The Lumberjack's Wife

My husband, bless his heart, finds it quite humorous to pull the childrens’ pants up extremely high and shout:

“Let’s wear our pants as high as Mommy!”

Allow me to give you a visual, courtesy of Little Dude and his now sore bum.

That David.  What a punk.  And to think I even missed him whilst he was gone.  No!  I do not wear my pants that high!  I don’t think.

Attention People Who Know Me in Real Life Who Feel My Pants are Worn This High:  Please pull me aside next time you see me and inform me of this atrocity.

Much appreciated.

So, yes. The mighty hunter has returned.  He, along with his hunting beard, came home last night.  And, yes.  He shot (not caught!  I finally learned to not say that!) a cow.

Not a moo cow.  An elk cow.  Keep up!  Since the elk was not a bull, there is no picture because there was no rack.  And hunters are only interested in the racks, didn’t you know?  And, yes, I will probably be getting some immature comments about racks.  It is to be expected.  The elk came home in meat bags and is now hanging in the garage to dry.

This means I cannot go in my garage for a few days.

Mother called me last night, as she is wont to do, and asked me if David “caught” anything.  She is clearly not a hunter’s wife.  I told her David “caught” an elk.

Mom:  Oh!  Is this his first elk?

Me:  No.  Hello?  Mom?  I’ve had to cook elk all year?  Remember?

Mom:  Oh.  My bad.

Goodness.  Someone needs to be a little more invested in her daughter’s life, I see.

I would like to report that I have yet to taste elk.  Yes.  I know you are impressed. Oh, I’ve cooked it for about a year now.  I just don’t try it.  My family LOVES it.  What is wrong with them?

I could ask around for some recipes and whatnot, but herein lies the problem:

THE RECIPE WOULD CONTAIN BITS OF ELK

And that is something that I just cannot come to terms with.  I might need to become a vegetarian.  Meat is just so animal-ish.

Bleh.

But life is not all about me (shocker!), so I am happy for my husband.  Killing animals tends to excite him.  And it is good to have him home and all clean-shaven.

Random-Topic-Quick-Change!

Are you sitting down?  I have some news for you.

My mother has joined The Facebook.

I KNOW!  She did it just to join Pinterest and then she was going to delete it and within about 2 hours she had over 50 friends!

It hurts when you discover your mom is cooler than you.

I wrote on her wall, because I can now:

Me:  You need a profile picture.  FYI.

Mom: Yes, but I think I need multiple pictures to be able to get all grandchildren/kids in and maybe even pops! Meagan says I need to take my birthdate off my profile. Do I really need to answer whether I like males or females? Goodness I am feeling old!

Oh, wow.  This is going to provide so much entertainment for me.

Tomorrow!  My husband is coming home tomorrow, the fearless hunter that he is.  He did come home on Thursday for a bit to unload some wood and check on me and my lovely self.  And I was fine, thank you for asking.

Yes.  My husband lumberjacks whilst he hunts.  He is all that is man.

So, he unloaded wood and inspected the homestead and drove back into the woods to live his dream.  Or whatever it is he is doing out there, bless his heart.

I thought I had better clear something up with y’all.  He doesn’t call me because he doesn’t have cell service.  He’s not a meanie pants and of course I could call him, but I think it would seem obsessive to keep trying his number to see if he miraculously has service.  So, if he is ever out hunting and for some reason gets service, he will call me on his hunting trips.

But he hasn’t.

I am a terrible single person.  I stay up way too late and eat like 10 rounds of snacks.  And I’m never hungry, but I feel I must snack.  I had popcorn and hot chocolate at 11:30 the other night.  Why?  I cannot be certain.  But I am certain it was not conducive to my plan to lose two pounds before he came home.  Because every hunter hopes to come home to a wife who weighs two pounds less, didn’t you know?  I’m such a failure.

So, here’s what we’ve been up to, because I know you always love to hear the latest.

1)  My friend, Amanda, and her brood came over on Thursday night.  We chatted and ate tacos while our combined 8 children played.  I have been friends with Amanda since kindergarten.  Yes.  She’s feigned interest in my nonsense for THAT many years.  She is a gem of a friend.  It was lovely and hectic.  We have no idea how we got to have so many children.

?

2)  Glasses.  Oh my goodness gracious.

Ok.  Do you remember how David went and purchased glasses from a different person than my favorite glasses place in the world and I wept and wailed and didn’t like it?

