The Lumberjack's Wife

I have so much to do and not much time and I promised myself I wouldn’t blog. I’m such a liar.

A few of you commented yesterday that I should get some sort of Wife of the Year Award. While I appreciate the flattery, you don’t know the full story. So, without further ado, I shall share with you my day yesterday and let you see how my husband should get the Husband of the Year Award.
***

I decided to can peaches yesterday. This was my first experience with the canning of a peach and it was quite the long process. If I had two kitchens, things would have been just peachy (pun quite intended). But, sadly, I only have one kitchen and the process took FOREVER.

Fun Fact: When I was a child, my grandparents lived in their own city or something and had a canning BUILDING. I must ask my father immediately as to more details to this canning building and why it wasn’t willed to me? But that is neither here nor there.

Another Fun Fact: Did you know that if you put peaches in boiling water for 30 seconds and then in ice water for a couple of minutes, the skins just slip off?!?!

Daisy Mae was in charge of the de-skinning process. Science. Check.

So. I started the process by 10am and the last jars came out of the canner at 10pm.

Look at me and my bad self!

My husband had left for work that morning sometime between 3-5:45am. He never tells me when he is going to get up, so I never really know what time he started work. He was busy being an electrician all day and came home at 8pm bearing gifts of pizza (oh be still my heart) and BREADCRUMBS!
While the pizza baked, he helped me patty up the elk burgers. Having never prepared elk meat for burger consumption, I was a bit confused, but I threw in an egg, some diced onion, garlic salt, pepper, BREADCRUMBS and that funny sauce that I never know how to spell: worcestshire? You know. Sounds like warshester. And remember, I have no time for blogging, so I will not be getting off of my bum and looking at the bottle to give you the correct spelling.
It’s the kind of awesome service you’ve come to expect from me and my blog.
We fed the kids dinner, because loving parents always feed their kids at 8:30, didn’t you know? The kids did great yesterday. The girls helped with the peaches. Daisy Mae shucked all 30 ears of corn and made several trip to the compost bin. She even stopped and rinsed her bucket out before returning to the house.
?
Without being asked.
?
Handsome Dude came up to me about 10 times and said, and I quote:
“What can I do for you, Mom? Can I take something to the Tramp Trailer?”
Handsome Dude! My Handsome Dude! He said that! And, yes, my kids call the camp trailer the tramp trailer. What of it?
Little Dude was not helpful at all. One of his sister’s dressed him in his brother’s shorts and he spent most of the day waddling around with his pants around his ankles saying:
“Mom! My pants not working!”
And I just kept saying: “Mama’s busy! Just take them off!” Because who cares? No one is coming to call. But he wouldn’t have it and he waddled around all day wondering what in the world was so hard about his own mother stopping and getting him shorts that properly fit him.
Goodness. I am droning on and on, aren’t I?
Back to last night.
We finally feed the kids dinner and then my husband goes into turbo mode.
Me: Let’s be done.
David: No. I want to get as much done as possible for you tonight.
Me: It’s really ok, I can do it tomorrow.
David: No. This is for my work and you don’t need to do it.
Me: But I really want to just watch Lost and eat popcorn.
David: You can! I don’t mind. I will just get some stuff done.
Of course, I didn’t watch Lost, but David helped me and together we:
1) Baked two batches of brownies
2) Cut watermelon and cantaloupe
3) Slice tomatoes, onions, and cheese
4) Washed grapes and lettuce
5) Patty up sausage for breakfast
6) Wash all dishes and clean kitchen
7) Put all canning stuff away
And I guarantee you that I will not be slaving over a stove cooking for everyone. He will do most of it and I will help him. It’s the least I can do.
So, there. I just wanted to make sure you all didn’t think David was dumping tons of work on me or something.
Isn’t he grand?
This is why there is a deer hanging over the peaches:

He deserves it, eh?

We need to do the COW because we never do the COW. So sad.
The COW is the Comment of the Week. Keep up!
This week is Debra:
Don’t go gettin’ all handsome over those ice cream cones. ( I can’t help it.)
Debra has properly used my sister’s “get all handsome on it” phrase from day one.
Holla, Debra!
Alright! I really need to get all handsome on my camping packing.
Happy Friday!

