1. Glasses.
*sigh*
There will be a day when I will no longer have to wonder/worry/fret/despair/go into debt over glasses.
That day has not yet come.
The problem is, dear readers, that my Handsome Dude is not yet ready in the cognitive department to be responsible for a pair of $260 glasses. However, when he does not wear his glasses, this is what happens to his eyes:
The weaker one turns in. If he does not wear his glasses, the weak eye will get worse and might become lazy. And I feel I owe it to my son to not allow his eye to go lazy.
I am failing. But I am trying.
I’ve started patching. I am constantly searching for glasses. I am constantly scrubbing dirt and peanut butter off the glasses. I am trying to teach him to be responsible with his glasses.
But what can you expect from a boy who declares his favorite colors to be “ornange” and “star?”
2. Handsome Dude has 3 pairs of glasses.
Pair #1-Broken.
Pair #2-Broken and scratched
Pair #3-Missing for over a week.
I went to the optical office with the first two pairs. Pair #1 can never be repaired.
*Let us have a moment of silence*
Pair #2 can be temporarily fixed but I was told repeatedly that they will break again soon and the scratch is pretty bad.
Pair #3-still missing
I must order a new pair.
Fun Fact: We lost our vision insurance in April.
3. Sweet Pea’s glasses have been missing for over a month.
I must order a new pair.
Reminder of a fun fact: We lost our vision insurance in April.
I love the lady that helps us there. She has been helping us since Sweet Pea was two. She gave me each pair at half price.
Holla, Optical Lady!
Holla!
So, two new glasses are on the way.
3. After we ordered the glasses, we went to our old house . . . you know . . . the one we use as a rental, to clean it for our next group.
Guess what Daisy Mae found in the backyard?
Handsome Dude’s missing pair of glasses.
Let us pray for all the glasses that come in and out of his little world.
*Amen*
4. The rental biz is working out nicely, albeit exhausting. Between June 23 and August 22 we had 8 bookings! And we have monthly renters coming in from September through May, and then we will do vacation renters again in the summer months.
5. I am kind of sick of the vacation renter concept and ready for a break. It is a lot of cleaning. And with homeschooling looming around the bend, I would like to not have that extra worry in my life.
6. News of good tidings! I am kind-of-sort-of-maybe getting excited about homeschooling!
7. News of sad tidings! I am kind-of-sort-of-maybe terrified of homeschooling.
8. I threw caution to the wind and put huckleberries on my oatmeal this morning.
It was like Christmas for my tastebuds.
Huckleberries are delicious. They are just a drag to go get.
Do not, I repeat, do not, inform my husband that I used the precious berries so frivolously.
9. My kids pronounce huckleberries like, “HAWK-le-bewies.”
Raise your hand if you have noticed that this post has been . . . pointless.
This is because I didn’t want it to seem all about the next portion.
Which is, in fact, the whole reason for this blog post.
Brace yourselves.
10. Last night, my husband went huckleberry picking. He came home and was cleaning the berries and putting them in the freezer bags. We were chatting.
Or, more accurately, I was chatting and he was feigning interest in what I was prattling on and on about.
Suddenly, I looked at his face.
Me: Dude! Your forehead is cut!
LJ: Yup.
Now, this is not rare. He is always coming home with cuts and scrapes, missing fingernails, and bandaged wounds from where a nail gun went through his hand.
My Lumberjack? Injured?
It ain’t no thang.
Me: When did you get that?
LJ: Huckleberry picking.
Me: How?
LJ: A squirrel jumped out of the brush and attacked me when I was picking.
Me: NO! Really?!?
LJ: Yes, Taylor
Me: Oh, that’s fantastic! Can I please take a picture?!
LJ: Whatever, Taylor.
Me: It might end up in my blog.
LJ: I am sure it will, Taylor.
Me: Oh, but it is so funny!
LJ: Whatever, Taylor.
Me: Speaking of my blog, you should read it today.
LJ: Why?
Me: Because Running Bear loves Little White Dove.