Just say you remember.  The story will go much fast that way.

Long story short:  the new ones that were supposed to be indestructible are constantly broken and the guy there is not nice about fixing them.

So, I took the old glasses that go with MY people in yesterday, and wouldn’t you know they “temporarily” fixed the obliterated ones and ordered new frames.  They told me they wouldn’t charge me for the frames because “I just barely made it in before the warranty expired.”

They have been saying that since August.  And I have gotten 3 new pairs since August.  For FREE.

And the people were kind and pleasant and chatty and lovely and can we not all agree that I win the glasses debate?

Say yes.  Taylor wins.

3)  However, if the glasses break again, Bob, who is one of my bff at the glasses place, suggests we get some different frames that will not break, but will make my child look like a “space man.”

4)  Would you all join me in praying that the glasses that make my child look like a “child” will not break and we will not have to buy the new “space man” glasses?

Many thanks.

5)  I went to my sis-in-law, Lisa’s house.  We made cookies!

Handsome Dude (sporting his temporarily fixed glasses.  Holla, Glasses-Fixer-Man-Bob!) was uber serious about the cookie creations.

Daisy Mae never stops talking.  Ever.

Well.  Maybe when she is eating.  But then, it is right back to chit chat.

My little niece sampled the cookies.

She approved.

6)  I went to church with my OTHER sis-in-law, Holly.  I have so many sis-in-laws to choose from.  My cup runneth over.

I will have you know that THREE, count them, THREE people told me I looked good last night at church . . . for a person who lives in Ruralville.

I would like you all to analyze this and tell me what it means post haste.

7)  My Auntie Datenut sent a box of odds and ends for the kids to go through.  It was extremely exciting for them.  Thanks, Auntie!

What a fantastic picture, per usual.

Allow me to give you a few blog picture taking tips. You’re welcome.  Feel free to bookmark this page and share with your loved ones.

Tip #1:  Get a toilet in the background.  Your blog readers like to be reminded that you are a real person with real, human body functions.

Shoot!  That reminds me that someone made a peepee mess on one of the toilets and I forgot to clean it up.  Now, I am forlorn.

Tip #2:  If you can, place a basket of shoes behind the children.  It will make any picture look snazzy.

Tip #3:  Don’t worry about the IPod docking station cords.  No one will ever notice.

Tip #4:  Have one child show the camera his/her foot.  Everyone loves a good foot in their pictures.

Tip #5:  If you can, make sure to abide in a home that has every wall painted peach.  You will be the envy of blogland.

Alright!  I’m back to work.  I foolishly decided to wash ALL the bedding today and I am TOTALLY regretting it.

Totally.

Little Dude hates ice cream.  Could that kid be any weirder?

To hate ice cream is so against the Maliblahblah Family Code of Conduct.  When David was a young lad growing up, they could only have ice cream on Friday nights.  When I first met him, I thought this was a little odd and extreme.  Now that I am raising 4 kids on one income, I think it is brilliant.

ANYWAYS.  When we got married, David completely rebelled and deemed every night to be ice cream night.  He’s so defiant and edgy!  Excuse me while I swoon.

Back to Little Dude.  He hates ice cream.  When we go to an ice cream shop, he demands an ice water and is happy as a clam.   And we all know clams are uber happy.

Last night, after Awana, my parents and I decided to take the kids out for frozen yogurt.  We tricked Little Dude by calling it “yogurt.”  He loves him some yogurt.  As soon as we got there, he yelled in fury:

“This not yogurt!  This ice cream!  I HATE ice cream!”

Could he get any weirder?

While we were enjoying our treats, my mom and I started talking about Pinterest again.

Mom:  I tried to create a Pinterest account, but I couldn’t.

Me:  Why not?

Mom:  It says I need a Facebook account and I don’t have one.

Me:  Give me your phone.  Let me see if I can sign you up.

Mom:  Ok.  But I can’t figure out how to check my email on my phone!

Dad:  I know how!

Me:  Ok.  Not relevant.

So, I try to sign her up and she is right-she needs a Facebook or Twitter account.  I am not even going to mention Twitter because I fear her brain would explode.

Me:  I can set you up with a Facebook account.

Mom (wincing in pain):  I don’t know if I can do it!

Me:  You don’t have to do anything.

