bless his tender heart

Second grade. Ahhh, the sweet, sweet age when you read a fable about a cock and there's no question that they're talking about a rooster. Even though their teacher feels uncomfortable saying it, there are no snickers. No sideways glances. Yes, second grade is a precious and innocent time in life.

So it's no wonder that today in second grade, one of my students asked what tender-hearted means, which is ironic because she is.... And so I began to explain. "Tender-hearted means that you have a tender heart. Your heart feels things easily because it's so soft inside." As I'm wondering to myself if that explanation is adequate or appropriate, another friend in my class pipes up. He was near the tornadoes last May in Moore, Oklahoma and he gets skiddish with storms. And then I hear his, the sweetest little voice say:
"I think I had that last year when the storms came through? Yah, I think I did."

Bless.

I keep saying that I have the best class in the whole school. Do you see why now? These are the children I get to spend my days with. Precious, tender-hearted children.

dinner courtesy of pinterest

So I said I would try some new things in my diet and tonight I made good on that promise to myself. Behold the chicken recipe I found on pinterest, with avacado, diced tomato, and cilantro on the side.

YUMMMMMMMO.

I won't mention what I ate for dessert.

will power

Hi, my name is Kim, and I'm an addict.

I'm addicted to sugar. And chips. And I need professional help.

But I'm on a quest. I've been in a stalled position for a couple months now. Not signed up for any races and waiting. Running sporadically, for fun, and waiting.

What am I waiting for? The New York City Marathon! I threw my name in the hat a few months ago. For the third straight time. And up until this year there has been this "rule": Throw your name in three years in a row and get guaranteed entry on the 4th year. But as I was looking on the website the other day to determine the drawing date, I found that the rule has changed! After 2014, you are no longer guaranteed entry on the 4th year. And my little heart broke. :(

Because I'm not getting any younger, PEOPLE! And running a marathon will not get easier as I AGE! And frankly, I only think it possible in the next two years of my life. And after that, well.... you know I'm living in uncharted territory at this point anyway. I never imagined living past 40, so who knows!

So what does an addiction to sugar and chips have to do with New York? Well, I'm pretty sure they won't be "on the diet" for marathon training. And it's time I nix them now!

It would have been really convenient for me to still be Episcopalian right now. I could be observing Lent and pretending like I wasn't eating chips and/or sugar. (I was never good at Lent when I was participating. Now? Fugetaboutit.)

So I'm going to have to come up with my own will power. And dang it. That's hard.

I'll start Monday.

i found myself on the internet.

I love a good make over. And a few years back we did one to our home that was over the top. I just found it again on the internet. Funny, huh? It's on a website called betterafter.net

You must go check out her awesome website. So many fun things to see from pieces of furniture to homes! Check it out!

fast cars

*out of the blue*

G: Granny goes EXTREMELY fast.

Me: for what?

G: In the car. I think it's cuz her old muscles are tired and she just lets them weigh down on the gas pedal.

THIS, my friends, is TRUTH. Granny (my mom) is a crazy driver. All my friends who have ever survived a ride in her car agree.

autocorrect pigs

To note:
1. "Amanda", a parent in my class, sent me a text this morning. She also happens to work on staff at my school.
2. "I" was feeling a little sassy when I read it, still giggling about my last blog writing.
3. A "PIF" is the Parent Information Folder that travels back and forth to school with each child.
4. "Mental Math" is a Math facts assignment that I send home in the PIF.

And now, I present to you, an actual text message that I was involved in, complete with me, laughing my fool head off. I'm the one in the blue bubbles.

lady g

Today's funny comes to you courtesy of my son, G. I've just woken him up and we're laying on his bed in the dark quiet.

G: Mom, last night I saw a picture on the internet of lady gaga without any makeup.

Me: Oh yeah? (thinking to myself: Scott! he's in big trouble. why was my son looking at pictures on the internet? where was his daddy? while I was sleeping... okay, I can't be that mad.)

G: Yah. And she was WHITE!

Me: (a small giggle is bubbling up, because I'm wondering how he ever DIDN'T know she's white)

G: Yah! She's WHITE and she has BROWN HAIR! And she doesn't even have special eyes!

Me: (silent, stifling my laughter)

G: Yep. Can you believe that?

little b and the kenyans

Yeehaw people! Brenda and I headed to Cowtown last weekend!

And of course after we left the Expo, we headed HERE.

And when you go to Central Market, you have to have a beer on the patio! With an eclair. Maybe.

busted by the shadow!

And then, OF COURSE, Trader Joes. Because no trip is complete without a stop for Two Buck Chuck.

And then we went to Mom's house in Forth Worth, where she hosted us with her mostest. First, dinner at BJ's. Yummm!

And then off to bed. Early to rise! 5:20 am

So here's where the fun begins. We dropped Brenda at the starting line (I didn't sign up. The weather in OK has been snowy and wonky lately. I don't train well on treadmills.). Then we headed to a Starbucks nearby. We went there last year and sat for a while then headed to different spots on the route to cheer her on. But this year, I was jumping on the course near the end, to give her a hand. Her training hasn't been so hot, either.

