The Lumberjack's Wife

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.

Some of you might remember that my in-laws, the Maliblahblahs, love to make and enjoy their own applesauce.

To become fully oriented in the ways of the applesauce tradition, the reader might choose to click on either of the following applesauce links.

The 2009 Applesauce Event

The 2010 Applesauce Event

David and I (but really mostly David, because applesauce does not tootle my horn as much as it tootles David’s) ran out of applesauce from last year many months ago.  All the other Maliblahblah’s have enough applesauce to get them through a cold, dark winter.  Therefore and henceforth, David and I were on our own for this joyous event.

And I use the term “joyous” quite loosely.  Quite.

So, without further ado, I would like to present to you:

How to Make Applesauce like the Maliblahblahs.

1)  First you need one of the original members of the Maliblahblah family.

Preferably David, Lisa, or Jackie.  But any charter member of the Maliblahblah family would do in a pinch.  I am not a charter member.  Don’t ask me.  I chat too much and don’t have a good enough work ethic.

2)  The astute reader might ascertain that getting a charter member of the Maliblahblah family might be difficult.  Tis true.  Just find someone who can work for hours on end, be extremely frugal, is physically agile and willing to climb trees, is cheap/brave enough to ask any Tom, Dick, or Harry if you can have their apples, and have a motto in life similar to: “Go Big or Go Home.”

3)  Find apples.  Millions of apples is ideal.  But here is the catch:  you can not pay one penny for any of them.  They must be free!  Otherwise you totally blow your frugal-ness.

4)  Pop Quiz Hot Shots:

Did David, Taylor, and the dudes stop at a trailer park on the side of the road and ask the manager if they could pick all their apples?  And did the manager, who donned overalls and a general “country bumpkin” look, laugh in their faces and say:

“Guys, you can have all the apples.  They are full of worms and tiny.  Have at it.”

And did we heartily pick them in the spirit of the applesauce tradition?

Yes.  Yes, we did.

5)  Buy a couple hundred quart-sized canning jars, lids, rims, sugar, and cinnamon.  This will cost you a small fortune.  Be thankful you got free apples at a trailer park.

6)  Coerce innocent friends into helping you with Applesauce Day.  You need more manpower.

Our lucky friends were David’s work buddy, Brad, his wife, Katie, and Brad’s brother Nate.

And I use the term “lucky” quite loosely.  Quite.

7)  Don’t get your panties in a bunch, readers.  We didn’t make them work for nothing.  We paid them with applesauce.  Which is worth more than fine rubies.

8)  Slice and core no less than one million apples.

Show your mama what you’ve done.  Go ahead.  Be proud.

9)  Cook the apples until mushy.

10)  Grind the apples.  This will separate all the peel, seeds, and hopefully worm carcasses (I kid!  I jest!)  from the desirable apple parts.

Note:  You must move at a breakneck speed.  Sweat will be on your brow, fatigue in your muscles.  Do not stop until the applesauce has been created.

11)  Pour all the applesauce into a huge tub.

Fill up with applesauce and dump in unheard of amounts of cinnamon and sugar.

Unheard of.

12)  Pour super healthy applesauce into jars.

Wipe the rims clean to prepare for canning.

13)  Are you tired?  Are you hungry?

Press on!  There is no resting on Applesauce Day!

14)  Put lids on jars.

Look!  It’s me!  Bearing the Maliblahblah name proudly!

15)  Take them to the back porch and can-can away!

David set up our porable 3 burner camping stove on the back deck.

Brilliant!

I canned 80 of the jars that very night we made the applesauce!

16)  Yes.  I am awesome.  Feel free to marvel at my abilities.  I’ll wait.

17)  We did have a minor hiccup.

A moth died in a sea of applesauce and was forever preserved there in the canner.

Shameful.

Oh, well.  We’ll just give that one to Jason for Christmas.

Remember Jason?

Jason is the Lumberjack’s youngest younger brother.  Keep up!

So.  We made somewhere between 119-124 quarts of applesauce.  Don’t be jealous.

Oh!  And when we were all done, I noticed that a hot jar damaged my table and there was a white-ish spot in the wood finish.

Bummer.

My inlaws are furniture repair peoples (Yes.  They strip regularly.) (Do you get it?) and I remembered Lisa once told me that if you take a hair dryer to the heat damage right away, you can dry out the moisture trapped in the wood.

And I did, and it worked!  So, there’s your helpful hint for the day.  You’re welcome.

