The Lumberjack's Wife

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.

On Friday, the children and I went on a field trip to the big city.  Going to the big city requires a fairly long car drive and we currently do not have a working cd player/radio/stereo system in the car.

Oh, the humanity!

Little Dude:  Let’s play the quiet game everyone!  Ready?  One, Two, Three, GO!

*Silence*

*It is wonderful*

Little Dude:  Pause!  Look!  School Bus!  Unpause!

Daisy Mae (whining and acting NOT like an 8 year old):  Hey, no fffaaaiiirrr!  There’s no pausing in the quiet game!

Little Dude:  Ha ha, you lose!

Daisy Mae:  No, I DIDN’T!

Little Dude:  Yes.  You lose.  Ready?  One, Two, Three, GO!

*Silence*

Little Dude:  Pause!  Mom, hey, Mom?  You are playing the quiet game, too, ok, Mom?  OK?  OK, MOM?

Me:  Ok.

Little Dude:  Haha! Mom talked.  Mom loses. I win!

Daisy Mae:  NO FAIR

Little Dude:  Ready?

Daisy Mae:  No!  There is no pausing in the quiet game!  Do you understand me?  NO!

Little Dude:  One, Two, Three . . . Go!

*Silence*

Little Dude:  Pause!  Everybody!  There is NO PAUSING in the quiet game?  Okay?  OKAY?  Unpause!

It will be a day worthy of praise when The Best Buy calls to inform us that our stereo has been repaired.

So, we went to the children’s museum.  I know!  We are so fancy-pants.  The kids had fun and we met up with friends from our homeschool co op.  And I have no idea how to write “co op.”  Do I put a hyphen in it?  Like so:  co-op.  And what is co op short for?  Cooperative?  Should I just call it the Homeschool Cooperative and be all hoity toity like that?

Does anyone even care?

I don’t.

Anywho.  The kids had fun at the aforementioned Children’s Museum.

On Friday, I went on an overnight retreat with some pals from church.  I had to bring a sleeping bag, so I grabbed the only one we had.

The Mummy Sleeping Bag.

Dost anyone know what I am talking about?  These things are wretched.  They get very narrow at the bottom and you basically cannot move. Because this sleeping bag’s purpose is to bring you sorrow, despair, and suffering all the days of your life.  I am pretty sure David purchased it on clearance.  Because David is a fan of the good deals.

So, I am in a room with four other gals.  I am on the top bunk and there are no safety railings.  And I am 31 now and feeling like I am a bit too old to be doing these sorts of activities.

I have a knee problem.  I have had five surgeries and it oft gives me grief at night.  I enjoy propping it up and icing it at night.

You try propping up your knee in The Mummy Sleeping Bag of Doom.

I ended up having to get out of The Mummy Sleeping Bag of Despair and lay on The Community Fitted Sheet of Filth and just use the sleeping bag as a blanket.

Go ahead. Shudder at my grossness.

Oh, yes.  I just laid right on a sheet that was last washed who-knows-when.  All for the sake of my knee.

Because I am 31 now and my joints ache.  And I choose comfort over cleanliness.

Don’t worry.  My bunkmates enjoyed hearing the play by play of all my trials and tribulations that evening.  They found it endearing.

When David and the children picked me up the next day, Handsome Dude looked at me and said:

“Mom?  I weally missed you.”

Bam!

Love it.

I would like to introduce you to a new segment on this blog entitled:

Things That Should Have Been Done Before the Snow Fell

David has decided to dig a trench and bring power to the chicken coop so we no longer have to use extension cords.

He is an electrician after all.  These are the things he does.

I already purchased a stinking cute lanternish light to put on the coop.  I am pretty excited about it.

I am also going to make a sign.  Eventually.  It is going to be epic.

Can you feel the excitement?  Can you?  Can you?

I am still painting away the peach.  I shall be painting the peach for the next two years.  I am certain of it.

It is everywhere.

Happy Wednesday!

Yes, I am glad you asked.  We are still painting.  Or, more accurately, we are taking a sabbatical from painting.  Hence, the dragging out of the process.

But, hark!

The kitchen is done.

