Never Ask Me To Bake Cornbread

I have had it.

When it comes to kitchen blunders, I top the list. But my biggest and most frequent goof-ups always involve cornbread.

Don't ask me why.

I never, never seem to be able to make my cornbread come out the same way twice. Even when using the same recipe, it ends up being too ... something ... or whatever. I just can't get it right.

But tonight really took the cake (or bread but it really seems like cake to me.) Tonight I made cornbread in two smaller pans in our large toaster oven (yes, it has a bake control). I had a ham going in the big oven so I thought this would be a good idea. And it was. The cornbread looked terrific and baked about the same length of time as it would have in the big oven. I brought them to the table and Todd started cutting the breads to serve. I went back to the kitchen and when I returned, Todd asked me how much cornmeal I had put in the recipe. I about died. That's when I realized I had completely forgotten the cornmeal! As I stood there, speechless, my entire family was looking at me, waiting for my response. I finally admitted that I hadn't put ANY cornmeal in it. You should have seen their faces! Surprise, shock, a bit of fear (my kids REALLY love cornbread and probably were afraid to eat it). While I began to whimper, my dear husband (who is no longer surprised by anything I do or don't do to a recipe) said with a smile, "Mommy made 'Cornless' bread". Every child got up to hug and kiss me and say it was o.k. Talk about an embarrassing/humiliating/frustrating moment. What a dufus I am. (But what sweet kids I have!)

Then I tasted the cornbread (I figured it was only fair to be first). It wasn't bad. Everyone liked it, actually. Whew! I absolutely can't stand to waste time and resources on something that turns out inedible. I'm just not good in the kitchen, at least at cooking. You can read what you want into that sentence.

Now, every Mom kitchen blunder is always followed by my family recounting and retelling every kitchen blunder I have done in the past. What is funny is that several of my blunders have turned out to taste o.k., even to the point of being asked to repeat it. Like the time I had the oven turned to broil when I made pizza. I make homemade pizza weekly but I've only broiled it once and the kids liked it but Todd would have liked the crust a bit more done on the bottom. That blunder is talked about frequently. Omitting an ingredient happens a lot but I also get distracted a lot when I'm cooking. I've taken to telling the kids not to talk to me when I'm in the middle of a recipe.

There are so many, many things I've done wrong, I don't feel like discussing any more right now. I'm still so miffed about the cornmeal thing. I'd like to go back to Jiffy mix cornbread which is what I grew up on but my family prefers from scratch. My Mom used to make it from scratch until she discovered Jiffy. Now I know why. I never liked the way she made it until she started using a mix. Cornbread was a major staple in her house as well as my Dad's when they were young. It was made weekly when I was growing up. You'd think I'd learn a thing or two. But that's part of the problem. My mom didn't teach me a thing about cooking and I never was interested enough to learn (I'm not blaming you mom, it's just the way it was).

When I got married, my husband taught me to cook. But he just can't teach me the essence of cooking. He tries. Tonight he asked what ratio of flour to cornmeal did I have. I just looked at him. He then asked what the consistency of the batter was. I said I didn't really notice. He just shook his head. I feel badly that I don't notice things like that (not often anyway). But that's the difference in a cook and someone who just makes a recipe - attention to detail.

Sigh. My Mom burned a lot of food. My Dad would always say it was just the way he liked it. Now that's love. Still, I am fortunate - my husband continues to eat my blunders. And fortunate that he tries to help me improve. If only I were a better student!

Yellowstone or Bust

We got the trailer. We went to Yellowstone. And now we are home.

If only it was that simple.

The funding finally arrived on a Mon. to pay the seller of the travel trailer (also known as a caravan to some of you). But the seller was out of town until Saturday. We had various problems and delays equipping the van (our tow vehicle) for this 10-day trip. Todd got his flu shot on Friday and spent the next 48 hours having an immune response (chills/fever). Finally, on Sunday, we crossed the Columbia River to get the trailer in Washington. Transaction completed, shaking of hands, a few words of advice and we hitched up. As we pulled out of the driveway, it was then that I realized the scope of what we had just done. Driving the narrow (oh, so narrow) winding road along the river back toward Oregon, I could feel just how looming and large that trailer was behind us. Going through the tunnel, then over the steep incline on the bridge back into Oregon, I shuddered at the thought of following the Lewis & Clark trail on our way to Wyoming.