In other news, we have a BEAR on our lands.

But I don’t want to talk about that.

Before I go, I must share with you my dressing room experience with the dudes yesterday whilst we were at The Goodwill.

I was trying on pants and these were the things my Little Dude was SHOUTING.

“Mom!  Do you have a baby?”

“Mom!  Those pants are too small!”

“Mom!  That not look good!”

“Ha, Mom!  I see your *unit*!”

Lest any of you are confused, he SHOUTED the actual name for the male private part.

Because he is delightful like that.

Happy Tuesday!

I know you have all been waiting on pins and needles to discover what Handsome Dude calls Silly-Roll.

Cereal.

Many of you got it right!  So, from now on, I am just going to ask all of you what on earth he is saying next time he perplexes me.  Perhaps you can handle some of his “deep-thoughts” questions.  Here’s one he asked recently:

“Mom?  When monies poop, where does the poop come out?”

Good luck and God speed.

That Handsome Dude.  He is a delight to my soul, I kid you not.  Oh, sure, he drives me bananas, but he is hilarious and warms my heart. Here is our conversation yesterday after I picked him up from preschool:

Me:  Did you get chocolate milk today?

(His school gives all the kids FREE milk or chocolate milk each day.)  (Don’t be jealous.  Not everyone can live in Ruralville.)

HD:  Yes!  My teacher give me chocolate milk.  And she said that I needed to tell my mom that she gives me chocolate milk at school, so Mom needs to give me soda pop at home.

Me:  Nice try, dude.

HD: *giggle, giggle, chuckle, chuckle*

He loves to help David work outside.  The other day he had his sister’s purple, sparkly watch on, because he is manly like that.

“Dad!  Let me check the time.  14:22 . . . 7!”

“Dad!  Hold on!  It’s 9:73!”

“Hey, Dad.  It’s 68!”

Random-Topic-Quick-Change!

So, before we moved, we had this elliptical trainer machine.

Hold the phone!  Are you new-ish to this blog?  Did you know I have not always lived in this Rural place?  It’s true.  I came from a land where you could walk just mere minutes to glorious places like:  the lake, coffee shops, and jewelery shops.  All peoples from all nations would rise and call me blessed and friends would come to call, imploring me to take them on walks around my fabulous neighborhood.

Ask me when the last time someone came to call in Ruralville was.

But, I digress.  We had this exercise machine.  And I never used it (shocking, I know), but I always had high hopes that I would.  So, we moved and stuck it in my room.  It is so ugly and I just wanted to get rid of it, but I soldiered on in hopes that someday, David would hook up the TV in our room and I could exercise and watch humorous TV shows.  Because I am certainly not going to exercise and just stare at the wall.  Lame.

For 15 months that ugly beast has sat in my room.  And on Wednesday, Mr. Satellite Guy came and set us all up.  I was so excited, I tried to ellipticize that very afternoon.

And, unbeknownst to me, the battery cover was missing since the move, rendering the machine useless.  15 months!  15 months of ugliness in my room with lovely peach walls!

Interruption:  Are you new-ish to this blog?  My Ruralville home has every, single wall painted a pleasant peach color.  Keep up!

Good news!  I was able to order a replacement cover and it shall be here soon.  And I will be super fit in no time, I am sure of it.

Let’s do a COW!

Look at me, remembering the COW twice in a row!

Yes.  Yesterday I had a TYPO, which was surprising since this blog is always so top-notch.  I wrote that I was going to “don my pears” when I meant “don my pearls.”  It happens.

Melissa Kaiserman

I don my pear every day. It’s called my body shape.

Ha!

Alright.  These kids aren’t going to teach themselves.  Off I go!

Happy Friday

PS- I forgot to tell you all about the fruit fly trap.

Option 1- Put an unpeeled, overripe piece of fruit in a bowl and splash some balsamic vinegar on it.  Cover it tightly with plastic wrap.  Take a pushpin or something and poke tiny holes into the top.

Downside:  The fruit flies are trapped alive.  So now, I have a bowl full of living fruit flies on my back deck because I am too scared to open it.

Option 2- Take a glass jar.  Put about 1 inch of fruit scented dish soap in it and about 1 inch of water.  I added some apple pieces, because I was feeling festive.

Perk:  FLIES DIE!

Ok.  NOW I must teach the children.  Goodbye.

Do you ever get the urge to just drive to the city and sign all your kids up for school?

