The Lumberjack's Wife

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Oh!  And if you missed it, here is the post Google Reader never showed you

It makes me sausage, you know?

Attention Dad:  I know this post makes no sense to you.  It’s ok.  None of it makes sense to me either.

So much has happened!  Where shall I begin?

A list!  Yes!

A list is always a great idea!

1.  We started school today, and I was ready for it , baby.  I prepared a daily schedule, a chore schedule, an everything else schedule, and numerous meals are stocked in the freezer.  Nothing could shake me. NOTHING.

Or so I thought.

Cue Handsome Dude and his explosive diarrhea.  And yes, I am talking about diarrhea again, because that is why you come here.  To read all about the activities of the bowels of my offspring, of course.

My poor boy.  He had issues.  It tended to be a bit distracting, but overall, we had a successful day.

2.  I helped my husband build a rabbit hutch, oh yes, I did.  And this time, I even used tools and the like.

Oh, yes.

I did.

Tools like . . . a SawZall.  You know what it does?  It SAWS ALL.  Hence the name.

You just jab it somewhere and saw away.  Brilliant.

And I don’t know if I spelled SawZall correctly, but we are going to go with it.

It was a good bonding experience for us, my husband and I.

David:  Could you go into the shop and find the square?

Me:  You assume I know what a square is.

David: *sigh*

So, off he goes and he comes back with something that looks like a triangle.

(source)

Because I would have figured that out.

What is wrong with people?  Is the whole world against me?

3.  Yes.  I am the teacher of my children.  Why do you ask?

4.  Handsome Dude at dinner tonight:

HD (short for Handsome Dude . . . keep up, people!):  Mom!  I not want that corn on my plate.

Me:  You don’t want corn on the cob?

HD:  No.  It is wrong for my teeth.  It doesn’t work out.

Me:  Ok.

HD:  It has problems.

Me:  Ok.

HD:  It makes me sausage, you know?

Say, what?

5.  Yes.  I am the teacher of my children.  Why do you ask?

6.  We went camping this weekend.  It was the turbo edition with two extra days thrown in for good measure, because apparently, camping is something we just can’t get enough of.

And now, for kicks and grins, I shall share with you some pictures of camping.  Because if I had to go, you have to hear about it.

Handsome Dude was given a pack of bubble tape.

And he immediately placed it in his back pocket.

Cousins!

That’s Little Dude on the right, next to my two nieces.

Yes.  They are cute.  We are all aware.

Jason and Amy came.  Do you remember them?  Sure you do.

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

They brought with them the idea to do a special breakfast called:

Eggie in a Baggie

or something cool like that.

And I shall tell you all how to do it so you can wow everyone at your next camping trip.  That is, if you are so fortunate to go camping.

You take a bunch of ziplock baggies and have people write their names on them.

Then you set up a bunch of stuff.  You know, like a bowl of eggs (cracked, of course.  please try to focus) and tons of different toppings like cheese, bacon, tomatoes, bell pepper, spinach and so on.

People add whatever they wish to the bag and you place the bag in boiling water for 5 minutes or so and voila!

Omelets.  Or Eggies in a Baggies, as Jason and Amy would say.  And they are cool, so I would listen to them.

On one of the days, we went on a hike to a mountain lake.  Here is a group shot:

I would tell you everyone’s name, but we all know you would just skim over it, so let’s move on.

My kids are quite the FisherPeoples.

Sweet Pea:

Handsome Dude:

Daisy Mae

 Daisy Mae caught the first fish of the day.  The menfolk thought it would be uber tasty to bring something that does something fantastic and cook fish in the middle of nowhere.  So, Daisy Mae’s fish was first for the feast.

And they made her take the first bite.

Could we find larger bobby pins for her?  I ask you?

Don’t worry.  I packed a sandwich.

I’m the smartest.

Handsome Dude also caught a fish.

But none of the brave people (aka: all my inlaws) were available to help.

So my mom had to help.

Yeah.  There is a slight chance she might get perturbed at me, seeing as how her face looks so darn hilarious, but it must be shown.

For that just shows you, dear readers why I am the way that I am.

And why Daisy Mae looks like this when it is time to feast on fish.

Luckily, Jason, one of my crazy inlaws came to the rescue, him being the rockstar that he clearly is.

Holla, Jason!

Enough about fishing.  I don’t even like fishing.

Let us discuss the parachute.  Do you remember the parachute?

Here is the view of our camp from the road:

Do you see it?  Do you see it?

