manrymission.com

Five years ago, when we headed overseas to live in Hawaii, our pets did not travel with us.  At the time, the quarantine was long.  Our Siberian Husky, Czar was 12 1/2 and Hawaii would have been a torture for him, so he was given to a friend and ridiculously spoiled for the last year of his life.  Our Ragdoll cat, Magnolia also decided she loved the good life lavished on her by a dear friend.  So, for close to 5 years, we have had no pets.  When you must live as a renter, it is very difficult to keep pets.  It severely limits your choice of places to live.  So, we told the kids that when we returned to the States and owned our home, we would once again get pets.  Dale’s deployment delayed the fulfillment of the promise, but now that I’ve started, there’s no stopping.  Dale went with the children to choose fish.  They happily named them which I discovered was probably not a good idea after some fish died and had to be replaced.  I had somehow missed the time worn advice of “Never Name Fish!”  However, fish were not enough.  On Saturday, we will be bringing home a Golden Retriever puppy.  I have spent the last several months reading dog breed, dog training, dog care, and dog cleanup books.  The kids and I watched multiple episodes of the Dog Whisperer and on Saturday, we wandered lost through the aisles of the pet store choosing brushes, dishes, toys, leashes, etc.  Before Dale brought home Czar, our first dog, there was no preparation, no research, and no plan.  Reading all these books and watching all these shows, I have concluded that we did everything wrong with him.  Czar was never completely housebroken, he chewed up everything, and ran away every chance he got.  We loved him dearly, but here’s hoping I can do it right this time.  For the last month, I have felt like I am preparing for a baby.  Instead of nursing/formula, crib, and diaper brand decisions; I must now decide which dog food, kennel, and brushes are the best.  Dog food is very complicated now.  There is endless research on dog food nutritional value and endless personal reviews that alternate between “this food is excellent” and “this is rubbish, it made my dog sick”.  For now, I am going to feed him the food the breeder uses as well as a dog vitamin.  Yes, a dog vitamin.  In the midst of debating how much I’m willing to pay to ensure my dog has the proper nutrition, I’m feeding my children waffles with peanut butter, chocolate chips, and syrup for dinner.  And no, I didn’t give them a vitamin.

The previous owners kindly left a bird house hanging off my back porch awning and I have a direct view of it from my kitchen window.  Two wrens began padding their nest and worked diligently for days getting it just right.  A few weeks later, I walked out on to the back porch to hear the little cheep cheeps of baby birds.  I have been observing the parents endless trips to bring their hungry children food.  Their task may be more labor intensive than mine, but after 15 days they throw their children out of the house.  For me, the feeding routine lasts 18 years for each.  Two days ago, I looked out the window and saw the black neighborhood cat standing on the porch railing and reaching for the house.  I flew out the door like a mad woman, yelling and chasing her off.  We had previously been on good terms and I often requested that if she was going to wander about my yard, she could have the courtesy to kill a few moles.  I watched her stalk a mole once, but she didn’t kill it.  I read online that cats do not like to eat moles.  They taste bad.  I then decided that I must now take some action to keep her off of the porch railing.  I read online that cats won’t jump on things if they are wrapped in tinfoil.  So, I went outside and wrapped my porch railing in tinfoil.  I was then on cat watch and constantly looked out the window to ensure my defenses were in place and prepared myself to chase off all cat threats.  There are actually 2 black neighborhood cats.  They are both solid black with golden eyes.  One is fat, one is skinny.  So, when I saw her fat brother sitting under my bird feeder, I charged out the door yelling, “Get out of here! Get out of here!  Leave my birds alone!”  He ran off and I was feeling quite pleased when I looked up to discover my neighbors sitting on their back patio.  All of a sudden it dawned on me…Not only do I have my back porch railing wrapped in tinfoil, but I periodically come running out of the house like a nutcase.  “She’s mad,” I say, “Stark raving mad!”  I slunk back into the house.  The next day, I walked out on my front porch to discover a lovely dead mouse, freshly killed, and left neatly for me.  A peace offering.  Being a cat person, I couldn’t help but feel touched.  Our barn cat in Germany, Fruhliche would bring all kinds of things to me as a gift: whole dead mice, mice with their heads decapitated, just the head, just the tail, a mouse gallbladder, etc.  When she wanted to add some excitement to our lives, she would bring the mouse in live, let it loose, and then stalk and kill it.  I never knew that cats growled until I was woken in the dead of night and heard her growling at a mouse next to my bed.  It was a fearsome sound.  So, I knew this was an offering given in the hopes of reestablishing our peaceful coexistence.  Either that, or she was making a  trade for the baby birds.

