The Burn Pile

So.  When last we spoke, I shared with you the sad fact that we are now hillbilly hoarder redneck type people.

Remember?

My husband took care of it.  Isn’t he the nicest?

That’s where all the scrap lumber/ t-posts were once thrown.

True.  The wood stove child safety gate is still there.

True.  If you look hard enough you can see a pile of horse poo in the driveway.

True.  We got weeds.

Nevertheless!  It looks much better.

The most hilarious part to me is his “burn pile.”  The burn pile is where he throws burnable materials.  You know.  So he can burn it.

Stand down, readers!  This is completely legal in our neck of the woods.  There is currently a burn ban, however, there are times during the year when it is perfectly legal to burn on our property.

Would you like to see David’s “burn pile?”

I use the term “burn” quite loosely.  The “burn pile” was created about two years ago and has yet to see a match.

However.  It is the “burn pile.”

And here is a picture of my pretty chicken coop window box.

Because I need pretty things in my life.

***

The girls have been away at camp.  This was their first year.  Daisy Mae had a meltdown when I dropped her off.  She was hyperventilating.

Camp Leader:  Can you tell me why you are scared?

Daisy Mae: I-gasp-don’t-gasp-want-gasp-to-gasp-leave-gasp-mama-gasp.

Camp Leader:  Have you never been away from your mama before?

Daisy Mae: No-gasp-I-gasp-have-gasp-not.

Two things:

1)  I have never heard her call me “mama.”

2)  She has totally been away from me before.  Like lots.

But it all kind of made me feel special.  She went on her (sorta) merry way, with her sister who was not one bit dismayed at the thought of parting with me, and I haven’t heard from them since.  I pick them up today.

So, it’s just been me and the dudes this week.  And, man!  My boys are exhausting.  Let us look at the excitement that was yesterday, shall we?

We are going camping tonight, so yesterday it was our job to clean the trailer and get it all ready.  The boys were ecstatic at the thought of cleaning the trailer.

Why?

I cannot be certain.

Handsome Dude:  Mom!  MOM!  MOOOOM!  Is it time?  Are you ready?  Can we go clean the tray-wer?

Me:  Nope.  I am not ready yet.

HD:  Oh, man.  Do you got to put on your makeup?

Me:  No.  My makeup is already on. (thanksfornoticing)  I have to clean up the kitchen first.

So, in order to speed the process, Handsome Dude decides that HE, himself, shall clean the kitchen.  And he enlists Little Dude to help him.

I leave for a second (foolish, I know), and come back to them pouring liquid dishsoap into each glass, rinsing it and repeating it three times before loading them into the dishwasher.

All while pouring water onto the floor.

So, I thank them for their helpful contribution and tell them I will take it from here.  As I am finishing up, the boys are wrestling/jumping, kicking/playing trucks, and high-fiving simultaneously in the living room.

I kick them outside.

I get into the trailer and the boys join me.  They have somehow located three brooms and are using all three of them to sweep whilst I am trying to go through the cabinets.

I kick them outside.

Handsome Dude:  Mom!  Can we get the eggs?

Me:  Yes.  You may get the eggs.  Quickly, please.

I go back to my cleaning and kind of lose track of time.  A few minutes later, the boys run back towards the trailer screaming:

“Mom!  We need scissors!  A baby rabbit is going to DIE!”

You can imagine my surprise as to how a baby rabbit’s life got involved with the simple task of gathering eggs.

I step out of the trailer and look towards the chicken coop.

They have left the door to the coop open.  Hens are free and wandering about.  They tried to catch a baby rabbit in a fishing net.  The baby is tangled up in it and the net is caught around its neck.

They have not gathered any eggs.

I, Taylor, the farm and ranch wife that I clearly am, managed to free the baby rabbit from the tangled mess without having to cut the net.

Holla!

But, seriously.  My boys exhaust me.  And I love them.

When their father came home, I congratulated him on his two new best friends for the evening.

They had a good time.  (But I had an even better time-ha!)

***

11 Days until school starts!

Guess who is absolutely, 100% not ready?