The Lumberjack's Wife

Yes.  Hello.

I am aware that I have been posting a lot.  And I apologize for that.  However, my parents ceased camping here and The Lumberjack is still out in the wilderness searching for his dream bull elk and I NEED TO TALK. 

Fun Fact:  A male elk is called a bull elk.  A female elk is called a cow.

And don’t say I never taught you nothing.  But the bull elk is where it’s at.  On account of the horns and such.

I don’t want to talk about hunting.

I want to talk about Lucy.

Lucy is not as naughty as I once previously thought.

She is a typical puppy, but not evil.

She sleeps through the night now!  We only had two bad nights.  But last night, I put her to bed at 9pm and didn’t get her out until 7am with no problems!

Holla, Lucy!

Holla!

I really didn’t want to name her Lucy.  I wanted to name her Norma-Jean-Riley.  I’m gonna need a 10-4 good buddy from anyone who knows the song of whence I speak.

But the girls nipped that idea in the bud and she has been called Lucy ever since.

***

Random-Topic-Quick-Change!

My mother took the day off on Monday to help me with the Lumberjacklings.  It was a pleasant day.  Homeschooling is much easier when you have a qualified Grams looking after the naughtiest of the children.

After lunch, we put the boys down for a nap, let the girls watch some tv, and ma and I just sat on the couch drinking coffee and talking.

Then the boys woke up and we loaded everyone up and drove to a tiny town about 20 minutes away where a super cute store exists.

I bought this wreath:

I like it.

I think it makes my peach walls “pop!”, don’t you?

And since it is above the fireplace-ish area, The Lumberjack will get no smart ideas to put any bulls or bucks in it’s stead.

Tricky, tricky!

***

Random-Topic-Quick-Change!

Whilst mother was off on Monday, we took the Lumberjacklings to the park.  I took a few pictures of this joyous event with the cell phone.

Did you know you can text your pictures to your email account?  This was fantastic news to me. 

“Welcome to the 90s, Mr. Banks.”

(Name that movie)

Here is my mom with a few of the kids.

I have so many, I forget their names at times.

It happens.

I think this one is Daisy Mae . . .

Yes.  It is.

And that bundle of joy is Little Dude.

Fun Fact about Little Dude:  Whenever he gets in trouble, he immediately asks for a kiss before resuming activities.

Isn’t that cute?

***

Random-Topic-Quick-Change!

Never mind about Lucy.  She just tried to eat Little Dude.  And she got into the garbage.

I am thinking I will go with Sandy’s friend a call her Lucy-Fur.

Do you get it?

Do you get it?

***

Random-Topic-Quick-Change!

I am bemoaning the fact that I have to go to the store.

I am too slothful to properly clothe and shoe all of my children.  I just don’t want to do it.

Plus we have to drive for miles upon wretched miles.

And my bladder is not what it used to be.

But.

We are out of milk, dish soap, and my hair dryer broke.

I really, really, really need a hair dryer.

***

Random-Topic-Quick-Change!

I drove all the way to  Walmart yesterday and forgot my purse.

***

Random-Topic-Quick-Change!

Most ridiculous conversation I had today:

Daisy Mae:  Can I have a snack?

Me:  Yes.

Daisy Mae:  What can I have?

Me:  How about animal crackers?

Daisy Mae:  Ok.  I can’t find them.

Me:  I saw them on the bathroom floor.

Daisy Mae:  That’s right!

Super!

***

Random-Topic-Quick-Change!

Well.

That’s all I have to say.

It was riveting though, was it not?

Perhaps you can talk to me . . . no?

Maybe ask me a question?

Tell a humorous tale?

Share a favorite blog?

Tell me what your favorite animal is?

Tell me it is okay to make a double pan of my favorite brownies?

Later Dudes and Dudettes!

But mostly dudettes.

Are there any dudes?

Probably not.

Ok.  I am done now.

A couple of weeks ago, I joined all my inlaws for our annual Applesauce making day.

No.  I still don’t like this day.

I guess it is not that bad.  And it can be fun, in an “intense-apple-ish” sort of way.

Still . . . it is not my favorite day.

But I have married into this family and I must now do crazy, insane things like fall trees, pick huckleberries, slide down rocks on garbage bags, and make 119 quarts of applesauce.

And I would like to state for the record that no one, no, not one of them, will ever go to the mall with me.

Ever.

Before you get too excited about my mad photography skills, I must fess up and tell you that all pictures were taken by Lumberjacklings.

