The Lumberjack's Wife

My Grammy died today.

You may remember that she became quite sick back in March and we made a trip to see her.

She was my last living grandparent . . . and she will be missed.

So in honor of her, I would like to share some of my happy memories that I have kept of her over the years.

* She (along with my grandpa) called ice cream bars “paddle pops.”

* Everytime I visited, she made the same meal:  pork chops, macaroni and cheese, green peas. and applesauce.

*  I still remember her china pattern.

*  She would sing while she cooked and she would shuffle around the kitchen with her skinny legs and dance.  I remember her singing a song called “Chatanooga Choo-Choo.”

*  She flirted, yes flirted with my husband while we were dating.

(In fairness, my husband helped her cheat at Skip-Bo.  Her and The Lumberjack were two peas in a pod.  Who knew?!)

*  Years ago, she joined our family for a little vacation.  My sister Meagan and I shared a room with her.  One morning, she was singing and blow drying her hair.  Without a stitch of clothing on. 

 My sister kept crying, “I don’t know where to put my eyes! I don’t know where to put my eyes!”

Poor little Meagan.

Ah . . . good times.

*  She would never eat at a fast food restaurant.

*  She made a delicious ham sauce and if any relatives are reading this, I would really like the recipe.

*  She said “cotton-pickin” a lot.  As in, “Give me the cotton-pickin remote.”

*  She actually picked cotton growing up.

*  She was one of 13 children

*  Her name was Myrtle

*  She went by Betty

*  I believe the name switch had something to do with avoiding a blind date with my grandpa, and since he knew that fake name to be her real name, it stuck.   So she went by Betty from then on. 

 But I might be mistaken on that one.

*  She served in World War II

*  She had 6 children

*  She had 18 grandchildren

* She had great grandchildren.  But I can’t count anymore.

And she will most certainly be missed.

“God is our refuge and strength.

an ever-present help in trouble.

Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way

and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea.

Be still, and know that I am God.”

Psalms 46: 1-2, 10a

So, as I mentioned last night, we finally closed on our new house in Ruralville.

But, yesterday . . .

Yesterday was a doosie.

Allow me to elaborate, if I may.

We have been waiting for about a week to hear what our closing day and time is.  Since this was a short sale, we are on some weird time frames and things had to happen pretty fast, once we got approval.  Apparently in a short sale,( and remember, I am an idiot in these matters so I could have this all wrong) pay-off amounts for the mortgage or mortgages must be negotiated and then they are given an “expiration date”, if you will.

This house had 3 mortgages.

It took  FOR . . . EV . . ER . . .to get the payoff amounts.  And when we did get the payoffs, we were told they were good until June 9th, so we had to close by then.

You might ask, “Taylor.  What would happen after June 9th if you did not close?”

Well, dear readers . . . I suspect the whole universe would collapse and pigs would start flying.

So, the bank has been scrambling to close by June 9th.  We heard on June 8th that we were having a 10am closing, but they would let us know.

Great.

Fine.

Just please make sure we don’t miss the graduation.

Yes, that’s right.

Daisy Mae’s kindergarten graduation was June 9th from 3 to 4:30ish.

I get a call around 8am from dashing and dapper Lumberjack saying that our closing at 10am was on hold due to one paper needing to be signed.

Fine.

So, I had to arrange a backup person to pick up Daisy Mae from Kindergarten at 11:45.

I get a call around 9:30 from the bank saying they need David and I to sign a paper saying why we want to move.

Why we want to move?

Lame.

What do they care?

I explained to bank lady that my handsome and dapper Lumberjack, who is, in fact, an electrician,  was off somewhere electrifying things and I could not get his signature right away.

She told me to forge it for him.

Great.

I am stooping to subterfuge.

So, I print it out, sign my name, commit a crime and sign my husband’s name, scan it and send it back.

Hold the phone!  Did Lumberjill, the girl who can never scan pictures say she just scanned something?  Yes, I did, folks.  We just bought a printer/scanner device last week!  Holla!

Bank Lady tells me she is hoping for a 2:00 closing now.

Around 12 I get a call from someone else from the bank.

Lady:  I need to speak to Taylor.

Me:  This is Taylor.

Lady:  I am working on your loan and I am needing to know if you are planning on living in this house you are buying.

Me:  Yes, we are.

Lady:  I got your paperwork for “Why You are Moving” and there seems to be a discrepancy with the signatures we got today and the signatures we got in the past.

Mayday!  Mayday!  I’ve been flagged by the fraud department!

Me:  Oh . . . weird.

Lady:  I need you to tell me why you are moving.

*sigh*

What

Does

It

Matter

?

So, long story short, phone calls are going back forth, apologies to us are being spewed out, people are stressed, I am worried, my husband is trying to work, Daisy Mae is graduating from kindergarten soon, I get “worry-diahrrea” (that bit of TMI was dedicated to Erin),  it’s raining, my hair looks frizzy, Handsome Dude pees his bed during nap time for the very first time since potty training, my naughty boys snuck into my purse and stole gum, I have my current house booked for 3 vacations, and I have gained 3 pounds due to all this stress.

Ok.

Maybe 4 pounds . . . ish.

So, our realtor tells us to go to the graduation and he will give us a 1 hour notice for when we close.

Remember.

If we don’t close today, the world as we know it will cease to exist.

The Lumberjack comes home with flowers for me.

Flowers?

For me?

This is an oddity, folks.  A delightful oddity. 

He saw some in a field, thought of me, and picked them.

When Daisy Mae saw them, she assumed they were hers, due to the graduation and all, so he couldn’t help but give them to her.

Hey, Daisy Mae!

Are you enjoying my flowers?

So.

We make it to the graduation, still not hearing when are closing time is.

So, since it is 3:00 and we still haven’t gotten the call, I am assuming we won’t close by the 9th, and that the universe will, in fact, collapse.

I noticed I had a voicemail around 4:00 during the graduation.  I checked it.  It was bank lady.

Bank Lady:  Hey, Taylor!  I guess you are on your way to closing.  Tami (title company lady) said you would be there in about 10 minutes.

I hang up and inform the Lumberjack that they made the closing appointment without us.

So, we rush out of the school and get the official down payment amount and rush to the bank.

And when I say rush, I mean rush.

The Lumberjack may or may not have gone quite a bit over the speed limit.

And I may or may not have gotten snippy with him over it.

We got there.

We signed.

I asked our realtor if we would make all the deadlines since we were closing so late and it would not record until tomorrow.

Realtor:  Oh, yeah.  We’re fine.  I told everyone they expired the 9th to get everyone moving, but they really expire the 10th.

*sigh*

I had “worry diarrhea” for nothing.

So, that was our big day!

Worry, phone calls, scanning, committing fraud, making lunch, disciplining boys, cleaning up urine, making calls, worrying, visiting the bathroom often, getting Daisy Mae all purty, worrying, phone calls, and speeding.

But, it’s over.

We bought it.

Fun Fact:  In that picture we are at our current house, not Ruralville.

Ever Funner Fact:  I have not seen the inside of Ruralville since February.

Hope I still like it.

Toodles!

 

After 4 months of horrible short-sale nonsense, we officially bought the house in Ruralville today.

(Daisy Mae is holding the closing papers)

Attention Short Sales:  Goodbye and Good Riddance.

Everything fell into place.

Inspections came back good.

All the papers were signed.

And we have a fine, good well.

A well.

Honestly.

Goodbye, Civilization.

Goodbye, Human Beings.

Goodbye, Target.

Hello, Ruralville.

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!