You may ask: “Taylor!  Would it have been SO hard for you to have put away the lunch food before snapping one of your super classy photos?”

Yes.  Yes, it would have been.

The astute reader might notice the container of coffee creamer by the coffee pot.  ‘Tis true.  I can no longer proudly announce that I drink only black coffee.  I gave up the creamer and had a good run, too.  But then, I had to start homeschooling the boy.  And, you know.  Something had to give.

The extremely astute reader might also notice that I have a sign above my kitchen window.  I have a special announcement to make.

Hold on to your pants, folks!

I, yes, I, Taylor Maliblahblah, made that sign.

All.

By.

My.

Self.

As if I could not be any cooler.  (And I am not)  I made it with the help of Sis-in-Law #1 and Sis-in-Law #2. So, I guess I just totally lied when I said I did it by myself.  But, whatever.   Sometimes, Lisa, Amy, and I have “Pinterest Days.”  This is where we create things we have seen on The Pinterest.  True, that sign is not on The Pinterest.  But we just let our creative juices flow.  We like to keep things loosie goosie.  As to not hinder the creative process.  Or something like that.

In the spirit of announcements, I have another announcement to make.  This one is kind of a big deal.

For the painting process, I have been the one removing and replacing all the electrical plates.

Like with a SCREWDRIVER.  I KNOW!

As I was putting the plates back on, I thought to myself:

“Teller.  This is probably what David does all the livelong day.”

Or at least during the trim part of a house.  And trim part is how cool people say “the finishing up” part of the house creating process.  FYI.  Oh! Because, are you new here?  My husband is an electrician.  Not a Lumberjack.  I know.  It doesn’t make sense.

And then I thought:

“I bet my husband is totally anal and has some specific way he likes all these stupid screws to point.”

I decided I would try to make them all matchy-matchy and I made all the screws end up vertical.

Like so:

Except, shoot!  The top left one looks a bit not-so-straight.  Oh, well.

Anyways!  The point is I guessed right!  He IS anal about it AND he likes them to stay vertical.

Dang.  I am so his soul mate.

Speaking of which, I love the guy.  I really do, it’s trye!  And I have a story to share.  I am really hoping that everyone understands what I am trying to say and I don’t make anybody mad with the following tale.

David went hunting on Tuesday.  He usually hunts on our property if he gets home from work on time.  He has a tree stand that he goes and sits on and, well, hunts.   I cannot see the tree stand from the house.

He came in from hunting and he gave me a funny look.  I asked him what was up and he did not tell me.  But, what else is new?

David.  Not chatty.

So, we drove to town to vote.  Like good citizens and all.  On the way back, I asked him why he looked at me like that.

David:  Oh, because I almost died in the tree stand.

Me:  What?!

David:  Seriously!  It was bad.  I thought it was the end.

Now.  People.  Being married to a guy like David is not for the faint of heart.  We have to worry about the guns and the hunting and the other people hunting and the getting lost in the wilderness and wild animals and the chainsaws and the tree felling and the tree possibly felling on the husband.  And sometimes I have to worry about the driving because he does a lot of driving and we sometimes have inclement (oooh!  A fancy word!) weather and deer darting to and fro and hither and don.

So.  Take everything that I worry about with him into consideration when you hear how he tells me he almost died.

Me:  What happened?!

David:  It was a Tootsie Pop!  I choked on it!

It was actually pretty scary sounding, to me at least.  He choked on a Tootsie Pop while in the tree stand and he could not breathe for at least thirty seconds.  He kept pounding on his chest over and over again until he finally coughed it up.  But since he was in the tree stand, no one would have ever known!  See?  Scary.

I did not like this story.  I might have to call a Husband/Wife safety meeting and remove all hard candy from the house.

Later on, I thought it was kind of . . . ironic.  I have spent so many hours worrying about him and all the crazy things he does.

And a Tootsie Pop almost killed him.

Not a stray bullet, a wild animal, falling tree, or icy roads.

A Tootsie Pop.  Crazy.

I am very glad he is ok.  He is my favorite.

This is Taylor signing off.

I also wanted to let you know it is snowing as I type.