Mom (now wincing in agony):  But do I have to get on there every five minutes and update people on what I am doing?  Like, “I’m going to the bathroom now!”

Me:  Yes.

Goodness.  Where does this woman get these ideas?  She is beyond help.  Anyways, she is still battling with her Facebook fears, and I am not sure she will ever be able to come to the dark side.

Some of you asked me to follow you on the Pinterest.  And that is all fine and dandy and I think I got those of you who asked.

If you want to follow me, here is my account.

Warning:  I am not creative nor crafty nor aesthetically pleasing in any area of my life.

Thank you.

PS-David did not call me yesterday.

*tear*

Hold on to your pants, folks!

We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.

1.  Do you remember back in aught-nine when my husband went on his hunting trip and my children became horribly ill?

No.  You don’t.  No one read my blog back then.  And if they did, I can assure you, they’ve long gotten sick of me.

Anyways.  You can read it here, if you are feeling frisky.   It seems that whenever my husband goes on his hunting trip, things go wrong.  And, guess what.  The kids MIGHT be starting to get sick.

I am going to pray that they don’t.

Join me.  I implore you.

2.  My ma and pa came to camp at my house the past two nights and I am pleased to announce that I have unlocked the secret to homeschooling:

MORE THAN ONE TEACHER.

Brilliant!  I took one child and my mom took another and BAM!, we got ‘er done, tag team style.  It was epic.  And my dad entertained the dudes, which was like Christmas for me.  So, we got done in record time and we had a little extra time for some craftiness.

Oh yes, we did.

3.  We made coffee filter wreaths.  Mmmm-hmmm.  Bimlissa’s mom (she’s kind of a big deal) she has this tutorial on how to make a wreath out of coffee filters.  You can check out her tutorial here.

Now.  My mom and I were too special to do it the way Bimlissa’s mom suggested.  So we made our wreaths entirely out of a) brown coffee filters (these are essential) b) hot glue gun and its accompanying sticks and c) a wreath thing.

Here’s my mom doing her thing:

She puts on her glasses when she is being uber serious.

Daisy Mae “helped.”

Yeah.  So you take a coffee filter and you kind of smoosh it.  Or something.  And then you glue it onto the wreath.

I know what you are thinking.  “Why DOESN’T Taylor start a crafting blog?!  She’s obviously a natural!”  I know, I know.

Here is the finished wreath.  This is a horrible picture, but you were expecting that.

I took it last night.  With my phone.  Sure, I could get up now and try for a better one.  But that would require effort.

4.  Are you still holding on to your pants?

5.  Since we were getting all handsome on our craftiness, my mom mentions that she enjoys The Pinterest.

Say whaaaat?  My mom has heard of Pinterest?  Doth she be cooler than I?

Well.  I have abstained from Pinterest because I do not have time to pin anything.  But, my mom talked me into it and it is fabulous and I intend on becoming the world’s most craftiest person who cooks delightful treats, uses raffia and mason jars to no end, paints furniture, and paints walls odd colors that strangely look fantastic.

Just you wait.

6.  Handsome Dude had to eat yams.

This did not please him.

7.  Yams are delicious.  There’s no denying it.

8.  My parents found a bunch of my old books and brought them for the girls.  As we were looking through them, we found one with some sort of creepy title like, “Is Mary Home Alone?” and it showed a girl looking out her window all terrified-like.

Me:  Oh!  That one looks creepy.

Daisy Mae:  Do you remember it?

Me:  No.  I don’t think I’ve seen that one before.

Daisy Mae:  It looks like something Aunt Meagan would read.  It’s probably hers.

Attention Sister Meagan:  Ha!

9.  Oh!  Sorry!  I went to visit Pinterest and I got a bit distracted.  I’m back now.

10.  Do you think David will call me today?  I haven’t heard from him in so many days.  He’s totally pining away over me, I just know it.

11  And now, because I am clearly running out of things to blog about (could you tell?), I would like to tell you a story about my Sweet Pea.

Sweet Pea got glasses when she was two. Now, you always hear about Handsome Dude and his glasses, but I have never told you about Sweet Pea and her first pair of glasses.

She hated them.  We would be driving and she would just chuck them at my head, the loving child that she is.  Anyways, one day David and I were at the mall-(yes!  the mall!  with David!) and we had both girls in the double stroller and we were running around all stressed-like, because who enjoys going to the mall with a grumpy husband and two little children?  Anyways, at one point in the mall, Sweet Pea did her “cute” glasses-chucking thing and we have never seen that pair since.

