Land, Ho!

The darling Czech Pecker and I are on a mission from God. Okay, not a mission from God. We're just on a mission. We're on a search for some land. We're looking for about 3 to 5 acres, not a lot, just enough to put up a modest house and give the dogs room to run and howl. Most importantly, it will be OUTSIDE the city limits.

See, we are currently within the city limits, and it sucks. Big time. Let's talk about somebody complaining about the noise from our dogs and calling Animal Control on us. Yes. Somebody complained about my dogs barking. Now, Huskies rarely "bark," at least in the way that other breeds bark. Huskies have a unique way of communicating that is a cross between wolf howl, yodel, bark, and an attempt to imitate human talking and singing. If you've ever been around a Husky or Malamute or any other Northern breed, you know what I'm talking about. Alone, it's no big deal, but if you have a small pack, like I do, they can sometimes engage in a small cacophony of communication. They are usually at their loudest when we humans are with them because we talk to them, and they talk back to us. Evidently, this is a no-no within the city limits of our small town that thinks it's more important than it really is.

Oh, the visit by the Barney Fife-like Animal Control officer was quite amusing. The darling Czech Pecker showed him our kennels, told him that the dogs were neutered and spayed (or scheduled to be). The guy asked what our "purpose" was with the dogs. Um, did he think we were running a Siberian Husky dog fighting ring or something? The darling Czech Pecker looked at him oddly and replied, "They're PETS." He later told me that he thought about replying that with all of the SNOW we get around here, we're training for the Iditarod, but chances are, Mr. Barney Fife Wannabe has no idea what that is. He probably even thinks Alaska is a foreign country.

SO, we are searching for a place OUTSIDE the city limits with enough room for us all to Husky talk all we want. As for whomever complained about the "noise" from my dogs, may he/she be plagued by an unexplained, non-stop ringing in the ears that is 100 times more annoying than the occasional dog howl or bark.

Reports of My Death Have Been Almost Exaggerated

I've seriously been running around here like a crazy woman the past few weeks. Okay, so I'm always a bit on the psychotic side, but it's been crazy turned up to 11 lately.

First, J.P. made his First Communion! And there was much rejoicing....yay! Here he is in his mafia suit, looking suitably holy and all:

It was an exciting day, for many reasons. The Mass itself was lovely, and it was certainly very moving to watch my son receive Communion for the very first time. Afterwards, we walked over to Croghan Hall for a short reception and to chat with some friends. We had plans for a family party in downtown Greenville after this, so we picked up the cake that I had ordered from Maria, who makes the BEST cakes ever, and headed toward Sticky Fingers BBQ. Maria had delivered all of the Communion cakes that she had made for everyone to the church, so it was convenient for us.

This is when the real FUN started. The cake I had ordered was 3 tiers with a First Communion boy figure on top. On our way downtown, THE BOTTOM TIER STARTED TO COLLAPSE! By the time we arrived at the restaurant, the bottom tier was smashed, and my hands were covered in cake in my attempt to hold up the cake to keep the rest of it from falling. The good news: the top 2 tiers remained intact. This, I told the darling Czech Pecker, earned me an extra beer.

At the restaurant, the food was fabulous, naturally. We're all BBQ whores, and Sticky Fingers has some great BBQ. I had that extra beer, too, and it's a good thing because the next INTERESTING thing happened after the party.

We were leaving the parking garage, and the gates were stuck. Annette was at one exit, these women at the exit beside her, and a cop was behind them, trying to get someone on the phone from the City of Greenville to come fix the gates. We were behind the cop. We got out and were looking at the gates, seeing if they could be forced up in some way without breaking them. And THEN, the cop car slipped out of gear and started rolling back TOWARD MY BRAND NEW TRUCK THAT I HAD ALL OF TWO DAYS! The darling Czech Pecker bought it as an early Mother's Day gift for me, a Chevy Silverado. My mother and grandmother are giving me hell over it because they think it looks weird for a woman to drive, in the words of my grandmother, "a big ass truck." I am now calling it my B.A.T. Mobile and am looking to get some magnetic bat symbols to go on my doors. Then, I could yell out in my official voice, "Kids! Dogs! To the B.A.T. Mobile!"

Anyway, back to the Parking Garage Incident. According to the kids, I let out a high pitched, "eeeeeek" although I don't recall it. They're still giving me hell over it. Fortunately, the cop jumped in his car and caught it but it still tapped the front bumper of my truck. The damage is very minimal, though, and you can't see it until you are right up on it. An adjuster for the city came out yesterday, and they will be paying to get it fixed.

After First Communion, I had to switch gears into POP ART, the school's annual fundraiser. There were mosaic projects to be finished, and I worked on those until I was seeing tiles and grout in my sleep. By the time the actual party arrived, I was a bit loopy, and I added to it by indulging in several cosmos. I slept very well the next morning.

