers}

June 9, 2017 by Rachel

Dear Candace,

This will be a shorty because I forgot to start writing to you until now and now is late. Now is past my bedtime. Now I am yawning and my feet are sore from being on them all day and my body is achy in a plum-wore-out way. I’m happy with all this, though, because it was a good day! I was able to pull off a surprise birthday party for Tom at the farm with the help of family. Seven of his eight siblings were here! Plus spouses and childrens…it was a full house. I arranged furniture out on the deck and added lights, candles, tables, music…as close to Hobbiton one can get in the Ozark woods. It was a delight to watch the children play and enjoy visiting with everyone on a beautiful June evening.

Reminder to self: treasure these remaining June evening-they only come once a year!

Also I am now a year older. Wuut!

June Bugs,

Rachel

P.S. Oh-I started reading the book you gave me. “The Foundling” is unlike any story I’ve heard and it’s quite remarkable. It’s true and sad and hopeful and all the things one wishes for in a June read.

Letter 21

Letter 23

Letter 21 {Firetrucks & Ancestors}

June 2, 2017 by Rachel

Dear Candace,

I just love sitting outside and being warm. I’d rather be warm or even hot and sticky over freezing cold any old day. If I moved up north I bet my life expectancy would shorten. I don’t think my ancestors were Vikings. I imagine they were pasty European fellows living out their life inside as weavers and then writers or clerks while their hardy neighbors left to explore new continents. It was hard for them, my ancestors who lived in cold regions. As the cold seeped into their bones, the more melancholy became their poetry. By degrees they moved south to gentler climates, as they had the strength. The wives were happier, the babies less spindly. They survived.

I’m sitting out on the front porch now, and was enjoying a warm evening blessed with the usual night sounds, all quiet and still {thinking fondly of my ancestors}, when my reveries were interrupted by the sound of a monstrous fire truck coming down the road. The sirens weren’t on, but the rumble of the truck and flashing lights surely woke up the whole neighborhood (including my children) as it backed carefully down our dead-end street in order to make an easy exit later. I could see no fire nor smell smoke. The fireflies alone illuminated the dark. {see what I did there} Apparently a neighbor had a small backyard fire which was called in. Tom and I could barely talk above the noise of the truck. I looked at it with envy. It probably has more square space than my house. And so well-organized and shiny clean.

I’m jealous of a fire truck.

The truck is gone now, the street back to it’s peaceful repose. I am soon to bed and early to rise. The children and I are leaving at 3:30 am to head to Indy in time for my brother’s graduation party! My St. Louis sisters are coming with, so we can all be bleary eyed and sharing coffee together.

I was going to write you stuff but then I forgot everything when that blasted red truck came down the road.

Caleb is off to camp this weekend, after the graduation, and packing a child for 9 days away without the ability to do laundry is no small feat. Being the procrastinators we are (argh), I made a mad trip to Kohl’s with Caleb and Tom took him to Wal-Mart. He’ll just have to make do. I’m sure he can fashion shorts out of foliage if necessary. He has a bottle to filter water, and there will be plenty of protein bugs. I’m sure he’ll survive one way or the other.

I just hope he listens to me and remembers to put on sunscreen. {Wonders: did we pack sunscreen?}

And all the hipsters say-#weekendvibes

~Rachel

Letter 20

Letter 22

Letter 20 {Turmeric Milk & Horse Sneezes}

May 26, 2017 by Rachel

Dear Candace,

How is this Letter 20? Where have the last 20 weeks gone? June is almost here!*

Most evenings I make creamy, golden turmeric milk for the family about an hour before bedtime. It’s perfect on chilly evenings, but even with the increasing heat and humidity everyone still likes it served up hot! We sip our warm, comforting drink as a way of winding down before lights out. I’ve been trying to work on our evening and bedtime routines, and Pinterest promises me that not only will the health benefits of turmeric give us long life and super-powers, but it will also naturally encourage deep and restful sleep. Bottoms up!

The children and I visited a farm yesterday, where Hosanna had her first natural horsemanship lesson. The horses were beautiful and friendly, running up to us like eager dogs when we first arrived and stood at the gate, watching them. While Hosanna spent time with the horses, the boys roamed a nearby creek. It was so sunny and relaxing; we all enjoyed being outdoors. At one point I was sneezed on by a curious horse companion, who spray-painted my shirt with green splatters.

