no brakes -- freewheeling

back again

So I was driving the little S 10 pickup on a gravel road, humming along at a nice clip. Straight ahead is a field of corn. There are corn fields on either side of me. The road makes a 90 degree turn to the left. I stepped on the clutch and took it out of gear. Started stepping on the brakes so I could turn the corner. Suddenly realized there are no brakes.

I heard my voice yelping, "NO BRAKES!?! as I skimmed along . . . the corn field getting closer and closer. I thought briefly about trying to take the corner but scratched that idea. As I contemplated my options I saw a grassy field lane leading into the field. Steered the pickup down this little lane and aimed for the corner of the corn field. Noticed a stray stalk of corn off to the side of the field. The pickup squeezed between the field and the lone corn stalk like going through a doorway. I mowed over some weeds and a midget corn stalk. On the other side of the *door* was a patch of bare ground. If it had been planted at one time it was drowned out or something. Bounced along for a short time and stopped. I looked all around, put it in reverse and backed up -- being careful not to hit the stray corn stalk. Glanced both ways and out on to the road again. Drove the rest of the way to the barn very carefully and slowly.

As I was driving I remembered there is this thing called *downshifting* and I probably wouldn't have coasted along like that if I'd just put it back in the next lower gear and let the engine slow the pickup down. Or let out the clutch --

When I told this story to my family they gave me all sorts of advice on what I could have done or what I should do if this ever happens again . . . . heaven forbid! Jeremy drove the S 10 the next day and promptly came home and took it apart "before it kills someone."

I keep thinking about that feeling of *no control* as I barrelled along . . . even tho it was only 30 mph it gave me a helpless sensation. It was a little like "Wait . . . I've felt like this before." . . . . when life is out of control and things are happening to me that I can not stop or change. I look all around at all the options and call out to God in my helplessness. He has always heard and provided a way for me to go -- just like finding that grassy field lane.

Some day the WAY He provides may be a bumpy road or a rocky path or even a tumble down a steep cliff. He is with me no matter what. That is a comfort for me.

Hope I can finish that other story soon. ;]

Deanne is far away in North Dakota so she can't help me. I was trying to finish my post . . . not publish it.

"How old were you when you saw a pig for the first time?" Krysta was chattering in the back seat of the suburban and to be truthful I was not paying much attention until she asked this question.

That started a trip down memory lane . . . when was the first time I met a pig outside a story book? There was that huge pig that Debbie Gingerich allegedly rode. Maybe there was a pig in Grandpa's barn. We butchered pigs one cold winter day with two other families -- kind of our own *Butchering Day* just like Laura and Mary in Little House in the Big Woods -- and no, we didn't blow up the bladder and pretend it was a balloon.

But I'd have to say the first time I met a pig that I remember was way back when Ellis and Jerry managed a hog unit in the 80's. That wasn't just one pig, but hundreds of pigs. Jeremy and I would go along to the barn on weekends and help.

This spring has been a bit like turning the clock back since Ellis and Evan took on the job of doing chores at two hog barns. (I'm so glad we didn't tie into four barns as we planned at first!) This is turning into a family project involving everyone.

Like this evening with Krysta chattering away in the back seat and me driving along unfamiliar gravel roads . . . out to find Evan's barn and take supper to the guys. Evan gave me verbal directions the other day and I think I followed along. Let's see . . . take hwy 35 to 30 and then instead of turning left as we normally do turn right. Okay so far. One mile and there are two barns on the left. That doesn't seem like the right place. It should be only one barn. Turn on that road anyway and start driving west. There off to the right is one lonely barn with a long lane leading to it. The sky is rosy behind it and there will be a beautiful sunset.

Gravel crunches under the tires as we pull in behind the pickup. Supper for the guys can be spread out on the tailgate. They are sorting pigs for the second evening in a row. Krysta thought that was way too many evenings for Daddy to be gone so she jumped at the chance to go with me.

Krysta hopped out and headed for the barn. The curtains were down so she could peer in almost nose to nose with

Hog Barns, Rocks and Walleye

Saturday, April 11, 2009 . . . I had a flash back this morning. Ellis and Evan both started new, part-time jobs this week. They each check a hog barn twice a day. Ellis debated . . . he could do two barns and Evan do a third barn. There are four barns and this company hoped we would do all four. Jeremy was going to do two, Evan one and Ellis one. In the meantime Jeremy found another job and has been doing the training for that job the last three weeks or so (with our nephew.) At this point Ellis stayed on the safe side of insanity and only contracted to do one barn. It is on the way to his real job and there is a shower (thank the Lord.)

Anyway this morning he asked if I wanted to ride along to the barn. . . . and sweep the flies out of the office and write down a list of things needed to streamline the whole process for laundry. The barn where he used to work all those eons ago had a washer and dryer right there to wash the coveralls, towels, etc.

