The Lumberjack's Wife

Me:  Hey, Dude!  Did you put hangers in the fridge?

Handsome Dude:  Yes.

Me:  Why?

Handsome:  Cause I not find basket.

Okie-dokie.

That was all, dear readers.

You may resume your regularly scheduled lives.

*Thank you*

My name is Taylor and I am a living example of multiple blogging mistakes.

I have been blogging for one whole year now and I still have no idea what I am doing.

I am not really one to give advice.

Oh, well.

Let’s begin.

Do not obsess over numbers.

Fact: The Lumberjack’s Wife always stresses about numbers.

Number of comments.

Number of hits.

Number of followers.

There have been posts where I received no comments. There have been weeks where I received no comments. I would visit other people’s blogs, see that they had 467 followers and I would just want to give up.

Don’t give up.

Why did you start your blog?

I started mine to record my family’s life. So, I keep going.

Everyday.

And if people come and read it . . . great.

And if people don’t come back, I will be disappointed, but I will keep going.

Because the point of it is to record my life.

If you are feeling discouraged . . . take a break.

Shut down your computer and stay away for a day or two.

And then keep going.

Don’t get your feelings hurt.

Fact: The Lumberjack’s Wife always gets her feelings hurt.

I emailed everyone I knew about my blog. I got like 3 visitors my first week.

My mom didn’t even come look at my blog until about the 3rd month.

My dad still can’t find my blog unless it is already in the history of his address bar.

Fact: The Internet is not everyone’s cup of tea.

So, in the beginning, I would feel sad that my Auntie raved about my blog, but then never came back.

Why didn’t she come back?

Because she is not into blogs.

Now, I just take the compliment that she enjoyed my posts and move on.

Don’t worry too much about comments

There are people out there who simply do not know what to say.

It does not mean they do not like your post.

It does not mean they do not like you.

It means they

A) Can’t figure out how to leave a comment

B) Don’t know they should leave a comment

C) Worry about what they should comment

So don’t lose heart!

Be glad they come and read.

That’s the most important part, afterall.

I do, however, have some ideas on how to get your readers to comment:

1) Ask them questions.

I am often working song lyrics and movie quotes into my posts.

In one of my posts, I posted this picture of my Lumberjack:

and wrote:

“Lord,

Make me a bird, so I can fly far . . . far, far away from here.

(Name that movie.)”

If the reader knows the movie, they will most likely try to answer that in the comment.

2) Ask for your readers’ advice. One post, I asked them to recommend their favorite book to me.

3) Ask a relatable question. In this post, I shared with them my recent dentist story and asked them when the last time they went to the dentist was.

Ask easy questions anyone can answer.

Don’t ask them to help you find the circumference of the moon.

That would not be ideal.

Don’t be a bad blogging friend

Visit other people’s blog as often as you can and leave a comment.

If somebody visits your blog, try to return the favor.

Don’t Copy other Bloggers without giving them credit.

If I were to post this picture of my dashing Lumberjack:

and state that he “gave me the hiney tingles,” everyone would know darn well that I was stealing words right from the mouth of The Pioneer Woman.

So, if you do use other bloggers’ trademarks, give them credit.

Instead, say something like,

“That Lumberjack! He certainly gives me the hiney tingles! (Name that blogger)”

Oh! Did you see what I just did there?

I gave credit to The Pioneer Woman and I gave my readers something to comment about.

See how tricky I am?

I am like a blogging mastermind.

Don’t be afraid to try something new

I have tried many different types of posts:

1) Ten Things Tuesday. This type works great for either a list of 10 related things or 10 random things.

2) Wordless Wednesday (my least favorite . . . cause I always got lots to say)

3) Weekend Update-just going through what happened over the weekend

4) Relive a recent conversation. I love these ones! Click here and here to see my two favorite examples of this kind of post.

Have fun with your blog!

Don’t be afraid to roll with your issues.

Yes.

That’s right.

I have issues.

All my readers know my weaknesses and failures. And they tell me like it is.