And David will be driving home from work soon.

Goodbye.

I asked Handsome Dude to go get the mail the other day.  He came bursting back in, out of breath and whisper/shouted:

“Baby deer!  There is a baby DEER on our PROPERTY!”

It was all very exciting.  Even though it was probably more like a teenager.  Or a ‘tween.

Halloween!

I forgot to post about it.  My bad.  I am sure you have all been on pins and needles, wondering what the Lumberchildren dressed up as.

Sorry for the terrible picture quality.  But are we surprised?

No.  We are not.

From left to right:

Little Dude as Bob the Builder.

Sweet Pea as a prairie girl.

Handsome Dude as Thomas the Train

Daisy Mae as a bride.

And Daisy Mae would like everyone to know that she has NO GROOM.

*giggle, giggle, blush, blush*

We went to my parents’ house, as there are no, like, passersby in Ruralville for the trick or treating.  Sweet Pea opted out of going, because she is almost ten and above such things.

Daisy Mae had to inform me that while trick or treating, Little Dude was grabbing more than one candy from the bowl.  So, I had a little convo with him regarding proper candy-taking etiquette.

Therefore and henceforth, after each house, he would stand right by the person who just gave him the candy and shout to me:

“MOM!  HEY, MOM! I NOT GRAB, MOM!  I ONLY TOOK ONE, MOM!  I NOT TAKE TWO OR FREE OR BOUR!”

And sometimes, a kind soul would give him more than one.  If this were the case, he would stand and shout:

“HE GAVE ME FREE, MOM!  I NOT GRAB!”

And he would use the pronoun “he” regardless of the candy-giver’s gender.  Which was awesome.

In preparation for the dinner at my parents’ house, Sweet Pea had found a recipe from her American Girl magazine and fixed it up to bring.  She was so excited about it.  She got the little bite sized snacks all set up on a plate and brought a fancy, gold pie server.  The gold pie server has a special story.  She saw it in a store and just had to buy it for me for my birthday.  She used her own money and was off the charts excited to give me a GOLD pie server.  It was precious.

So, that was Halloween.  And after my last post, I have been getting lots of “Poor Taylor” comments regarding the cook top.  No need to feel badly for me! Sure, it was a bummer that the cook top broke, but David and I thought it was funny.  It was an unfortunate accident. We had a good chuckle about it.  Of course, we wish it would not have happened, but there are many worse things that can happen in life.

As David would say:  “It’s only money, honey.”

And it is true!  It’s just stuff.

Lastly, I wanted to show you this picture of  Little Dude.  He is writing a letter to our penpals in England.

I know!  Penpals!  Are we fancy-pants or what?

He has two new obsessions.

Markers and exclamation points.

Happy Monday!

When we last spoke, I had just come inside from chasing four pigs all about the lands.

I called David during the fiasco.

Me:  Well, what do you want me to do?  I don’t know how to herd pigs!

David:  Well, if you could try to get them in, that would be great.  Is it going to stress you out?

Me:  YES!  Yes, it is STRESSING me out! I am trying to do school and paint and I DON’T KNOW HOW TO CATCH PIGS!

Yes.  I am THE example of a patient wife.  Take notes.

David came home from work.  We had great plans to paint, because, Oh!  Have you heard?

We are painting the peach!  THE PEACH!  The Peach, People!

Are you excited?  Because this is exciting.

Rejoice with me!

Anyways.  Instead of getting right to painting, David began to electrify the pig fence, which was brilliant, of course because now the snorty scoundrels are staying put and not running down the road.

Rejoice with me!

So, David came in and was trying to make up for lost time with the painting.  Now, the general plan is that I, Teller, paint the walls green.

Yes.  Green.  We likey.

David’s job is to paint the ceilings white.  Because, again, peach was everywhere.

Even the ceilings.  They got all handsome on the peach paint, those previous owners did.

We had already purchased a flat, white ceiling paint.  David had used two gallons of it and decided it was not to his liking.  So, he went to Home Depot and picked up a 5 gallon bucket of white paint.

In order to  paint the ceilings, David stands on the kitchen counters.  And he stepped on the ceramic cook top.