Afterwards I cleaned up and went out to dinner with my sisters, barely keeping my eyes open while slurping down a huge bowl of ramen. The ramen craze has hit St. Louis and it is a good one-perfectly delicious comfort food. The sisters pointed out that I did, indeed, get a wee bit sunburned. I don’t know how-I was covered in stuff. Meanwhile the teacher of the class looked fresh and brown when we left, even though she’d spent most of the day outdoors with the horses and I, barely two hours there, ended up burned, horse-sneezed and limp-haired. I guess somebody has to be the weak white one.

This weekend my plans are to rest, organize things, and make good food. And read-always read.

Have a good one!

Love,

Rachel

*In case you didn’t realize.

Letter 19

Letter 21

Letter 19 {Storms + Being Alone}

May 19, 2017 by Rachel

Dear Candace,

If it’s not flood water, it’s high winds.

Last night I woke with a jolt at 3:00 a.m. “Oh no!” I thought. “Please not another 3 hours of insomnia.”

My unwanted guest, insomnia, has been showing up on occasion, despite the UNwelcome mat. I wasn’t plagued with insomnia, though. I soon realized I was dealing with a headache from the changes in barometric pressure. Within the hour, the storm hit and and I could hear the incredible whooshing of the wind. I grabbed my phone to check the weather radar. A bad thunderstorm, but no tornado warnings I could see. I told myself that if I heard the sirens go off, I would move downstairs to the basement. Otherwise, there was no way I was leaving my squishy Purple mattress. Plus, being alone in the house, the basement seemed extra-scary and dark.

The idea was that while Tom and the kids were off adventuring at the family farm, I would get some needed rest in a quiet house. I ended up laying awake in the early morning hours listening to the rain hit the window like gravel two feet from my bed. Eventually I did go back to sleep, and woke to a white yard covered in my neighbor’s catalpa blossoms! The storm downed an electric wire (draped across the street in front of my house, of course), with trees and heavy branches littering yards and streets. I’m thankful I never lost power!

I just finished The ZooKeeper’s Wife, and now I’m reading All the Light We Cannot See. Both take place during WWII. The first is the true story of a Polish couple living in Warsaw and how the war affected them and the zoo they managed. The second is historical fiction and intertwines the lives of a Parisian girl and a young German soldier-highly recommended by all my friends who’ve read it! I have very well-read friends; they advise me on what to read next (and boy is my list long).

Today I finished nearly all the laundry and put four lemonade pies in the freezer, so I feel very pleased even though my to-do list is still quite long. Lemonade pies and fresh blueberries signal all things summer-can’t wait to share them with friends and family this weekend. Come have a slice!

I just noticed something. The house creaks an awful lot when you’re the only one in it.

Hoping I survive another night alone in Kansas,

Dorothy

Letter 18

Letter 20

Letter 18 {Road-trips & Deodorant}

May 12, 2017 by Rachel

Dear Candace,

Today the children and I drove the four and-then-some hours to my parent’s house. It went fine, except for all the usual roadwork (everywhere I go=roadwork) and that weird smell the van develops after housing boys for a couple hours. I’m always telling the kids, “Drink more water!” except for when we road-trip. Then I insist they dehydrate themselves so I don’t have to make numerous bathroom breaks. “Are you chugging that water bottle? Noooo!

I had to take a bathroom break for moi on this trip.

Also a stop at Starbucks. But I was fast. I used mobile order as soon as I arrived and by the time I walked in my order was ready and all the people standing in line glared.

This letter may not be very coherent, since my eyes and head are tired from being the only adult and having to concentrate so much today. My mom gifted me a massage from her friend, Ann, who is remarkably good at several different styles of massage therapy. This evening she gave me a therapeutic massage. It was relaxing and wonderful after a busy day on the road! I think I will sleep well tonight, even if I am sleeping in my little sister’s old twin bed.

As I relax here, writing to you and thinking about the day before I turn the lights out, I can hear my mom watching a nature documentary in the downstairs living room. I’m starting to recall all the things I forgot to pack, deodorant being the most notable item. I don’t have to wear it much in the winter, and with my brain being the sieve it is lately, I’m forgetting to incorporate it back into rotation. I always recall my neglect at the most awkward moments, such as when I’m getting a chiropractic adjustment, standing in line at the store, or being introduced to someone. All true scenarios which occurred this week.

I’m looking forward to a weekend with family (smelling good, of course, since mom already bought me new deodorant) and celebrating all the spring things: birthdays, Mother’s Day, time to be together outside, all the lovely things….mom’s documentary soundtrack is totally putting me to sleep now. The earth is so beautiful.

Much love,

Rachel

Letter 17

Letter 19