We ordered her some new ones and they forgot to put the little ear loopies on them.

You KNOW.  The ear loopies.

source

Turns out it was the ear loopies that she hated all along!  So, there you go.  A helpful glasses tip for those of you with kids.  Anyways, once she put on regular glasses, she was a precious angel in the glasses department.

My babies!  Where did they go?

And then.  God said, “Let them have a boy who needs glasses.”

And, clearly, that has gone well.

12.  This post is coco-nuts.  Even I’m confused, and I am the mastermind behind it.  It’s that darn Pinterest!  It keeps capturing my Interest (get it?)!  This must be a hard post for you to read, seeing as how my posts are always so clear, beautifully-written, and inspiring.  And on that note . . .

13.  I, yes, I, Taylor Maliblahblah, put on my big girl pants and removed a dead rabbit body.  It took a lot of squealing (on my part of course, not the rabbit’s), running in place, and an extra long shovel, but I did it.

And that is all I have to say about that.

So, on that note, dear readers, you can let go of your pants.

It is finished.

Yes.  I know.  My photography skills (or skillz, whichever you prefer) are to be envied.  And, yes.  You are looking at a picture of a deceased fly on this top-notch blog.

Did you catch that?  DECEASED fly.

That’s right.

Whoomp!

There it is!  And only $4.72 at The Walmarts.

Ok.  That picture is kinda bad.  David took the camera hunting with him, so all I have is my phone.  I know you all expect superior photos from me, but it shall have to wait.  Patience, my friends.  Patience.

You may ask:  “Taylor!  Why on earth does David need a camera for to hunt?”

Well, readers.  I cannot be certain, but I do believe it is for the “rack” picture.  Do you remember the rack picture from last year?

Sure you do.

You know.  When I had to take 4.2 million photos until we got the EPIC photo that made the “rack” look huge and glorious and got all the “points” in it.

Are you listening to me?  Do you even care about the “rack” picture?  Do you know what “points are?”

Neither do I.  Let’s proceed.

I am finding dead flies everywhere since I sprayed and It. Is. Glorious.  I am thoroughly enjoying myself.  In case you weren’t up to speed, my home has been plagued with flies for weeks now.  WEEKS, I tell you.  It was disheartening, really.

In other news, due to all your helpful makeup tips yesterday, I added eyeliner to the mix today.  No one noticed, but I felt like a million bucks.  While I murdered flies.

In other, other news, my knee is KILLING me.  This is not surprising.  I took a Tylenol PM about 15 minutes ago.  So.  Yeah.  You’ve been warned.

David is off on his hunting trip and has left us ladyfolk in charge of the bunnies.  He mostly left my girls in charge because I am afeared of the bunnies.  And no, afeared is not a  real word, but I like it.   The girls told me that one of the rabbits is dead.  This is a crying shame.  Not just because it is dead, may he/she (Did you assume I checked it’s gender?  You are mistaken) rest in peace, but somebody is going to have to deal with it.  And David is not here.  Hence the crying shame.

Rabbits are freaky creatures, dudes.  They just drop dead for no reason.  Its quite mysterious.  Now, honestly, if  the dead, genderless rabbit was in a private cage, I would just leave him/her there for the time being.  I did marry David after all.  I will be taking advantage of the perks.  (Rack picture taking is NOT one of them)   But he/she is in a group cage and I am not sure I trust the other rabbits with the body.

Rabbits are freaky creatures, dudes.  I would not be shocked if they nibbled a bit on their dead friend.  Yes.  Nibbled.  I said it.

So.  That will be tomorrow’s adventure.  Removal of the rabbit body.  May he/she rest in peace.   I’ll have to put on my lady ranch-wear for the occasion, which always makes me look like eye-candy.

Oh!  A fly just buzzed by.  I am going to let him live.  I admire his die-hard spirit and his fight for life.

But as soon as I sleep this Tylenol PM off, he’s a goner.

And on that note, I shall bid you adieu.

Oh!  I almost forgot!  I found this to be hilarious-

It was David’s “hunting packing” list, written on The Babysitter’s Little Sister Friendship Club paper.

Because THAT is uber manly.

Alright.  Goodnight.

