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!
Ingredients:
Graham cracker crust
1/2 cup semisweet chocolate chips(ish)
2 tblsp butter(or so)
1/4 cup whipping cream(about)
1 tblsp light corn syrup(give or take a little)
8 cups strawberries(or more if ya want), stems removed
2/3 cup water
2/3 cup sugar
2 Tbls cornstarch
Now, for the directions:
Melt chocolate pieces and butter over low heat;set aside. In a heavy saucepan stir together whipping cream and corn syrup. Bring to a gentle boil. Reduce heat and cook 2 minutes. Remove from heat; gradually stir into choc mixture. Cool to room temp. Spread cooled choc mixture over the bottom and sides of the crust; set aside.
In a blender combine 1 cup of the strawberries and the water. Cover and blend till smooth. In a saucepan combine sugar and cornstarch. Stir in pureed berry mixture. Cook and stir over med heat till mixture is thickened and bubbly. Cook and stir for 2 minutes more. Cool for 10 minutes without stirring.
Arrange half of the remaining strawberries, stem end down, in crust. Carefully glaze thickened mixture over fruit, thoroughly covering each peice of fruit. Arrange remaining berries over first layer. Glaze these berries as first layer. Chill for at least 2 hours before serving. Enjoy!
With much love, your dearest Sweet Sugar Pants
There you have it!
Go!
Make pie!
Make one for yourself and one for your friend!
It was delicious, as well as delightful.
That’s all I got.
What are some ideas you have for random acts of kindness?
I would love to hear them.
Hint.
Hint.
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!
As you might recall, we have been remodeling this house of ours for 7 years.
It has been a L-O-N-G journey my friends. A journey filled with sheet rock dust, nails, air compressors, paint splatters, dust, MONEY, trim, windows, and mice.
Mice?
Yes. Mice.
About 50 mice, I would presume.
But that is a story for another day.
The planned closing date for our new home is coming soon, so we ( and when I say we, of course I mean, The Lumberjack) have been working hard to finish up this house.
Before:
After:
Could my life get any more exciting than it is at this very moment?
I submit that it cannot.
People! Do you know how many Y-E-A-R-S I have waited for that tile and lighting?
Can I just say I am miffed?
Yes.
Miffed.
You see, dear readers, about 5 years ago when we were only a little ways into the fun-filled-good-time-remodeling-journey-of-bliss, a little “convo” (can I say “convo?”) occurred between my husband and I.
Me: Dude! We need to get this house finished!
LJ (short for Lumberjack . . . keep up, people!): I am trying.
Me: By the time you finish it, we will have out grown it.
LJ: No, we won’t. We only have two kids.
Me: But we might have more.
LJ: No. I’m done.
Me: Nevertheless! I am tired of looking at this sub-floor and yellow insulation foam.
LJ: I’m working on it.
Me: I saw 4 more mice today.
LJ: I’m working on it.
And, dear readers, what I predicted is coming true.
The beautiful home my LJ is building for me is so close to being completed . . . and we are packing up to move.
Oh, the humanity!
I asked him if the new house in Ruralville had a tiled back splash.
Nope.
I asked him if the new house in Ruralville had under cabinet lighting.
Nope.
I asked him the laundry room in Ruralville had bead board.
Nope.
Oh, the humanity!
The laundry room is almost finished . . . here are some recent pictures of that nonsense:
Oh.Be.Still.My.Heart.
I want it for to be mine.
And, Look!
He even bead-i-ly board-ed the coat closet!
Holla!
He’s got mad skills.
Or is it skillz?
I went with skills.
You go with your gut.
Guess what else we have to leave behind?
The playhouse he built for the Lumbergirls.
So, even though I am excited for the new house and such, can I just be frank with you all?
Good.
Here are my true feelings on this rainy, dreary Wednesday morn:
Boo.
*Random-Topic-Quick-Change!*
I made a fresh strawberry pie.
Look at me with my big-girl baking pants on!
Perhaps if you are good little readers, I will share the recipe with you.
Lest any of you are confused, I did not come up with this recipe on my own. I leached it off of a friend.
*Random-Topic-Quick-Change*
Want to check out some new blogs?
I knew you did
Michelle at Scribbled with Light
Jake at Father Best
Christine at Christine’s Digital Scrapbooking Corner.
Go give them a holla!
*Random-Topic-Quick-Change!*
Little Dude’s hair is crunchy this morning and smells like pot roast and strawberry pie.
Perhaps a bath was in order last night?
*Random-Topic-Quick-Change!*
Daisy Mae asked me if I had a baby in my tummy.
Boo.
Alright! I am off to pack, clean, laundry-it-up, and contemplate either:
A) Actually doing some sit ups
B) Calling about financing options for a tummy tuck.
