The Lumberjack's Wife

Want to know how to bribe your kids into doing some extra weeding?

Tell them that afterwards, they can go to the beach!

What’s that?  Oh! I’m sorry!  Have I not mentioned the massive amounts of WEEDING we have been doing around here?  My bad.  I’ll try to fill you in.  But first, let us discuss Little Dude and his confusion regarding the underwear/swim trunks sitch.

Ah, yes. Classy. The tighty-whities pulled up past the Cars swim trunks.  It is a trend that is sure to catch on.

Hey.  I have four kids.  One of them is bound to leave the house with someone on wrong, backwards, inside out, or . . . extra.

The kids had a lovely time at the lake, per usual.

Weeds.

Not only have we been battling with our garden weeds, we have also begun to attack the driveway weeds.  And as we were attacking the driveway weeds, we noticed that there are basically weeds covering the entire 20 acres of which we call home.

Discouraging, yes?

So, today I spent 1 1/2 hours spraying weeds in the driveway and another 2 1/2 hours in the garden and I don’t want to go outside anymore today and find anymore weeds because it will force me to crawl into a corner and suck my thumb.

In other, not as traumatic news, yesterday was our wedding anniversary!

Were not we cute?

We have been married for 12 years.

12!

That’s crazy talk.

We had a delightful, albeit busy, anniversary celebration that lasted from 10am Saturday morning until 8pm Sunday night.  And get this-we were KIDLESS.

Please.  Try to contain your jealousy.

Since I am certain you care deeply about all the goings-on of this fun-filled weekend, I shall present the activities completed in a list form.

Hold on to your pants, folks.  David and I live one wild and crazy life.

1.  Took our sweet, new minivan to the mechanic to get one minor thing looked at.

2.  Get rolled at the mechanic and spend all the monies getting it fixed.

3.  Took a load of stuff to the dump.

4.  Went to lunch.  Yum!

5.  Cleaned our loathsome rental.

6.  Picked up our stupid minivan.

7.  Went to a thrift store to buy a new frying pan for our loathsome rental.  No.  We don’t skimp on costs for our high-class rental.  Why do you ask?

8.  Went to Walmart to buy an air mattress and cleaning supplies for our loathsome rental.

9.  Stop by loathsome rental and switch out laundry.

10.  Go to the movies.

11.  Eat a ridiculous amount of popcorn.  Seriously.  Our popcorn addiction is out of control.

12.  Go to loathsome rental and switch out laundry.

13.  Go home.  Check on 14 billion animals with flashlights.  Wash eggs.

*Sunday*

14.  SLEEP IN

15.  Feel badly for sleeping in.  There are weeds to be pulled, people!

16.  Pull weeds.  Eat lunch.  Head to loathsome rental.

17.  Stop by loathsome rental and switch out laundry.

18.  Hit the beach!  Now, this was a treat, folks.  Do you know how awesome it is to go to the beach and READ a book and NAP and NOT have to stare at children and make sure no one is drowning and perform random head counts?  Do you?  DO YOU?

I don’t think you do.

It is incredible.

19.  Get an ice cream cone.  Because, have you met us?

20.  This one might surprise you-stop by loathsome rental to switch out laundry.

21.  I am not sure if you are picking up on it or not, but my tone is supposed to be hinting at a bit of  vexation on my behalf regarding the rental.  Of which I find loathsome.  FYI.

22.  Dinner out at our favorite Greek restaurant and-BONUS-it was NOT belly dancer night.

23.  *phew!*

24.  Switch out laundry at the loathsome rental.

25.  Pick up children.  *tear*

26.  Oh, I am just kidding.

27.  Kind of.

28.  Stop by loathsome rental and switch out last load of laundry.  Because that wasn’t time consuming at all.

29.  Stop and get everyone a little fro-yo for the ride home.

And thus ends our extravagant weekend.  It was actually quite wonderful and I had a lovely time hanging out with my main man.