PS-Something is wrong with my blog and I cannot spell check OR center! And I don’t have time to look into it.
PPS-I don’t know what time David left this morning, but our coffee pot has a 2 hour shut off timer and when I went to get a cup at 5:45 it had already shut off. How does he DO this everyday?
PPPS-Is anyone else having trouble with WordPress? Or is it just me? I am getting annoyed! I am sorry that this post is so hard to read. Ok, bye!

So, I am sure you have been all dying to see this:

He is looking svelte, no?

Svelte is a fun word, there is no denying it.

David is loving me right now.  Because every manly-man wants his birthday-coveralls picture in a blog his wife writes about him being a lumberjack, when he is, in fact, an electrician.

  I TOLD you he would look like a train conductor. 

 Choo.  Choo. 

Unfortunately, David was born with a freakishly long torso and finds the coveralls a bit uncomfy-like.  They must be returned, it cannot be helped.  But I get brownie points for trying, right?

David needs new clothes in general.  I told him I wanted to buy him some new duds for his birthday and he told me I could get him some Wranglers.  Because he is HILARIOUS like that.  So, imagine my luck when I find “Wranglers:  The Retro Fit.”  Ha!  They look like something one might find at The Gap.  He didn’t even try them on.

The audacity.

And here is a cute picture of Daisy Mae that serves no purpose, but just shows off her uber cute dimples:

Lest any of you are confused, she is wearing her dad’s workcoat and boots.

Alright!  Let us move on!

I had the good fortune of going to town yesterday.  First stop was the glasses repair shop, because if we don’t stop in at least once a week, the workers go into withdrawls.

I’m sure they find all of Handsome Dude’s mishaps endearing.

These glasses have seen better days. 

The astute reader might notice that the frame was previously snapped.  It had since been superglued and shrink-wrapped.  But, alas.  They broke again. 

I called to let them know we would need new frames and GUESS WHAT!  The old ones were still under warranty for about 12 more hours so we got new ones for free!

FREE!

Next, I had to take the children to Best Buy because my new smart phone was in.

Did I tell you my phone broke?  It’s true.  So, my new one was in and I had to attempt to corral the children at The Best Buy and make sure they didn’t touch anything ever.

I was helped by a young lad with earrings and spikey hair named Kody with a “K”.  Kody was his factual name and I can assure you that Kody does not read my blog, so it is okay to share his real name.

I did not know a young man could raise his eyebrows so much.  I can assure you that Kody also does not have children.  Little Dude was in his Creepy Creeperton mode and talking in his bunny voice.  He was licking his hands and wiping my face and playing with my hair and all sorts of germy things.

Oh!  He even found gum someone had stuck under the counter and kept handing me pieces of it.

Because that is sanitary.

Kody’s eyebrows might be permanly stuck in a “shocked” position.

So, Kody was going to try and help me get all of my contacts restored.  He asked me for my gmail account email.

Imagine my embarrassment when I have to tell him my email username is:

thelumberjackswife

There went his darn eyebrows again.

Sadly, none of my contacts could be stored.  None of them. I have not one contact.  And I emailed Bimlissa thrice asking her for her digits and she has ignored me!

I am going to take the hint.

After those two fun errands, I had to meet up with my husband to do some shopping.  You see, dear reader, unbeknownst to me, my husband signed us up to be in charge of the first annual work camping trip.  Because preparing camping meals for several electricians is exactly what I am prepared to do.  And get this:  no one else’s wife is coming.  So, this will be weird.

David’s work gave him a teeny-tiny budget that in no way can feed all of these people for all of these meals.  So David was trying to be creative and come up with ways to save money, bless his heart.

David:  I’ve got some steaks.

Me:  David.  When you say “steak” you mean venison.

David:  And we can use that elk and patty up some burgers.

Me:  You can’t do this to people!

David:  No one is going to care!

Me:  Yes!  Yes, David!  People DO care!  It isn’t normal!

David:  And I have some of that pork from last fall . . .

Do you remember the pig, readers?  Do you?

So, after I threw up a bit in my mouth, I decided that I could just fill up on potatoes and rolls because carbs are my bff.

So, David and I had taken the kids to three stores and were finally on our way home.  Do you ever shop at three stores and remember that one item you forgot?

Breadcrumbs.  We forgot the breadcrumbs.