Interruption: This can be the downside to receiving comments.

Sometimes comments can seem critical.

I recently received a comment from a dear reader saying that she had definitely had her “fill” of my “peeing” posts.

Well, folks.

This blog is about my life.

And if my son drops his drawers and pees on my washing machine, I find that blog-worthy.

Her comment had unfortunate timing.

She said it the day after I snapped this photo from Easter Sunday:

*sigh*

Such a waste.

But, I digress.

My readers know that I cannot take pictures for the life of me.

They are patient with me . . . I think.

I am really having trouble with my new camera . . . and it is really frustrating me.

But sometimes, I really need the picture, imperfections and all, to get my post to work.

So I just post terrible pictures anyways.

Because it’s my blog and I can.

But I also make poke fun at myself in doing so.

For example:

Here is a picture I used in a post and the caption that went with it:

“Oops! I focused in on the wrong stud!”

So, there you go!

Don’t take yourself too seriously and have fun with your imperfections.

But, wait!

There’s more!

Guess what else I do that is super awesome?

I take pictures of pictures.

Because I don’t have a scanner.

Classy, I know.

I do this

All.

The.

Time.

Can we not all agree that I am the tackiest blogger in the whole blogosphere?

But I had to do it.

I had no other choice.

Sometimes an old picture must be shown.

Like this one of yours truly . . .

It had to be done.

(To read that post click here)

***

Alright!

That’s all I’ve got!

(Did you notice that I am lacking in the “how-to-transition-to-a-conclusion” portion of this essay?)

Happy Thursday!

(Name that TV show)

Sorry about my odd and uncalled for hyper behavior yesterday.

It happens.

You will be happy to hear that no, I did not get a nap.  So I will be even weirder today.

Lucky you.

Let’s discuss some of these meaningless points questions I kept spewing out . . . shall we?

1)  I guess ignoramus is a word. 

 Go, me! 

Now I don’t have to feel like an ignoramus for using the word, “ignoramus.” 

Ha! 

Now, you certainly cannot deny that the previous sentence was super clever.

2)  Looks like everyone in the entire world knows what a “shim” is (besides the “shemale” definition), except for yours truly.  I suppose LJ would have been better off marrying anyone in the world but me.

Tough break, Lumberjack.

Tough break.

3)  Yes.  I already told you about the piano recital. 

Can we not all agree that I was one good-looking 14-year-old?

If you are nice little readers, I just might share with you my hair-styling tips.

No, I haven’t played the piano in a while.  I am planning on teaching my girls next year.  Or maybe the next.  Or never.

I cannot be certain.

Alright!  On to more exciting issues!

(That was a lie.  Nothing exciting is going to happen in this post.  Leave now.  I repeat.  Leave now.)

If all goes according to plan, we are supposed to close sometime tomorrow. 

Which is all fine and dandy. 

But . . . Daisy Mae graduates from kindergarten tomorrow and I am really hoping that they don’t set our closing time for any time near that.

If we don’t close tomorrow, the whole short-sale thingie-ma-bob-agreement-payoff-prices will expire that they will put the house back on the market.

Oh, the humanity!

I fear Sir Lumberjack would go into a grave depression if we lost the house.

Do you remember how much grief we have been through with this short-sale situation?

Short Sales.

They are not for the faint of heart.

So.

Yesterday. 

I woke up.  Drank coffee. Typed out that really odd, hyper post (again, my apologies.  But shim!  Knotty pine!  ha!).  Took the girls to school.  Went to the doctor.  Had my accutane check up.  Peed in a cup with boys.  Had a very successful and boy friendly potty trip. My lips are still falling off.  I am still not pregnant. 

Darn. 

Came home.  Stared at my dirty-filthy-messy-nasty house.  Pondered what I could do.  Packed the pantry. Tried to figure out what else I could do.   Packed some more clothes.  Cleaned the microwave.  Left to pick up Daisy Mae.  Came home.  Made lunch.  Cleaned up from lunch.  Went upstairs to pack.  Sat on my bed and watched Little Dude playing in his room.