I got done sweeping flies and Ellis was still inside whooping and hollering at the pigs. (There were three that were being picked on so he had to separate them out of the pens and find a new place for them. He rescued them from certain death.)

Think about the hog farmers the next time you eat pork chops or Spam. =}

Anyway I went out to the suburban and settled down to read a book about how to lower stress in my life. I looked out the window and saw a field lane and thought, "If I take a walk that would lower stress." There was even a jacket in the back seat -- so I set off.

There was a beautiful tree and a rock pile under it. A blue sky -- not quite like MT -- but almost. I found three or four unique rocks in the gravel on the lane, but I exercised great restraint and did not bring them home. Only held them and memorized how they looked. One was black with sparkles, one was red and black with sparkles . . . the sun was shining -- can you tell? There was a cream colored rock with a dark band through the center. I can't remember the other one that caught my eye.

Last fall I found a piece of petrified wood on 290th ST -- the road that goes by our house. It is a gravel road -- not pavement. All during my childhood I searched for petrified wood every time we went to Graceton Beach on Lake of the Woods. I never found anything and now I find a small piece on my doorstep in southern MN.

That reminds me of the walleye Dad caught in one of the mud puddles (small lakes) here in southern MN. When we lived up north we fished on Lake of the Woods every summer. We caught some awesome fish . . . at least they were big and put up a fight before we got them in the boat. There were some walleye and lots of northern pike. The biggest walleye was landed by my dad at St. Olaf Lake -- or was it Cedar Lake? We have a picture of Dad, Hans and Jeremy on the dock with the fish held high . . . pleased expressions all around.

I made almost as much fuss when I found the petrified wood. It has a place of honor on my shelf in the kitchen. A small reminder that the unexpected is just around the corner. Maybe just over the next hill . . . .

*Remarkable Coincidence*

Here's an idea to bat around . . .
I've stopped using the term "remarkable coincidence" since this happened to me a few years ago.
Maybe it's splitting hairs--I don't know.
What do you think?

Mom was diagnosed with cancer the second time around in the spring of 2004.
Because it was the second time and she was--for the most part--quite healthy, the doctors thought she would be a good candidate for a stem cell transplant. They are able to harvest the patients' own stem cells, freeze them, give mega doses of chemo to the patient, then return the stem cells to them. A new start on life --

During the recovery period Dad and Mom had a room in the transplant house a few blocks from the hospital. When Dad started to drive bus in the fall I was able to stay with Mom and take her to and from the hospital as needed for daily check-ups.

The transplant house is a story all by itself. It is a big, beautiful house run by nuns with all the comforts of home and a few more besides. Like a big exercise room and a huge laundry. . .

One day I was doing our laundry. There were other gals busy with their laundry. The conversation was about the flood -- twelve to thirteen inches of rain had deluged southern MN and northern IA the day before. We were comparing adventures.

Sally mentioned the town in IA where she was from and the condition of the roads between there and Rochester MN.
Jane looked up and said, "Little Springs? Do you know so and so?"
Sally said, "Oh, yes, we drive right by their place every day."

It turned out Jane does crafty things with old cowboy boots or farm boots. She makes door stops out of them with flowers and birds arranged in a delightful way. The people in Little Springs had ordered one of these and she was looking for a way to deliver it to them.

(It was in the trunk of her car as we spoke)

Over their laundry baskets these two strangers made the arrangements, then Jane dashed out to the car to bring the boot/door stop in and show it to all of us and start it on its way home.

As Jane left the room I looked at Sally and said, "What a remarkable coincidence?!"
She looked at me and gently said, "There is no such thing as a remarkable coincidence. My parents taught me our days are planned by God and He brings these things together. I'm finding out it is true as I see things just like this happen to me over and over again."

Needless to say, I went away from that laundry room praising my great, big, wonderful God for His *remarkable coincidences.* I've been keeping my eyes open for them ever since.

NEW GLASSES

call glasses
place

From: Krysta
To: Mom

This was the note I found on the counter. Krysta's glasses are broken and she's been patiently waiting to get her eyes checked and get new glasses.

Maybe this will be the last time I try an evening appointment for an eye exam. Next time I'll take Jorgan and Krysta out of school and go in the day time.

Ellis and I both went to a place I won't name and liked the service we received. So I arranged for Jorgan and Krysta to get their eyes checked. (March 10th) When we arrived it seemed a young man was being trained in on the computer . . . at least a gal was sitting close by and showing/telling him what to do next. She soon got Jorgan started and Krysta and I looked at glasses.

Everything moved along smoothly . . .