You know?

To form the elk into patties so we can pass it off as burgers?

Keep up!

So, we were about to pass the last grocery store before heading out of town and I needed to call David.  We were in seperate vehicles, because that’s how we roll.

However, my battery in my new smart phone with no contacts was dying, so I had to keep it plugged into my charger.  So I dial David’s number and put the phone on speaker so I can just lean and shout into it, because I am super classy like that.

“Hello?”

Me:  BREADCRUMBS!

“Breadcrumbs!?”

Me:  BREADCRUMBS! 

“Breadcrumbs!?”

Me:  BREADCRUMBS! DO YOU WANT TO STOP AND GET SOME?  I NEED TO KNOW NOW!

“Who IS this?”

Me:  Not funny, David.

“Who is David?”

So, I look at the phone and I have dialed somebody who wasn’t David.  And there was all sorts of laughter coming from the person who wasn’t David and his gal pal and I shall forever be known as that crazy BREADCRUMBS lady.

Alright.  I must go.  I have 30 ears of corn to shuck. 

Because corn is the perfect compliment to venison steaks.

Didn’t you know?

Goodbye.

Today is the day of my husband’s birth.  I won’t tell you how OLD he is now, because I wouldn’t want him to get all depressed and forlorn about his age and all.  I still think of us as dumb 20 year olds who don’t know what we are doing.

Alas.  We are not 20.  But we are still dumb and have no clue what we are doing.  Plus we now have four kids. 

I was having dinner at my parent’s house one evening recently whilst David was working late.  I told my dad that David wanted coveralls for his birthday.

You remember the coveralls, don’t you, dear readers?

source

Anyways.  I was telling my dad that this was what my husband desired for the celebration of his birth.

I trust you remember my dad, no?

My dad, who rarely utters a syllable, dropped his fork and slammed the table.

Dad:  No!

Me:  What?!

Dad:  You must not buy him these coveralls.

Me (laughing, because my dad has always been a slave to fashion):  What do you care?!

Dad:  David is taking this country life thing too far, Taylor.  It’s too much!  You must put a stop to this!

Me:  Well, he just wants them because-

Dad (interrupting, because he is the patriarch and it is his right to do so):  Let me tell you a story.

This may shock you, dear readers, but my dad isn’t exactly known for his story-telling skills.  Or skillz.  Whichever tootles your horn.

Before this intriguing story begins, the reader must be informed that in days of yore, my dad delivered oxygen-ish stuff to people in need of such items.

Dad:  Back when I had my route, there was this guy I had to deliver to.  He wore such coveralls.

Me:  So?

Dad:  They were really awful. 

Me:  Ok.

Dad:  So, one day, I go to his house for a delivery.  I knock on the door and he answers wearing nothing but white socks.

Me:  Nothing?

Dad:  Nothing. 

Me:  Awkward.

Dad:  So, he lets me in and says, “Sorry!  I thought you were that other guy!”

Me:  Ew.

Dad:  WHAT OTHER GUY?  Who was he waiting naked for?  He was a weird guy.  And every other time I saw him, he was wearing coveralls. So, David cannot get coveralls.  It’s just too much.

Me:  Alright, Dad.

But, I digress.

I still bought David the coveralls, because it is what his heart desires.  And what do I care anymore?  He doesn’t read this stupid blog, so we don’t need to worry about him finding out before he opens them.

The coveralls I purchased look similar to these ones:

Except the ones I bought are a lighter blue with white stripes and look almost as if he is about to conduct a train.

Choo.  Choo.

I am also making my husband his favorite cake.  It is also the favorite, go-to cake for all of my crazy-kin inlaws.

Are you ready for it?

Take a yellow cake mix.

Prepare it.

Bake it.

Take a knife and just slaughter the top of it.

Take a package of pudding mix.

Prepare it.

Pour it over the top of the cake and let it set in the cake.

Refrigerate.

Spread with Cool Whip.

Ta. Da.

Make this cake and your husband, if he is a Maliblahblah, will rise and call you blessed.

No!

Do not fool yourself and try a fancy new recipe!  Do not pore over cookbooks and pick out fancy cakes you feel shall impress your main man!

Just stick with the pudding cake!  It is all he will ever want.

Ever.