Oh.

Be.

Still.

My.

Heart.

When did my baby become a little boy? 

So, I ditched packing and went and played with him.

And it was the best moment I have had in a long time.

We have been so busy and stressed lately.

 And I have not been enjoying my blessings as a stay at home mom.

He made me snacks from his kitchen set and put me down for a nap in Handsome Dude’s bed.  Daisy Mae and Handsome Dude joined us and we had lots of laughing and snack making.  Story reading and night-night kisses.

I laid there looking around the room and started to get really, really sad that we were leaving this house.

I love this house.  My husband built me this house.  We brought home 3 of our children to this house.

I am not ready to leave.

After I put the boys down for their real nap, I went downstairs and thought about taking a nap.  And then a gal called who wanted to come and look at our house for a vacation rental in a few weeks.

Great.

My house looks really vacation-rental-ly right now.

Boxes. Dust. Tools. Dirt.

That screams vacation.

So, I went into hyper-super-cleaning mode and tried to make my home look halfway decent. 

And it paid off! 

She booked a trip!

After dinner, we took the kids on a walk and decided to surprise them by heading to our favorite ice cream shop.  The Lumberjack and I figured this would be the last night living here that we could do this.

*Pardon this Interruption while I speak to a select group of readers.*

Local readers.  I am speaking of the ice cream place that starts with a “R” that resides on the street that starts with a “S.”

Local readers!

It is like we are in a top-secret club . . . isn’t it?

Aren’t we something else?

*This concludes the interruption.  Thank you*

So.

That’s about it.

I am busy.  I am sad.  I eat ice cream.  I am sad.  I am busy.

That is my life right now.

This is a really weird post.

I probably shouldn’t have posted it . . . but I really wanted to remember this day.

Maybe I need a private journal.

Thoughts?

Happy Tuesday!

Hello! 

Today is Monday.

Today is busy.

And here are 6 completely random, pointless, and unrelated things to dazzle and delight you. 

You’re welcome.

1)  I started taking piano lessons at the age of 12 . . . a little later than most children. 

I loved it. 

I continued with the lessons through my junior year in high school. 

For my last recital, I played a 13-page performance of Celine Dion’s, “My Heart will Go On” from the Titanic.

I don’t wanna brag, but I brought down the house.

Of course, my competition was 6-8 year olds who were butchering “Twinkle-Twinkle Little Star.”

After my award-winning performance, I was swarmed by those 6-8 year olds, wondering how I could play so well.

Well, girls . . . I am twice your age.

And apparently I am a loser, because there is no one else here even near my age bracket.

But, don’t worry.

I let myself have my moment of glory.

I shook their little hands, gathered my 13 pages of sheet music, held my head high, and walked out of there a star.

And I never performed again.

2)  As you may recall, my Lumberjack ripped out our old porch this weekend.  Our house was built in 1910.

That would make it 100 whole years old

Yes.

It’s true.

  I am good at math.

Anyways . . . he found these old bottles amidst the rubble:

That was about the most exciting thing that happened over the weekend.

This is my life.

3)  My brother-in-law, Alex, sent me a new ringtone.

Did you know you can text ringtones to friends and loved one?

I was unawares.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M3l2a_ESwPc]

It is the Paul Bunyan song and he doesn’t start singing until about 15 seconds into the clip.

And, without fail, every time my phone starts ringing, I fear there is a strange, loud, scary man in my house.

4)  When the kids are driving me nuts, I sing a song that I made up.

Would you like to learn it?

It is really super easy.

You sing it to the tune of  “Skip to my Lou”

Too many children I do have.

Too many children I do have.

Too many children I do have.

Let’s all go to bed now.

The kids love it and know it by heart.

They join in with clapping and dancing.

Good times.

This is the excitement that is my life.

Embrace it.

Feel free to steal that song for your own household.

5)  We still haven’t closed on our new house. 

We might this week.

But we cannot be certain.

