Sorry for the delay. In part, it is due to the fact that I have to sign in under one account to get access to online documents editors send me, and into a different account to post to this blog. Switching back and forth is sometimes irritating and complicated, and so I simply give up on posting for a while.
In part it is also due to being a little overwhelmed by life. While my blood sugars continue to stay in target range without any insulin, and my weight is still dropping (albeit S L O W L Y), I have been dealing with an angry gallbladder and then, out of the blue, some type of food poisoning. Up all night erupting (that's enough detail, right?) and then this weekend dealing with the sore muscles and pain the aforementioned eruptions caused.
So--a catch up on the Orr House is as follows . . .
Caspian is working 20 to 30 hours a week at a local company that manufactures bricks. While he doesn't LIKE going to work, he likes bringing home a paycheck and casually saying, "Here Mom, let me cover dinner tonight" or "Let me fill up the gas tank today."
Nicole is back from her travels, and has been focusing on writing jobs, transcription jobs, job applications, and gazing at handsome men from afar. Some guy so needs to come along and sweep her off her feet. She is more than ready, and is tired of making the first move after all of these years.
Coryn left Belgium this morning and lands is Africa later today. It is hard for me to imagine him there as I know so so little about where he will live. I am anxious for the chance to Skype (when clear weather in Liberia permits) and get a look at what a rubber plantation is like. I have stereotyped images in my mind as to what Africa looks like--you know, the stuff we see on the National Geographic documentaries--and it's hard for me to picture him in the middle of all of that. I miss him but am loving the adventures he is having, knowing they will be with him for the rest of his life.
Joseph is . . . . good. We have had several days of rain and already have discovered leaks that we had hoped an entire summer of money, time and VERY hard work had repaired. That was a blow, and I know he lies in bed in the mornings thinking about what to do about it. I lie there thinking about meeting due dates and how to write an introduction and what my "to do" list dictates I am doing with my day. He thinks about flashing, shingles, water patterns, and leaks. Ah, adulthood.
Anyway, that is the overall catch up for the Orr House. I will try to post more often in coming weeks, and just put up with the account switching. I have a couple of new followers now (hey guys!) and that makes me smile. Keep stopping by, leaving a comment and letting me know you're reading. It's a great motivator to give you more to read.
Til next time.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Sunday, September 1, 2013
That Sound you Hear . . . .
If you happen to hear a high-pitched keening sound early Monday morning, it is not the U.S. attacking Syria. It's not a plane with engine trouble. It's not even Miley Cyrus attempting to outdo her hideous performance of earlier this week.
No. The sound is Tami's apron strings stretching around the world. I've done it before and survived. I did it in 2011 when Nicole went to Alaska, and again in 2012, when she went to Australia. Now I am doing it as Coryn walks away to go to Europe and then Africa for almost four months. His bags are packed, his yellow fever vaccine has been given, his tickets are printed, his insurance is purchased, and his Kindle is loaded up. He has such amazing adventure in front of him, I can't begin to imagine it.
I am beyond thrilled for him. This is a dream we have been holding for months, postponing in May when the seizure changed all of our lives, and then resurrecting when the family reached out to say sure, we still want him! (Thanks Laura and David!) I've bought his supplies, helped him design an online fundraiser, managed donations (thanks again to all!), and supported him every way I can.
But . . . the truth is . . . I will miss him so much, it's like walking around with a low-grade fever. It wears you out, it slows you down, it makes you feel off and irritable, and unsettled. It won't last long. He will fly out very, very early tomorrow morning, and I'll stand in the airport and cry (once he can't see me any longer), and then, as the days past, I will hear about his incredible adventures and be so happy for him I will be ridiculous.
But . . . right now, the idea that he won't be here to tease and laugh with, and to give the most amazing morning (which were always mid-afternoon since he slept in) hugs is hard to get past.
So many parents are eager for their children to grow up and move out and on with their lives. While I want excitement and adventures for all of my children, I must admit their leaving almost undoes me as I love and enjoy their company so much. Roots and wings, right? I think the quote forgot to mention that flight is exciting freedom, but is not without its pain.
No. The sound is Tami's apron strings stretching around the world. I've done it before and survived. I did it in 2011 when Nicole went to Alaska, and again in 2012, when she went to Australia. Now I am doing it as Coryn walks away to go to Europe and then Africa for almost four months. His bags are packed, his yellow fever vaccine has been given, his tickets are printed, his insurance is purchased, and his Kindle is loaded up. He has such amazing adventure in front of him, I can't begin to imagine it.
I am beyond thrilled for him. This is a dream we have been holding for months, postponing in May when the seizure changed all of our lives, and then resurrecting when the family reached out to say sure, we still want him! (Thanks Laura and David!) I've bought his supplies, helped him design an online fundraiser, managed donations (thanks again to all!), and supported him every way I can.