Whimper.

There was no turning back now. On Monday, we had the transmission serviced on the van, obtained insurance for the trailer and got it registered with the state. We spent part of Monday and all day Tuesday cleaning the trailer and packing for the trip. Amazingly, we headed out on Wednesday, September 23rd, taking the highway that goes through the mountains headed toward Portland. My son, Alec, shouted, "Yellowstone or Bust!" Little did he know. 1-1/2 hours into the drive, we started seeing steam pouring out from under the hood. Todd pulled over to the side. We were in the middle of nowhere, about 1/2 hour from Portland. Cell phone service was sketchy but we talked with our travel club (AAA) to arrange to be towed. They didn't know where to send us. So I called an RV store I knew in the nearest big town (Hillsboro) and they recommended a radiator repair shop. Todd kept stopping to fill the radiator with water and we limped into Hillsboro. They said it could be fixed by the next day and offered to let us park next to the building, even allowing us to use their electricity. I was in tears. This was not the way I pictured starting our trip. But it was really the best option. However, at about 6:15 pm, the manager knocked on our door of the trailer and said we were good to go. What an angel! He stayed late so we could get on our way. This was only the beginning of us seeing God's hand at work on this trip.

We stayed at a campground in Portland. It had been an extremely hot and exhausting day and we were so thankful to finally stop for the night. Our first night was interesting because no one knew where anything was or how things worked in the trailer (there had been no time for a tutorial) and sleeping was difficult as no one was used to the shaking of the trailer everytime someone rolled over in bed. Carmen was especially whiny, a bad habit that we became used to every night of the trip.

The next day was awesome. A beautiful drive along the Columbia river, through the Gorge and on up into Washington's lower tip, staying along the Snake river where it meets the Clearwater, right at the Idaho border. This would become our favorite campground where we biked a bit until Chad's tire sprung a leak. Then we headed out on Highway 12 which is known as a long and winding road. We were basically following the Lewis & Clark Trail and stopped to read a lot of historic signs along the way. We had to stop 4 times due to road construction but it gave us time to hop out and explore the Lochsa river. Then we started to climb. It got steeper and steeper, on Lolo Pass. Alec and Todd started to see smoke coming from under the van. It got pretty thick. We pulled over and saw something leaking under the van, where it was hitting hot metal and causing the smoke. Since we were near the top of the pass, Todd decided to keep going until we found a better place to pull over. As the van slowly lurched to the top, I yelled to the kids, "Pray!" Amazingly, there was a huge parking lot and visitor center, waiting for us to pull in. I yelled to the kids to get out of the van, as smoke was everywhere. We ran. But Todd said it wasn't going to blow up or anything, it was just the transmission leaking. We went into the visitor center where they let us use their phone (again, NO cell phone service) and we arranged for a tow vehicle from AAA in Missoula, Montana (the nearest town down the other side of the pass, we were still in Idaho). The park rangers were so, so kind and helpful to us and our kids. God put us right where we needed to be. We needed transmission fluid but they didn't have any. Then a delivery man pulled up (it was about 4:30 pm) and came in. I jokingly asked if we could hitch a ride with him. Then I had a thought, "Hey, do you have any transmission fluid in your truck?" He said no, sorry, and went into another room. Then he came out and said his next stop was a ranger station that had a store - perhaps they had some. I gave him $20 (all I had) and teased that if he didn't return, it would be on his conscience (he laughed but I just knew he'd be back). We waited while the rangers closed up the center and Todd finally got through to AAA. Amazingly, the tow truck arrived, followed by the delivery man who handed Todd the transmission fluid and our change. I ran out in time to grab his hand and thank him profusely for helping. I could have cried (I think I did). May God bless that delivery man for coming to our rescue. God put him there just at the right time. We filled the transmission and the tow truck driver followed us all the way to Missoula, right up to the campground (where I had already called as soon as we got cell phone reception.) Tow truck man waved goodbye and we parked and set up camp for the night. Another late night but at least we were where we should be. The rangers in Idaho had called a transmission repair for us and Todd had arranged for us to take the van in on Monday (this was late Friday, of course, everything was closed.) Saturday, we spent doing laundry and resting. It was hot and windy in Missoula but it was my first time in Montana so I was a little stoked. I haven't been in a new state since I was 12, which makes 39 states I have set foot in. There was, however, a fire to the northeast (in Helena) and we could actually see a red glow. This would not be the only fire we encountered and with the wind, it was a little unnerving. The kids played a little mini golf at the campground and Todd made some decisions. If we waited until the van was repaired, we would run out of time to go to Yellowstone. So I started making calls, booking a hotel room just outside of Yellowstone and reserving a rental van. If we couldn't camp in Yellowstone, at least we could go there. Sunday, we got the rental van, packed our stuff in plastic trash bags and left the van at the repair shop. Yellowstone, here we come!