Camping Stranger Passerby:  Hey!  Are you the Parachute People?

Me:  Yes.  Yes, we are.

Camping Stranger Passerby:  You were here last year!  Hi!

Fantastic.  We are known as The Parachute People.

Oh!  And I just had to take this picture:

Because, duh.

And lastly, but not leastly, at one point my dad and I, along with Handsome Dude had to go to town.

The reason is not important.  Just go with it.

We were sitting in a restaurant, and my dad walked over to get a soda pop.  Two ladies stopped him and gave him some flowers to give to, and I quote, “his lovely wife.”

He took them and said, “Thanks!  But she’s my daughter!”

And, so, I got flowers from two ladies at a restaurant who thought I was my dad’s wife.

And I had camping hair.

And I am not sure how to take it, but I figured it was worth sharing.

Here is a pic of us back at camp with the flowers, because I know you want to snicker at us.

It was a trippy experience overall.

Alright!  I’m done!  Are you excited?

100 (meaningless) points to anyone who actually read and followed, that whole post.

Goodbye!

Some of you have noticed that some of my pictures have been blurry as of late.  I know.  It was annoying me, too.  But you assume I have photography skills (or skillz, whichever you prefer) and would understand how to fix such things.

Alas.  I don’t.

The blurry pictures were from my phone and it was really irking me because my phone is brand-spanking new.

Here is an example from what would have been a delightful picture of my boys thinking they were factual train conductors at the amusement park:

See?  Irksome.

So, I was at the amusement park with my friend Rita!, and taking lousy pictures, when I had finally “had it” with my picture quality.  I take my shirt and begin to rub the back of the phone where the lens lives.

Then I notice something amiss.  Then I felt like my dad:

because I realized I had never taken off the brand-spanking-new-camera-protective-clear stickers.

So.  Once I figured that one out, I got a shot of my boys thinking they were factual helicopter pilots:

Life is hard for me.

I am uber tired today.  I stayed up till almost 1am last night.  Because I have no intelligence.

It’s that darn show, Lost.  It’s killing me!  Killing me, I tell you!  Poor David.  He keeps falling asleep at like minute 11 of the first episode of the night.  I get hooked and watch at least 2 episodes and then the next night, David acts all crazy and like he is hallucinating.

David: What!  I thought he was dead?

Me:  He is!  This is from the past!

David: Wait!  Where did she come from?

Me:  She’s an other!

David:  What?  They knew each other?

Me:  This is from the future!  Keep up!

David: Huh?  Where are they now?

And I just tell him to hush up while I shove popcorn into my mouth with my eyes popping out of my head.

Lost episodes on DVD.

Not for the faint of heart.

So.  I am tired today.  This is a bad plan because I have 4.2 millions things to do.  Because, and this will knock your socks off, we are going C-A-M-P-I-N-G.

Oh, yes.  We are.  And this is camping on steroids.  Because it is 2 extra days of camping fun.

And I use the term “fun” quite loosely.

Quite.

You would not BELIEVE the checklist I had to make just to remember all the clothes required for all 6 of us.  Took me 2 hours to locate all the items needed.

We have a dresser downstairs completely devoted to camping clothes.

Camping clothes are jeans with holes in them and shirts with stains that should not be worn in public.

And for us, public means in our living room.

I kid!  I jest!

Anyways, the girls have been in charge of putting all the downstairs laundry away for some time now.  They have always done a fine job at their chores, so I trusted all was well with the laundry sitch.

Sitch is how cool people, such as myself, abbreviate “situation.”  Feel free to steal it, as it is sure to impress.

Folks.  All was not well with the laundry sitch.

The camping drawer overfloweth with clothes that were in mint condition.  Nice, clean shorts the boys could have used all summer long.  (And by all summer long, I mean the last 2 weeks, because, we don’t really get a “summer” per say).

I was perturbed.

Me:  Why are all these clothes stuffed in here?

Sweet Pea:  Because I didn’t feel like putting them away where they belonged.

Well.  At least she’s truthful.

Alright!  I must pack!

I am camping today through Monday.

Please.

Try to contain your understandable jealousy.

I couldn’t sleep last night.  I have this knee problem, you see, and when there is any sort of change in weather, my whole leg aches something fierce, because I am a senior citizen.  So, I came out to the living room to kill time and millions of coyotes starting howling.

Millions.