Toodles!
It rained and poured here all weekend long.
I promise.
It was dreary and dreadful.
But on Sunday, the sun came out for a few hours. So, we loaded up the Lumberjacklings and went to visit my parents at their campsite for a bit.
Now.
You all know that I cannot take pictures worth a darn.
But, I would like to warn you all, that today, on this first day of June in the year Two-Thousand-and-Ten of our Lord, I am going to toot my own horn.
And you will like it.
You will be amazed, nay, enthralled, at my mad photographical skills.
Let’s look at the classic “Lumberjacklings Group Shot,” shall we?
Interruption: I am going to super-size the pictures so you can truly appreciate my awesomeness.
What?!
Lumberjill knows how to “supersize” pictures?
That’s crazy talk.
Before we begin this epic journey, I feel I must give you all a quick head’s up into who is who in this crazy world of Lumberjacklings.
Girl with white shirt and piggy tails: Daisy Mae
Girl with Red shirt and glasses: Sweet Pea
Boy with Gray hoodie: Little Dude
Boy with red shirt, glasses “optional”: Handsome Dude.
The above picture is lovely.
But Little Dude is not cooperating.
Daisy Mae is gently breaking his neck in order to get her Mama a decent picture.
Bravo, Daisy Mae!
Bravo!
She was successful!
Holla, Daisy Mae!
Holla!
But, no.
Handsome Dude has looked astray.
Try again.
It is at this point in our session that I wonder why I am even trying.
Who am I kidding?
Look at them.
They don’t care.
I am jumping up and down shouting promises of cookies and candy and all sorts of glorious treats of bribery goodness.
But my pleas have fallen on deaf ears.
Classy, Handsome Dude.
Classy.
That’ll do, pig Lumberjacklings.
(Name that movie)
That’ll do.
Alright. Enough of that foolishness.
We must now discuss Mabel.
Remember Mabel?
The dog who looks like me, as you all so kindly remarked?
Whatever, people.
Well, Mabel . . . who was apparently on her death bed only hours before this high-class photo shoot, made a miraculous recovery and has become one of the gang again.
This is good news.
We took a vote and we decided that we do, in fact, enjoy the presence of Mabel’s company.
Even with all her shedding, her bad breath, and her tricky skills as an . . .
Escape Artist.
Mabel.
She is such a naughty-pants.
Look!
Handsome Dude is bringing yours truly some “boot-ee-full flowlers.”
He, too, can be a naughty-pants.
Aaaaaannnnnndddddd . . . I love him.
So, we had a lovely time, but I decided to torture my children once again and try to make them all look like decent human beings who like each other and occasionally enjoy life in a single photograph one last time.
Was that sentence a poorly constructed run-on? Thoughts?
I was determined to be successful and was willing to do whatever necessary to capture this perfect moment in time.
Yes.
Whatever necessary.
Even to the point of death.
I kid! I jest!
They did that out of their own silliness and Tom Foolery.
I was merely snapping pictures of the catastrophe.
Please, kids?
Hello?
Kids?
If you smile nice and big this can be our Christmas card so you won’t have to do this ever again!
Please?
Cookies?
Anyone?
Spoiler Alert: I did not get one, I repeat, not one, decent picture.
This is Lumberjill, signing off, defeated and discouraged.
Over and out, folks.
Over.
And.
Out.
Happy Tuesday!
I thought taking the children to my doctor’s appointments was the most dreadful task imaginable.
I was mistaken.
Try taking 4 children and a sick, large canine to a veterinary office when you have no appointment and must wait for them to work you in.
Good times.
Good times with kids.
Good times with kids and dogs.
Good times with kids and dogs and a husband who is worried about how expensive this is all going to be.
Allow me to explain, dear readers.
As I mentioned on my Tragical Thursday, Mabel, our beloved dog of nearly 10 years, threw up.
This is not a rarity.
She throws up on occasion.
But on Thursday, it just kept coming.
Then I noticed she was acting funny. She wouldn’t come when called. Her eyes were droopy and sad. She was shaking. She would not eat. She would not drink.
She would only sleep and throw up.
By Friday afternoon, she was seeming slightly more perky, but still throwing up. So, I called The Lumberjack, who was working, and he said he could meet me at the vet.
And then the waiting began.
It was actually quite entertaining, watching all the pet owners coming in with their dogs and cats.
It is super true that people kind of look like their pets.
What do you think . . .
Mabel
Me.
Thoughts?
I don’t see it.
She is much better looking. And has better camping hair.
Any-whooooo . . .
Some people are really wacky with their pets, treating them like their children and such.