Look at how helpful my Handsome Dude is!

No.  Your eyes do not deceive you. 

This is not trick photography.

Yes.   He is wearing his glasses in this high-class photograph and just yesterday I told you his glasses were broken.

I am not a liar.

This photo was taken weeks ago.

Weeks, I tell you!

You may ask, ‘Taylor!  How is it that you always look so snazzy?”

Well, readers.  To achieve this early-fall look, I recommend leaving your house in a hurry at 9am to get to church, getting your hair rained on, staying at church for 3 hours, rushing to your sister-in-law’s house to start slicing apples, realize your shirt is going to get mighty dirty, coerce your husband into letting you borrow one of his beloved hunting shirts, change your shirt, slice/core apples, get apple gunk in your fingers and casually run your fingers through your hair in order to entice, oh yes, entice your husband who is slicing/coring apples right next you.

Feel free to steal this plan and adapt it as your own.

Your husband will thank you.

It was the same drill as it was last year.  And the year before that.  And the year before that.

Slice and core.  Such a bore. (ha!  now that was clever.  you can’t deny it.)

Look!  There I am again in all my snazziness! 

Cook them until tender.

Grind them.

Ensure that you remove peels, seeds, and worms.

Yes.  That’s right.  Worms.

Pour into a large bowl-ish thing and look super excited to be stirring said applesauce . . .

as my father-in-law is so aptly demonstrating.

Add cinnamon and sugar.

Pour into jars.

And can, can away!

I would like to announce that the Lumberjack’s two brothers were MIA this year.

And I would like to call them out on that.

Jason!

Alex!

Your absence from this joyous event was not appreciated, nor did it go unnoticed.

For shame, boys.

For shame.

No sauce for you!

Trust me, Readers.  This will be a travesty for them.  A travesty.

This family, my in-laws, love them some applesauce.

No!  Not just any applesauce.

Their applesauce.

Oh, how it brings delight to their souls! 

They pour it on pork chops and crumble chocolate chip cookies in it.  They spread it on muffins and other baked goods.

And for the special occasions, they make a chocolate cake from a boxed mix and spread a hearty layer of that fresh apple goodness on top of it for frosting.

I mean, yes.  The applesauce is good.

But their love for it  . . . it’s a little intense.

Alright.

That’s enough of this nonsense.

Happy Tuesday!

I have this friend.  I call her Bimlissa.

Her name is in fact, Melissa.

You know.  Just like The Lumberjack is really an electrician.

Keep up, people!

She is my dear friend.

I met Bimlissa in high school.  She was older than me and deemed me unfit to speak to.  About 7 years later we met again at church.

She was working in children’s ministry and somehow got me to help her.

Look who became fit to talk to!

I kid!  I jest!

Anyways . . . for the past 5 years we have become quite close.

Quite.

We have girls the same age and Daisy Mae is actually the one who came up with the name Bimlissa.

Daisy Mae can be . . . odd . . . and she used to say “bim” in front of everything.

Bimputer=computer

Bimpris=capris

Bimtaco=taco

Bimlissa=Melissa

So . . . things were going swimmingly and we had many days of fun and fellowship.

But then Bimlissa’s mean ol’ husband had to get a mean ol’ new job and move to mean ol’ Tennessee.

And Tennessee, dear readers, is not close to Ruralville.

Boo.

Boo.  Boo.  Boo.

And wouldn’t you know it, but she went and had a baby over there in mean ol’ Tennessee.

Now, isn’t he the cutest?

He was just born last Thursday.

Anyways, I figured since Bimlissa has not seen me since July, she is most likely devastated and lonely and weeping and the like.

So, if you are feeling frisky, you should go and visit her at her blog and tell her any of the following:

“Hello!”

“Holla!”

“Your baby is cute!”

“Do you miss Taylor?”

“Taylor misses you.”

“Taylor forgives you for the fact that your ‘chubby size’ is her ‘hooray-I-am-skinny!’ size.”

Or you can say what you please.

The choice is yours.

Here is the link for Bimlissa’s blog:  http://thecameronfamilyblog.blogspot.com

Happy Monday!

Oh my goodness gracious.

I was tagged by Michelle over at Married/Single Parent to answer 8 questions she posted. After I answer those I am going to post 8 different questions and tag 8 people.

Sounds most splendid, does it not?

1)  If you could invite anyone in the world, who would you want as your dinner guest? What would you serve them for dinner?

Hmmmm . . .