We had a beautiful drive through Montana - my goodness, it's big! Mile after mile of burnished hills and valleys. It seemed to take forever, going through Butte and nearly getting to Bozeman. We turned south then and headed toward the North entrance of Yellowstone. We walked into the Super 8 that our travel club had arranged for us and, of course, they didn't have our reservation. I wasn't surprise at all, it seemed that nothing would go smoothly on this trip but things did work out and they apologized for the inconvenience (it was actually their mistake, for once!) We got a big corner room that overlooked the parking lot and the sun set over the hills just beyond. I asked the front desk for a dinner recommendation and we ate at a pretty good Italian restaurant. To me, vacations are made up of little moments and that night, as everyone else was asleep and I was just getting into bed, I heard some motorcycles zooming into the parking lot. Three way-too happy guys headed toward the hotel when one of them shouted, "Viva Las Vegas!" It was all I could do not to laugh out loud. This became my mantra for the rest of the trip. The next morning, I saw these same guys in the parking lot and couldn't help but shout, "Viva Las Vegas!" Todd was stunned and the men looked a little sheepish. I explained that I'd had a good laugh at that one and asked if they had a good time. "Oh, yeah!" came the reply and they went on. Todd said, "What was all that about?" I said I'd explain later. Anyway, both nights at the hotel, we heard the mating call of a bull elk outside the window (I was glad to be on the 2nd floor). Quite a noise, especially at 2:00 am. We saw the female in the morning, right outside. Cool.

We spent two terrific days in Yellowstone, exploring the northern half. We could not get to Old Faithful (the most reliable and huge geyser) because of road construction to the east and a fire blocking the road to the west. This fire was near where we had made reservations to camp, near the lake, so it is obvious God didn't want us to go there. Amazing how you see things clearer on reflection. The smoke from this fire covered the east side of the park but it was far enough away not to cause danger where we were. However, we had to make a 120 mile detour on Tuesday just to get to Old Faithful, a must-see. It was worth it but, oh, so much driving. At least we had a reliable van and nothing to tow. We saw so much wildlife, nearly everything on Chad's list. Todd had his new baby, a digital camera, and would regularly hop out of the van to take photos whenever the opportunity came. We'd see people lined up on the side of the road and knew there was something to see. Remarkably there were few people at the park so we had a lot of it to ourselves.

On Monday, we spent a lot of time walking around hot springs and such and I was looking for a particular one, with a hole in the bottom in the shape of a bear. This was special to me because the last time I was here I was 6 and with my own family. They had teased me that a bear had fallen into the spring and I believed them. When I saw that hot spring, I was excited. But then I started to cry ... and cry. I didn't want to leave. Memories of my Dad, knowing he had stood here with me and my family, it just kind of overwhelmed me (PMS didn't help my mood, either). Todd and the kids moved on, leaving me there all alone. All alone. It was quite a moment. Just me, in Yellowstone, with my memories. I will not forget it.