So, I have this friend named Rrrrrriiiiitttaaaaa.  Or, as she is more commonly known, “Rita.”  She loves to copy me.  Can you blame her?

I had 4 kids.  Then she had 4 kids.  I had a purple minivan (oh, yes.  I did).  She got a purple minivan.  I turned 30.  She turned 30.

I am such trendsetter.  Anyways, for her birthday, a few of us gals took her shopping at The Maurices for some new duds.  Rita says she doesn’t know how to pick out any clothes, so we all had a grand time picking out outfits for her.  I found her a shirt, which was the cutest thing ever, and the other gals thought it was funny because, apparently, the shirt I picked for Rita, looked just like the shirt I was wearing.

Totally different.  But, anyways, she got lots of new clothes and we had a grand time.

Rita and I even got to get all handsome on Justin Bieber.  Is that how you spell his name?  It really doesn’t matter.

Could I bring a larger purse?  I ask you?

Anyways, my friend, Rachel, said the caption for the above photo should be

“When two cougars get Bieber Fever.”

Cougars!  *Gasp!*

I am no longer friends with Rachel.  Her loss.

The astute reader might notice my shoes in the above photo.  Them are my “chorin” shoes out in Ruralville, and, sadly, I don’t really have any other ones.  Ok, I probably own like 10 pairs of shoes, but none of them worked for this occasion. So, since I was at THE MALL and all, I decided to try some new ones on.

Me:  Excuse me?

Not-so-friendly-Associate: What?

Me:  Can I try these on in a 9?

Not-so-friendly-Associate looks me up and down: Yeah.  You’re gonna need a 10.

Me:  Ok.

So, I try on the 10’s and they were too big.  Which was odd, since I am always a 9.

Me:  Well, those were too big, so . . .

Not-so-friendly-Associate: Oh.  That’s strange.

And off she went.  Because she didn’t really care to see me get all fancied up.  Whatever.  So I didn’t get new shoes, but I am kind of glad my feet are not a size 10 now.

If you wear a size 10, I mean you no ill-will.  It’s just that my mother and sister both wear like a size 6 foot, so I have always been the Godzilla in the family.  I am also about 4-6 inches taller than both of them.  Because I am a freak.

Speaking of my mother, check out how she decorated her mantle for Halloween:

Yes!  She painted pumpkins!  You can all see where I get my creative streak.  Obviously.

Also, since I always follow in my mother’s footsteps and all, I just had to share with you that my mother, who has been religiously following Weight Watchers (plus, she’s a runner now) and has dropped 50-55 pounds, has been offered a job at the Weight Watchers!

Ha!  And I cannot even follow the plan for a full 24 hours.  In fact, I was determined to start a diet today.  But then David made cookies and I have eaten three.  And now I have a tummy ache.

So.  David left for his hunting trip today.  Every year, he packs up the trailer and heads out into the great unknown to do who-knows-what for 7-10 days.  About an hour after he left, 12 turkeys had a meet and greet in our driveway.

Sweet Pea started hollering:  Call Dad!  Tell him the hunting is good here!  Tell him to come home!

Poor kids.  All four of them were sobbing when he drove off.  We are making a night of it and making homemade pizza and watching movies.

Because pizza is great diet food, didn’t you know?

In other news, I feel like this:

Source

Going shopping this weekend at THE MALL, and not a thrift store, made me feel a little bit out of touch with fashion.  I mean, I have always been the epitome of fashion, so it was really weird for me to feel so out of place.

But it got me thinking.  So, without further ado, here are some questions and/or statement for you to ponder for me.

Please.  Help me.  I look like I live in the country or something.

1.  What do you all wear for makeup?  I have: foundation, powder, mascara.

2.  My one fashion trick is this:  When in doubt, throw on some large earrings.  Cute!  What are your fashion tricks?

3.  I am realizing that I should not shop in the junior’s section any more.  Nor should I ever have.  What are some of your favorite stores?

4.  Remember.  I am married to a frugal Lumberjack.  Let’s try to keep these ideas on budget.

5.  Is there anyway I can get a do-over on today’s eating?  Can I take away those cookies?

6.  Don’t tell me to exercise.  I did the eliptical trainer every day last week and my knee had to be iced twice a day.  And it still hurts.

7.  Did you know I have had 5 knee surgeries?  It’s true.

8.  I want dark brown hair.  That is not a question.  It is a statement.

9.  My mom, brother, and sister all have dark hair.  Why am I the tall, non-runner, light-haired, size 9 foot outcast in this family?