This is a quandary.

I would invite my dearheart friend Bimlissa who moved too far away for my lonely heart.  And since she just had a new baby, I feel they should count as a two-for-one deal.  I would feed Bimlissa some delicious chicken pot pie, a green salad (so we can watch our waistlines), and darn good chocolate cake.

The baby can eat what he pleases.

2.  What is your favorite “me time” activity?

If I were to have some time to myself, WITHOUT CHILDREN, I would go to the mall all day and buy clothes and earrings and earrings and clothes.

I would also like to be about 10 pounds lighter and have lots and lots of money.

That would make it really fun.

Sheesh.  I sure sound greedy there.

Rest assured.  It will never happen.  None of it.

3.  If you could rename yourself who would you become?

Like other than Taylor?

Um.

Guinevere.

Or other than the Lumberjack’s Wife?

Um.

The Pioneer Woman.

4.  How long have you been blogging & why did you start?

I have been blogging since May 2009.  And I started blogging to post pictures and daily happenings for my Auntie Datenutloaf and my sister Meagan.

I also started blogging to be as cool as my friends, Lani, Jessy, and Bimlissa. 

They made blogging all the rage.

5.  You are granted one super power, what would it be and how would you use it?

I would be able to do 42 things at once.

I would use it daily to complete tedious activities such as cooking, dishes, laundry, homeschooling, and the like.

I would be completely awesome and everyone would be jealous of me and my mad skills.

Or skillz.

Whichever you prefer

6.  What one electronic device could you not live without?

It is a toss up between the hairdryer and the computer.  And the curling iron.  And the coffee pot.

7.  If you had a time machine, what year would you travel to and why?

I would travel back to the year 2003 when I had my first baby.

I would want to see how tiny she is and how silly of a parent I was.

I would offer up the following advice to myself:

A)  Just give in and join Weight Watchers.  Breastfeeding ain’t gonna cut it.

B)  Don’t allow David to watch the child between the hours of 8pm and 6am

C)  Everything is going to be alright

D)  Until the year 2010 when you move to Ruralville and have your grandma die, your dog die, two cars break down, start homeschooling, begin a vacation rental business, and have mice in yours cars.

E)  So enjoy life now!

8.  What is one thing (material item) you don’t share well with others?

 I have issues with sharing my recipes with people I know in real life.

Well, just my really good recipes.  (all 3 of them)

I really want to be better than all my acquaintances when it comes to making those three things.

***

Alright!  Now it is my turn!

Here are the peeps I shall tag:

1.  Jill

2.  Joyce

3.  Naomi G

4.  Christine

5.  Marla

6.  Teresa Dawn

7.  Kendra

8.  Katie

9. The Little Brown House

10.  Is it Bedtime Yet?

(I tagged 10, because I enjoy being rebellious.  And I wasn’t sure who would like to do this.)

And here are my 8 Fantastic Questions that they must answer:

1.  What is one food you detest?

2.  What is your perfect day?

3.  If you could take a vacation next week, where would you go?

4.  What are five of your favorite blogs?

5.  What are your thoughts on The Facebook?

6.  Are your parents technological goobers, like mine?

7.  If you had to choose between losing 15 pounds forever, but never wearing makeup again OR having perfect skin but putting on 15 pounds permanently . . . what would it be?

8.  What is your best recipe?  (so I can steal it!  ha!)

Happy Weekend!

Tis the season . . . hunting season.

Oh, yes.  Hunting season.

Joy

To

The

World.

The season where you plan to not see your husband for a few months and try to never look in the back of his truck for fear of seeing an animal carcass.

I was not cut out for this hunter’s wife gig.

And, yet.  Here I am.

Since I am 29 now and all, I thought I would mentor some of you in how to be a proper hunter’s wife.

Remember.  I am super knowledgeable and have been perfecting these methods over the course of 10 years.

1.  Do not freak out.  You will see dead animals.  You see horns, fur, blood, and fur.  It will be disgusting.

2.  If you do freak out to the point of annoying your husband, he might try to pester you further by placing a deer’s head on a garbage can outside your window just to taunt you.

3.  Because he knows darn well you won’t go out there and move it.

4.  And he knows darn well it will bug you.

5.  And it’s tongue might be hanging out.  And you might cry.  So don’t act like your freaked out.  Just keep it all inside.