So, after enjoying all we could in Yellowstone, we had to head back late on Tuesday for Missoula. Now, I have always scoffed at minivans equipped with DVD players for the kids. I mean, WE survived traveling without these things as kids so who needs them? However, we bought a DVD of Yellowstone and thought, what the heck! It was late, so we let the kids watch as we drove and then they all went to sleep. Don't knock it until you try it, right?!

We'd had awesome weather in Yellowstone but on Wednesday, we knew a storm was moving in, complete with snow. We headed out of Missoula (with our van and trailer), back to the campground on the Washington/Idaho border (Clarkston/Lewiston). We took a different route, to avoid the snow we had seen on the pass that morning. This route was beautiful but at one point, we began climbing, and climbing. It was awfully hard on the van and Todd was pensive. Just as we were thinking we couldn't get much higher, we came out onto an enormous expanse, like a great canyon. It looked down on Moscow, Idaho, and it was beautiful but the grade going down was going to do a number on our brakes. I think I held my breath and prayed harder than ever. Everyone was silent. I was so glad to reach the bottom. The brakes were a bit warm but we made it.

We stayed two nights at the Clarkston, WA, campground, biking and hanging out. Friday, we headed for home, holding our breath with every incline. There seemed to be a lot of inclines and we didn't know if the van would be o.k. By this time, we didn't trust it (at least, I didn't). Going through the Columbia Gorge, we encountered a head wind that lasted about 80 miles. Todd fought that wind the whole way, poor guy. It beat us around a bit. Then, after Portland, there are at least 4 passes to deal with, along the Columbia River. But we made it. It has taken us two full days to recover. Even today, (Monday), everyone is still a bit shell-shocked by our trip. We had a lot of good times but way too many tense and stressful times. The kids held up well. And we saw our faith tested and strengthened by looking for God to provide and protect. On our last night camping, I needed just one more quarter to finish my laundry. The office was closed so I took my coins and began praying for an angel with a quarter. It was dark but I started walking around the campground and finally saw a couple walking. I knew I had found my angel. I asked if they would exchange my coins for a quarter. The husband obliged and even asked if I needed more. I said, "No thank you but I was praying for an angel and you're it!" So many times I was able to share with the kids how God provided for us. It would have been nice to have had a smooth, trouble-free vacation but life's not like that. We have to be thankful for what we are given and look for the good in people, places and life in general. And that's what this trip did. Definitely.

No Trailer Yet

No, no trailer yet. However, that didn't stop us from taking a short, 2-day camping trip last week. Dang it.

We had hoped to have the trailer before we left for a couple of days at a beach campground we like, just 1-1/2 hours south of us. We had also hoped it wouldn't rain.

But rain it did. It let up long enough for Todd and Chad to set up the tent (ugh, says Kate) and then Todd said (bless him!) we weren't going to cook in the rain so we set out to search for a restaurant. The campground is just outside of Tillamook, which means "Land of Many Waters" but I believe it really means, "Land of Many Cows", because there are a lot of dairy farms in the area. However, it floods there almost annually so there you go. Tillamook is famous for it's cheese and it's our cheese of preference. Now, we've been to Tillamook many times but we've never actually eaten there so we didn't know where to go. I just happened to have called the local radio station before we left home to ask what the weather was there and I still had that phone number on my cell phone (brilliant, right?) We passed the local radio station on our way to the campground so I got the idea to call them again to ask where to eat. I listen to this station all the time at home so I knew who would answer the phone and I was right. The evening DJ gave me a couple of names of restaurants so we headed out for the first one he recommended. It was right on the bay, had a great view but it was under construction and looked like a dive at first. We decided to drive through town but didn't see anything that looked appealing so we went back to the first place. It turned out to be a nice place after all and the food was good. Thank you, Lord.

It was late and dark when we returned to the campground but it had stopped raining, except for occasional drizzle (nothing new here) so Todd started a fire and we sat around until 10:00 or so, talking and telling stories. That's probably my favorite time of camping. Good thing because I had no idea just how long my night was going to get.