Today Zeke and I went out to feed the fish. Zeke sprinkled the food in and the fish swam up to eat it. Zeke leaned over to look at them, said “I love my fish!”, and promptly fell in. He did a complete belly flop. I snatched him by the back of his jacket, dragged him out, hauled him inside, stripped him down, and gave him a warm shower. He cried throughout all this and only settled down when I had him wrapped in a towel, holding him on my lap. I told him, “It’s alright, you’re alright, you can stop crying now.” He looked at me and said, “Now I’m going to get the throats.” (Zeke’s word for throwing up) Those who know me, know I’m a neurotic hand washer. (Not quite Lady Macbeth, but close.) When Zeke comes in after playing in the pond water, I always make him wash his hands. I tell him that he has to wash his hands, because the pond water can make him sick if he doesn’t wash it off. His 3 year old brain must have worked out that if he can get sick just sticking his hands in the water, falling entirely in the water would certainly give him the throats. I assured him that he was alright and was most likely not going to get the throats. It is remarkable to me that he has been playing, fishing, throwing rocks, netting leaves, and breaking ice in this pond for 10 months and this is the first time he has fallen in. I am ever so thankful that I was standing right next to him when he fell. All the fish survived this bit of excitement, both those with fins and those without.

I have greatly enjoyed watching the variety of birds that visit my back yard. They constantly remind me of a verse I was given in the summer. “Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?” I have seen blue jays, nuthatches, robins, doves, bluebirds, woodpeckers, cardinals, hummingbirds, a Cooper’s Hawk, and an entire flock of red wing blackbirds. My Mom declared my yard a bird sanctuary. On Saturday, as I watched the 4 and 20 Blackbirds, I was feeling blessed like the king with his dainty dish. Today, I went out to refill my bird feeder and broke it. I suddenly felt like the maid in the garden who got her nose snipped off. I had dropped the feeder and snapped the center plastic pole that links the top with the base. I looked at the feeder and told myself, “Just throw it away, Mugs. You’ll never be able to fix it.” But I am stubborn in my pursuit of trying to learn to fix things. Soon, Gabe and I were trying to repair it with twine and packing tape. As the task got more and more frustrating and I got more and more frustrated, Zeke decided it was a good time to come over and ask again and again and again and again and again and again and again that I help him with something else. I lost my temper and everyone in the vicinity got yelled at. Josiah was the only one spared as he was off somewhere else dealing with the pain of new braces. Our Pastor spoke on Sunday on how the fruit of the Spirit should be our initial response. It should come from within. It should not be an outward control that we use to suppress our innate response. Self Control and Patience coming from within. Here I thought I was doing a passable job and then I’m shone that the bar is set so much higher. Gabe and I finished jerryrigging the bird feeder and went outside to hang it back up. I filled it partway and lifted it. It seemed to be holding, so I filled it all the way up with bird food and lifted it. Crash! It broke again. Gabe looked at all the bird food spilled on the ground and said, “Well, that was a waste of money.” Apparently, he is greatly concerned about the price of bird food. So, God will have to feed the birds for awhile. I will, of course, buy another feeder. You see, I still want to help God with His job. I enjoy displaying my goodness outwardly, because allowing Him to create His goodness from within me is a much more difficult work. It requires that I recognize my righteousness is as filthy rags and the only thing good in me is Christ.

Apparently, it has become a special treat to drive over to FOB Diamondback for a meal every now and then. Because I needed to go to the APO to mail Gabe’s birthday present, I went with the gang for lunch at Diamondback yesterday. I would say that the grass is always greener, but we don’t have any grass here like they do in Tikrit! Anyway, the food was fine, nothing really to write home about. That still doesn’t keep me from blogging about it though. After lunch, Glenn and I went to the barber, Robert ran an errand, Jeremy wandered around the PX, and Sarah went to the beauty shop. After I got my $3 haircut, we went to the APO. They still haven’t fully recovered from the old APO burning down. The forms counter is a folding table on the sidewalk.

You stop at this table first and fill out your customs form. Then you proceed inside the warehouse to have your package inspected. After inspecting the contents, the clerk seals the package and affixes the customs form and any other required labels. Finally, you go to the counter, have your package weighed, and pay the post.

Gabe’s birthday package is on the way. For Josiah’s birthday back in November 2007, I bought him a wooden puzzle box. You have to figure out the secret to get it open. Inside the box, Josiah found a 10,000 Iraqi Dinar note. For Christmas, I bought Gabe his own puzzle box, because he liked Josiah’s so much. The trick to opening Gabe’s box is different than the trick for Josiah’s box. When Gabe finally got his box open, he discovered that it was empty. I guess that’s been on his mind since Christmas because in his email this week he wrote “was there meant to be anything in my box?”.