When what to my wondering eyes did appear but two police cars with lights and some elite athletes FLYING down the road outside the window! WHA... WHAT??? I didn't know we were sitting on the route! So out we ran, to grab a pic of the elites. That, by the way, is how I run in my dreams.

And then I stood there, giddy, and jealous, of all the runners who had trained. And after a while I saw her! Little B! Running down the road at clipper-like pace! She was looking good! And I was looking like a fool, jumping up and down, waving my hands over my head, and screaming her name. LUCKILY she saw me. Otherwise, all the people standing around me would have thought I was screaming at a pretend friend.

So we left there. There weren't any more pretend friends to scream at. And headed east. The Starbucks was only 2 miles into the race and my meeting point to hop on the course was at 9 miles. So I figured I had a lot of time. We hopped in the car and were right across the street from where we planned to park, when all of a sudden... BAM!! Here came the Kenyans! HOLY CRAP! They are FAST!!! Look at that FORM!!

Well, we had to wait a minute for them to clear the intersection, but clear they did, in a hurry. And then we sat and waited. Me and my chauffeur. Named Mom.

While we waited, we saw this. A BOY. He COULD NOT be more than 12 years old. WOW!! And he was in the faster group!! He was amazing!!

And then I stood, staring down this hill. THE WORST HILL TO RUN ON THE FACE OF THE PLANET. It's the road that takes you out of the Stockyards in Ft. Worth, Texas, by the way. It's a (#*$&@. I didn't envy those runners.

When little B came up that hill, I was waiting. Heck NO, I didn't help her up the hill! There were other hills to be had on this course still ahead! HAHAHAHA. And off we went.

I ran with her from miles 9-12 and then I hopped off. I felt like a faker running into the finish. Plus I wasn't wearing a bib. HAHA!

And there you have it, Brenda's PR. That's Personal Record for those of you who don't run.

chickens and eggs and salads, oh my!

Being a small scale chicken farmer, I get the same questions a lot.

Do they run around your backyard all day?

How do you know so much about chickens if you grew up in the suburbs?

Do you guys eat a lot of eggs or something?

The answers are: yes, I read a lot of books and blogs, and YES! We eat a lot of eggs.

The girls have really kicked it into gear lately with the egg laying business so mama is happy. It was depressing to have to buy eggs at the store over the holidays and beyond. Thankfully, they have stopped molting and started laying again. Except Beaker. She's our lone hold-out. How do I know? Just like a mama knows her twins, I know who lays by their egg color. And Beaker is easy to spot. Although my girls are Easter Eggers and I purchased them with one thought in mind: I WANT COLORED EGGS LIKE MARTHA STEWART HAS, Beaker is an anomaly. She lays brown eggs.

BORING.

Anyway, here's a familiar sight these days:

Oh, and by the way, that brown one you see is a fake egg, used to stimulate production. :)

Anyway, here's what I retrieved just now from the coop:

But let's get to the point here. I wanted to share a recipe from all the "egg eating" that we do around here. Hopefully you'll try it and enjoy!

Egg Salad Sandwiches:
4 eggs, boiled and diced
2-3 Tablespoons Mayo (I prefer less because I'm not a mayo fan)
Several dashes of:
tarragon
dill
chives
dry mustard
paprika

Mix and serve on your favorite whole wheat bread!
Bon Appetit!

noise

Warning: This is a shameless plug for sympathy from other parents.

I have this amazing daughter. You've read about her before. She's beautiful and tall (5'7" now, holy COW!!), and has a curvy spine. She loves to sing and dance and TALK. Oh my, the talking.

I feel like the older I've gotten, I've become more and more introverted. Stop snickering... you know who you are. I know, it sounds funny to hear me, Kim Frakes, label myself "introverted." And maybe I'm not. Maybe it's that my words get stuffed and overshadowed by the TALKERS in my family. OH MY! The TALKING!

But wait! This isn't about me. "The Loner.", my husband recently called me. "I don't know why you ever got married." he said. All because a girl wanted to escape the noise and read a book in her room. :)

OK, I've highjacked enough. See? I'm desperate to get some words out in this house so now I'm turning to my blog to pour it all out. NOW, BACK TO MY DAUGHTER.

She sings. Did you catch that? Sings. And I mean SINGS. She walks around our house using not just her words, but her lungs. And let me tell you, she can BELT IT. Sometimes it's a beautiful thing. And sometimes, for the love of all that is good, we have to beg her to stop. And not for lack of talent. She hits the right notes and sings right on key. But the sheer volume. The heights to which she can reach in VOLUME.

Below is an actual text I had to send her in her room one evening.


Me, sitting in the kitchen listening to her sing in her room, ACROSS THE HOUSE, and consequently, closest to our next door neighbors: I'm pretty sure Bob is getting ready to walk over and complain. You are singing way too loud tonight. Please pipe down.

Reaction? She immediately stops singing (presumably to read her latest text message), swings her door open and comes running down the hall laughing. "Really? Am I THAT loud?!?! Do you REALLY think BOB CAN HEAR ME???" (she's wearing a very wide and proud smile)


The sad thing is: it's not bad! She has a talent! And many times I stop what I'm doing just to listen.

I think we need a bigger house. One where sister girl gets her own sound proof wing. And G gets a basketball court for a bedroom.

Yes. That. That would be livin' the dream.