After teeth brushing, we put everyone to bed and got in ourselves. The kids were already grumbling and whining. We haven't camped in our tent in over a year and a half and the kids have all grown, as in, outgrown our tent. It's supposed to sleep 6 but we think that means 6 little people or perhaps 2 adults and 4 very small kids. Carmen had outgrown her sleeping bag and kept flipping around until she was out of the bag completely. She cried and cried because she couldn't sleep, gave herself a headache and was nearly inconsolable in spite of all my efforts to comfort her. I rubbed her head, rubbed her back, etc., praying for God's help. I finally put her in my sleeping bag and she began to calm down, finally going to sleep around 12:30 or so. The bad thing about this is Todd and I sleep in two sleeping bags zipped together to make a double bag. With 8 year old Carmen next to me, I was sandwiched in the middle with 6' Todd on the other side. I couldn't move. At least I wasn't cold (for once). I laid there, dozing off and on, all night long, afraid to move as I didn't want to wake Carmen. The boys tossed and turned for several hours, it sounded like Alec was rolling over and over in his bag. Then, around 3:00 or so, everyone in the tent began to snore. First Alec, then Chad, then Todd, then Carmen. It was like a chorus of snoring, in harmony. I nearly burst out laughing but knew I had to be quiet. Before I knew it, I woke up hearing myself snore, proof that I had slept at least a little. What a night.

Did I mention I really don't like camping, especially tent camping?

I laid there until I saw light and, thank the Lord, it was a sunny day. We had breakfast, walked on the beach, made lunch, the kids went exploring. Todd and I took naps in the van. Well, he slept but I couldn't really. He took the kids kite flying while I tried to sleep some more. I wanted to go home but relented because everyone wanted to stay. Todd could see how upset I was and did all the cooking for dinner. We watched the sun set on the water and Todd got some good photos. We had a campfire again, which was fun but we put everyone to bed earlier this time. The kids all said they'd try harder to go to sleep. But we still had to put Carmen in our sleeping bag. Night 2 of no moving. But I was so tired I didn't care and fell asleep almost immediately at 10:00 (I'm a clock-watcher when we camp, a bad habit). An hour later, our camp neighbor's car alarm went off, sending Todd and me nearly through the top of the tent. Todd tried frantically to unzip the tent and I dove to get out of his way. We were both disoriented, forgetting momentarily where we were. He never did get the tent unzipped before our neighbor got the alarm turned off and we heard him say, "Sorry". I called out, "That's O.K." but I was so shaken it was quite some time before I could calm down enough to go back to sleep. During that time, Todd was turning over in his small space, just as I was sitting up a bit and, "WHAM" his strong elbow came into contact with my forehead. My whole head was shaken. He really belted me one good! It still hurts. I wanted to go home so badly. At that moment, I hated the world, hated the tent, hated the stupid yurt campers next door, hated my daughter's too-small sleeping bag. She spent part of the night perpendicular to me, kicking me in the knees. I kept moving her over to no avail. Todd finally offered to be in the middle, which I gladly accepted. Finally ... sleep.

Amazingly, and by God's grace, Carmen never woke up during all that commotion.

Another beautiful morning but I couldn't wait to get out of there. I accidentally tossed out one of my favorite paring knives (Note to self: Never take a kitchen utensil that you really like camping). I also closed the van door on my hand, not hard enough to do much damage but it scared me (well, it did hurt). My knees are bruised from getting in and out of the back of the van where the cooler and the food were stored. My back and knees hurt for 2 days from sleeping on the ground. What a baby ... waaah, waaah.

O.k., I've gotten this all out of my system. I am not a good camper, didn't camp as a kid, I'm spoiled by the conveniences of life. I do appreciate the beauty of the outdoors, God's creation and all. I just want a shower and private toilet at the end of the day. And a bed. Is that asking too much?

