The Lumberjack's Wife

Want to know what is sad?

We do not yet have a Christmas tree.  I KNOW!  What are we not thinking?  Our poor children keep asking us when we can get one.  And we just don’t know.

Do y’all remember last year’s fiasco?

Yeah.

Let’s recap last year, shall we?

We had decided to try and find a tree on our own land.  The kids, and this might shock you, were naughty.  We found a tree.  We put it in our living room.

The tree was a bit large.  And it fell over every day.

It was magical.

So, this year, we decided to not get a tree from our property and we just have not had time to drive to town and buy one.  Because we are lame.

I wonder if I can talk David into strapping one on the top of his workvan and bringing one home tonight?  That would be festive of him.

We took our annual family Christmas card photo.  A horrific tradition if there ever was one.

Exhibit A:  Self-timer fail.

Exhibit B: Naughty boys fail.

Check out Handsome Dude.  He is putting out the vibe.  Or something like that.

And, yes.  I strategically place my children in front of me for pictures.

Stand down, readers!  I am not a liar.  I do not have a Christmas tree.  This is my parents’ house.

Exhibit C:  Pinterest photo idea fail

I suppose we could use this photo as a subtle hint to our friends and loved ones to please send us more pants for the boy.

Help!  He is growing by the minute!  We cannot keep him clothed!  I repeat, we cannot keep him clothed!

Seriously, though.  The kid is a giant.

Remember Peter the cat?

This is he from the days of yore.

Methinks that Peter has been jumping directly into the bag of cat food and helping himself to a 24 hour buffet.

He is looking not as svelte as he once did.

What say you?

Oh, we must do a COW.  Because if I don’t do one at least once every six months, y’all are going to think this whole “Comment of the Week” thing does not exist.  And that would be sad.

This week’s COW goes to JoAnn.

I think maybe Taylor Swift needs to do some serious soul searching. I mean, WHY does she have all this DRAMA? I don’t have any drama. Maybe she should dye her hair, get married, have three kids in rapid succession and move to the suburbs? Then she can write songs that reflect REAL LIFE (in my case) like, “I woke up on Saturday and the cat had pooped in the sink”

I’d buy that CD

And what, pray tell, is with the cats and the poop?  Sure, they lure you in with promises of pooping in the litter and not making messes anywhere else.

But what they forget to mention is that they will get fat:

and the litter box soon can no longer accommodate their bums and they miss and make the poopoo all over the floor.  Which is disgusting.

Moving on.

I was chatting with some other ladies the other day and I was discussing marriage.  You see, in my opinion, romance changes over time and the things you once thought were romantic, you know, like flowers and a dinner date are completely forgotten about. Romance takes on a whole new meaning.

Before I go on, we must first insert a little story about bunkbeds.  I know.  I am losing you.  But hang on!  The point is coming.

I have wanted bunkbeds for the boys’ room ever since we moved to Ruralville.  We finally were able to purchase some around the beginning of September.  David got busy and was not able to actually go and pick them up.  For like forever.

I asked him if perhaps the $60 delivery fee sounded appealing.  He said no.  I got over my sadness and moved on.

Around the end of October, he picked them and they sat in our basement.  (Hello, hunting season!)  I painted the room (goodbye, peach walls!) and got things all ready for him to set them up.  Meanwhile, the boys have been sleeping on mattresses in the piano room.

And more annoying, this could not be.

Finally, David goes to set up the bunk beds.  And, as luck would have it, they forgot to include screws.  We called and it took about 2 weeks, but they sent us some hardware.

Great!  Fantastic!

However.  They did not send us enough of the hardware.  He was only able to get about halfway through the set up process.

So.  I am upstairs cooking something pork-ish for dinner.  I am not used to cooking pork and my main goal is to not dry it out.  Because, apparently, it is my mission to dry out all meat whilst cooking it.  It is my lot in life, my burden to bear.

He calls me down to ask me to assist with the epic bunkbed setup disaster.  We are trying to get things all sorted out and I look and notice that one of the posts of the bed is damaged pretty bad.  I ran my hand along it.

David:  Yeah, I know.

Me:  What?

David:  The bed is ruined.

Me: How di-

David:  I did it.

And the look he gave me was a look like:

It happened.  Move on.

So, I said no more.

Meanwhile, while I was downstairs not saying anything about the slightly ruined bed and helping figure things out, my epic pork dinner was being over-cooked.

GoshDarnIt.

So, we are eating dinner.

Me:  The meat is overcooked.

David:  I think it is fine.

And then he took seconds.

SECONDS!

This man does not eat seconds, people.  It was all very exciting.

So, there you have it.