Now THAT’S creepy.  Where are all those coyotes during the day?  Are they watching me?  Hunting me?  Let us hope that they are sleeping.  I am too lazy to investigate the life habits of coyotes right now.

Pop Quiz, Hot Shots:  Do you say coyotes like this: Ki-Oh-Tees or Ki-Otes?  Because I say it the first and most distinguished way and my husband says it the latter, more inferior way.  And I like to believe that I am right.

I was about to wake up my husband, aka my protector.  But he was in his nightly coma and would have acted all insane.  I already had the bum knee and the coyotes hunting me issues going on.  I did not also need an insane husband.

So, I took a Tylenol PM.  This is always a mistake.  And this morning I am still trying to come out of the Tylenol PM fog.  It’s a two cup of coffee morning.  Just like every other morning.

But none of that is what I am going to talk about today.  I must talk to you about my friend, Rita.

That’s me and Rita gettin’ all handsome on each other in the middle.  I’m on the left, she’s on the right.  The gal on the far left having trouble with her eyes is Shelly.  The gal on the far right is Rachel.

I love Shelly and Rachel from the depths of my innermost being.  But they are not important for this post, so just focus on Rita.

Sure.  A classier blogger would have cropped out the people not needed in the picture.  Not me.

You assume I know how to do such things.

This picture was taken on a trip we went on.  We all work in children’s ministry with scads of other wonderful people and we would go on these trips to conferences so we could become even more wonderful.  As if that were possible.

Kidding!

Kind of.

So.  We are all at the same hotel and, unbeknownst to us,  there is a prankster in our midst.  Said prankster acquires admittance to a room with three of our fellow conference goers.  She take an alarm clock and turns it on to the most obnoxious radio station and blasts the volume.  She sets it to go off at, like, 4am, and hides it under one of the beds.

Is this not cruel?

So.  I wasn’t there, of course, but the alarm goes off at 4am, and the guys in that room were scrambling and hollering and trying to figure out where the noise was coming from.  When they discovered that they had been punked, one of them threw his fists in the air and shouted:

“Rrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiittttttttaaaaaaaaaa!”

As in “Rita.”  Keep up.

I found this to be hilarious because:

A) It did not happen to me.

B)  Who comes up with this stuff?  So mean, yet so funny.

C)  Rita?!  Rita was like the quietest and most sweetest gal in our group!  Why did they blame her?

It was not Rita.  But I shall forever call her

RRRRRIIIIIITTTTTTAAAAAA

and shake my fists in the air when I see her.

This has been going on for, like, three years.  I am sure she still finds it cute and charming and loves me for it.

Would you like to know who hid the alarm clock under the bed?

This fine lady:

Who’d a thunk it?

She’s a feisty one, I tell ya.

I am pretty sure the guys in that room still think it was RRRRIIIITTTAAAA!

You may ask, “Taylor!  Why are you talking about this Rita?!”

Well.  I get to go on a date with this Rita today.  We are clearly brilliant and are taking our 8 children to an amusement park so they can be all amused while we visit.

8 children!

What were we NOT thinking?

But first, and this may come as a shock, I must stop at the glasses repair place.  I know, I know.  Surprising.

In fairness to Handsome Dude, it is not he who is breaking his glasses these days.

It’s this guy:

Do not be fooled by his boyish good looks and uber cool footy pajamas.

He’s vicious and when he is mad at his brother, he rips the glasses from his head.

My boys.  So well-behaved.

Anyways.

I just didn’t want you to all think it was Handsome Dude who was always breaking his glasses.  I mean, it USED to be Handsome Dude.  But for the past month or two, it has been Little Dude.

And, yes.  He gets disciplined for this.  But Little Dude likes to get in trouble for something for 9-12 months before finally clueing into the fact that he isn’t going to get away with it.

My boys.  So intelligent.

Alright!  I’m off to get all handsome so I can get all handsome on my trip to see . . .

wait for it . . . .

wait for it . . . .

RRRRIIIITTTAAA!

(Only the astute reader could keep up with that last sentence)

Later, dudes.

You may ask, “Taylor!  Why this picture?  What is its purpose?”

Well.  See that little boy?  That is my cousin.  BUT.  Do you see that young lady in the background?

Do you?

THAT is my mom.  And my cousin had put this picture up on the Facebooks, and I was like, “Oh!  That’s my mom!”  and then I was like “Dang!  I am like 11 years older than her right now than she was in that picture!”

Trippy.

I would like to state for the record, that I have never, ever, worn a dress just for kicks and grins like my mother there did.