6.  Not that I know from personal experience.

7.  You must wash all hunting clothes with unscented detergent.

8.  Your husband will smell . . . different when he comes home.  Don’t question the smells.  You do not want to know.

9.  If you convince your husband to turn all the meat into summer sausage and pepperoni sticks, you will not have to eat it.  Ever.

10.  But if you don’t, be forewarned that when you cook a deer roast in the crock pot, it looks a little purpleish.

11.  Just makes lots of rice to go with it and pretend to try the deer.  This will please your husband.

12.  But for the love of everything that is sacred and pure:  do not eat the purple meat.  Become a vegetarian if you must.

13.  Do not ask him if he “caught” anything when he comes home.  You must be sure to say “kill.”  This makes him feel uber manly.

14.  If your husband does not catch kill anything during the season, make sure to blame this on something out of his control and most certainly not his hunting abilities.

15.  I will give you some examples:

“Darn rain.”

“Darn snow.”

“Stupid wolves.  Eating all the deer.”

“I might have washed your clothes with Downy’s ‘April Fresh Scent,’ instead of the super-secret-unscented soap.  My bad.”

“Your truck is sooooo big and loud.  You probably scared all big game away within a 50 mile radius.”

“We can always eat chicken!”

Hope this helped.

If you take heed of my advice, you might be able to talk your husband out of hanging his large, creepy deer mount above your bed.

Also, refrain from naming the deer mount, “Frank.”

Your manly-man-hunter husband will find this irksome.

Not that I know from experience.

Let me know if you have any tips to add to the list!

Faretheewell, my friends.

Fare.

Thee.

Well.

Folks.

Last night, my sister swooned me.

Oh, yes.

She done swooned me.

About a week ago, she informed me that the play Oklahoma! would be coming to wherever-it-is-we-dwell, and implored me to join her.

Well . . . it is a lot of work for me to make a trip into town. 

 I have to shower, find some decent clothes, pack snacks and other safety rations, put on my pearls, and curl my hair.

And then I have to wait for my husband to empty the deceased mouse out of the mouse trap in the trunk.

What’s that?  You’ve never had a bunch of mice living in your trunk?

You are missing out, my friends.

You are missing out.

So . . . I weighed all the pros and cons and decided that YES!, I shall go to Oklahoma! with my sister.

Because, dear readers, Oklahoma! is awesome.

So much so, that when you type Oklahoma! you must put an exclamation point at the end, regardless of whether or not you are at the end of an exciting sentence, just to emphasize its awesomeness.

Oklahoma!

My sister and I grew up watching movies such as Oklahoma! and The Music Man on account of my ma who likes this sort of thing.

This movie . . . these songs . . . they are in our blood.

So, naturally, my sister and I must get ourselves to see this play.

First off, my sister buys me a Starbucks.

Clearly this excites us.

Then . . . she gives me a Starbucks giftcard!

Just for kicks and grins!

Do you see what I mean about the swooning thing?

We arrive at the play.

Now.
We do not live in Oklahoma, so this play is uber fun for us.

No.  I will not tell you where I live, but from past clues, you can be certain I do not live in Georgia, nor do I live in Oklahoma.

I have my fingers crossed for Hawaii.

My sister was uber impressed with the lights.

It made her feel special.

She was also diggin’ the fabric on the chairs and felt they were pretty stylish.

I was just excited to be in a town of more than 300 people where things like Starbucks, Target, and street lights exist.

The play started and we enjoyed it thoroughly.

Dear Pioneer Woman who does, in fact live in Oklahoma!,

This is the closest I have ever come to seeing these chaps you speak so fondly of:

Lest any of you are confused, The Pioneer Woman knoweth not that I exist.

Dear Readers!

Let us have a little Oklahoma! trivia game, shall we?

Answer as many or as little questions as you can.

The winner will get the satisfaction of being a winner.

1.   Fill in the blanks:

Pore Jud is Daid a candle lights his haid!
He’s lookin’ oh so purty and so nice
He looks like he’s asleep,
It’s a shame that he won’t ________
But it’s summer and we’re running out of ________.

2.  Who said it?

“You can’t go around kissing every boy that asks ya!”

3.  Translate the following words to modern English:

yeller=

feller=

winder=

Good job, class.  Good job.

It was a grand and glorious evening and at the end of the night, me and the mice drove back home to Ruralville.

I almost hit two deer on the way home.

And when I arrived at the homestead, my dashing husband came out to set a fresh trap for the little varmints.

This is my glamorous life.

Don’t be hatin.’

Jealousy does not become you.

Later dudes!