Even if we did have to pull weeds and get through about 18 loads of laundry.  He did, after all, buy me a Moose Tracks ice cream in a waffle cone.

He completes me.

Happy Monday!

Ok.  Hello?  Hello?  Do you remember me?  I used to blog here, but then my husband created this ginormous garden, you see, and, well, the garden is killing “free-time Taylor.”

I better reap some delicious produce, I’ll tell you that right now.

Weeds.

My fingernails have dirt all up inside them and it will be there for all eternity, I just know it.  My pointer finger on my right hand has lost nerve cells or something and even typing out this very pointless post in which you are currently reading is bringing me a bit of strife.

It is a good thing I am hearty ranch wife and not dramatic at all, isn’t it?

I need help, folks.  My husband planted the garden and then he put a stake (not steak.  Homophones!  They get you every time!) and stuck the seed packet on the top.

Like so:

But herein lies the problem:

The wind doth bloweth many of the seed packets away.  This has resulted in:

The Great Garden Mystery of 2012

Because, have you heard?  This is my first garden and I am an ignorant fool.  So, would you, kind reader, take a moment to help me ascertain what it is I am growing?   Por favor?

Let us go through each plant.  And I expect you to feign excitement.  I am typing this out with my injured weed-pulling finger and all.  The least you could do is act like you care.

1)  Cantaloupe

This one is a no-brainer.  Wanna know why?  Because I  planted it.  And the wind didn’t blow my little cheat sheet away.

Neener, Neener, Lumberjack.

2)  This one is possibly zucchini.

What say you?

3)  I am going to go with cucumber on this one?  Thoughts?

4)  I am fairly certain on this one:

Pumpkin.  Of the pie persuasion.

Please don’t tell me otherwise.  It will totally rock my world.

5)  This one is a mystery.

We are thinking we planted broccoli, cauliflower, and watermelon somewhere, but have yet to find them in our finely weeded garden that has no sticks whatsoever.

So perhaps the mystery plant is one of the missing plants?

Yes?

No?

Yes?

6)  We have two different types of lettuce.  For we are uEber healthy.

Look!  It is hay!  For to smother any more weeds that might try and ruin my summer!

Ha!

Taylor: 1

Weeds: 0

7)  Spinach.

BAM!

Nailed it.

8 )  Cilantro

9)  This one was a mystery . . .

until I used the power of “The Google Images” and decided that it was . . . wait for it . . . wait for it . . .

carrots!

Look at me and my produce identifying self!

10)  Sugar snap peas

This is by far our most producing crop.  I sure hope we like them.

11)  Green Beans

Those little beauties are the primary reason I bought a pressure canner.  My mother in law scared the snot out of me with her stories of “Green Bean Botulism.”

Maybe I will just feed them all to the rabbits.  That will solve two of my problems in life.

Botulism.  Check.

40 billion rabbits.  Check.

Kidding!  Or am I?

12)  Corn!

That was an easy one.

13)  Strawberries

14)  Blueberries

15)  Tomatoes

Fun Fact:  Our family doesn’t eat tomatoes.

True story.

16)  Raspberries

17)  Blackberries

The garden is right next to the rabbits’ new locale.  And while I am weeding, which is hardly EVER, sometimes I get a glimpse of some little babies.

And zoom.

And zoom. (Yes.  I got photog skills.  Or skillz.  Whichever you prefer.)

Yes!  It is true!  Our rabbits have finally, *ahem*, started doing what *ahem* rabbits do.  And we didn’t even have to pump out some Marvin Gaye to help them along!  Win!

***

Before I go, I thought I would share a couple of cute pictures of the children that I took today.

You’re welcome.

Sweet Pea reading to Handsome Dude, all while snuggling Peter the Cat.

Which is interesting since I made a new law that Peter the Cat was no longer allowed in the house.

My authority is feared by my children.  Obviously.

Daisy Mae reading to Little Dude:

Why, yes!  I am glad you noticed!  Little Dude does have chocolate all over his face.