After 12 years of marriage, romance has turned into me not making a fuss over a ruined piece of furniture and him pretending like the meat was full of all sorts of tasty-goodness.  And that is better than flowers.

***

The kids and I think we are hilarious.

And we are.

We are wondering how long it will take David to notice.

Sister Meagan and I are currently texting each other Taylor Swift song lines.  As if we cannot be any cooler.

Remember Sister Meagan?

It goes something like this:

Me: So, he calls me up, and he’s like, “I still love you.”

Meagan:  This is exhausting.

Me:  We are never getting back together again. Like ever.

(Name that song)

*Pause for more serious communication regarding crock pots and laundry*

Resume Taylor Swift awesomeness.

Me:  You’re the reason for the teardrops on my guitar.

(Name that song)

Meagan:  I know.  I’m sorry its come to this.

(Name that song.  I did not know it.)

Me:  All those other girls, yeah, they’re beautiful, but did they write a song for you?

(Name it.)

Meagan:  I go back to December all the time.

(Name it.)

Me:  You don’t have to call anymore.  I won’t pick up the phone.

(Name it.)

Meagan:  That Taylor Swift cannot catch a dating break.

Me:  Don’t you think I was too young to be messed with?  The girl in the dress cried the WHOLE.  WAY.  HOME.

(Name it.  Meagan did not know it)

Yes.  We are thirteen year old girls.  Be humored.  We are, in fact, hilarious.  And never in ONE MILLION years would I have guessed that Sister Meagan was of the Taylor Swift persuasion.

Mind blown.

David is out hunting on our lands and we just heard a gunshot.  All the children were acting like they won a trip to The Disneyland.  They need help.

More disappointed they could not be when we ascertained it was not David.  Probably a neighbor.

Gunshots!  I know!  It’s like I live in a dangerous neighborhood.

But I don’t.

I don’t even live in “a” neighborhood.

Yesterday, Lisa, Amy, and I got together and did a few little Christmas Pinteresty things with the children.

We made applesauce ornaments.

You can find the directions here.

They smell really good and are cute little things.

The kids also did a painting craft.  Lisa is certainly a brave gal to have six children painting at her lovely dining room table.

Either that, or she is not so smart.

Alright.  I need to make some dinner.  I think I am going to make this Chicken Pot Pie Soup from Skinnytaste.  Has anyone tried it before?

But I, of course, will be leaving out the mushrooms.  Mushrooms give me the willies.

Pop Quiz!

How do I make the kitten stop jumping on the table?

Please advise.

PS-  I promise I am not Taylor Swift’s biggest fan.  I have two young girls.

Honest.

I have two daughters.  This we know to be truth.

And their personalities have gotten so different lately.

Today in school, they each had a review lesson in grammar.  They use the same grammar curriculum, however, they are at different grade levels.  They just happened to both fall on a review day today.

So, without further ado, here is a sampling of how different my girls are.

Please.  Pretend to be interested.

Reviewing common and proper nouns with Daisy Mae (age 8, 3rd grade).

Me:  Ok, so I am going to read you some nouns.  If you think it is a proper noun, stand up.  If you think it is a common noun, stay seated.  Got it?

Daisy Mae (grinning and squirming with delight):  Yes!  Got it!

Me:  city

(She stays seated)

(Homeschooling for the win!)

Me:  Abraham Lincoln

Daisy Mae stands up and does some sort of a jumping jack move with a twirl that ends with jazz hands.

DM:  Proper!

***

Reviewing common and proper nouns with Sweet Pea (age 9, 4th grade)

Me:  Ok, we are reviewing common and proper nou-

Sweet Pea:  Yeah, I know.

Me:  You remember what common and proper nouns are?

Sweet Pea:  Yeah, mom.  I know.

Me:  Fantastic.  Let’s review.  If I say a proper noun, you need to stand up and  if –

Sweet Pea:  Seriously, mom?

Me:  What?

Sweet Pea (dramatic sigh):  I have to . . . stand up?

Me:  Fine.  How about if you just tell me if you think the noun is proper or common after I read it.

Sweet Pea:  Fine.

Me:  city

Sweet Pea:  Common

***

Reviewing action verbs with  Daisy Mae.

Daisy Mae is still on a common noun/proper noun high from before.  And understandably so.  Because what could be more exciting than the reviewing of the nouns?  I ask you?

Well.  Maybe a little “action verbs.”

Me:  I am going to say an action verb.

DM (grinning and about to fall out of her chair.  Life is that good for her right now):  OK!

Me:  If I say, “wiggle,”  you need to show me what wiggling looks like and say a sentence with the word “wiggle” in it.  For example, you could wiggle and then say, “I wiggle in my chair.”