Alright.  That is all.  Goodbye.

PS-He is 31

Are you ready to feel badly for me?

1)  My Internet on my computer was not working for the past week.  Ok.  Six days.  But I am rounding up, on account of the mass devastation and withdrawls I suffered through.

2)  My phone broke Thursday and I was without phone from Thursday-Sunday. 

3)  I HAD to go camping with my camping hair.

4)  I HAD to go huckleberry picking.  And we only got about 1 cup.

5) I HAD to clean that darn rental again.  And I am just going to have to clean it again next Sunday.

6)  I HAD to wear a swimsuit thrice.  This is troublesome for both myself and the other fellow beach-goers.

7)  Handsome Dude’s glasses broke today beyond repair and new ones must be ordered.   Because we enjoy ordering new glasses.

8)  Our Excursion was in the shop two weeks ago.  We paid many dollars and waited many days and now the same problem has returned.  Because we enjoy pointlessly hemorrhaging money. 

9)  I witnessed a rabbit having what appears to have been a heart attack.  As if I know what a rabbit heart attack looks like.   And I don’t.  Nor am I prepared in how to handle these sorts of rabbit emergencies.  I put the dying rabbit in the garage and put a fan near it, to bring it comfort in its last moments.  It seemed reasonable at the time.  What do I know?

Not much.

10)  The deceased rabbit was Little Dude’s bunny, Screamer.

Remember?

“My bunny’s name is Screamer.”

I KNOW, right?  I told you all that you would feel badly for me.

 Woe unto me.

So, a lot has happened since we last spoke.  I shall now flood your screen with pictures, because I know that is why you come here.  You know.  My top notch photography skills.  Or skillz, whichever you prefer.

We went to the beach last week and wowed everyone with my swimsuit body.

Here are my girls.  They have found a log.  Logs can oft be seen floating in the lake round these here parts.  It’s because of all the past logging in these regions.  I think. 

Lumberjackin’.  It’s in our blood.  It cannot be helped.

The girls were busy creating boats and such with the plethora of logs. 

Handsome Dude also found lumber.  But he is not as brave of a swimmer as the girls.  He says the water is “too big wee high” for him.

Is he not Handsome?  He is quite aptly named.

Quite.

Little Dude was entertained endlessly with a plastic spoon and the sand.

Easy peasy.

The astute reader might notice the aforementioned logs floating around in the lake behind Little Dude.

See?

I do not speak lies.

David showing the children no mercy during the racing portion of the beach evening.

David showing the children no mercy during the splashing portion of the beach evening.

So that was fun.  And then we went camping.

On Saturday morning, we, and when I say we, I of course mean, everyone else, decided to go huckleberry picking.  I came because I had nothing better to do.

I was blessed with the opportunity to be travelling in the same rig as David and his brother, Alex.

This is how they look the entire time we are driving.

David:

Alex:

You see, dear readers, if you want to be a Maliblahblah, you must be constantly on the lookout for:

A) Deer.  Preferably bucks.  But any sort of deer will bring excitement and butterflies in the tummy.

B)  Huckleberry brush.

C)  Tamaracks

Tamaracks are simply the best trees for wood-fellin’-fun.

And yes, I just said “wood-fellin.” Because that’s how you talk when you are looking for tamaracks.  You also must refer to creeks as cricks and ignore all phonics rules you have ever learned.

Tamaracks burn hot and slow, making them ideal for the wood stove. 

Keep up, people!

So.  We found about 1 cup of huckleberries and a dead tamarack that would be harvested the following morn.

And, yes.  I just said harvested.

Next we donned our swimsuits and floated the river for hours upon end.

 Handsome Dude loses all manliness when he is on the river.

“Dad!  Do the fish want to eat my toesies?!”

“Dad!  Are there crocodiles in this ribber?”

“Dad!  The water is too wee big high for me!”

After the ribber, we went and got ice cream . . .

and TOTALLY redeemed the day with a moose tracks in waffle cone.

We went back to camp and I started to prepare the evening meal, because they trust me with that sort of thing, while the others played a game.  At one point, the entire family was screaming at me:

“TAYLOR!  TAYLOR! AHHH!  FIRE!  DANGER! TAYLOR AHHHH! DESTRUCTION AND DOOM! LOOK!”

