eleven hours to alexandria

I've thought about a few different ways to tell this story. I could tell it by the numbers:

One Jeep

Two Tow Trucks

Three Hours: estimated time to get to camp

Four Groves Trying to Get to Bible Camp

Eleven Hours: actual time it took to get to camp

I could tell it hour by hour:

10:30- first attempt to depart

12:15- second attempt to depart

12:45- first tow truck

4:00- actual time of departure

7:00- second tow truck

9:30- arrival at Bible camp

Or I could tell you the whole shebang...

Saturday morning we got up, got the car loaded up, set the animals up for a few nights of neighbor care, and were in the car, seat belts on at 10:30. I said to Rory, "I am so proud of us! I can't believe we're making such good time!" We said a prayer for safety as we traveled up to Mount Carmel Family Bible Camp, and then Rory put the key in the ignition and nothing happened. No sound, no movement, no nothing.

It appeared the battery was dead, so we all got out, Rory took the old battery out, went to Menards to buy a new battery (with our truck) and came back to put it in. It was a little hairy because a screw had broken that held the battery in, but with the help of a C-clamp I found in the junk drawer, the battery was secured and at 12:15 he went to start the car again. And again, no sound, no movement, no nothing. Rory called for a tow truck.

I did the thing any good wife would do in this moment. I told him I was going to town to buy a pair of shoes I had meant to get before we left for camp. And I'd pick up lunch on my way home. Unfortunately they didn't have my shoes in my size, but I did come home with Happy Meals and my favorite Nacho Supremo's from a new taco joint in town my friend Ali just introduced me to.

On the way home I thought a lot about choosing our attitude, choosing our story, choosing to not let all this car stuff ruin our first day of vacation. And somehow it really didn't. We had a fun picnic and then spent three hours waiting for our car to be fixed. The kids had quiet play time and Rory and I read books. The shop called and told us it was the starter. And around 4:00 we were finally pulling out of our lane with a running vehicle.

Even while driving through the cities we started to feel the car shift out of gear. The engine would rev for no reason, the gear would feel like it was slipping. It was a little disconcerting. We made it two hours to Clearwater for dinner, and it was only then that all positive mojo finally took a nose dive. I had bought the kids strawberry sundaes and myself a chocolate shake for being such good sports about our unexpected day and commented to Rory that the ice cream treats cost more than the meal we had just eaten. 

And I should have kept that money detail to myself. Because it sent Rory off into budget land, suddenly feeling the expense of the barn coupled with the new reality that we would likely be buying a minivan in the next few days. Not to mention the money I had just spent on sundaes. 

We got back into the car and Rory turned on a polka station that the kids found hilarious and then a country station that made them want to dance:

roadtrip from Becca Groves on Vimeo.

And then the car began to really give us trouble. To compensate, Rory continued to slow down, hoping to get us closer to Alexandria. Eventually we were going 45 miles an hour on Interstate 94, where cars and trucks flew past us at 75 miles per hour. We were between exits when it got that bad, and it was six miles before we could exit. There was no polka music playing then. Just a lot of silence and once in a while I'd here Rory whisper, "Help us, Jesus." It was a sincere prayer and even the kids seemed to catch on that they should keep quiet too.

Eventually we came to the West Union exit, an exit we had never really noticed before and now we will be forever grateful for its existence. We drove the car to the on ramp, and pulled off to the side to call another tow truck. The kids and I pulled out our camping chairs and sat on the side of the road, yelling "Semi!" every time we saw a semi-truck go past on 94. We called my dad who was already at camp and he set out to pick us up with all of our camp gear. 

The tow truck showed up at the same time Dad, and we were so grateful to see both of them. 

And then we drove to Mount Carmel. It was 9:30 when we arrived, eleven hours after we had set out, eight hours later than we had intended. But we were so glad to be there. And as it turned out, it ended up being one of my very favorite times at Mount Carmel. The next 2 1/2 days flew by (tomorrow I'll post pictures) and were so rich and full of family time. So glad we kept persevering to get there!

oh honey!

Sweetest honeybee I ever did see. Elsie put on her honey bee costume after we spent the morning with Adam, the friend who has mentored us along on our bee keeping adventure. You might remember that we ended up losing both of our hives, one collapsed late last fall and the other didn't survive the winter. If we're completely honest, I was really disheartened by the loss of both hives. I worked hard last summer, felt like I was doing everything right, and even then I lost both of the hives. Bee keeping is quite a bit of work. And when it came time to try it again this spring, I didn't have it in me to start from scratch.

Rory took over, and I was so grateful. He has written about his bee keeping at length at The Grovestead Blog. The thing about beekeeping is that it takes two years to get a hive to produce enough honey for you to eat. The entire first year is spent building and strengthening the hive and ensuring the bees will have enough honey to live on all winter long. It is only in the second summer that you get to add honey supers (the smaller boxes with shallow frames) to the top of your stack, and it is only out of those supers that you can harvest your honey.

But because both of our hives died, we ended up with frames full of honey. Some of those frames Rory actually gave to the new bees this year to help get them started and up and running. Some of those frames I have stuck my own finger into and eaten straight out of the comb (the best!). And Some of those frames we recently brought to Adam's house so they could be spun and we could have our first honey. We'd rather have living bees from last year, but second best would be some of our own honey.

Adam used a hot knife to cut the wax off of the comb, and then a fork to break up any comb he didn't uncap. And then he set each frame into the extractor that then spins the honey to the sides, down the bottom and out the tap. It was pretty awesome to watch, and delicious to sample. In a crazy twist, it was a very cool day in July, which is bad for spinning honey. You want that honey warm and flowing, but because it was so cool it was thicker than usual.

