so, in slightly less romantic terms, we spent two days together on the coast-breathing the salty air, eating delicious food, and having the occasional amazing martini. not the bronx zoo surrounded by 7 and 8 year olds, but still. we’ll take it.

so last wednesday we had a bit of a surprise:

our water died.

happily, it was immediately after i had finished my morning shower, so i wasn’t stuck with a head full of shampoo (as well as a head full of doubt), but basically that’s where our luck left us.

so, we’re currently operating on back up mode. we have our water pump back filling the system, which works sometimes and inexplicably not others. my dad, bill, and various family friends have all offered support in various ways, and i got to see the inside of our well for the first time, which was  described to be “just like the well out of that horror movie, the ring“:

and it pretty much is. about three feet wide and ten feet deep, made out of stacked field stones, i don’t know who made this thing way back when, but i’m glad it wasn’t me.

i can only assume there are a bunch of well masons out there, still operating today on lots of suburban development sites, building wells just like this for all those new split level mcmansions. (because when i imagine suburbia i imagine split level mcmansions with field stone lined wells.)

we were relieved to see that there was indeed still water in the bottom of the well, so this probably means we won’t need to dig a new one.

our best guess is that the pipes from the well to the pump inside of the house have probably broken somewhere in transit. although looking at that piece of copper, cutting edge plumbing technology, the idea seems so far fetched, really. but since the pipes are all buried underneath our sun porch and kitchen floors, and we have no immediate plans (or funds) to remodel either of those rooms, it looks like we’ll be digging new trenches and laying new pipes in other parts of the yard.

so…wish us luck. and do me a favor: have a nice, cool glass of water for me. right out of the tap.

and it got me a-thinkin’.

i’m not really afraid to admit anything to you. if you are reading this, which i have to assume you are, you know me, you know my family, or you just randomly came across flat hill farm due to the glorious marvels of the internets. either way, you either know what to expect or i (honestly) don’t know you enough to care if you do disapprove of me.

that being said, there is obviously a large discrepancy between what i share here and what happens in every day life. i aim to make this my happy scrapbook of happiness and warm fuzzy memories, not the semi-daily reminder of all the crap life can throw at you that makes you want to tear your hair out. but there is something to be said about the crap. yes, it makes me appreciate the beautiful days and moments more. yes, it helps me grow (i assume) into a better wife, mother, friend, person-at-large. and yes, it may make me want to tear my hair out, but at the end of the day, the bad stuff is (hopefully) not what i have focused the majority of my energy on.

so instead of things i’m afraid to tell you, i’m going to tell you the things that i would otherwise omit from a flat hill farm post. because, in the end, these things are still worth remembering, worth recording, and (probably) worth reading.

• the other day i turned around to find scout sitting on the couch with her big toe in her mouth. she informed me, when asked what exactly she thought she was doing, that she thought she had a splinter and was trying to suck it out. i’m glad to see that we’re raising such a classy kid.
• bug discovered that he could steal candy out of the drawer of randomness that we usually toss it into. the first time he we caught him he got a stern warning. the second time i tried (unsuccessfully) to shame him. in the end i had to pull the old “you have to tell your father how naughty you were when he gets home from work” routine. it was only when william pulled into the driveway that bug cracked and showed any sign of remorse. obviously my powers of disciplinarian are waning.
• i spent a significant portion of the afternoon on monday repairing and straightening the fence on the side lawn to keep the dog from jumping it. that evening he ran out through the other side lawn and straight into the road to check out a neighborhood jogger and his dog. i not only felt like an ass who couldn’t care for her dog (he not only didn’t give a crap that i was yelling at him to come back, he didn’t even have his collar on) i was also rocking a sundress with purple crocs and wildly mismatched socks. #howdyneighbor
• when william has late meetings or writers’ workshops i usually make absolute crap for dinner. he had a board meeting last night and my children feasted on chicken nuggets and french fries. on the upside, we also had a movie night and watched “jumanji”, cozy on the couch under a quilt and screaming at robin williams to run for his life. i choose to assume that they’ll remember the family bonding of the movie rather than the absolute lack of nutrition of the “meal”.
• there are days when i seriously just want my children to stop. talking. for five minutes. maybe ten. come on, people. it’s not too much to ask.
• i drink wine out of a box. and i am not ashamed. (okay, i kind of am, but obviously not that much.)
• i lie to my children on a regular basis. “what are you eating, mama?” “NOTHING. GO AWAY.”
•  my garden is not just unweeded. it is full of nettles, broken egg shells, and pretty much every sign of life that should not be found in a garden. and that’s not even taking into consideration the ridiculousness in my flower gardens. i didn’t even clean them out last fall. i’m sure the ladies across the street (who keep their yard and flower beds pristine and yell at us if we blow grass clippings into the road) are truly appreciative of my lack of effort.
• sometimes i yell at my children when they sound like they’re having too much fun. i wondered aloud once why the sound of their joy and laughter annoyed me so much and set my teeth on edge. the friend who i was musing aloud to looked at me and said “it bothers you because you know they’re about to do something incredibly stupid, probably resulting in personal injury.” at that moment, i knew what true wisdom was, and i knew she was absolutely right.

the camp has always been around as a place to go, relax, cool off, and maybe catch a sunny or two. the dads (my dad and jim) have always kept the place running, but this past weekend it was time to have the second generation pitch in a bit.

so, while the moms (my mom and judy) watched the little ones, the dads (my dad and jim, and all the younger dads) worked on the shoreline and the moms (the younger moms) painted the downstairs. which hadn’t been done for oh, say, 40 years.

not that it needed it.

at all.

but the good news is, after a few hours, some elbow grease, and more than a little paint, the place actually resembles a cheery, camp-like room instead of a dungeon. and you want proof?

well, i don’t have any, because by the time we finished we were kind of spacey from the fumes and my fingers hurt from gripping a paintbrush for four hours so i didn’t take any after photos.

so i guess you’ll just have to stop by and see for yourself sometime!

ten years ago today we showed up on the doorstep of flat hill farm with three pretty annoyed cats, a ryder truck full of stuff, and every expectation of ripping down that wallpaper in the upstairs hall as soon as humanly possible.

ten years later we have one still annoyed cat, an alternately mellow and energetic dog, two always energetic kids, way more stuff, and, well, no plans on ripping down that wallpaper any time soon. in fact, it’s kind of grown on us.

a lot can happen in ten years, but you know you’re in the right place when all that time seems like none at all. thanks for taking us in, flat hill farm-here’s to making the next ten years as wonderful as the last.

i love the sweetness of my bug’s handwritten notes.