I never treated my dogs like they were my children.
(Yes, we used to have two dogs. To hear all about that nonsense click here, here, and here. In that order. That is important. The whole universe will collapse if you click out-of-order. Thank you)
So, we waited and waited.
And we saw the largest dog known to man, a Great Dane, come in with NINE puppies!
Ouch.
We finally got called back to the tinier exam room. And the super nice escort lady brought each of my children their very own balloon.
Yes.
All six of us were crammed into this tiny exam room, that was the size of a fairly roomy bathroom, the kids are competing in Balloon Wars 2010, and Mabel is hovering with fear in the corner.
It was a treat.
The doctor came in and long story short, we spent a sizeable amount of money and we don’t know what is wrong with her.
We are supposed to try to get her to take some medicine to help with the vomiting.
But she will not eat it.
We have tried several times.
The Lumberjack hid the pills in some food.
Nope.
The Lumberjack actually put the food/pills in her mouth and tried to help her chew them and swallow them.
Nope.
So we have to keep trying to fish out the pills for later use, seeing as how each pill costs like $6, and she needs to eat them all.
I guess.
I don’t know.
Also, the doctor wants her to drink Pedialyte.
Nope.
She won’t even smell it.
I did, however, in all my awesomeness, get her to drink about 1/4c of water.
Holla, Taylor!
Holla.
Lest you are confused, Taylor is the person who is sitting here typing out all of this rubbish.
So, last night we went to bed.
I could not sleep. I am worried she is dying. And I don’t know how to help her.
I really don’t want her to die.
She was our baby when we were first married.
She has always been around.
She is our dog.
We all love her and she is a part of the family now.
Besides, we are most likely moving to Ruralville with 20 acres for her to run around and get to be real dog at.
So, hopefully, we will be able to get her to take some pills today.
And maybe even drink some Pedialite.
Because everyone knows, sick dogs crave grape-flavored electrolyte-filled beverages.
Pedialyte.
For a dog.
Honestly.
Poor Mabel.
Please get well, old dog.
Well, I was, most certainly, a bummer of a blogger in my last post.
Sorry about that.
We are going to do a complete 180 degree turn from that and switch into a “happy-happy-joy-joy” (name that tv show) post.
I am going to share with you all some of my favorite things.
Because I am certain you care about such matters.
Right?
Right?
Hello?
My First (grown up) Bible
My parents gave me this Bible for Christmas when I was 13 years old. I loved this Bible and used it often, so much so that it had started to fall apart. I wrote on the inside,
“A Bible that is falling apart is usually owned by someone who is not.”
I don’t remember where I originally heard that quote, but I always liked it.
I had asked my parents for the King James Version. I always loved the sound of the old words.
Hebrews 1:1 is where I first heard the words, “sundry” and “divers.”
I love this Bible.
I can see verses in my head exactly the way they look on the pages in this Bible still. It is the Bible I used when I first truly began my relationship with God.
My Children
I love them.
Even though they will be the death of me.
My Husband.
The Lumberjack.
Who is not a Lumberjack at all.
He is, in fact, an electrician.
Big Train Vanilla Chai Tea
Have you tasted this?
It is like heaven in a cup.
If you have not ever intrigued your taste buds in this manner, I implore you to try it immediately.
Dry Shampoo
Ok, Sparkies . . . here’s the deal . . .
(name that movie)
When I go camping, I look a fright.
But last camping trip, I ran some of this spray through my hair and it absorbed all the oil so my hair did not look filthy-dirty.
Because what is camping if your hair looks dirty?
Honestly.
And, Finally . . .
Yes.
It is true.
I have been sneaking my beloved chocolate raspberry creamer into my steamy mug of joe daily.
Rest assured, I am hiding my head in shame.
But, truly folks.
It is delightful.
That is all, friends.
That.
Is.
All.
I'm Like . . . Baby, Baby, Baby . . .
It is Saturday night.
It is late.
Johnny Cash is singing something called “Ira Hayes” right now in my very own kitchen.
And here are tonight’s top stories.
1) I forgot to do the COW!
Lest any of you are confused . . . COW stands for comment of the week.
Keep up, people!
100 (meaningless) points to anyone who can inform me as to whether or not I am using the word “lest” correctly. I will probably still use it no matter what, simply for the fact that it is an uber fun word to write.
Okay! COW!
The COW this week goes to “namacura” with her comment on The Camping Trip Part 2.
She said,
“It appears that Lumberjack has a slight smile on his face. Was he thinking about the ice cream or admiring your camping hair?”
That just about made me spit out my coffee, which just happened to be flavored with delicious chocolate raspberry creamer.
Too funny, Namacura. I would love to believe he is admiring my hair. And I thank you for giving me that hope.
