I hope you don't mind. We are all just sitting on pins and needles over here waiting to hear from Mr. Hotness about his job. 
Last night Cookie gave the lesson for FHE. I love it when she gives the lesson because she always amazes me with her mature grasp of the gospel. Her lesson made me proud and a bit sad. I felt sad because her opening story was about dealing with bullies. She has had to deal with bully behavior at school. She has been called names, she has been tripped, she has been pushed, and she has been yelled at by boys who just don't seem to know better. This has been a good, albeit tough, learning experience for her and I have been proud of the choices she has made in 
these situations. She has even turned several of these bullies into friends. So, last night she read her story from the friend and then she had us play a board game that she had created herself. I love these moments, when you feel like your child is mastering the skills you are trying, so desperately, to teach them before they must be sent out in the world on their own. It was good for the boys to hear, too, because they have been getting pretty rough with each other. They seem to think that it is o.k. to punch the other in the eye if he says, "You're a stupid face boy". I keep telling them that if they punch the name caller then they both have to be punished for bad decisions, but if they don't fight back, then only the name caller gets punished. Ah well, we keep trying. Today I am taking on Mount Everest. I am climbing the summit, and then I am going to chip and hack away at it until it no longer exists (or at least until I turn it into multiple miniature Everests). If you can't tell, I am referring to my paper pile. And it is taller than me right now, seriously! It starts at the top of my computer armoir, actually it starts on the top of my printer that is on top of my armoir, it runs down the sides of my monitor, it is busting out of every cubby hole, is keeping the side cupboard and drawers from closing, has fallen behind the armoir, and has been pushed underneath, and between its side and the wall. Considering all that, I don't think anyone can accuse me of exaggeration for calling it an "Everest".
P.S. What time is it when you find a pitcher in the bathroom?
Sorry folks. I know I usually post an FHE lesson on Mondays, but tonight Cookie is teaching and i have no clue as to what she has prepared. She often gives very good lessons, so I may share it with you tomorrow. Today has been a busy, regular, cleaning, dirty mom day. I spent the morning vacuuming up the sawdust that the kids tossed around downstairs, then I cleaned out the wood stove (cough, choke, cough). I've been cleaning and catching up on the uncatchable laundry pile. Wooo hoo, I found my missing happy sock (you know, that funky pair of socks that you wear because they make you happy, and not because they match). I was finally able to answer a very difficult question on my advice site (it was very hard for me to keep the answer short). I have also been sticking to my healthy eating goals today (I have been brushing and flossing after each meal and it keeps me from random pig outs and frequent snacking). The sun is out, the kids are napping, so far it has been a real hum dinger of a day. For that very reason, I am going to stop blogging, get off my butt, take a shower, and go enjoy the rest of it =). May you all enjoy a sunny Monday too.
...As soon as they had disappeared into the thickness of the trees, my brother Kevin threw up his arms in disgust. “He’s doing it again.” Brad and I knew what Kevin was referring to. Our father knew no limits when it came to service. Inconvenience wasn’t in his vocabulary.
“I bet we end up digging that guy out,” whispered Brad, poking gloomily in the dirt with a stick. The day suddenly felt a century long...
...The monstrous six-cord truck was sunk past its axles. Firewood weighed heavily on the bed of the truck increasing the complexity of the problem...
...Feeling like good Samaritans, we quickly hooked up our truck to the Lopez’s. Two spins of our tires later Mr. Lopez frantically waved his arms signaling my dad to stop. Between the weight of both trucks and the soft, marshy earth, our truck had sunk to its axles too...
...“Hey! Hey you over there! Do you think you could help us out of here?”
The stranger nodded slowly and climbed into his truck. When he saw what he had agreed to deal with, he said shortly, “Won’t pull ya loaded.” And with that, he made a graceful exit to his truck.
I looked at my dad and shot him the “You have got to be crazy” glance. He replied with the “What can I do?” shrug. We had no options available. All of us—including the Lopezes—scrambled to the top of the mountain of firewood in the back of our truck ready to destroy our entire day’s labor. As we worked side by side with one another, a strange feeling settled among us. I began to feel a bond with the Lopezes. If we didn’t work together, nobody was leaving tonight. A feeling of appreciation for one another was developing.
Little by little, our truck bed’s load was lessened until it was finally empty. Immediately, it sprang forward like a cheetah pouncing on its prey.
“Well, let’s get started on the Lopez’s truck. It’s not going anywhere loaded.”
The familiar process began yet again. Except this time, the mountain was Mt. Everest and the troops were showing signs of fatigue. The day began to haze over as the sun slowly set behind the mountain skyline.