Or something like that.  There was so much screaming, I could not understand what they were saying.  But I knew it had to be bad.

The mass screaming scared me so much I just started screaming back and running in place.

Because that is always a good plan.

Turns out Little Dude had found out how to climb on top of the camp trailer and was running all around on the roof while I was cooking up a scrumptious meal.

Safe!

On Sunday, we got to float the river again.

Imagine our luck!

And then we packed up . . .

The observant reader might notice that David was successful in the harvesting of the tamarack.

The observant reader might also notice the stack of wood being left behind.

This wood was not tamarack and we shall not be bothered to load such inferior wood into our trucks and take it home to our wood burning stoves.

No.

We are wood snobs.

The next campers may have it.  We wash our hands of it.

My kids.

So dirty.

So goofy.

On the way home, we stopped for another ice cream cone.

Holla!

If it wasn’t for them ice cream cones, I might have to quit camping.

Happy Monday!

Want to know what’s unfortunate?

That.

That is unfortunate. 

 We are 0 for 2 over here in the glasses department.  David, being the dapper dude that he is, offered to stop and get them repaired for us while he is flitting about in the cities today.

Holla, David!

So wonderful, so kind.  I even lovingly packed all of the bits and pieces for him:

and secured them in this uber manly contraption . . .



He’s loving me today.  I just know it.

Since I last blogged, I had to clean that darn rental house two times.  The first time was on Friday and, since David was busy electrifying things, I had to mow the lawn.

People!

Are you aware of how hard it is to start a lawn mower?

I am.

I prevailed and was able to get the job done.  I was even sweating like a pig when it was all over.  I am sure you are glad to be informed of that.  I even went to church all smelly-like.  I am sure you are glad to be informed of that as well.

On Saturday, David worked.  Again.  I stayed at home and did some freezer cooking, because I am clearly awesome.  I made 4 batches of teriyaki chicken, with HOMEMADE teriyaki sauce, as if I couldn’t be any more talented.  And I’m not.

 I also made 6 batches of some sort of chicken and wild rice soup.

I hate making soup.  Why do I do it?  I cannot be certain.

Nevertheless, I have 10 meals in the freezer, ready to go.  Well on my way to the 60 meals I am hoping for.  Ha!

Next up is a lemon glazed chicken and chicken noodle soup.

Again with the soup!

Why must I punish myself?

Anyone seeing a “chicken” trend, here?  It is my hope to ban all elk and elk byproducts from my menu.

On Sunday, we planned to have a relaxing, family day, filled with a trip to the beach and a scoop of ice cream.  Or, if you are David, 3 scoops of huckleberry ice cream.

But, alas.  Our plans were thwarted when the renters who were leaving that day called and said the dryer was broken.

So, instead of relaxing, we had to had back to the city where our old house abides and assess the situation.

The dryer works fine, but they damaged a piece of furniture pretty badly.  So, that’s a bummer.  While we were there, we just cleaned the house for the next group.  I am beginning to become fatigued with all that cleaning.  So tedious.

We still managed to sneak off to the lake and ice cream shop before heading home.

Here’s Little Dude showing some thigh.  Because he’s cute and he can.

Am I confusing anyone with the geography here in this post?  There are several lakes and rivers and ice cream shops in our area.  So, we were originally going  to one beach, but plans changed and we had to go to a different one.  Clearly, we live in the best area in the whole, wide world.  Try not to be too jealous.

Dang.  This post is boring.  I am having a hard time keeping interest while writing it.  And, yet, I shall continue. 

So, we started our drive back home.  I just had to snap this picture of David to prove to you all that he carries peanut M&Ms with him at all times.

Do you see the yellow bag there?  Do you?  Do you?

What is up with his face?

Here is a close up of the bag, to further prove my point:

See?

The XXL bag, even.

And his thighs are skinnier than mine.

No fair.

Alright!  That was my weekend, as exciting as it was.

I hope yours was most excellent.

Happy Monday!

David was reading my blog the other night.  This NEVER happens and the only reason he was reading my blog was because I said, and I quote:

“Hey!  You should read my blog so you can find out what we have been up to!”

Hint.  Hint.

So, he does what he always does and acts like he doesn’t know what a blog is and what the blog is called.   He forgets how to type and doesn’t remember that most websites end in “.com”, so I have to do all the manual labor for him and I get him all set up to read my blog.