Oh, yeah. If we ever get the trailer, I will have those things. I think that's what frustrated me so much, knowing that trailer is across the river and there we were, sitting in the rain, slogging through the mud, sleeping on uneven ground under a wet, wet tent. This campsite is completely shrouded by trees, dripping, wet trees. All night long, the trees dripped so hard on the tent I envisioned chipmunks slapping the tent. (Chipmunks were everywhere.) Every time I got into the back of the van, there was one particular tree branch that waited for me, just to drip down my neck. Seriously! After the umpteenth time, I was ready to scream.

So much for relaxing in the great outdoors.

Perhaps I had to go through this experience to really appreciate the trailer. God forgive me for being so spoiled.

Our Long Trailer

In case you were wondering, I have reached my goal of learning "Memories" by the end of Aug. Now, I'm working on "The Sound of Music", although I'm not setting a deadline. But, gosh, playing piano is fun! I love the challenge of trying to make my fingers work at the same time my brain is trying to remember what note is what. It seldom gels but when it does, I'm so stoked!

But that's not what you came here to read about. Are there any Lucille Ball fans lurking about out there? I'm not much of a fan anymore but I grew up on the "I Love Lucy" b&w reruns that were always on Channel 11. There was also that movie (in color) called, "The Long, Long Trailer", starring Lucy and Desi Arnaz (of course). If you've ever seen that movie, you will understand the next paragraph.

We are in the process of buying a long trailer. A travel trailer. And more often than I care to admit, that movie comes to mind. I have no idea what I'm getting into. I'm sure camping in the trailer will be not that much different than tent/van camping except we'll have our own kitchen and bath (a godsend) so I'll bet I will like it a lot more. And perhaps I won't be cold, now there's a selling point right there. But I get the feeling that I should learn a lot more about it and fast. I stopped a neighbor down the street the other day (we've never spoken but he was walking out of his travel trailer as I drove by) just to see if he had any advice about RV's, like safety issues, etc. I've been reading anything we have in the house about RV's, which isn't much. I get research-happy about new things and this is no different. I just haven't had much time to research lately but I will.

In that Lucy movie, I remember her trying to prepare dinner in the trailer while her husband was driving it. As you can imagine, stuff was flying everywhere, typical Lucy-humor. In fact, it's the only scene I remember from the movie, which was probably way too adult for me to watch at the age I saw it. While I know I won't be in the trailer while it is moving, I keep thinking of stories I've heard, like the time some husband was doing a repair on the road and something electrocuted him, leaving the wife stranded. True story, unfortunately. I keep thinking, "What exactly did he do?" I also wonder if I'll get claustrophobic but the thing is huge, much larger than the van or the tent. I'm trying to look at the positive things and not dwell on my concerns. But I keep seeing Lucy lurching about, trying to stir something while her husband is turning corners. I think they pulled their trailer with a car. Don't ask me why my mind has chosen this scenario - I can't figure it out.

You know, my poor dear mother actually asked if we were going to pull that trailer with my prius. I guess that's the only vehicle she can remember that we have. I wanted to scream but I simply said that, no, we have a van quite capable of doing the job. My mom makes me want to scream frequently these days but that's another story that won't be posted here. Respect your mom, never write negatively about her. There's some stand-up comedienne who's being sued by her mother-in-law because of the negative things this lady has been saying about her in her comedy shows. That'll teach her.

Oh, I've digressed again. The trailer. Yes. My family is excited. It hasn't sunk in for me. It's not here yet. When we do finally pull it into our driveway, perhaps all my concerns will be put to rest. I hope.

Never Too Old

This is kind of cool. We are a semi-musical family. My husband plays piano and is teaching himself guitar. He's also trying to teach second son, Alec, guitar but Alec is not known for being consistent. There's still hope. Chad took piano for five years then switched to euphonium until his braces prevented him from playing. He switched back to piano on his own but I hadn't heard him play in months.