LJ: You are a dork.
Me: At least I did not get attacked by a squirrel.
***
Happy Thursday!
The Purple Gold.
This post is going to be a hodge-podge of nothingness.
I hope you’ve got your party pants on!
***
1. My husband is a LIAR. It is time the truth came out.
You see, dear readers, he likes to mess with me . . . just because.
Allow me to dive into this concept by relaying the conversation that ensued between Running Bear and Little White Dove just last night:
Me: So, I blogged about your squirrel attack.
LJ (short for Lumberjack! Focus, people!): *chuckle, chuckle* Nice.
Me: Well, everyone thinks you might have rabies.
LJ: (just laughs)
A few moments go by.
LJ to Lumberjacklings: You know what, kids? Your mom is gullible.
Daisy Mae: What’s gullible?
Me: Why am I gullible? *gasp!* Did you make the squirrel thing up?!
LJ: YES!!! Who gets attacked by a squirrel?
Me: People on my blog were sharing all sorts of “when squirrels attack!” stories!
LJ: NO! Squirrels don’t attack people! What? Did you think I was just picking berries and a squirrel just jumped out of the brush and attacked me??
Me: Yes! That’s what made the story so fantastic!
LJ: No! That doesn’t happen!
Me: So, how did you cut your forehead?
LJ: A tree branch smacked me in the head.
So, there you have it.
No need to fear for rabies, dear readers.
My husband was just toying with us.
And to follow up from a question from yesterday: Yes. I call my husband, “Dude” often.
And he reciprocates.
2. This morning, at precisely 7:02 am, Handsome Dude and Little Dude came up the stairs.
HD (short for Handsome Dude): I play outside now?
Me: No.
HD: Oh. Cause I need bath first?
Then, a brilliant idea occurred to me.
Who the heck cares?
Me: Sure. Go out in your jammies! Have fun!
You may ask, “Taylor! How do you get Little Dude’s hair to style like that? Hairspray? Gel?”
No, dear readers. But here are my step-by-step instructions on how to achieve that fabulous, late-summer look:
1) Feed your boy a snack at 5pm. Simply because he asked and you think he is cute.
2) Neglect to factor in the reality that dinner time is a-comin’.
3) Feed your boy a dinner of pot roast, baked potatoes, and broccoli.
4) Wonder why aforementioned boy is not eating.
5) Wonder why boy is smearing pot roast in his hair.
6) Have husband rinse the boy off.
7) Put boy to bed.
When boy awakes the next morning, his hair will have dried in a crisp, up-do, and will smell slightly of beef roast and butter.
3. It is time to welcome Gladys back to the blog.
This week’s COW (comment of the week) goes to Lani with her comment on Pepper Spray and Sand Castles:
Darlin’, if you pick huckleberries for two days and only gather 3/4 gallon, I’m afraid you all need a new picking spot. You should have at least 2 gallons after two days of picking!
See?? You think your in-laws are crazy? You don’t know what “huckleberry intense” is until you’ve picked with me and my family!! One year, when we were kids, we hauled in 64 gallons of the purple gold.
And don’t even think of asking where my picking spot is!
The observant reader might notice that I posted that post last week. But Lani left that comment this week. And since she has 5 children, we are going to excuse her tardiness.
Ok. Lani gets the COW for numerous reasons:
A) She called me darlin’. I enjoy that.
B) 64 gallons? 64 gallons? Please remember Lani in your prayers.
C) I am really glad I did not marry one of Lani’s kinfolk. No offense to Lani’s kinfolk, as I am sure they are delightful people, regardless of their berry intensity.
D) Purple gold! Purple gold! I love that name for those stupid berries.
I hate the purple gold.
I also hate liquid gold. It also takes hours and hours to extract and you only get a small amount. And it is uncomfortable. And annoying. And some people recommend producing liquid gold for 12 whole months!
You may ask, “Taylor! What is liquid gold?”
Well.
100 (meaningless) points to anyone who can reckon what on earth I refer to as “liquid gold.”
Later, dudes.