Me neither.  That’s crazy talk.

In other news, Little Dude has broken two pairs of Handsome Dude’s glasses in the past two days.  Because he is well-behaved and even-tempered.  One of the pairs was the new ones that David had bought Handsome Dude, against my will.  The seller of said glasses boasted that these glasses would be:

Indestructable!

Childproof!

Little Dude-proof!

But, alas.  They are all bent and a lens is missing. I would show you a picture, but David, being the rockstar that he is, took them with him to the big city to get all fixed up.

Apparently, no glasses are a match for a boy who gets miffed when big brother takes away the BIG truck.

Take that Handsome Dude!  Hi-Ya!

I went to pick Handsome Dude up at the bus stop yesterday.  A teacher rides with the preschoolers to and from school.  This warms my heart as I have always maintained a Safety First! motto in life.  (I still cut my kids’ grapes.  Mmmm-hmmm) But anyways, as I was standing near the bus door, the teacher called to me:

“Um.  He is pretending to sleep and won’t get up.  Can you come and get him?”

So, I had to get on the bus (which has car seats!  oh be still my safety-loving heart!) and locate my Handsome Dude.  He was fake-sleeping, and I know he was fake-sleeping because he was giggling and peeking and snoring all at the same time.  And when I went to pick him up, since he was too “asleep” to actually stand, his body went all limp.  Which was convenient.

Isn’t he just precious?

I wonder if they think he is all there, you know?  I mean, the boy calls the bus The Magic School bus and says gross food makes him sausage and he likes to eat mac and cheese, which is really slices of cheddar.  Oh, and he also enjoys “silly-roll.”

100,000,000 (meaningless) points to anyone who can figure out what Handsome Dude means when he asks for “silly-roll.”

Put on your thinking caps!  I know you can do it!

Flies!  Flies are attacking me!  What is the life span of a fly, I ask you?  Because these flies need to die.  I am happy to report that I killed all the fruit flies.  I made my own trap!  Because I live in the country and must do strange things like heed warnings from my neighbor Jungle, breed rabbits (not that they need help with the breeeding.  hardy har har), and make homemade fruit fly traps.

Speaking of rabbits, and I know you love hearing about the rabbits don’t lie, Sweet Pea walked up to me the other day and showed me this page out of the “Rabbits for Dummies” book.

Before we continue, I must warn you that the following picture should be flagged for adult content.

Proceed with caution.

Are you ready?

I am still giving you time to delete my blog from your life.

It’s ok.  I will understand.

OK.

Here is the page that my CHILD shoved in my face:

I KNOW!  I nearly died a thousand deaths.  I am sorry, but I just had to share the horror.  How does my tiny baby girl know how to find such things in books?

She was like “Mom?  Remember when we were at the fair and you couldn’t tell if the rabbit was a girl or a boy?  This could help you!”

I told you people it wasn’t so easy to tell the gender of a rabbit.  When will you ever listen to me?

But in case you needed to know, here are the surefire steps in determining a rabbit’s gender.  According to Rabbits for Dummies.  Of which I am.  A dummy.

1)  Gently place the rabbit on his back in your lap.

Creepy.

2)  Using your thumb and forefinger (ew), spread apart the hair on the-

And that’s just where we are going to stop.  Because I DO NOT WANT to spread apart any hair.  Thank you.

I am trying to be my husband’s “help meet” with this whole rabbit business.  But, honestly.  That is just wrong.  I prefer the good old “guess and check” method for rabbit gender discovery.

Did it give birth?  Girl.  Check.

Oh!  David just called!  Because he loves me and misses me and needed to hear my singsong voice.

Actually, he was just asking for me to bring the food ads when I come to town so we can go shopping for his upcoming hunt/camp trip.  He is a frugal lumberjack.

Yes.  He feels the need to leave me and my lovely self for a week so he can go fill our freezer up with more elk.  Because that’s just what we need around here.

More elk.

Could we be any weirder?

But, I digress.  I asked him if he could email me a picture of the obliterated glasses with his intellectual phone.  And he did!

My girls are currently doing Wii fit, which reminds me that I have not Zumba-d today.  So, I am thinking about exercising here now in a bit before I don my pears and go to town.

Alert:  I am just thinking about it.

And I don’t have pearls.

PS- Silly-Roll!  Define it!  Go!

PPS- My girls just asked me if I was born in 1974.  *tear*