But . . . the truth is . . . I will miss him so much, it's like walking around with a low-grade fever. It wears you out, it slows you down, it makes you feel off and irritable, and unsettled. It won't last long. He will fly out very, very early tomorrow morning, and I'll stand in the airport and cry (once he can't see me any longer), and then, as the days past, I will hear about his incredible adventures and be so happy for him I will be ridiculous.
But . . . right now, the idea that he won't be here to tease and laugh with, and to give the most amazing morning (which were always mid-afternoon since he slept in) hugs is hard to get past.
So many parents are eager for their children to grow up and move out and on with their lives. While I want excitement and adventures for all of my children, I must admit their leaving almost undoes me as I love and enjoy their company so much. Roots and wings, right? I think the quote forgot to mention that flight is exciting freedom, but is not without its pain.
Nicole's Trip Back in Time
Nicole has been busier than usual these days. After a week spent at the Oregon Country Fair with a friend, she worked a booth at the Hood River Country Fair, learning how to get burnt making cotton candy, how hard carnies work, and how fabulous it is to be at a fair at night when everyone else has gone home.
She returned from those adventures to get on a Greyhound bus and travel all the way to Tennessee, where she was a counselor at an unschooling camp for a week. She taught her group how to do the Cup Game, performed in the talent show, and had a wonderful time. From there, she took another bus over to Indiana. She stayed for a week with her Grandmother (Joseph's mom, who lives in our old house, so she slept in her original bedroom), and visited her past in every way possible.
She had coffee with her best friend from the past--now a mom and wife. She met up with neighbors, going to lunch, getting rides and catching up. She went to our all time favorite playhouse where Jasmine and I used to usher, and saw one of the best plays ever, "Forever Plaid". She went to the office where Joseph, his sister, and his parents once worked, and to the playground and park where she used to play and go to day camp. She had dinner with two families that did--and still do--mean the world to us. They showed her amazing hospitality and kindness, welcoming her into their lives as if we had only stepped out for a few weeks instead of years. They plied her with coffee and delicious food and laughter and memories.
She visited our old grocery store, ate at favorite old spots, and walked through familiar pathways. She went out into the huge field behind our house where we took the kids to play all the time. We shot rockets up from here, shouted hello down the mancovers to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles that the kids KNEW lived down there, and had picnics there over the years.
She met up with very kind relatives and borrowed Grandma's car to drive around, getting Penguin Point french fries, and some coffee at Courthouse Coffee, and then drove to Leesburg to see the house she was born in. I had her walk down the main street and told her about how, when we lived there, Jasmine and I would get up in the morning and walk down to the post office to get our mail (no home mail delivery in a town this small), and then stop in the grocery store to get a glazed donut. We would sit on the curb and share it.
As she took this trip into the past, I was vicariously right along with her, you see. Tonight we will sit down and go through the 1,000 photos she took of the her time in Indiana and further reminisce. I am glad she is back home, sitting next to me as we do so. As much as she enjoyed her time connecting to the past, she is happy to be back here where the present and a very bright future await her, and so are we.
She returned from those adventures to get on a Greyhound bus and travel all the way to Tennessee, where she was a counselor at an unschooling camp for a week. She taught her group how to do the Cup Game, performed in the talent show, and had a wonderful time. From there, she took another bus over to Indiana. She stayed for a week with her Grandmother (Joseph's mom, who lives in our old house, so she slept in her original bedroom), and visited her past in every way possible.
She had coffee with her best friend from the past--now a mom and wife. She met up with neighbors, going to lunch, getting rides and catching up. She went to our all time favorite playhouse where Jasmine and I used to usher, and saw one of the best plays ever, "Forever Plaid". She went to the office where Joseph, his sister, and his parents once worked, and to the playground and park where she used to play and go to day camp. She had dinner with two families that did--and still do--mean the world to us. They showed her amazing hospitality and kindness, welcoming her into their lives as if we had only stepped out for a few weeks instead of years. They plied her with coffee and delicious food and laughter and memories.
She visited our old grocery store, ate at favorite old spots, and walked through familiar pathways. She went out into the huge field behind our house where we took the kids to play all the time. We shot rockets up from here, shouted hello down the mancovers to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles that the kids KNEW lived down there, and had picnics there over the years.
She met up with very kind relatives and borrowed Grandma's car to drive around, getting Penguin Point french fries, and some coffee at Courthouse Coffee, and then drove to Leesburg to see the house she was born in. I had her walk down the main street and told her about how, when we lived there, Jasmine and I would get up in the morning and walk down to the post office to get our mail (no home mail delivery in a town this small), and then stop in the grocery store to get a glazed donut. We would sit on the curb and share it.
As she took this trip into the past, I was vicariously right along with her, you see. Tonight we will sit down and go through the 1,000 photos she took of the her time in Indiana and further reminisce. I am glad she is back home, sitting next to me as we do so. As much as she enjoyed her time connecting to the past, she is happy to be back here where the present and a very bright future await her, and so are we.
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