She’s so fancy and refined.  Sometimes, and only on the most special occasions, I iron my jeans before heading into town.  But let us move on.

We went to the fair this weekend.  The girls each won a ribbon for their rabbits.

Here is Sweet Pea with her bunny, Daisy.  Not to be confused with Daisy Mae.

And here is Daisy Mae with her rabbit, Thumper:

Thumper and Daisy are award winning rabbits.

See?

So, we went to the fair and it was the hottest day in the entire universe.  So, naturally, my husband and I decided we needed ice cream post haste.  Because we are concerned about our waistlines.

Fun Fact:  My husband has lost 10 pounds and he has no clue how it happened.

Funner Fact:  If I lose 8/10ths of an ounce, I throw myself a party and gain 2 pounds all in good fun.

Most Funnest Fact of All:  The buffer zone between me and my husband’s weight is shrinking.  I need to lose weight.  Or sneak lard into all his meals.

What on earth was I droning on about?  Oh!  Yes!  Ice cream!

So, we buy the ice cream and they don’t have Moose Tracks OR waffle cones.  You can imagine my disappointment.  But then, I saw a different ice cream stand boasting of waffle cones and the Moose Tracks.  So, I handed my inferior Cookies and Cream to Handsome Dude and ran to the other line.  Because I love Moose Tracks THAT much.

So, there I am.  Standing all alone in line for the Moose Tracks, when I hear this convo behind me.

Convo is how cool people, such as myself, say conversation.

Keep up!

Guy #1:  I’m going to get Moose Tracks.

Guy #2:  That sounds like how someone would describe my underwear.

Charming, I know.

Guy #1:  Shhh!  You are going to gross out this lovely young lady in front of us.

That’s me!  I’m the lovely young lady!  Who knew?!

Guy #1:  She’s never going to want a man after hearing your talk.

Oh, brother.  They are basically talking right to me.

Me:  Oh, I have a man.

Guy #2:  Oh, good.  We were afraid we would scare you off.

Me:  Nope.  I have four kids.

Guy #1, who is now my bestest friend:  No!  You can’t have four kids!  You look like you are 19!

A-HA!

Look at me and my 30-year-old-self-gettin-an-ice-cream-cone-and-lookin’-like-I-am-19!

Holla!

So, I paid $4 (outrageous) for a Moose Tracks and me and my youthful self walked off to find my kin.

I found them.

Yes.  My pictures are terrible.  Just leave me alone.

Here is a picture of my boys milking a pretend cow.

Is it cute or disturbing?

You be the judge.

The Bouncy House!

It done collapsed when my children were in it.

But I am pretty sure they weren’t responsible.

Let us discuss Sister Meagan.

Here she is.  She makes that owl look good.

Sister Meagan is moving far, far away.  She’s gettin’ all handsome on a new city.

After the Fair, we had a little goodbye dinner for her and here is a picture of her with all of her nieces and nephews.

Daisy Mae wrote her a little letter.  For to say farewell.

Fantastic.

Happy Monday!

A Friday List

1)  I am in a full-on war with the iron in my well.  And I am LOSING.

Exhibit A:

Why, yes!  I am glad you asked.  That IS the soap dispenser for my washing machine.  You see the part that is orange?  That is supposed to be white.

Mmmm-hmmm.

Exhibit B)

Please notice the white towel that has been laundered in Ruralville water for over a year.  Then notice the white blanket that is new.

Can you see it?  Ok.  the picture isn’t that great.  But TRUST me.  The towel is turning orange.

And don’t even get me started on scrubbing the shower.

2)  I made grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch today.

Me to Handsome Dude:  Would you like a grilled cheese sandwich?

HD (short for Handsome Dude . . . keep up!):  I not want a girl cheese.  Can I have a boy cheese?

3)  It is official.  The TRIPLE batch of jam I made this week failed.  It is too runny.  Who needs 3 batches of strawberry syrup?  Certainly not me.

VA Girl commented and told me to go to this link to fix my jam.

Dear VA Girl,

I loveth you.  Thank you.

Love,

Taylor, aka Maker of Runny Jam

I am so going to attempt to fix it.  Not today, though.  Wouldn’t be prudent.  Gonna need to gird up my loins and count to ten.  And buy more pectin and wide mouth lids.

4)  Handsome Dude’s glasses have been repaired.  Again.

See the shrink wrap?