10.  I still have flies.  I made a syrup trap I found on the Internet.  I have 6 mason jars full of said syrup.

Not one fly has landed in my trap.  But there are currently 3 flies on my computer screen.

Jealous?

Ok.  I’m going now.

Sincerly,

Frumpy Mom from the Country

Earlier this week, David and I both went to the dentist, because we are faithful stewards of our teeth.

David has a cavity.  What else is new?  I have no cavities, because I am obviously a better person, but I am going to eventually lose all my teeth.

Allow me to explain.  My gums are receding.  Did you know gums could recede?  I didn’t.  The dentist said I have far too much “gum recession” for how YOUNG I am. I am a spring chicken!  Who knew?!  Anyways, my gums are leaving and my teeth might start falling out.  Which would be attractive and super cool for a homeschooling mom who dwells in the middle of nowhere.

So.  I have to have some sort of procedure.  But that is not at all why I wanted to tell you about the dentist.  Nope.  I have a far more intriguing story to tell.

Have I piqued your interest?

David had the kids while I had my appointment.  When I was finished, I took the kids and went home, and he stayed for his appointment and came home later.

Yes.  Whenever we are in town, we are in separate vehicles.  It’s how we roll.

So David and his CAVITY come home.

David:  Oh.  The hygeniest lady wanted me to give you this special floss.

Me:  I got floss in my bag.

David:  She said she forgot to give you the special kind for your retainer.

Me:  I don’t have a retainer.

David:  Well, whatever.

Me:  Did you tell her I didn’t have a retainer?

David:  No.  How would I know?

Eleven years of marriage, folks.  Eleven years.  And he cannot be certain as to whether or not I wear a retainer.

I’m not feeling the love, Lumberjack.  Not feeling the love.

No.  I do not wear a retainer.  But, sure enough, they sent home special floss for peoples with retainers. Peoples, who are apparently, just like me.

This dentist is also the one who thinks Handsome Dude is a girl and sent him home with a princess toothbrush.  Plus, they think my name is pronounced Tyler.  Because Taylor is always pronounced that way.

Flies!

Yes.  I am still combating flies over here.  I have no fly swatter, nor do I have Windex.  These flies will never die.  They are my lot in life, my burden to bear.

Let’s move on.

The bear.  David informed me last Saturday night that we have a bear.  Now, we had just come from town with two boxes of peaches to can, because our Saturday nights could NOT get anymore exciting.  But, anyways, we are getting ready to can and he tells me about the bear.

Me:  This is not good!

David:  Taylor . . .

Me:  NO!  I don’t want my babies to get bear-attacked!

David:  Want me to take care of it?  Because I can take care of it.  I’ll go right now.

Me:  Yes!  Take care of it!

David:  Alright!  I will!

And then I realized he totally tricked me into letting him go hunting on Husband/Wife Peach Canning Night.

So, he walked out to his tree stand in the backyard and sat there checking Craigslist, checking emails, and checking for bears.  I told him that he and his phone were ruining the sanctity of hunting.

He didn’t kill the bear.  But he did keep in touch with me via texting while I was in the house CANNING jam.  So that was thoughtful.

Anyways. The other night, there was a loud racket and it woke me up.  I was sure it was that bear, coming to break down the door and steal my babies, because that’s what bears do.  I immediately woke my husband up.

My husband is insane in the middle of the night.  This we know to be truth.  However, he is the only one fully equipped to handle the common “middle-of-the-night-bear-attack.”

He gets up and scans the perimeter.  He comes back to bed and said, and I quote:

“Whatever creature it is, it is living  inside the walls, so we are fine.”

And off to sleep he went, leaving me to wonder why he felt that creatures scurrying in our walls was acceptable to him-my husband of eleven years who ditches me on peach canning night and thinks I wear a RETAINER.

Aaaaaaannnnnnddddddd . . . I love him.  It’s true.  I do.

I am happy to report that all the canning is completed and here is our canning inventory:

(Please try and pretend that you care.  I don’t ask much of you.  Thank you)

Peaches- 53 quarts

Applesauce- 79 quarts

Jam-22 pints

Look at me and my country self-with-my-bear-infested-lands, unknown-creature-infested -walls, and retainer-like mouth!