It was fun to watch and I was proud of our little contribution. Rory is doing an awesome job with our bees this year and we're hopeful that maybe next year, we'll have honey bees healthy and strong, on year two.

Until then, this 2-year-old honey bee will keep our life very sweet.

neighborhood potluck

It was just one week prior that Rory said to me, "Let's have the neighbors over. How about next Thursday?" And before we had left for Bible Camp he had sent out an email inviting everyone to our house for a potluck. I think that's a really important thing about Rory's event planning. He doesn't overthink it. I would have sent out a few dates to see what worked best. I would have scheduled it a month out to give everyone enough heads up. But Rory picked the date seven days from the idea, and as it turns out everyone but two families could make it. Which is a great turnout. And he just did it. He didn't wait to hear back from people...he just set the date, told the plan, and bam, he had planned a party.

We wrote in the email that we would provide pulled pork and beverages and then each neighbor "replied all" with what they were bringing. This was so awesome because they built the menu with no holes. Everything was accounted for: desserts, baked beans, salads, dinner rolls, fruit and ice cream sundaes complete with a rainbow of sprinkle choices. Patsy brought the sundaes, clearly with the heart of a grandma, because my kids were so thrilled with their sprinkles.

There was lots of time to enjoy the cats and kittens, but most exciting was giving the barn tour. Our neighbors have watched this thing go up with wide eyes, often stopping to hear of the progress, always wondering what our plan is. And at the potluck, they finally got to see the inside and hear more of our hopes and dreams for this space. It's such a blessing to live in community. I love the people we are surrounded by on this road and feel well cared for with their presence nearby.

Rory posted over at The Grovestead today, giving a bit more of a tour of the barn. Be sure to click over there to see a few more pictures. We passed our final inspection yesterday and next we'll have concrete poured in parts of the barn (not the stables). And THEN we will move in all of the bee keeping, tree tapping, chicken feed and other supplies that I am so thrilled to be moving out of my garage!

can't put my book down...

My mom has often lamented that she wished she would have read to us kids more when we were little. It's one of the guilts she harbors as a mom, which I find a bit hilarious because all three of her kids were honor students and all three of us got our masters degrees. Clearly we could read and write. And reading comprehension was always my best score on standardized tests. But for so long I dreaded reading. Hated it. And I absolutely know why: because for 25 years of my life, it was all assigned.

Assigned Reading! Gross!

I remember teachers making bookmarks with the reading schedule and what chapter we should be on by what date. And I was always behind. Always. And not because I was a slow reader. But because the book was assigned. It just never felt like a pleasure.

My best friend growing up used to read books under her sheets at night with a flashlight. I remember a few times she was grounded because her mom caught her reading so late at night. Ha! I couldn't even fathom what that would be like. (Mostly because at the same time I was army crawling into my parents bedroom at 10:30 each night to watch M.A.S.H. with them, without them knowing I was there.)

Anyway, this whole thing with me and books has sort of continued. Every so often I read a book I adore and it gets me excited, but I have trouble starting books.

This has all changed, however. I have read six books in the last six weeks, and I don't know what has gotten into me. I remember my own mom getting lost in books all during my childhood and knowing on family vacations that "we had lost her" while she read in the car. And I think I'm turning into my mom. Some of those books I read in two days. One week I read 2 1/2 book. I actually haven't read anything in the last seven days because I thought my family deserved a bit more eye contact from me. :)

A few things that have changed:
1) I used to read a lot of non-fiction memoir or topical books. But I'm onto fiction, and I love it.
2) I try to read the first 100 pages as fast as I can. And if I don't like the book by then, I return it to the library. This month I started two books this way and felt no guilt returning them, unfinished.
3) I am choosing to read books that come highly recommended. After basically a lifetime of not reading for pleasure, I feel I have many options! (I'm also trying to read through this list. So far not one book has let me down!)
4) We currently don't have a tv in our house. Which is obviously great motivation to read for entertainment!
5) I have found that reading outside is one of my favorite things. The combination is perfection. Add an icy drink, and life is really, really grand.

And you? Do you have a favorite fiction book you'd love to share?!! I'm all ears! (I'm about to start that book pictured above, just as soon as I put the kids into Quiet Play Time. Hooray!)

pregnancy pillows

I've been waking up between 3 and 4 each morning unable to sleep. I toss and turn and try and then give up and eventually end up downstairs wide awake. This has led to some productive moments, like Saturday when I ordered my blog in book form for the year 2011 and then packed our 4th of July picnic to be eaten later that day at the parade. It has also been informative, like this morning when in the midst of flashing lightening I saw the silhouettes of five enormous raccoons waddling towards the garden. And it has been beautiful as I've watched the sun rise over the grove and slowly the shapes of our outdoors become visible.

But mostly it has been frustrating. Because I know I need to be sleeping. I'll want to have been sleeping come 9 am. And that's the problem. So I've been using these wee hours (it's currently 3:57) for a bit of research. Today it was pregnancy pillows and a little google image search came up with the above photo spread. I remember blogging about these when I was pregnant with Ivar and wondering who in their right mind would order such a thing. Mostly my concern was where to store such a beast after the baby comes. Today I looked into a few of them, but then I remembered my other concern with these from five years ago. Do you notice anything missing in these pictures? Or anyone? Where is the husband? It seems to me that if you order a pregnancy pillow, which appears to be the size of two additional human bodies, there is no longer room in your bed for your spouse. Which might be problematic if your husband enjoys sleeping in his bed too.

So I've put together my own special set of pillows that seem to help, but mostly my problem isn't so much with the pillows, it's just that I'm wide awake. I am assuming 3 am will become a feeding time and all of this is simply preparation for what is to come.

Now I'm off to pick out pictures to print from the year 2014...

(and Rory has a new garden update up at The Grovestead!)