The cool thing is that I decided I would try to learn how to play piano on my own. After several months of sporadic playing here and there, I finally learned two small pieces (I especially like "Scarborough Fair") and am currently working on "Memories" from the Cats musical. I have observed a resurgence of interest in Chad since I have been working on these pieces. I have asked for his help several times since I only read music up to a point. My formal (school) training is in clarinet and choir, which only helps so much but at least I can figure out the notes. And it's fun! When I was 20, I rented a piano for $21 a month and tried to teach myself from a book of music that included Elton John and Steely Dan, not exactly beginner's material. I got discouraged after 6 months and turned in the piano.

Now, at least, I have two trained pianists for help and I'm much more patient with myself. Owning the piano helps. I also have an audience, including the dogs next door who hear me through the window. Playing for an audience makes one sit up straighter, etc. My family also encourages me which is nice, even when I hit the wrong notes.

But the best thing is seeing Chad tackling a hard piece. He's been listening to a CD of the music he's playing and then goes to the piano to work on it. It's wonderful to watch. He really has potential, this young one. I try to be encouraging to him without pushing. I hope, hope, hope, he pursues it.

Anyone out there remember Steely Dan? (I loved the "Aja" album but I was in Jr. High, I think, so I'm probably the only one who remembers!)

O.K., About The Llamas ...

Funny you should ask. When Todd and I were young, idealistic, and newly married to boot, we began working on a dream to move to a small piece of land in the country and raise something. An animal something, that is. We were living in Southern California at the time, where we grew up, and had no idea how to raise any kind of live stock but we started researching. We first heard about a woman raising muskoxen in Montana. But after learning more about the injuries she received from her precious herd, we began looking for less dangerous beasts. Enter the alpaca. Smaller than its cousin, the llama, producing better wool to sell or spin, and darn cute to walk among (especially the babies) we thoroughly researched this kind of venture. We visited several alpaca farms in California, meeting owners and learning how it's done. We were hooked. The downside was that alpacas were very expensive at the time (this was 20 years ago, before the market became glutted and then declined in popularity). So we began looking at llamas more seriously. They were less expensive and could be trained to carry a pack and used for hiking. We made the big move to OR in our 3rd year of marriage, after several trips north and a lot of prayer. God's guidance was so evident that it would take another post to tell. Anyway, we ended up on nearly an acre in a rural setting which allowed us to have perhaps 2 llamas. We figured it was a start and hoped to get more land someday and grow more animals. We found our first llama, which we named Abraham, in a cramped little stall on a makeshift petting zoo/farm. The eccentric owner sold him to us for a price we could afford and we took our 6 mo old babe home. He was so cute. We fell in love. I got so used to watching him out the kitchen window, grazing and walking around within the electric New Zealand style fencing that Todd labored to put up. The electric wire was to keep out the vicious dog next door that had tried to attack Abraham the day we brought him home. I was so glad when that dog disappeared, along with it's weird owners.

After 6 months, we visited a veterinarian on whose farm Abraham was born. Abraham's older brother was still there and we decided to purchase him as well. Bad move. We loved Abraham's gentle demeanor and sweetness. Big brother was a nasty animal. Hard to train, stubborn. Abraham trained to a halter and pack with no problems, really. Isaac was always difficult. We named him Isaac because it means something like laughter but he was no laughing matter. He kicked Abraham in the face right after we brought him home. I was in tears. They resolved their difficulties, however, and learned to live together. Every evening, they would begin chasing each other, then stop and pose, chase again, then would begin galloping around and around. It was hysterical. I have observed this kind of behavior in my own kids when they were very small. What is it about the evening?

To sum things up, after we had our second child, we were forced to move from our dinky house in the country and into a larger home in town. Shortly thereafter, we auctioned our llamas off to a couple who had a place for them down the coast, south of here. We've not seen them since. It was an experience I'm glad we had and there are times I wish my kids could have grown up with them. We will never forget them.

21

Todd & Kate

August 6, 1988

3 - kids

2 - states

3 - homes

4 - moves

2 - businesses

3 - episodes of melanoma

1 - heart surgery

2 - llamas

1 - God

___________

21 years of happy marriage

Thanks Todd!

You have been and always will be the only one for me!