This is a result of one of two things:

1)  His mother did not notice

2)  His mother does not care.

You pick.

Alright!  If you could be so kind as to tell me what your think the mystery produce is, I would be much obliged.

Later, dudes.

I am SO tired.  And here are today’s top ten.

You may ask:  “Taylor!  Top Ten what?”

I have no idea.

1)  We have weeds.  Lots of them.  I pulled weeds for six hours today.

Six.  SIX.  SIX.

See those rows?  Them are half rows.  We have at least 40 full rows, maybe more.

Excuse me?  I believe we wanted a large garden?

Hello!

I so tired.  And discouraged.  Isn’t gardening supposed to be an enjoyable hobby?

Because I want to burn it to the ground.  True story.

2)  Pop Quiz?  What is this plant:

A pumpkin or a watermelon?  I can’t remember what I planted there.  Ha!

Please don’t say it’s a weed.  Please don’t say it’s a weed.

3)  I made this recipe this week.  It was yummy.

Chicken Pad Thai from Lauren’s Latest

Check it out, my internet friends.

4)  All day long I have wanted to read my book.  It is not going to happen.  The weeds are eating my fun.

5)  Look at what my crafty sister in law, Lisa, made me for my birthday:

The item on the left is for to hang necklaces.  (It hangs on the wall horizontally)

The item on the right is for to hang earrings.

Look at Lisa and her crafty self!

6)  Speaking of Lisa and all things crafty, I am heading to her house on the morrow for a Pinterest day with her and my other sis in law, Amy.

We are planning on making these:

Image source and link to original post

My one job is to bring the chicken wire.  Which just shows what kind of gal I am.  And isn’t that sad?  That I am now the go-to gal for chicken wire? I was a bit worried about the aforementioned craft because David always takes his wire cutters to work with him.  And every good rancher knows you need wire cutters.  For to cut the chicken wire.

No fear!  My handy sister in law, Lisa, has a pair of her own.

I will never be as cool as her.

7)  Did you know chickens can dig holes?  Ask me how I know.

8)  David is going to be home late.  Again.  I am hoping he will get an epiphany to bring home some ice cream.

9)  Since you all just asked how I knew that chickens can dig holes, I will tell you.

I see them.

You see, dear readers, I can see the chickens from my bedroom window.  They will oft dig small little holes and sit in them throughout the day.  Well, today, I noticed at least fifteen chickens who decided to allow themselves to become “free-range” without my permission.

Turns out, they dug a hold under the fence and burrowed their way to freedom.  My girls herded the chickens back in, and I, the strong Lumberjill that I clearly am, filled in the hole.

Then I went and weeded the garden.  Because, have you heard?  Weeding is the bane of my existence.  And it is sucking all the joy out of my life.

10)  I gave all four kids haircuts yesterday.  I would describe them as:

“eh.”

The girls are ok.  The boys are a bit iffy.  And if someone could please, PLEASE tell me how to cut a boys’ hair with scissors and NOT with an electric trimmer, I would be forever grateful.

But anyways.

I was so proud of myself for saving some cash.  Because you know.  Sometimes we feel poor.

Well.  It’s a good thing I saved that haircut money because, guess what!  The TV broke at our loathsome rental and we had to go buy a new one last night.

Because a brand, spanking new TV is quite comparable in costs to four kids haircuts that look mediocre at best.

So, tell me dear readers.

1)  Do you cut your kids’ hair?

2)  How does it look?  Really?

3)  Am I growing pumpkins or watermelons?

4)  Do you want to come weed my garden?

5)  Do you have your own wire cutters?

6)  Do you have a supply of chicken wire to impress your crafty friends with?

Good Day.

If you are anywhere on or around a diet, you need to close your eyes and scroll past the first portion of today’s thrilling entry.

Trust me.  You must!

If you, however, are like me and only diet on the third Tuesday of each month, feel free to read on.