David took them in for me and Duane, our optical specialist and new bff, told him that he made it just in time to get new ones again before the warranty.  We know Duane is a liar liar pants on fire because the warranty was up on the 18th.  We also know that Duane is da bomb and shall forever hold a special place in our hearts.

Duane might need to get some of my homemade runny jam, made with love and absolutely no talent.

5)  My girls are getting bit by summer boredom.  I am tempted to start school with them.  Except I’m not.

Today, they have taken up sewing whilst listening to a book on CD.

6)  A little birdie told us that the girls’ rabbits earned ribbons at the fair.  Take that, Susie Fantastic!

7)  The birdie also mentioned that all bunny entries won ribbons.  But that is neither here nor there.

8)  I have finished making all my freezer meals.  I made 40-45.

Look at me with my mad cooking skills (or skillz.  whichever you prefer).

Some people are deeply perplexed as to why I am doing this. No.  I am not pregnant. No.  I do not think the end of the world is coming. (how does that one even make sense?)

I am just trying to make homeschooling go easier this year.

To get myself started, I visited this Deb’s blog and read the book Don’t Panic!  Dinner’s in the Freezer.

9)  Hey, Lumberjack!  Don’t Panic!  Dinner’s in the Freezer!

10)  I am going to say that every night.  And he will find me delightful.  Because we are married and what choice does he have?

11)  I made a gazillion meatballs yesterday.  Part elk/part beef.  I am hoping to trick myself into trying them later on.  Because I still haven’t tried the elk.  The beautiful part about a meatball, though, is that you can easily push them off of your plate if you get cold feet.

12)  Check this bad boy out:

Oh!  Erin!  I’m sorry!  Did I beat the snot out of you?

That’s a shame.  Better luck next time.

13)  Did you notice Erin and I had 11 Words with Friends chats?  This is because Erin doesn’t believe in texting.

That’s right.

She’s a non-texter.

I always knew I couldn’t trust her.

14)  This post has no point.

15)  I’d better stop now.

Where has the summer gone?

 I ask you? 

 Did you know that it is almost SEPTEMBER!?  And September means the start of school and hunting and all things fall-ish?  Just saying “Hunting Season” gets me all excited like.  Not. 

It’s been a busy week.  And since I am certain you care, I shall now update you on our riveting lives. 

You’re Welcome.

On Tuesday, I had to load up the truck and take the kids and their rabbits to the fair.  I have never, EVER, entered anything into the fair.  David, the former 4-H champ that he once was, had promised to meet me there and take care of it all.

But, alas.  He was running late.  So I somehow managed to maneuver the dudes while holding a cage.  The girls had to carry in the other cage.  We passed by a friendly older gentleman who looked at the boys and said,

“Hey, there!  Can I have one of your rabbits?”

Little Dude just yelled “NO!”  and Handsome Dude gave him the stink-eye and looked at me and said: “Mom!  A stranger is talking to me!”

Perhaps I should expose them to people more?  So friendly.

So, I take the rabbits to the rabbit building where there are 4.2 million rabbits.  Every single rabbit looks beautiful and majestic and Sweet Pea became nervous and said “Mom.  Look at all these pretty rabbits!  I don’t think we are going to win.”

And then I felt bad that she was trying to win.  Because, folks.  We aren’t going to win.  Nor were we planning on it.

We were greeted by a Susie Fantastic who knows everything there is to know about rabbits.  She handed me several forms and instructed me to fill them out, in her no-nonsense way. 

Did you know there are, like, 50 different classes of rabbits?

Color me embarassed.

So.  I just looked for words I had heard David say and decided to go with those for the classes.  Because what do I care?  But then, I had to mark if the rabbits were bucks or does.

Because all of us well-informed rabbit breeders refer to girl rabbits as does and boy rabbits as bucks, didn’t you know?

So, there I am with Susie Fantastic peering over at me from her table of knowledge.  I tell Sweet Pea to hold a rabbit and spread the rabbit’s legs apart, because that seems like a good place to start.

And I have no idea what I am looking for. 

I considered it to be a low point in my life.  Violating the rabbits’ privacy by staring at their crotch areas. Not knowing how to tell if they were bucks or does. And I just decide to mark them all as girls because the kids can only think of girl names anyways.

I’m sure the judges won’t notice.

 Then I was “corrected” by Susie Fantastic because I had guessed the wrong breed and two of our rabbits were disqualified on account of their size.  She totally schooled me with her rabbit knowledge and got all infomative and what-not,  and I just quickly got the heck out of there.

