Mountain folk:

I miss my friends.

Any chance of a get together when we pop home for the holidays?

To write?

Maybe.

PAlooooooooooooZA!

It’s finally here!

The celebration of our favorite spherical gourd is upon us… Pumpkinpalooza ought nine!* A fine Fox family fradition (sorry, I was on an alliteration role), tradition! On Friday, October 30, 2009 we will celebrate!

The Food: dinner will be around 7ish with our menu remaining the same: traditional pumpkin sausage pasta, baguette, and tossed green salad with pumpkin seed viniaigrette. Dessert will be brought by you. Yes, you provide the dessert. Why? Because there will be a punkin bake-off (and making pasta sauce and caramel corn for 60 takes all of my time)! Need a recipe? Shoot me an email and I’ll be happy to send you a recipe link for pumpkin cheesecake, pumpkin cream puffs, chocolate pumpkin orange cupcakes, and yes, even pumpkin pie. Don’t do the dessert thing? Wanna bring an appetizer? Some bread? A beverage? Another dessert? That would be great, awesome even! Give me a jingle, shoot me an email, or text me, your communication options are many.

The Carving: Carving will begin around 6. We will provide a few carving implements (read: my steak knives), plenty of sharpies, and newspaper. You provide the pumpkin (hint: innovative use of pumpkins of different shapes and colors will be noted in judging), skill, inspiration, and any special tools (i.e. stencils, exacto knives, leather/ceramic tooling kits, or electric helps such as jigsaws, drills, or extension cords). If one hour between carving and food is not enough for you to complete your pumpkiny master piece, then please by all means, get a head start at home, but judging will commence directly after consumption of the dinner foodage.

This year will be the THIRD we judge the carved goods. If your jack-o-lantern wins you shall be dubbed High Pumpkin Mucky-Muck! To acknowledge your superlative pumpkin carving skills and incredible creativity we will slap your name on a tacky trophy and grant you one year of bragging rights. Afore said trophy will accompany you home where it will be kept in a highly visible place (we think your mantle or kitchen table best) till next Pumpkinfest, where you, Miss America-like, will pass on the torch or rather, ugly piece of plastic. Huzzah!

WARNING: our past two winners are exceedingly talented so bring your best game!

The Place: Since we have moved from farm to apartment quarters are tight so accommodations have been made at our church. You need directions? RSVP and I’ll send ‘em to you. That said, this is NOT a church event, though some church friends will be attending we can't afford to feed the entire congregation so mums the word.

Are you going to come? We'd love to see you there. Not going to come? We'll post photo's on facebook so you can pretend you came. Either way can you give me a head's up? I need to know how much food to purchase. Thanks and hope to see you there!

Grace and peace or grapes and peas,

-Beth


*If you're reading this and thinking: "wow this sounds a lot like Beth's past Palooza invite" you're right. Cut and paste is just about my speed right now so if my lack of creativity leaves you shattered... cope.

Update, also Why Doctor's Suck

So Dad was finally diagnosed after months of being in and out of doctor's offices, waiting for each next appointment, each next test, and each next result. All the tests came back negative and seemingly that's all the doctor's cared about.

It didn't matter that he couldn't sleep because of stomach cramps, and he couldn't eat for the nausea he was suffering from, or that when he finally could force down some food he could only take in a few bites without running to the bathroom to throw up. They gave him antacids. "Lost 20, 30, 40, 50, 80 pounds? Percuilar. Have a Tums."

When Doctor "Why-Do-You-Want-To-Be-Sick" finally found the tumor there was a flurry of activity. My dad was sent, the following day, to his GP who set up an appointment for him to meet with a surgeon (why this medical middle man was needed is anyone's guess), but he felt that the tumor would respond well to surgery. The day after that shuffle and jive a doctor and a nurse showed up at my folks home to review any questions an concerns my folks may have. After spending weeks between scheduled tests and appointments and being pawned off to the next specialist this was jiffy service indeed. The best part... they brought an insurance liason with them! Hmmm... wait... are they there to help my dad or protect themselves?

Day or so later dad meets with the surgeon who tells him that the tumor is larger then he thought (7cm) and in a hard to reach spot and he didn't think surgery was going to be an option (so much for Mr. GP's opinion), but that dad needed to have a PET scan before they could rule it out. Dad had the scan the next day and my mom went to the office that took the scan, got the results, and then shuttled the disc over to the surgeon's office so he could peruse the results and then get back to them. A week later... no word.