(image source and link to recipe)

Oh.  My.  Lanta.  These are so good.  If you are ueber naughty like me and decide to check them out, do not fret if you do not have 8 squares of semi-sweet chocolate.  I mean, really.  Who has the squares lying around?  Not I.  I subbed a 12oz package of semi-sweet chocolate chips.  Divine!  Delicious!  Heavenly!

Perfect for the homeschool marm who is on summer break- and just might sneak them into her bedroom with a cup of coffee and a good book and LOCK THE DOOR  . . . just so she doesn’t have to share.  Not that I might know from experience.  Nope, nope, nope.

And, oh yeah!  Remember my plans to continue homeschooling fairly regularly throughout the summer so that my children would be brilliant and all peoples of all nations would rise and call me blessed?

I have a comment to make on that:

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

I mean, really.  Isn’t review what the whole month of September is for anyways?

Well.  I turned 31 since we last spoke.  It’s true.  My one mission on my birthday was to somehow get myself a moose tracks ice cream in a waffle cone.

It happened.

I had a lovely birthday.  My beloved bought me some awesome gifts-gifts that I, the former city girl, would have scoffed at years ago.  But now, these gifts make me all giddy-like.

I got . . . wait for it . . . wait for it . . .

Six LARGE blueberry plants (I know!)

One tomato plant

One large, gorgeous hanging basket that elite people, unlike myself, usually have hanging on their porches.

Look at me and my elite, farmgirl self!

The tomato plant might be puzzling to some seeing as how our family does not eat tomatoes.  But I have great plans, my friends.  Plans that include making, and canning, my own spaghetti sauce.

Because I am 31 now.  And these are the tasks I must do.

Sweet Pea bought me a gold pie server at an antique mall.  She was SO excited and I told her I would treasure it forever, seeing as how I have no gold utensils whatsoever.  My mother bought me 3 beautiful blue canning jars and let the girls give them to me.  Because, have you heard?  Blue canning jars are all the rage.  Mother also got me the Pampered Chef covered baker and I am seriously on cloud nine.  My sis in law made me a cool necklace and earring holder that I shall have to share with you.  But not today.  It wouldn’t be prudent.  And I got gobs of other good things, but we must forge on.

Let us look at some photos of this blessed weekend, shall we?

Here are some pictures from when mother and I “Hoed with Rosa.”  As most people do with their mothers.  Naturally.

The boys.  Precious, as always.

(ha!  Hello?  Have you read this blog?)

The girls.  Enjoying some ice cream.

Back to my birthday!  Because, it is all about me and my special day.  To get the aforementioned cone of ice cream, we went to the park that amuses us.  It was a fun day for all.

Waiting in line.

(Daisy Mae and David ditched us to ride some roller coasters)

(Lumberjill does NOT ride roller coasters.  She hasn’t been able to handle them since she was 17)

(Sadly, upon turning 31, even the carousel made Lumberjill ill.  Because Lumberjill is old.  Apparently)

Sweet Pea and Little Dude taking a country drive.

Fun, fun!

Today, I ordered a pressure canner.  Not to be confused with a canner, nor a pressure cooker.

A PRESSURE CANNER.

Apparently, it is everything I need in this life.

Stand down, naysayers!  I don’t need one more person warning me that said pressure canner might blow up in my face.  You are all killjoys.  I wash my hands of it.

I am going to can green beans!

And dried beans, like pinto, black, and kidney!

And perhaps soups!

And maybe even elk meat!

My joy overfloweth.

Little Dude, who has been waiting for months to turn four years old, finally had his big day yesterday.  His siblings were ever so sweet to him and all brought him presents from their own belongings that they had wrapped for him.  It was ueber precious.

For a few months now, Little Dude has been informing us that learning how to “catch a fish” was on his to-do list for the summer.  So, last night, David brought him home another birthday present to add to his stash:

A Spiderman fishing pole . . . as if life could not get any more exciting.  We packed a picnic dinner and drove to a little fishing spot about 10 minutes away.