DM (beaming):  OK!

Me:  Ok, the first verb is “sing.”

Daisy Mae, stands up and clears space around her.  This is a survival instinct, of course.  The girl is known to walk into street signs, walls, and the like.

She dramatically throws her head back and sings in the most obnoxious, operatic voice I have ever heard.  Hands flailing.  Legs twirling.  Knees bending.

Why?

I have no idea.

DM:  I sing beautifully.

Me:  Alright.  Next verb.

Reviewing action verbs with Sweet Pea.

Me:  Let’s review action verbs.

Sweet Pea:  Mom.  I know what action verbs are.

Me:  Ok.  But we are still going to review them.  I am going to say an action verb.  You need to complete that action . . .

Sweet Pea is looking at me almost as if I were an insane-crazy person.

Me:   . . . and you need to tell me a sentence using that action verb.

Sweet Pea (sighing):  Seriously?

Me:  Yup.  First word:  sing.

Sweet Pea (in the most monotone voice ever):  I sing.  La.

***

And there you have it, guys and gals.  My girls are complete opposites.

That is all.

I have an announcement to make.

I, yes, I, Taylor Maliblahblah, drank my first glass of wine on Thanksgiving.

I KNOW!  Look at me with my big-girl-pants on!

I said to myself,

“Teller.  You are 31 years old.  Let’s do this.”

I was also encouraged by my younger, obviously hipper, sister-in-law, Amy to partake in the wine.  She is such a bad influence on me.

I think you will all share a chuckle with me when I inform you that the wine was, in fact, huckleberry wine.  Mmmm-hmmm. Seems fitting, does it not?

For the Day of Thanks, we all met at my parental units’ house.  It was a mash of David’s family and my family all rolled into one.  17 people in all.

So, we played Bunco.  Naturally.

100 (meaningless) points if you know of The Bunco.

When someone got a bunco, they had to wear Daisy Mae’s turquoise headband.  I had two Buncos, yet no one snapped a photo of me.

Luckily for my dad, I was able to snap a photo of him.

You know what he is thinking right now?  He is thinking:

“I am sure lucky that I have a daughter who takes ridiculous photos of me and posts them on her dumb blog.”

Oh, yes.  Yes, he is.

My mother might feel the same way.

But I cannot be certain.

It was a fun time had by all.

Here is Amy (you know, the “bad influence Amy.”  mmm-hmmm) and Little Dude at the end of the fun-filled night.

The next day, mother and I did a little shopping.  Yes.  I am one of those people.  Although I am not a crazy.  We left her house at 7:45am on Black Friday.  Which is basically the most slovenly thing you can do on a Black Friday.

Throughout the day, my mother would make comments such as these:

Mom: “Isn’t Amy cute?”

Me:  “Yes, Mom.”

Then, about an hour later.

Mom: “Boy, Amy had a cute shirt on last night, didn’t she?”

Me:  “Yes, she did, Mom.”

Another hour later.

Mom: “That Amy sure has cute hair, don’t you think?”

Me:  “Yes, Mom.  It is very pretty.”

Mom: “Amy had a cute necklace on last night.”

Me:  “Yes, it was very nice.”

I would like the records to show that Mother did not mention my hair.  Nor my shirt.

That’s all.  Just thought I should mention it.  Not bitter.  Just making conversation.

And, yes.  I, too,  cannot deny that Amy is cute as can be.

Alright.

Happy Monday.

Pop Quiz, hot shots:

What is the ONE biggest hindrance to my homeschooling day?

Pencils!

Pencils just might end my homeschooling career.  I kid you not.  I have purchased three, count them ONE, TWO, THREE electric pencils sharpeners.  I have purchased in the neighborhood of fifteen smaller, hand pencil sharpeners.

They have all broken.  I blame the children.

We can never find a pencil when we need one.  And when we find one, it is not sharpened.  Of course, we cannot locate a *working* pencil sharpener, and if we are so lucky to do so, we cannot seem to sharpen the pencil correctly.

Plus, and this is probably my most favorite part, Handsome Dude chews the top off of each and every pencil.

Why?

We cannot be certain.  But I do know this!  If we are lucky to have located a working pencil and, heaven forbid, we make a spelling error . . .

We must take ten minutes to try and find an eraser.  Because we can’t have children writing about the raping of presents, now can we?

No.  No, we cannot.

Oh, sure.  It sounds simple.

Pencils.

But TRUST ME.  Pencils will be the death of me.

Who’s ready for Thanksgiving break?

Holla!

Yes.  There is a large truck on top of the cabinet thingie.