I never wanted this kind of life anyways.

On Wednesday, I made a triple batch of jam.  Because that is what 30 year old homeschooling moms do during summer break, didn’t you know? 

I don’t think the jam set up right and it is irking me.  Hell hath no fury like a woman who has spent all day canning runny jam.

After the jam, I was going to start a batch of meatballs for my freezer cooking stock up pile.  Did you know I have over 30 meals?  It’s true.  Don’t be jealous.

Listen to this brilliant idea:  I am going to mix ground elk with ground beef to make the balls of meat.  I am hoping to trick myself into trying elk this way.  I’ll let you know how it pans out.

BUT.  My husband called and said he would be home early and suggested we all go to the beach.  So we did.

Little Dude got dressed all by himself.  We are quite proud.

My boys taught themselves how to play fetch.

Handsome Dude.

He throws it.

He breaks out all of his muscles to run after it, like the champ that he is.

The waters are rising, yet he perserveres.

Victory!

Little Dude, sporting his sweet, backwards swim-shorts.

Throws it.

Fetches it.

They did this for about an hour, I kid you not.

Was Daisy Mae drinking the lake water?

Yes.  Daisy Mae was drinking the lake water.

Alright.  Happy Thursday!

Yes.  Hello.  Good Morning.

Before we begin, I must give you all the peepee shivers.

Sweet Pea and I were packing up the trailer on Friday when we both noticed what appeared to be a rock on the door frame.

Perplexed we quickly became as we pondered how on earth a rock could make its way up there.

But, alas.  ‘Twas not a rock.

It was a frog.

I TOLD you the peepee shivers were coming!  NO!  I did not remove it!  That’s why I got married.

So, we were all set to pull out for a blessed weekend of camping when I found my husband staring at the trailer tires.  Something was wrong and if I went into all the details you would be so bored and you would delete my blog from your life and break up with me and all that nonsense and I just can’t handle that today,  so I will just tell you that something was wrong.

Besides, I don’t even really know what was wrong.

But I can tell you that it required a jack and me handing my husband a sledgehammer.

Does that clear things up for you?

After the sledgehammer plan didn’t work, we had to call Alex. 

Remember Alex?

Alex is The Lumberjack’s brother.

Keep up!

Alex came as swiftly as one can come to Ruralville.  Ruralville is many things.  “Conveniently located” is not one of them.

Alex came and promptly donned some coveralls and pulled out welding materials.  Because Alex is a welder.  What did you think he was?  A barista?

I thoroughly appreciated the fact that he threw on some coveralls.  It really works out well for my blog posts, you know?   

Anyways.  Alex welded whatever it was that needed to be welded and then drove off into the sunset.  I was kind of hoping camping would be cancelled.  Because that would be a dire shame.  But, no.  Alex saved the day and we were able to still make it out for camping.

Thank you, Alex.

Camping was fine and dandy and I didn’t really know anyone because it was David’s work.  There were two younger guys sitting next to me and they were having a spirited conversation with each other.  They were talking on my “good ear” side so I could really only hear them.

Did you know I have a bad ear?  It’s true.  But not important.

The two young guys were cracking me up.

“Dude.  Tomorrow is going to, like, be the best day of my life.”

I was trying to ascertain why floating on a river with people from work would be the best day of one’s life.  I know it certainly wasn’t going to be the best day of my life.

After some of the guys were talking about their childrens’ names, I heard this conversation betweem the two young guys next to me:

“Dude.  You know what name is dumb for a girl?”

“What, dude?”

“Taylor.”

“Dude, I know.”

“It’s totally a boy’s name.  I hate it for a girl.” 

“Dude, totally.”

Dude #1 and Dude #2 did not know there was a female Taylor sitting right next to them.  But whatever.

And the next morning, they woke up, ate some muffins, and left.  Good riddance.

We floated and chatted and ate and all was well.  And David was right.  The people did not care about eating elk.

You may ask, “Taylor!  How do you know they didn’t care?”

Well, dear readers.  Because one of them brought BEAR SAUSAGE and they all acted like they had just won the food lottery.

Electricians are weird.

Pop Quiz Hot Shots:  What do my children look like on Camping: Day 3?

And, in conclusion, I would like to introduce you to a new segment on this blog entitled:

What Else Is New?

Yes!

That would be the brand new frames we just got last Wednesday.  I’m glad you asked.

Goodbye.