Namacura does not have a blog.
Please shout, “Hi, Namacura!” at your computer-ish devices.
That will suffice.
2) I don’t mean to be a whiner, but I am going to be one at this moment.
I wrote to you all on Thursday morning about my tragedies.
Alert! My day got worse.
Much, much worse.
The boys were naughty (shocking, I know), the girls were exasperating (oooh! a fancy word!) , and The Lumberjack did not get home until 9pm.
It was a tiring, exhausting, and boring night.
So, we had a tea party.
Daisy Mae? Where are you?
There she is (blue/green shirt)!
This is her “informant” look.
As in she is informing me of one of her siblings’ wrongs.
Handsome Dude found a bottle of Tums and ate an undisclosed amount.
Me: Dude! Did you eat these?
HD (short for Handsome Dude . . . keep up, people!): I not!
Me: Dude! I can see them in your mouth.
HD: OK, mommy.
Me: How many did you eat?
HD: Huh?
Me: How many did you eat?
HD: Huh?
Me: Did you eat 1? Did you eat 3? Did you eat 5?
HD: I ate one, two, free, bour, bibe.
Super.
I sounded like a well-informed-on-top-of-things-excellent-mother when I called the Pediatric office to find out if I needed to be calling Poison control.
And you all know that Mabel’s health continued to worsen.
So . . . Thursday was bad.
Ok.
The whining shall cease now.
3) I think Mabel is on the mend! She has eaten some food, taken her pills, and not thrown up once!
I am very thankful.
And I will be the best human mommy to her ever now.
4) Boys.
What are you looking at, dudes?
Oh, yes. The lawnmower.
For it has wheels.
Silly me.
5) Alright! Here’s the exciting part!
Is anyone still here?
Hello?
In order to show my blogging friend, Christina, that my house is a dreadful disaster right now, I decided to post some pictures of my kitchen.
Please still be my friends when we are all done with this photographic journey into the horror that is currently my life.
*Thank you*
Oh, dear.
Let’s examine this picture, shall we?
Yes. Handsome Dude has pop. This is his father’s doing. Go to his blog and leave a disapproving comment there.
No. Handsome Dude is not wearing his glasses. I do not know where they are. This is my fault. You can leave a disapproving comment here.
Yes. I am cooking dinner and cookies amidst this chaos.
For what is life without cookies?
I know! Life without cookies would probably involve a more pleasant bathing suit shopping experience.
But, I digress.
I am making no-bake cookies for my oven no longer works.
Other points of interest:
* I have a dirty crock pot.
* We got a printer, but have procrastinated in finding it a proper home.
* Spaghetti sauce is in the crock pot . . . if you must kn0w.
* I have a lot of clutter.
* The plastic is up to separate the laundry room from the kitchen, as The Lumberjack was using the airless paint sprayer to paint it.
An airless paint sprayer?!?
Yes.
My Lumberjack is kind of a big deal.
Please look out the window.
Please be super impressed that we have a freezer with a large, hardly-used roaster sitting on our porch.
Classy.
Don’t lose heart, folks!
My Lumberjack is breaking out all his muscles to make this the dream home I have always wanted.
Exhibit A:
The Laundry room.
Exhibit B:
A tiled kitchen backsplash.
Dear Lumberjack,
Thank you for all your hard work and for inviting me to the gun show upon multiple occasions throughout these 7 years of remodeling bliss. I would, however, like to submit a request. Please, please, please, install the under cabinet lighting so I can stop looking at these darned wires:
You are, in fact, an electrician.
Thank you.
Yours truly,
Lumberjill.
6) I have a confession to make.
As I was creating the delicious no-bake cookies, and my man was tiling my delightful backsplash, I began listening to this enjoyable song:
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kffacxfA7G4]
The Lumberjack walked by.
LJ: Are you listening to this on purpose?
Me: Um . . . yes.
LJ: What is it?
Me: Um . . . I think he is like a boy band. But he is just one boy.
LJ: Is this that kid that was on Saturday Night Live?
Me: Yes. I thought this song was just delightful.
LJ: Taylor . . . you are a dork.
Yes.
Yes, folks. I am a dork.
But I find this song to be so truly catchy. Especially if you don’t watch the video of the boy-child.
All those flashing lights and dance moves are a little much for a woman of my age.
And I think that boy needs a hair cut.
And look! The song features another fellow, named Ludacris.
That’s ludicrous!
No, dear readers.
It is ludicrous is that I greatly enjoy this song.
Happy Weekend!
And Happy Memorial Day!
Thank you to all who are serving . . . . like my cousin Neil . . . and to all who have served, like my grandparents.