The Boogie is miraculously well today. She was feverish all day yesterday, though fairly happy. Food didn't interest her. Juice didn't interest her, not even out of a real cup with a straw (her favorite.) Freeze pops didn't interest her. Even crushed up ice didn't interest her. When she finally conked out on the couch at about 11:00 last night her entire body from the knees up felt like it was on fire. For all that she slept well and this morning seems completely back to normal! She ate half my bagel and a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, and is now inhaling a bowl of pasta salad. That girl loves pasta, just like her mama.
Tuesday has rolled around again and here we are at 52 doing laundry. Outside the sun is shining and a breeze is blowing. After lunch we might just head back out there for a bit. This morning there was the tiniest baby turtle swimming in the goldfish pond out back!
I feel as if I have writer's block. Or rather, blogger's block. When I am blogging every day or so I have no lack of subject matter. Everything that happens throughout the day is tucked away as possible blog material. But I haven't been keeping up much this month and the blogging part of my brain is sluggish. I guess it just needs some exercise, therefore my posts for a while might be pretty boring as I try to get back into the swing of things.
Lately I've been re-reading a lot of books that I loved growing up. I've gone through most of the Betsy-Tacy books, all 8 of the Anne of Green Gables books, and am now working my way through the Little House books. The Little House series has been by far the most fascinating to me this time around. It's been years since I read them and I'm viewing them from a very different perspective. As a young person I looked at everything from Laura's perspective. Now I see things more from her parents' viewpoint. They labored so hard, day in and day out, every season, year after year, just to survive. For many years they barely made it by. They would settle somewhere, start building a farm, and then leave.
They spent a year on the Verdigris River in Oklahoma, unintentionally building near some Indian camps. Laura wrote that toward the end of their year the Indians had a huge war-council in the camps. The family could hear drums, singing, and war-cries night after night. In the book she describes the sound of the war-cries as "worse than your worst nightmare." They lived in fear for many days, just waiting for an attack. Could you even imagine? As a child you would feel a measure of safety thinking that your parents would protect you. But as an adult you would feel so helpless. You would know that there would only be so much you could do to save your family. There wasn't anyone nearby that they could go to for help. Eventually the war-council broke up and the Indians left. Shortly afterward the Ingalls family went back east.
Later they moved west again, this time to South Dakota. They barely survived a terribly hard winter their second year there. At the end they were burning hay for heat, spending hours in bed to keep warm, and eating only bread at every meal. Again, my perspective is so different this time. As a child you would think that of course your parents will provide for you. But as an adult you would feel helpless. How could you help but wonder if your children were going to starve to death? It is amazing to me grasp a little bit of what the family went through.
All the same, I am enjoying each book, and am looking forward to reading them to the Boogie some day!