It is a cruel world we live in.

6)  We are still working on home improvement projects.

And when I say we, of course I mean The Lumberjack.

For I am a construction ignoramus.

100 (meaningless) points to anyone who can inform me if “ignoramus” is a word.

So, we have a lot of tools and other home improvement rubbish floating about our house.

And sometimes . . . .the kids, namely the boys, get into all this aforementioned rubbish.

My boys.

They are such naughty-pantsies.

The other night, those hooligans of mine got into the “shims.”

You might ask: “Taylor! (cause that’s me) What in tarnation is a ‘shim?'”

Well, dear readers.

A shim is a person who looks like either a boy or a girl.

You cannot be certain.  It is tricky.

So, a shim is a combination of the words “she” and “him,” informing others that you are confused of the gender of the person in question.

Oh, I am kidding.  And I don’t call people shims.  I have just heard this foolish phrase before.

Don’t call someone a shim.

It is not nice.

But, I do like to tease my Lumberjack with construction terms that I think are humorous.

This usually results in him calling me a dork.

Along with “shim” I enjoy teasing him about “knotty pine.”

ha!

Get it?

Like naughty pine?

Oh, I just crack myself up.

Little Dude, the boy not wearing a hat, is holding the shim.

A shim is used for something in home-building-g00d-times-happinesss.

I forget its purpose.

As you can see, The Lumberjack really scored high when he married yours truly.

Let us all have a moment of silence in sympathetic pity for the Lumberjack.

*Thank you*

100 (meaningless) points to anyone who can tell me what the purpose of a “shim” is.

Not the “shemale” definition.

The construction definition.

Am I being inappropriate today?

I am very tired.

Alright!

That’s it!

Farewell!

Oh . . . one more thing.

I just shared with you 6 bits of useless information.

But one of the things I have already shared in a post from the days of old.

100 (meaningless) points to anyone who can tell me which item, 1-6, I have already told you about.

Can we not all agree that I am:

A)  Completely inappropriate with the He-She, Shemale, Shim talk today?

B)  Completely and ridiculously full of meaningless points today.

Toodles!

Ah!

So busy!

Moving. Packing. Remodeling.Changing Diapers.Packing.Cleaning.Laundry.Diapers.Packing.Moving.

I must make this short, albeit sweet.

Bet you don’t think I can make any post short.

Ha!

I am going to make you eat your words.

1. COW

Comment of the Week.

Keep up, People!

This week’s winner is Kimberly, aka The Musician’s Wife on my post “I’m like . . . Baby, Baby, Baby.”

“You are crazy…your house may be chaotic, but that’s normal…you’re moving!

You are crazy…Justin Gerber…er…Bieber…? Really?

Okay…it is catchy.

But so are small pox.”

Small pox?  Small pox?

You are comparing this boychild . . .

to small pox?

You should be ashamed.

Lest any of you are confused, I am not a huge Bieber fan . . .a Bieber-Babe, if you will.

No.

I simply thought that song was tons of fun.

Go say hi to Kimberly.

And tell her I had an eerily similar haircut to Justin when I was four.

Dear Mom,

What were you not thinking?

Love,

Taylor

2)  Lacia sent me this doctored up photo of Daisy Mae and Mabel

Lacia!

You are like a photoshop mastermind!

All I can do on photoshop is crop images.

Go me!

3)  So . . . what has my Lumberjack been up to?

You guessed her, Chesters.

Hold on to your pants, folks!

Taylor’s getting a new porch!

Would you like to know what Lumberjill was doing inside while Lumberjack was building a glorious new porch?

Packing.

For to move.

Oh, the humanity!

I sure hope somebody can enjoy all these lovely home improvements LJ has completed!

I know I would have.

Fun Fact:  LJ took awhile to finish the house not out of laziness or cruelty towards me.  We were trying to be smart and pay as we go.

We were gazelling.  Beans and rice.   Rice and beans.

Name that financial guru.

Look at those hard workers!

Matchy-matchy too.