It is in a time out.

Today, the girls are finishing up some art history lap books and the boys are destroying the kitchen via Play-Doh.  And I am lamenting the travails associated with pencils.

I just told Little Dude to not staple Play-Doh.  True story.  And he had the audacity to argue with me on it.

Last night, we went to The Best Buy and David and I were commenting on how out of touch we were with the technology of today.

Seriously.  We are totally old now.  And what, pray tell, is a smart TV?

Anyways.

David reminded me of a horrendous errand I sent him on last spring.  I asked him to go to The Best Buy and purchase a cassette player.

I am certain that if I had a cassette player, homeschooling would be a source of delight and joy in my life.

Also, I need a decent pencil.  But we already know that won’t happen.

There is a whole world of educational cassettes available to me at my local library.  I just need a cassette player.

Best Buy Associate:  Can I help you, sir?

David, looking like a guy who just came from a construction site.  Because he did: Yeah, I need a cassette player?

Best Buy Associate:  A what?

David:  A cassette player.

Best Buy Associate, laughing:  Yeah, dude.  Sorry.  We stopped carrying those a long time ago.

David did not appreciate me sending him on that errand.

And I am sad to report that I still don’t have a cassette player.

Nor a decent pencil.

Goodbye.

Ok, after a few comments, I had decided I must clarify that, no, David is not peeing in the below picture.

Ha!  My blog is so classy.  So appropriate.

He is installing some sort of pole that has some sort of box with wires and nonsense.  Maybe?  Maybe a power pole?  Maybe a meter?  Maybe a bomb?

I cannot be certain.  I am not the electrician.  He is.

But, I do know this!

He was not peeing.  I would not post that.  Even I have standards.

That is all.  I did post today for reals.  Check it out here.  Thank you.

Goodbye.

Top of the morning to you all.

1.  You had better sit down for this.  We are still painting.  Herein lies the problem:

We do not have time for the painting.  This is unfortunate and results in painting projects being dragged out for decades.  DECADES, I tell you!  And aren’t you glad I am not the type to exaggerate whilst blogging?  I’ll bet it is refreshing for you.

2.  The kitchen is done.  The loft is done. The living room and a stairway are about 75% done and just need David and his mad ladder-standing-on skills (or skillz, if you prefer) to finish all the hard to reach places.

The boys’ room is also done.  Their mattresses have been on the floor of the piano room downstairs and it is driving me batty.

Boys.  Not tidy.

And the piano room is not as fancy as it sounds.  It is basically a room that holds the piano and the wood stove.  The end.

Anywho.  David was finally going to set up the new bunk bed set yesterday so we could get the boys off the piano room floor, when, lo and behold, he discovered the makers of said bunk beds forgot to include screws and other various important items that hold bunk beds together.

Drat.

So they are still on the floor.  With 4.2 billion trains, hot wheels, and firetrucks to keep them company.

Yay!

3.  The astute reader might notice I am not including pictures in today’s post.  This is because I am mad at my blog and pictures right now.

I am in the process of REUPLOADING every single picture into my new blog over at The Blogger.  Apparently, as soon as I move my blog, all of my pictures disappear because they are tied to this blog.

Would anyone like to guess how many posts Teller has written?

I’ll tell you.

774.

I have fixed about 45 of them.  Yes.  Be jealous of my life.

4.  This post is full of sunshine and absolutely no complaining at all!

5.  My cook top is still cracked.

6.  My new-to-us minivan could not make it up our road last week in the snow.  I got stuck.  Then I got scared and decided to back down so I would not be blocking the road on the off-chance someone needed to use the road, too.

No one did. We live in a not-so-popular spot.

I called David and had to wait for him to come and rescue me.  And, of course, he was able to make the minivan drive up the snowy road.  But the minivan put up quite a fight.  It was screaming and RPMs were flying.  The van was swerving and I was sure we were facing certain death.

Death by what, I am not sure.  But when the minivan makes THAT much noise, you fear for your life.

So, we need a new plan with the winter driving.  Because being able to drive to your home is always an asset.

7.  David is still hunting every chance he gets and will do so until either

A)  He finds the buck of his dreams with a huge rack.

or

B)  Hunting season is over.

Sometimes I want to just look at him and shout:

“Just shoot something and get in here and finish painting!”

But, I don’t.  I am a wife of honor.

Besides.  He helps me when he comes in.  So, basically, I am just whining.

Aren’t you glad you tuned in today?

8.  My vacuum broke.  I blame the kids.

9.  When I kiss Little Dude on the cheek, he wipes it off.

And on that note, I am going to end this post full of sunshine and roses and bid you adieu.