THE DOGS are keeping me busy, as ever. We've been treating the pups, Mac and Kate, for demodex, but the initial treatment was not working very well, especially for Mac. I took them back to the vet this past week, and now they are on another treatment. Today is Day 5, and I can already tell a difference. Maia had her spay appointment last week, and Skyy has her appointment next week. Dougal is still going on his toy raids. Mojo and Natasha are still fussing just to hear each other "talk." Sitka still likes to stand there and sing arias because she has a big mouth. As for the "little guys," Wiggles still thinks he's a Husky, and Dudley is spoiled rotten and thinks I have to carry him up and down the stairs. He's fooling us all, though. When he thought I wasn't looking, I saw him making the trek all by himself. Little jerk.

We're now doing the countdown until school is out for the summer. That is about the time when I will need your prayers to start in earnest.

Time to Celebrate!

It's celebration time in the Lazurek Funny Farm. Rebekah received her acceptance letter to St. Joseph's yesterday, and we're happy because that puts her in a Good Mood, at least for a while. Seriously, we are thrilled for her because it IS an accomplishment. On another note, though, it means the darling Czech Pecker and I are getting older because our little girl is going to be in MIDDLE SCHOOL this fall! When in bejeezus did THAT happen? It also means that her tuition is going to almost double going from elementary to middle school. That kid better appreciate the sacrifices. Do you KNOW what kind of shoe shopping I could be doing with that money? And some of the cute spring outfits I've come across that would actually flatter me...but I digress. We are seriously happy, and I think the upcoming years will be very good for Rebekah's academic and personal growth. I'm looking forward to it.

These Are a Few of My Favorite Saints

So, it's Lent, and that usually makes me a bit more reflective on All Things Catholic and Why I Stay, even though I'm most likely on the far edge of ex-communication. Among the many reasons why I love Catholicism and stubbornly cling to the faith, even when some of the people make me want to scream and pull my hair out until I'm as bald as my dad and father-in-law, are the saints. In a word, the saints are simply COOL. And we have a saint for nearly everything, every occupation. For every situation in life, there is a saint we can turn to and ask for intercession, ask for that saint's help in petitioning God for whatever we need, whether it's searching for that lost set of car keys or brewing the perfect beer or simply making it through the day with the kids without calling in the men in the white coats to come take you away.



Here are a few of my personal favorite saints who hold an important place in my life:



St. Brigid of Ireland: I start with this saint of early Christian Ireland because I took it as my Confirmation name and consider her my primary Patron Saint. She was multi-talented. Among her many achievements, she opened art schools, brewed beer, opened monasteries, and gave away a lot of food and goods to the poor. Given my penchant for drinking and drawing, she's right up my alley! Why an Irish saint when I'm mainly of English and Cherokee descent? Why not? Besides, I've always admired the Irish spirit and tenacity.

St. Francis of Assisi: Among other things, he's the Patron Saint of animals. Considering that we currently count among the residents of our Funny Farm eight Siberian Huskies, two Shih Tzus, four cats, and two guinea pigs, St. Francis logically holds an important place in our family. Even he feels the burden of looking out for our gang at times, though. I've already been through two garden statues and am currently searching for another one...

St. Anthony of Padua: Patron Saint of Lost Items! When I was a kid, my mom used to say that if my head weren't attached to my body, I'd probably lose it. Things haven't changed all that much since I've grown up, and my kids have inherited this unfortunate trait from me. We are constantly asking St. Anthony to help us find lost jewelry, books, Rosaries, shoes, items of clothing, computer-related items, games. Needless to say, we are always making contributions to the poor box in gratitude. Yes, St. Anthony always comes through!

The Blessed Mother: I'm sitting here in my living room, and in this room alone, I see two portraits of St. Mary on my walls, a statue of St. Mary in the corner of the room, and in my curio cabinet, I have a whole shelf of figurines of Mary in her various manifestations, including the Lady of Guadalupe. I also have at least ten Rosaries, including the antique crystal one that my grandmother gave me on my wedding day--that is the one I carry in my purse and use most often when I pray the Rosary--an Irish St. Patrick's Rosary, one from Italy, one made by a parishioner at my church, one with different coloured beads for each decade representing the various continents--it's a pray for peace Rosary--and one dedicated to John Paul II's pontificate.

Now, keep in mind that I live in the middle of the Bible Belt and Catholics make up less than 4% of the population. A lot of the Protestants I encounter are open-minded and tolerant, but there are always going to be the exceptions, and I've met a few, even right here in my own neighbourhood. I've had service people come into my house to work on appliances or some such, and once they've caught sight of my "pagan" statues and portraits, they've treated me as a leper. Once while trick-or-treating with my kids, I was asked by someone where we went to church. When I told him, he actually took a step back, as if "Papism" were contagious. When I was younger, I was easily offended by such people and their ignorance. Now, I am merely amused. My humor and my saints help keep me grounded!

Um, Why Are You a WITCH?

Okay, so a few people, especially those fellow Catholics, may be wondering why the title of my blog is "The Witch of the Appalachians." The explanation is two-fold. It is a literary allusion, but primarily, it is a nod to my ancestry.

First, the literary allusion. In Byron's Manfred, the Faustian main character has an encounter with the Witch of the Alps. The Appalachians may not be quite as grand as the Alps, but we have our pride, okay?