By the time we’d emptied the truck, the piles of firewood scattered about the muddy meadow surpassed any I had seen before. Once the Lopez’s truck was unloaded, it leaped forward from the sticky mess. Both trucks were now free.
Without hesitating, the Lopezes began throwing the burly logs into the back of our truck. We were touched by their grateful actions, and as a result found hidden strength to finish this eternal load of firewood. I never saw my brothers work harder. Our companions had set a feverish pace, and our pride wouldn’t let us lag behind. When the last block was toppled on, I headed for the truck to climb in but was stopped by my father’s voice.
“There’s one truck left, kids.”
Kevin shook his head in unbelief. “Dad, I don’t think I can do it.”
Dad looked at his crew and smiled. It was a smile that said, “I know you can, and you will.” It was a smile filled with genuine love for his fellowman. It was a smile that told us in 20 years this would make a great family reunion tale.
We loaded that six-cord truck that night for a total of 20 cord of wood we had moved in one day. We never saw our friends again, but a strange bond developed between us that day. Our dad taught us a great lesson of service, one that would have a lasting effect on us. Because our dad had so strongly insisted on helping that family, we learned how wonderful service really feels.
The sore muscles are gone, but we still feel a love for the Lopez family. And I know that in 20 years, ours won’t be the only family reunion where this story is told.
This story made me feel like my little week of "firewood Hades" was nothing to whine about. The firewood is finally all stacked and stored away for next winter. I was able to get through it with out killing any of the people who stood by and watched me stack as they slowly commented, "My, that's a looooooot of wood ya got there". (I'm sorry, but if a woman is sweating you just shouldn't talk to her, unless you are sweating even more than she is.)
The worst part was when I got to the bottom of the pile and realized there was an even bigger pile of sawdust down there. My land lady drove by the place yesterday when the sawdust was still out in all its glory. She called my landlord (who is one of the people I didn't kill) and he came by to tell me that she was upset because the sawdust was on the gravel driveway and it would turn into dirt and get weeds in it and ruin her lovely driveway that we rent, yada yada "that's a big pile of sawdust you've got there" yada. I told him on Tuesday that I would have this all cleaned up by Sunday. I told him the same thing Wednesday. I basically told him this everyday this week. Well, Saturday I filled 10 of those ginormous lawn and garden bags full of sawdust. I put another 6 wheel barrels full of sawdust around all my roses and trees and fence. I have another box of sawdust in my shed. I am proud to say that with the help of a leaf blower, a rake, a wheel barrel, and a neighbor who wanted half of my sawdust, that my driveway looks just as "clean" and gravely as it did LAST Sunday. And I solemnly vow at this moment to never walk by someone who is stacking firewood without helping them!!!
more frugal and help our family save money, I thought back to our very very painful heating bills this last winter and I replied, "Sure, bring it on over". He says, "Great, I'll be there in 20-30 minutes". 20-30 minutes later I look out my window and see a truck. Not a Ford F150 kind of truck. I'm talking about a big diesel truck with a big metal box on it's back. So he is backing it up and I'm thinking "SCORE". Then he opens the back and it starts to tilt and wood starts to fall out of this big box. This is a lot of wood. No, I'm serious, this is a LOT of wood. Before I can finish my thought of, "This is awesome, DSSH will be so proud of me", I start thinking, "Oh no, DSSH is going to KILL me". By the time my neighbor is done dumping there is enough scrap lumber in my driveway to build another house! Where am I going to store all of this? How am I ever going to get it stacked in time (before my neighbors turn me in for lowering their property values)? Oh stop your whining, Liz. I put on some scrubby clothes and dig in. I am so glad I spent most of my teen years playing Tetris on the Nintendo because I am now putting those skills to use in sorting, stacking, arranging, and cramming wood into every corner of my shed and backyard fence. I worked for 5 hours before DSSH came home. After 5 hours I had only managed to whittle it down by 1/4, so you can imagine my DSSH face as he rounds the corner to find this MASSIVE MOUND of scrap wood in his driveway (I hadn't told him about it, why ruin his day any earlier than I had to?). His jaw dropped just like mine did, but I just reminded him of our heating bills and, bless his awesome heart, he pulled off his nice work clothes and donned some sexy work clothes (I gotta say, I love my man in jeans, long sleeve Ts, and work gloves). He gets home at 7:30 pm and is always tired so I was surprised he was so willing to help me with 
this. With hubby helping, we were able to tear through that pile in no time. There is still about 1/4 pile left out there but we have big, nice piles of wood in the back, a nice cozy fire going on this morning, and a good feeling in our hearts because we feel more prepared for next winter.