Mom's pretty pissed by this point so she calls the surgeon's office today. The receptionist was very helpful... no the surgeon couldn't take mom's call, but yes he had looked at the results (yesterday and today). Mom pointed out that he was supposed to call with his diagnosis, the receptionist didn't know what to say to that other then the surgeon was transfering dad to an oncologist. "So surgery is not option then," mom asked. "Well, I wouldn't say that," the receptionist replied. Of course you wouldn't! Why give a difinative answer when you can pass the buck, again!

So here we are, in a strange limbo place. Limbo sucks.

Apparently neither mom nor dad figured surgery would be an option. I was hoping it would be as it's the least harmful option (cutting into the body=least harmful option. How weird is that?). Dad is taking percocet now and sleeps all the time. He wakes up from time to time to eat some chicken soup. Mom is getting angier and angier and I'm getting pretty pissed myself.

The tumor disappearing would bring this unhappy tale to a short end, wouldn't that be nice? Right now I'd settle for him gaining a little weight back, a return maybe of his appetite, an ease to the pain, barring all those, how about a doctor who gives a crap?

A Return to Blogging (but with no words)

I've been neglectful of my blog, I know. Life is jam packed and Facebook is faster, easier, ordered up in smaller, more digestible bites while blogging always takes me so long. I'm known for always getting the words wrong (just ask anyone who's ever listened to me try and sing along with the radio) so composing blog posts is no quick, easy thing, but here it is...

My dad has been sick. Back in February he started feeling nauseous and was throwing up all the time, suffering with terrible stomach cramps. Doctor's ran tests and found nothing wrong so they ran more tests and prescribed antacids. Fast forward to three weeks ago... Dad has now lost 80 pounds and Mom takes him in for a final test, insisting they do an esophageal endoscopy (take a look down the throat). The doctor does it reluctantly. Before the procedure he asks my father, "why do you want to be sick?"
Seriously.

They found a malignant tumor right where the esophagus and stomach connect. The tumor is rather large and in a hard to reach spot and the surgeon doesn't seem too hopeful. That leaves radiation and chemo and whatever else. Needless to say, those options aren't preferable.

When I speak to my parents "they are fine". What else would they be. It's all a little weird, unreal, and Stepfordish for me and I'm feeling the distance of living 16 hours away. I imagine they're feeling a bit disconnected themselves.

So I need prayer. My family needs prayer. I've contacted my church prayer chain, but I believe that prayer is like chocolate, and more is better. And as I've witnessed these past few weeks with Miss Skaggs, prayer can do mighty things. So please pray.

I'd like to give you specific areas to pray into, but as this last Sunday when I had sweet, loving people ask me how they could pray for me I went blank, I am still blank. No wrong words this time just a lack. So I go to that same "I'm-fine" Stepford place. So lame. Guess the apple didn't fall far.

Matt has a weird ability to pray the words out of my heart. This is what he is praying:

• That the tumor disappears.
• That the bleak sense of isolation is lifted, and that Earl and Pat are brought closer to God.
• I got a real sense that for some time now, there’s been a blocking of the nourishment that Earl gets from Jesus. Since the tumor has come into existence and has grown, that blocking of nourishment has been reflected in our physical world – but it feels like they come from the same place. My prayer here is against the enemy who is directly responsible for blocking both spiritual and physical nourishment from Earl – I pray that that enemy would no longer be able to stand between Earl and nourishment – physical, and especially the nourishment for Earl’s spirit that comes from Jesus.
• I prayed for a thirst to take hold of Earl and Pat – a thirst for the Living Water of Jesus, and that they would know from whence that thirst came.
• During prayer, I had an image presented to me of Michael laying hands on Earl.
• I told Jesus that the image seems unlikely to me, but at the same time, I desperately want it. This is my prayer for that: “Michael has known You, and You’ve walked with him though he may not realize it. It’s time now for him to realize his worth in You and to see the path that You’ve laid out for him. It’s time for Michael to open his eyes and see the world as You see it. I ask for this image of Michael laying hands on Earl in Your name, to be made real.”
• I prayed for fireworks – that the urging and prompting to seek Jesus would not be subtle, but that it would be heralded with fireworks.

My parents and brother are believers, but all have been out of Christian community for years and I have watched each medicate themselves with different distractions. Aside from a moral code of nice-ness I don't know how deep any of their relationships with Christ go and in this time, it seems to me, it's not enough to cling to a hopeful moral code, but rather one needs to be able hear the words of a Savior that loves so completely that you can hear him whisper in your ear. This situation makes bumper sticker theology a reality slap: there is a difference between knowing of Christ and knowing Christ. And regardless of where this thing goes I want them to have that relationship, that bone-deep knowing.

So there you go. Don't know if that'll help with direction. I feel like I'm leaving so much out, but that's all I got right now. Tumor-free and fireworks, or something to that effect.

Thanks for reading and for the prayer. More as I know it.

In His Steps,

-Beth