Little Dude:  Dad!  DAD!  Hey-hey-hey-hey-hey, Dad!  It takes SO LONG to catch a fish.  When will the fish come?  When, Dad?  DAD?  WHEN?!  Oh!  Look at the worm!  He is so shiny from the waters.  Did he take a bath?  Does he like to swim?  Where are the fish?  I am hungry!  Here, fishy-fishy-fishy!  DAD!  Where is my fish?  I so freezing.  SPIDERMAN!  TO THE RESCUE!  Can I have a cupcake?

Handsome Dude was the first catcher of fish.

And how does he celebrate?

By catching another one.

Daisy Mae is quite the littler fisher girl.

She knows all about casting and reeling and whatnot.  Fun fact, and this may surprise you, I know nothing about the mysterious ways of the fishing pole.  I just sat and tried to make sure that:

A)  Little Dude did not drown

B)  The M&Ms got eaten

C)  Handsome Dude did not drown

And I had to try and answer all of Little Dude’s questions.  Which is not easy, my friends.

Sweet Pea

Sweet Pea loathes getting her picture taken lately.  It is quite exasperating for this mother who is trying to capture everything in a pointless blog.  But what can you do?

Finally, David fired me from “helping”  Little Dude fish and took the Spiderman Pole away from us for about 2.9 seconds.  Then he quickly told Little Dude to hold the pole while we all participated in:

The Great Birthday Fishing Deception of 2012

Which is basically how we all tricked Little Dude into thinking that he caught a fish.

Don’t judge.  You would do it, too, my friends.  You would do it, too.

Later, we sang a little tune . . . I bet you are familiar with it?  It is called “Happy Birthday.”  Little Dude had a grand time passing out his birthday cupcakes-

The great fisher-boy that he clearly is.

Look at me and my farm and ranch self!

I, yes, I, Taylor Maliblahblah, have grown 11 whole baby chickens.  All by myself.  One little chick sadly did not make it . . . it died mid-crack and part of its body is poking out of the shell.

So close, little chick!  So close!

It has been like that for about 24 hours, so I think its done for.  Poor pumpkin.  We are still waiting on more to hatch, so there may be more to come!

Please.  Try and feign excitement.  Its all I have going on over here.

So, today I woke up and had many goals of which I had hoped to accomplish.  Cleaning bathrooms, vacuuming, washing bedding, you know . . . the usual.  I was even toying with the idea of starting some school with Handsome Dude . . . just to see what kind of torture and agony will befall me come September.  But then, I looked out the window and saw the dogs eating a rabbit.  Which is always a killjoy.  Turns out the rabbits dug a hole under the fence and four total were out and the three survivors had managed to get themselves into the chicken coop.

I was purely agitated.

  The girls and I got the deceased rabbit disposed of and managed to get the other three to safety, where they will await my beloved who will need to come take a gander at their private areas so we know which stall to put them in.

Yes.  Be jealous of our glamorous lives.

In other, less disturbing news, we went camping this past weekend!  It was a combo Father’s Day/Little Dude’s Birthday trip.

I was going to make him an exquisite tractor type cake . . . I’m sure you all remember my sweet, Titanic cake.

Its obvious I have missed my calling in life.

But, I digress.

Little Dude informed me that, no, he just wanted a cake with lots and lots and lots of candy on it.

So he is now my favorite because he made my life uEber easy.

He called it “Candy World.”  Basically, we made a chocolate cake.  Slapped on some frosting.  Made a Kit Kat gate, for that was one of his requirements.  Threw on some cars.  Chopped up some candy.  And added sprinkles.

Feel free to pin it.  I know you want to.

Yes.  I should have rotated the picture before sharing it with you.  I care not.

Little Dude loves, loves, loves camping.

And combining a birthday with camping?

Fuhget about it.

The camp host gal gave him a whistle.  So, he rode all around whistling for bears.  He’s pretty sure that’s how you “catch” them.

He happily informed everyone 4.2 billion times that he had a Candy World cake.  Sadly, no one really cared.  But he sure did.

