{"id":634,"date":"2009-10-23T19:21:00","date_gmt":"2009-10-23T23:21:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/friday-october-23-2009\/"},"modified":"2009-10-23T19:21:00","modified_gmt":"2009-10-23T23:21:00","slug":"friday-october-23-2009","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/friday-october-23-2009\/","title":{"rendered":"Friday October 23, 2009"},"content":{"rendered":"

I want to write. I’ve been wanting to write for such a long time and now I can’t decide whether to spew out many little posts (or not so little) on different subjects or just to make one tremendously long post that will lose everyone with sheer boredom long, long before the end. I wonder if I could find another way to use the word “long” in this paragraph?<\/p>\n

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\"October<\/a>
Two weeks ago we took the boys to Carters Mountain for their apple festival. After hearing reports that the place was jam packed and everything from parking to using the restroom was difficult, we decided to be up there when they opened. We drove in five minutes early and were far from being the first ones there. When we left two hours later, the place was flooded.
\"October<\/a>
\"October<\/a>
\"October<\/a>
I’ve never been to an orchard before. We always buy our fruit when someone else in church makes a run and offers to pick up for anyone else who wants some. The trees were just loaded and Adam could easily reach the lower ones from the ground. I think he thought picking the top ones more fun! He badly wanted to climb the trees instead of piggybacking. Liam picked up soft apples from the ground and dumped them into the little bucket I took along; but mostly he just ate apple. From bite number one, he was hooked. He would not relinquish that apple even after it dropped to the ground a time or two. It went with him on the hay ride and he chomped away while the rest of us enjoyed apple cider donuts. The funniest part of it all is that he never liked apples when I gave them to him at home and now he refuses to eat them since we’re home. Apparently it’s the mountain air.
\"October<\/a>
\"October<\/a>
\"October<\/a>
\"October<\/a>
I really wanted to try eating in town for lunch. We haven’t been out since Liam was diagnosed with his multiple allergies. I wanted a break; but more then that I wanted to know that we had options for times when we are on the road and gone over mealtime. We tried chipotles since most people recommend Mexican type places to avoid wheat and dairy. Their allergy card disappointed me terribly. Everything is positive for soy. Still, it looked like it was mostly due to soybean oil and, not having many other options, we decided to risk it. Bad move. He threw up repeatedly that afternoon, couldn’t sleep, fussed about life in general, ran on high speed until late that night and didn’t settle down to his normal for several days. So we’re still looking.
\"October<\/a>
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\"Oct<\/a>
Almost since my earliest days of xanga I’ve been subscribed to Jo<\/a> from Pennsylvania. I can’t remember where or how I found her; but I loved hearing her heart. She was mom to two little boys not much older then Adam so I could relate easily to where she was in life. But it was more then that, too. I loved the way she pursued God and lived life with purpose. Not long after we met again on an infertility forum since both of us were dealing with secondary infertility. Move ahead about two more years and we both had babies! Of all the friends I’ve made online, Jo is one of two I’ve most wanted to also meet in person. Last Saturday her family came to Virginia to visit family and Jo spent part of the morning at my house! It was just wonderful! She is just as beautiful and fun and happy in real life as she is online. When she left I kept chattering excitedly to David and when I said something for the umpteenth time about how much fun that was he said, “I can tell. You’re pretty hyper.” Thanks so much, Jo! I hope it’s only the beginning.
\"Oct<\/a> <\/p>\n

