Fall mercies

Last month Liz and Jeddy had a house/cat/chicken-sitting gig while Grandma and Grandpa were out of town.

They mostly took care of it on their own, except when we all tagged along on the way home from church.

Kids vs. chickens

Lizzy making gears for science; Caleb writing about the Crystal Palace for history

October birthdays happened.

Ada turned 15; Lizzy turned 12.

“Happy Bday Ada”

Jason has taken Jeddy on two college visits, with one more coming up soon.  He hasn’t yet declared a first, second or third choice.

He has, however, completed half of an application to a school that is not on his short or long list, because they’re offering a free hoodie to anyone who applies.

Motivation.

In riding lessons, Lizzy and I started learning how to jump.

Nobody fell off or met with major disaster.

Most importantly last month, Caleb was baptized and became a member of our church.  Praise the Lord for His mercy and grace to our family.

In less astonishing news, my back finally seized up so painfully I searched out a chiropractor.

Walking to the homecoming parade

Having lost all faith in the legitimacy of the profession after my last chiropractor told me I was gluten intolerant and needed to eat rice cakes, when I actually had severe Lyme disease and needed heavy-duty antibiotics, it took a moderately large amount of pain for me to give chiropractice a second shot.  And I only went to this one because someone I trust recommended him and said “he’s not like other chiropractors.”

Art.

Of course, the surest way to cure debilitating pain is to finally schedule an appointment with a treatment provider.  By the time I got in for my first appointment, the pain was gone.  This made the initial conversation pretty short.  “Describe your pain.  Where is it?  Does this hurt?  What about if you do that?”

I have no pain.  I’m actually perfectly fine, thanks, I just didn’t cancel this appointment because then I would immediately re-lose the ability to walk.

Anyhoo, back pain being as regular a part of my life as it is, I’ll probably be seeing him regularly for a while.  He doesn’t have me doing anything as weird as the last chiropractor did—just some simple stretches that make intuitive sense, and one short exercise wherein I’m supposedly learning to use my abdominal “pressure” to function better.  

Science.  Figuring out how to make a flashlight bulb light up with a battery and homemade tin foil wires.

I can tolerate the amount of skepticism this exercise produces, but if he even suggests I need to give up pancakes, I’ll cancel all remaining appointments and rent a wheelchair if necessary.

Calling in the resident electricity expert to show us how it’s done.