Happy Thursday

Here’s how today went:

Around 11:07am, I loudly proclaimed:

“How about we just drive into town and just enroll all of you in school?!?!?”

Yeah.  Not so brilliant, on my end.

The kids broke out with much cheering and jubilation as they celebrated their impending freedom.  It was really hard to convince them to get back to work.  At home.  For school.  For homeschool, which is such a delight.  A blessing, really.

We have flies.  It’s a problem, I cannot tell a lie. I can barely type this post, I kid you not.  They keep landing on me!  Oh, the humanity!  I don’t know from whence they came, but HOW LONG IS THE LIFESPAN OF A HOUSEFLY?  I have been waiting out the deaths of these creatures for weeks now!  WEEKS, I tell ya!  And they are getting sluggish and old and they land on me all the time and I am going to SNAP.

Actually, I fear I may have already snapped today.  During Sweet Pea’s dictation lesson today, I was standing on chairs trying to kill flies with Windex.

Oh!  Are you a homeschooling marm?  Do you do dictation with your children?  Let me assure you, it is deplorable.  Today’s sentence for my 8 year old?

“Toves are something like badgers, they’re something like lizards, and they’re something like corkscrews.  They make their nests under sundials and live on cheese.”

What the what? So, I am supposed to read it to her twice and she is supposed to write it down perfectly, listening for commas, periods, and what-have-ya.  So, Sweet Pea, being the perfectionist that she is, is crying because she can’t remember it and I am standing on a chair shouting ridiculous “Toves” characteristics and spraying flies with Windex.

Sweet Pea:  You’re spraying me!

Me:  Well, move!

Sweet Pea:  I am trying to do my lesson!

Me:  Forget the lesson!  The flies!  I can’t take it anymore!

What’s a Tove anyways?  I wash my hands of it.  So then, THEN, all the smoke detectors go off!  Because the world hates me.  And children come running from all over the house to try and figure out where the sound is coming from.

Fun Fact:  I learned how to disarm a smoke alarm today.  I am so growed-up.

THEN, I decided it would be wise to have a fire-safety talk with the youngsters about what to do if they heard that sound again.  I look at Handsome Dude, and he is shaking with fear and sobbing.

HD (short for Handsome Dude . . . keep up!):  Our HOUSE is burning down?!?!

*wail, sob, wail*

Me:  No!  It’s not!  And it probably won’t!  But if you hear that sound you need to get out of the house, ok?

HD:  Is da fire gonna get me?

*sob, wail, sob*

Me:  No!  It’s ok!  There won’t be a fire!

HD:  I don’t want my bike to burn!

And that’s the point that he lost it.  His bike.

I can’t say that I blame him.  It’s a fine bike that has served him well.

So, yes.  It’s been a day.  A DAY.  And there are flies everywhere and I am out of Windex.  But good news!  It is Wednesday, and that is going to town day and I have coerced my husband into taking me out to our favorite Greek restaurant that sometimes has belly dancers whilst the kids are at Awana.

Yes.  It is hunting season and I plan on taking full advantage of “hunting guilt.”  Mmm-hmmm.

Dinner tonight and a trip to Tennessee in a couple of weeks.

Mmmm-hmmm.

100(meaningless) points to anyone who knows why on earth I would go to Tennessee.

A fly just buzzed in my ear.  I kid you not.  I am living in filth.

Oh.  I have nothing to blog about.  Can you tell?  I do want to tell you something cute about Little Dude and Awana.  This is his first year and this is how every convo goes with him after we pick him up.

Lest any of you are confused, “convo” is short for “conversation.”  Yes.  I am that cool.

Me:  Hey, dude!  What did you do at Awana?

LD:  God!

Me:  Did you learn anything?

LD:  Um . . . God?

Me:  What did you learn about God?

LD:  Um . . . um . . . Jesus and God?

Me:  Great!  What’s your verse?

LD:  God!

He’s going to be a great test taker.  I can feel it.

Flies!  I cannot live like this anymore!  I’m signing off!

PS-

Say you are perusing The Facebooks and someone writes:

“I’m really sad.”

And then you look at the comments and 4.2 million of this person’s kin write:

“Why?  What’s wrong?”

And the original writer then writes:

“Oh.  I’d rather not say.”

Do you think that’s annoying?  Because I think that’s annoying.

What say you?

Ok.  Now I am going.