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\"July<\/a>
On Sunday David and I left very early for a trip to TN for his grandfather’s funeral. We dropped the boys off at my mom’s house since it looked herculean to work around Liam’s food issues enroute. It was indescribable to have so much talk time! We talked for hours without interruption, stopped to eat at Macaroni Grill and enjoyed ooey gooey pasta with no substitutes, and thoroughly enjoyed the trip.
David’s grandpa left a big impression on a lot of people. They remember him as a man who loved God and chose to do the right thing … and as a man with a great sense of humor. His favorite line when asked about his welfare was, “fat and sassy.” One man related the phone conversation he’d had with him earlier. He asked Grandpa what he’s been doing lately and Grandpa said, “Taking care of old people.” The man was a bit confused momentarily … I mean Grandpa was so old himself and he was doing what? Respite care? Rest home? Grandpa cleared all the confusion easily. “I take care of her. She takes care of me. We’re old people, you know.”
\"July<\/a>
When I was younger I couldn’t figure out why at funerals people seemed to talk and laugh and have a good time. I assumed everyone was supposed to be sad and grieving all the time. You know, like maybe it was disrespectful or something. I remember my mom telling me that a funeral is the last gift someone gives to their family. And it’s true. We just had a family reunion in July, yet in his death, Grandpa gave us the gift of a moment of time together again ~ even if we are scattered from Ohio and Pennsylvania to Texas, El Salvador, and Kenya.
I’ve been at funerals where it was unbearably sad. Like when my friend from college died in a car accident. Or when another friend lost a three year old to cancer. Or a 17 year old from church drowned while swimming with friends. Or my uncle died in his forties and his youngest son was too little to ever remember him. Tragic. Not because they died and went to heaven; but because their families and friends are left with such unspeakable, shocking loss. There is something beautiful (in a sad kind of way) about death when someone has lived a long, rich, full life and transitions to living in heaven. Ever since my Grandpa died in August (and because of a few other things) I’ve been thinking about death a lot. I’m still processing it. I tried to talk to David about it; but I don’t think he got what I was trying to say so I’ll process a little longer before I dare write about it. Speaking of Mennonite culture, what do you think about the traditions surrounding the way our funerals \/ burials are conducted? <\/p>\n

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Virginia may be technically considered southern; but it is not true South. In true Mennonite fashion, people offered lodging in their homes for family and friends who came to the funeral. The lady we were assigned to stay with wasn’t home when we stopped to change clothes prior to the evening visiting hours. Her next door neighbor, who certainly did not know us and was not in any way connected to the funeral or even the church where it was held, threw her doors and arms wide open and told us to come in and use her house. She profusely offered everything from separate changing areas for us (thanks, but no thanks!) to a place to stay for the night. Never would that happen in Virginia … or at least not with that tone of voice! <\/p>\n

Would you believe that night when we got back to Ellen’s house, she still was not at home. No note on the door, nothing. Had we known her or at least spoken to her personally, we may have gone in and gotten comfortable. But this was just too presumptious. We called two hotels in town. One we’d looked at online earlier and the other about the same distance away in the other direction. The second one had no non-smoking rooms available aside from their honeymoon suite so they offered that to us at their bereavement rate. King size bed. Jacuzzi. Lots of pillows. We were thrilled.
\"smucker<\/a>
It saved our communication breach plus some. I really appreciate the whole concept of hospitality that is so much a part of Mennonite culture. But I also thought that since we didn’t have the boys it would be a great time to get a hotel and be just us without having to get up and make small talk with someone we don’t know the next morning. You know, I just wanted to sleep as late as we dared, grab some food, and not have to answer to anyone else’s schedule but our own… just for one night. So before we left, I kind of hinted around about that, showed David the hotel online that looked nice, that kind of thing. He totally did not get the hint and said, “Well, that’s $70 bucks we don’t have to spend.” When we were nearly in TN he finally thought about this “no boys along aspect” himself and said, “You know, I’m kind of wishing we’d have gotten a hotel after all.” I was like, yeah, well, that’s why I was hinting. <\/p>\n

“Hinting?” he said. “Sweetie, you need to say what you’re thinking. You know if you’d just have said, ‘it would really mean a lot to me if we could get a hotel since we don’t have the boys and just have some time to ourselves,’ I would have gotten it.” <\/p>\n

Ok, but I’m trying not to put pressure on you because every time I say something like that you do it (and please don’t change that!) but it makes me think twice before asking something pretty specifically so you don’t feel like you have to do that. So I hint and think that you’ll get it without thinking you have to do it. But apparently it’s not working. Maybe one of these years we’ll actually learn how to read each other’s minds. Or maybe we’ll just talk each other’s language.
\"October<\/a> <\/p>\n

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Seriously exposing my technical ignorance here; but why can I not do anything besides boring on xanga with safari? I can’t change font styles or size, colors, move pictures, tab the beginnings of paragraphs, NOTHING. Posting pictures is tedious process. Is there something I’m missing? It makes me feel like complaining every single time.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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