Remember?  The cook top we JUST put in two months ago because I blew up the original whilst canning peaches?

Guess what we learned?

Ceramic cook tops are not good for:

A)  Canning

B)  Grown men standing on them

It is shattered.  The end.

But, wait!  There’s more!

After he painted the entire kitchen ceiling (and shattered the cook top), we stepped back to take a looksie and realized something was not right.

He had grabbed some sort of glaze and not paint.

NOT PAINT!

Oh, the humanity!

Five gallon buckets are a bit pricey.  So are cook tops.  So many dollars.

Perhaps there is glorious amounts of money to made in pigs?

One can only hope.

Anywho.  All that happened on Thursday.

It was epic.

Here is a picture of the ceiling in the living room right now.

Isn’t that just gross?

In case you couldn’t tell, I really don’t like the peach.

Faretheewell!

It was bound to happen sooner or later.

You might proclaim:

“Teller!  There are pigs out!”

And you would be right, dear reader.  Oh, yes.  You would be right.  What was really awesome was when the four, yes FOUR, pigs were running down the road.  Like on the actual road.

Turns out that pigs can dig under fences.  Like their friends, the chickens.  Who have also been known to run free about our lands from time to time.  Because, have you heard?  Apparently my life’s purpose it to chase animals.  And I am not very good at it.

These pigs are disgusting.  As opposed to most other pigs.  I mean, have you really ever watched a pig?  They make it their life’s purpose to destroy the ground around them.  They truly do not care what it is . . . they will eat it.

Perhaps that is why they are called:  Pigs.

I tried everything I could think of.  I threw carrots at them.  I threw feed at them.  I spoke sweetly to them.  I yelled at them all furious-like.

They cared not.

For an hour and a half, the kids and I tried to figure out how to get these pigs back to their pen.  Oh, sure.  I could have washed my hands of it and left them out there to snort and plunder freely.

But, let’s think this through.

They were, at one point, on the road.  THE ROAD.  What happens, pray tell, if they go to the neighbors’ lands and destroy everything in their path there?  I ask you?

And, yes.  I have neighbors.

So, the kids and I persevered.  And I will admit, that I only got one pig in the kids got the rest in.  I am not above admitting my kids are better pig ranchers than I am.

At one point, the pigs were trying to dig up Miley’s (our dead dog) grave.  So we parked the 4 wheeler on it.

And when I say “we”, I of course mean Daisy Mae.  Because I don’t even know how to turn it on.

At one point, we came across a dead chicken.  Sweet Pea ran with a shovel and removed the poor dead hen before the pigs had their way with it.

Handsome Dude walked around the perimeter of the fence and figured out all the places where the pigs were pushing their way out.

Little Dude opted out of the fun and went inside to read.  Which was just as well.  I mean, have you met Little Dude?  He would probably let the rabbits loose so they could join the party.

Finally, all pigs were back safe and sound.

Disgusting, are they not?

I went to and nail the board back up across the gate.  (David nails a board across the gate so the boys cannot “accidentally” leave the gate open.)

Alas.  I could not figure it out.

Does this surprise us?

Nay.

Nay, it does not.

So Sweet Pea climbed on the 4 wheeler and we parked it right in front of the gate, where it shall sit until David comes home.

After the pigs were safe and sound, this was the convo I heard amongst the kids.

Sweet Pea:  I love the pigs.

Handsome Dude:  Yes!  They are willy toot!

(He, of course, meant “really cute.”  Please, try to keep up.)

Sweet Pea:  That one is my favorite.  Her name is Charlotte.

(Uh-Oh!  Danger!  Danger!  The kids should not be naming the bacon after beloved book characters!)

Handsome Dude:  I thought he was a boy?

Sweet Pea:  No, that one is a girl.

Me:  Oh, stop.  You don’t know which ones are boys and which ones are girls.

I mean, if I don’t know how to sex a pig, surely the kids don’t.

Daisy Mae:  Yes, we do!

Me:  No, you don’t.

Sweet Pea:  Yes!  Dad taught us.

And right then and there, on this brisk, fall afternoon, my kids taught me how to sex a pig.

I have no more words.