Manly-men love to match.

Hey!  Wear your brown Carhartts with a white t-shirt today!

10-4 Good Buddy.

10-4.

Alright!

That’s it!

How did I do?

Was I brief?

I sure hope so.

Later, dudes!

No.  I am not pregnant.

That Lumberjack!

You would not believe what he decided to try to accomplish in these final days before closing . . .

100 (meaningless) points to anyone who can guess what home renovation project he has decided to tackle now.

Clue #1:

Clue #2

Guess away!

The winner gets the satisfaction of knowing they are truly awesome.

Toodles!

While reading through your comments from time to time, dear readers, it occurs to me that maybe . . . just maybe . . . I don’t always make as much sense as I think I do.

Today was one such day.

I’m sorry I have confused you so.

This post is dedicated to all the bewildered folks out there who are scratching their heads wondering why on earth they read this rubbish.

*Thank you*

1)  I realized that maybe you get confused as to who the kids are sometimes . . . what with the code names and such.

Although . . . I do have a sneaking suspicion that you all know darn well who this Lumberjackling is:

100 (meaningless) points to any one who can name that child of mine.

So, to help clear things up, I added a pictorial key to my sidebar.

Is it helpful?

Do you like it?

Thoughts?

Comments?

Concerns?

I got the idea from FringeGirl.  And she talked me through it.  Thanks, FringeGirl!

2)  We are not selling our current home.  We are hoping to use it as a vacation rental and if that does not work out, we will rent as a regular rental.

3)  The pie!  Ooooh . . . it did have a secret ingredient.  It is called Chocolate-Lined Strawberry Pie.

Stayed tuned and the recipe might make an appearance in an upcoming post.

4)  I do not have a baby in my tummy.  I am simply chubby.  And I eat pie.

5)  People were curious if I have seen the new house in Ruralville since I had been asking LJ details about the house.  I have seen the house, but have not seen the inside since mid-February, so my memories are slightly foggy.

As my facebookie-pals were informed earlier this very evening, my Lumberjack was not home this evening and I was having a most exasperating night with the bambinos.

I am thinking of creating an entire post out of the whole evening entitled, “Why Daddies Should Never Work Late.”

Stayed Tuned.

Bubbles!

Too many bubbles!

I might, in fact, write the post to link up to Jess’ blog carnival, FAB Friday, fabulous moments in parenting.  If anyone else is interested in linking up to her carnival, check it out, here.

So, while I was home with my little Bubble Makers, The Lumberjack was off at the new house doing some last minute rig-a-ma-roo.  And I asked him to take a few pictures for me so I could remember what this house we are moving to looks like.

So . . . here we go:

This is a part of the shop that I get to use as our school room.

Kitchen

No grand tile like my hunk-a-burning-love did for me, nor is there any under cabinet lighting.

Strike one, Ruralville

Laundry room, complete with a utility sink (holla!) and a weird hose, of which I suspect has something to do with that central vac business.

No beadboard.

Strike Two, Ruralville.

The deck off the dining room.

I likey.

That part of a person you see there is our realtor, Jason.

Not be confused with my brother-in-law, Jason.

Remember Jason?

I had to do it, folks.

I had to.

The basement family room area.

Where the Lumberjacklings will dwell, leaving me and LJ upstairs in quiet, clean bliss . . . right?

There is a picture of that door you just saw from the basement.

See the dining room deck?

Raise your hand if you think my boys will one day pee off of that there deck.

Some downstairs bedrooms.

For the Lumberjacklings.

Look!  There’s Jason again!

Hi, Jason!

Main floor living room and you can see into the kitchen/dining room and the stairs lead up to a loft.

A loft?!

We’re moving up in the world, Lumberjack.

We are moving up.

Windows from the living room.

All I can think about is how often I will have to clean them.

And there are no blinds!

The bears might see me in my unmentionables.

Fact:  The day I see a bear is the day I am moving back to civilization.

Alright!

Let me know if there are other confusions or quandaries!

Peace out!