Finally, his moment came.

And, then, just to make him explode with excitement, we sang him The Happy Birthday Song.

He was soaking it all up!

Alright!  My husband will be home soon and I must break it to him that he gets to gender-ify some rabbits.

He is sure to be thrilled.

Last night was “Going to Town Night.”  It is truly an exciting event around here.  I had to get some groceries for camping this weekend (oh, yay!) and then my parents were going to watch the kids (oh, yay!) so I could clean that wretched rental (oh, boo!).

We pulled up to the store and Daisy Mae looked me up and down.  Then she said with much dismay,

“Um, I can’t believe you went to town looking like that.”

And I looked.  I was wearing jeans and a gray, hooded sweatshirt.

Me:  So, what?

DM:  Um, usually you look a bit nicer when you go to town.  I don’t know why you are wearing that.

Me:  Do you remember what I am doing tonight?

DM:  Cleaning the house?

Me:  So, what did you think I should wear?

DM:  I don’t know.  It just does not look good.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

Well, folks.  You have read about my move from the city to the country and how I have learned to homeschool, make jam, make homemade laundry soap, grind up fresh elk meat, can peaches and applesauce, make my own bread, raise rabbits, and, of course, raise chickens.

The most logical next step would be to hatch baby chicks on my kitchen counter, don’t you think?

I truly never intended on being this way.  My apologies.

So here is our first contestant, poking his/her way into the world:

The astute reader might notice that one egg has 4/23 written on it.  This is how one of my children wrote May 23rd.  Because I excel at the homeschool.

Contestant #2 starts to break through.

Don’t worry, Little Chicks!  I am sure my responsible, young man will do you no harm during your existence here on this earth.

*ahem*

I’d like to be all inspirational and Mother Nature-ish, but the baby chicks look truly disgusting when they are birthing themselves from the egg.

Gives me the peepee shivers.

But feel free to be inspired and amazed if you’d like.

He/She popped his/her head out!

Success!

Please don’t tell me I am going to have to try and determine the gender of the chickens as well.

I will have none of it!

We named the first chick “Hatch.”  Because we are creative, you know?

Soon after, Hatch’s sibling also joined in on the miracle of life.

Here are the two of them watching over their third sibling who is soon to peck his/her way into the world.

The hatching process takes FOR-EV-ER.  Seriously.  “Hatch” first cracked his shell around 11pm last night and finally made it through around 7 this morning.

You try and keep four kids patient during this blessed event.

Go on.  Try.

Fun Fact:  We heard the chicks start chirping in the eggs before they started to hatch.

It was ueber creepy.  I thought I was losing my marbles.

To add to the excitement, our electricity was shut off for three hours today.  I was extremely nervous because that meant the incubator would be without power and I didn’t want to bring Hatch and Company into the world, only to let them freeze to death ten minutes later.

While the power was out (which was apparently a planned outage), some dudes from the electric company came to read our meter and other such nonsense.

So, these two men come down yonder country road and find me outside with four children and a plethora of animals.

Stranger Man:  Do you guys raise rabbits?

Me:  Yes.

Stranger Man:  How many you got?

Oh, dear.

Me:  Um, maybe 40?

Never mind the fact that my husband snuck a few more home the other night.  40 sounds a bit more normal than 46.

Stranger Man:  FORTY RABBITS?  Y’all having rabbit stew for dinner?

Great.  I am officially a country freak.

Me:  No, no.  We don’t eat them.

Stranger Man:  You got some chickens there, too, huh?

Me:  Yes.

Stranger Man:  How many of them do you got?

Well, darn.  This is not going to get any better.

Me:  Oh, maybe 60?

Stranger Man:  SIXTY!  Holy Smokes!

And I was just praying that he would not ask me if I was, by any chance, hatching baby animals on my kitchen counter at that very moment, too.

Because then I would have really looked like a weirdo.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a rabbit to stew.

Kidding!

Or am I?