The eye doctor seemed lacking in people skills but maybe it was the end of a long day. Both Krysta and Jorgan were ready to choose frames at the same time which I thought was strange. You would think one could have been mostly done by the time the next one was ready. And then the weirdest thing happened.

Nothing ...

The gal disappeared into the examination room with the eye doctor. The young man sat at the computer and stared at the screen. (I had the extreme urge to walk over and peer over his shoulder and see what kind of game he was playing.)

Usually a sales person is bustling about spreading frames galore in front of you and having you try on so many your head begins to whirl.

These . . . or those.
That one or this one.

I don't know how long I stood there waiting for someone to make a move.
I'm thinking . . . you know, I would like to go home and make supper.

What is going on?

I was tempted to gather my coat and book bag and children and walk out.
I wonder if they would have chased me.

At last the gal came out of the room and sat down behind the counter.
Maybe something will happen now.

They started to whisper.
The girl giggled and put her head down on the counter.

Enough is enough. I walked over and said, "Do we need to come back at another time to choose frames?"

The gal looked up and said, "Oh no. You can choose them now. We need 25% down on anything you order today. Did Jorgan and Krysta find what they want?"

The young man looked up and said, "Or--you can take their prescriptions and get frames somewhere else if they can't find any they like."

I was tempted to say, "I think that's what we'll do. Good day!" And walk away . . .

Through gritted teeth I explained that Krysta's glasses are broken and we came to replace them and we had some questions on some frames. The young lady got up and helped us.

Jorgan chose his own. Krysta found some she liked and we were out of there.

In these economic hard times you would think they would be falling over themselves to make some sales. Very strange I must say.

For variety the next evening some friends come over.
We made pizza.
We had coffee and pie and ice cream.
.. .. .. a game of Apples to Apples.
What a fun evening .. .. ..
____________________________________________________________

January 30, 2009

I didn't plan to spend my day like this. Urgent care, CT scan, MRI . . .
Tried the Blooming Prairie clinic and they were closed. If you need medical help call Austin.
I just wanted an antibiotic to clear up an ear infection or sinus infection or whatever is causing this pain in my head. When I called Austin they said just come to urgent care and walk in.
They weren't very busy and could see me right away.

While waiting I found this quote in Better Homes and Gardens . . .
"What some call health, if purchased by perpetual anxiety about diet,
isn't much better than tedious disease."
--George Dennison Prentice 19th century newspaper editor

That tickled my funny bone . . .

The trouble is the only thing they found was elevated blood pressure. 169/101 or some ridiculous numbers like that. Carol asked if I had bumped my head or fallen anytime recently. There was that time I fell on my back but that was before Christmas. And it didn't hurt.

She called someone down to draw blood. (The new and improved way to see if you have an infection.) The guy to draw blood came in. (How many times did I spell my name and say my birth date? Let's see -- only five or six times through the whole day. At least they always knew they had the right person.) He was a funny guy.

Told me with a wicked twinkle in his eyes, "I'm not good at this."
--meaning he's not good at finding the vein on the first poke. I told him he could just go on out of here then and send someone else. He asked what brought me in today and I repeated the whole weird thing about pain on the left side of my head, kind of like an earache but not like any earache I've ever had. I thought it was going away but it started again Thursday in the middle of the night.

"I guess I was extra crotchety and my husband said, "Go find out what's causing this.' "

That tickled his funny bone. "Crotchety! I'll bet he's in trouble. He'll need to order in dinner and flowers and jewelry and get the house cleaned for that, I bet." He kept muttering, "Crotchety!" and chuckling as he poked the vein on the first try.

The blood didn't show what it's supposed to show if there is an infection so Carol started scurrying around and lined up a CT scan. After that she talked about coming Monday for an MRI then the next thing I knew she said they have an opening right now. I got to take a "nap" for 25 minutes. Probably the most expensive nap I've had in a long time. Then I hurried away to drive bus. They were going to look at it and after the bus route I could go back down and hear what they found out.

Carol called before the route was over and said everything looks okay, no bleeding, sinus areas are not filled up with fluid, (hmmm... that surprises me. It feels like they are filled with cement.) She wants to follow up by checking my blood pressure at the clinic in Blooming Prairie next week and she wants me to see Dr. Young, a neurologist.

*For pain take two double strength Tylenol 4 times a day.*

So it really is just in my head . . .

The most beautiful thing through the whole day was knowing *Jesus is with me* PTL!
Whatever is going on -- Jesus is with me every step of the way.
***************************************************************************************
The most recent malapropism at our house:

I was trying to open a bag of chicken, you know, one of those kind with a ziplock, reclosable top.
Jorgan saw me struggling and said, "You need a serenaded knife."
I started laughing and asked if he knows what *serenaded* means.
"Yes, one of those knives with a saw-like edge."
It is pretty close to serrated I'll have to admit.