As for my ancestry, no, I don't have any actual witches back there...that I'm aware of...but plenty women have been called that and probably other things, too. However, the one person I had on my mind when I came up with the title was Grandma Sally. She is my great-great-grandmother, and she was a Cherokee medicine woman. In a time when there were few to no physicians to care for the people and their medical needs in the mountains, she used her knowledge and skills, learned from the time she was able to walk and talk, to treat, heal, deliver babies, and care for the folks in the "hollers" and hills for miles and miles around. Because she relied upon extensive herbal lore, she gathered fresh plants and herbs and used her kitchen to hang and dry them. My dad remembers her from when he was a small boy, and he said that a lot of people, while respecting her knowledge, were also afraid of her, and whispered that she was a witch.

I spoke with other relatives who remember Grandma Sally, and they, too, said that many people whispered this very thing about her. She was not a gregarious, talkative, friendly person. She was introspective, serious, and when pushed, had the very Devil's own temper. One of her sons was shot and killed in a feud, and she would often grab her gun and threaten to go kill a member of the rival family in revenge, even years later. It would take several of her other sons to hold her down. After dark, members of that rival family stayed in their holler, for fear that the "witch" would curse them.

There are many other stories about her. The darling Czech Pecker says that every time he hears another story about Grandma Sally, he understands me a little bit more. Now, I wonder what he means by that?

American Girl, Atlanta, and Good Friends

Friday morning saw me heading down the highway, I-85, in my Native American mobile, kids in tow, toward Atlanta to meet up with my good friend Sunny and her girls at the American Girl Boutique and Bistro in Alpharetta, Georgia. The most dangerous part of driving was trying not to run off the road from laughing as Rebekah and J.P. played Mad Libs in the back seat.

We had a fabulous time at American Girl! Rebekah got a Just Like Me doll, and aside from the eye colour, she DOES look a lot like her. Let me tell you, this store is a pre-teen girl's crack pipe, and for this nearly 40 year-old mother--I was totally channeling my inner pre-teen girl. Dolls, accessories, clothes, books...they even have a hair salon for the dolls there! My son held up through it all manfully, and he even carried one of the bags. He's such a little gentleman--sometimes!

We had lunch at the Bistro, and we had a grand time, talking and laughing with friends. Sunny is a hoot. I feel like she's my separated sister or something! Her girls are darling. Being female, we had to all check out the bathroom, and we all oohed and aahed over the decor. Pink and chocolate coloured tiles on the floors and walls, sparkly tiles! Pink sparkly soap--Rebekah especially loved this one! The highlight of the meal for my son, however, was when Sunny's youngest daughter's doll lost her leg. Literally. She picked up the doll, and the tights fell off, along with the leg. J.P. fell over laughing. Everyone laughed, but J.P. was truly tickled!

The Boy was not forgotten in all of the Girl Frenzy. He got some Wii games from Gamestop, and a radio that has a flash light and cell phone charger. He got a bit perturbed when we went nuts in Sephora, but he managed. I also finally got the Vera Bradley tote with the Pink Elephants that I have been craving for a while now.

Back at the hotel, we continued our fun and hi-jinks. The kids watched movies, we texted with some of our fellow Heifers, and talked to some of them on the phone. At one point, Sunny and I were on the phone with our Heifer friend, Jess, and we were getting especially hysterical about Skye's legless doll, and some jerk in the room next to us decided to yell at us...except our kids were in the hallway going from her room to mine, and THEY were the ones he targeted. Sunny very diplomatically told him to go to Hell. No, she didn't use those words. She was very polite, but I think he wondered about her!

We made it back to South Carolina, and the darling Czech Pecker forgave me for spending his hard-earned money, as he always does. Hey...I work hard, too, as his adoring wife and mother to his spawns of Satan, don't I? I'm just sad that there is not an American Girl store locally. I would totally put in an application to work there. And proceed to spend my entire paycheck there, too.

The Sky is Falling

Maybe that's an exaggeration, but as I sit here and write this, there is a storm a'blowing out there. Ah, Spring is around the corner, it is. I'm sitting snug on my sofa, under my son's fleece John Deere blanket because my Kentucky blanket is in the dryer, dammit, with these two Shih Tzus huddled next to me like furry little rats. Scaredy cats. Kids are off to school, dropped off by the darling Czech Pecker, and the temptation to crawl back into bed and sleep for another hour or two is SO strong.

A few random thoughts for today:

The darling Czech Pecker is THE best husband in the world, even if I do plan our divorce at least once a month and get the urge to whack him across the head once a week. Please note: I never act on those urges.

I love my dogs, but why did they have to eat the taco kit yesterday?

My kids are funny and growing up to be smartasses just like their mom and dad. This makes me proud.

I am so excited about going to Atlanta on Friday with Rebekah to meet my friend Sunny and her daughters at American Girl and staying there Friday night to have a girls' night. I wish the other Heifers could join us.

I wonder how I should prepare that roast for dinner this evening?

They say I have ADD, but they don't understand. Oh look...there's a bird flying by my window!

I need to finish laundry. Not my favorite task.

It is nearly time to gather my courage and crawl out from under the blanket and face the work of the day. Such is the life of a Kept Woman!