Because my end result is for him to want to read my blog.  Without me forcing him to.

Why?

I don’t know.  But it seems important.

So, he starts reading and I start the difficult task of trying to pretend that I am not interested in his reactions to my posts.  I busied myself with the dishes and kept glancing casually over to try and interpret his thoughts from his face.

Nothing.

Oh, well.  What can you do?  And then, THEN, he bursts out laughing.

Laughing, people!  LAUGHING!

I abandon all attempts to remain cool and casual and rush to his side.

Me:  What’s so funny?!  What part did you think was funny?!

Raise your hand if you think Taylor is a bit needy.

David:  Erin’s comment.  That was hilarious.

Darn you, Erin.  You stole my moment.

But that is neither here nor there.

I have a bunch of odds and ends to share with you. 

I hope you have your party pants on!

***

When we were grocery shopping the other day, and I was beginning to lose ALL my patience, Handsome Dude put his hands in the air and loudly announced his siblings:

“Quiet, Ever-buddy! (everybody) Mom’s feeling stressful!”

Atta boy.

***

When we were eating at a restaurant the other day, Handsome Dude starting talking about something, but I can’t now recall what it was.

Oh, boy.  That last sentence was riveting.  Don’t leave.

Anyways.  That’s not important.  I told him that we couldn’t talk about that stuff, whatever it was.

Cue Little Dude and his uber loud voice and complete disregard for manners . . .

Little Dude (shouting, because . . .why not?): MOM!  WE CAN’T TALK ABOUT OUR *edited for maturity* UNITS!

(Sorry.  I just can’t type out the real word.  But, lest any of you are conufsed, he said the actual word for the male private part.)

Me:  Shhh!

Little Dude:  IT’S RUDE AND ICKS-DUSTING TO TALK ABOUT *UNITS*!

Me:  SHHHH!

Little Dude:  I NOT SAY *UNIT*, YOU NOT SAY *UNIT* BRUDDER NOT SAY *UNIT*  NO ONE SAY *UNIT*, OKAY?

I died a thousand deaths.

***

I am happy to report that Steam Boat Willie, the poor cat formerly known as Cougar, has returned to our lands.

We have not seen him and his awesome self, but have seen several mice carcasses.

Holla, Steam Boat Willie!

Holla!

***

I took Handsome Dude to the eye doctor yesterday.  Shocking, I know.  While they were trying to give him his eye exam, he loudly informed the nurse that he would not be reading any of the lines on the bottom 1/3 of the chart because he “didn’t like them.”

I told him he needed to try.

He still felt he needn’t do anything.

He is so cooperative.

For the eye exam, my friend Melissa, not to be confused with Bimlissa, offered to watch my kids!

I was like, have you read my blog?

But, anyways.  She did AND she made me a delicious Pioneer Woman recipe with pasta and zucchini and heavy cream for lunch.

Because everyone needs heavy cream every once in awhile.

Even those of us who are strictly following the Weight Watchers.

Melissa’s mother in law stopped by to visit her grandchildren.  She left for a bit and then came back.  Little Dude decided that she should love him as much as her factual grandchildren and sat right with her while she tried to read her grandson a book.

At one point, Little Dude looked right at her and said:

“I missed you”

When she was leaving, Little Dude shouted:

“Bye, Grandpa!”

Bless her heart, she didn’t even appear offended.

***

David brought home a vast amount of huckleberries last night.

And by vast, I mean 3/4 of a gallon.

The best part?

While he was tediously picking, I was at home reading a book!

And this morning, I feasted on Cheerios sprinkled with hucklberries.

Delicious.

And I didn’t even have to be afraid of the bears.

***

And, in conclusion, I shall post a picture of my face.

This way, you can determine if I do have a “unique” and “different” face, like the uber weird stranger at the grocery store thought.

I’m not very photogenic sometimes.

See?

Alright.

So that’s my face.

Happy Thursday!

PS-I would like everyone to know that I was supposed to hang out with MindyLouHoo on Tuesday when my truck broke down and, as a result, I broke her heart by robbing her of the opportunity to see me and my unique face.

PPS-Is that better, MindyLouHoo? 

My husband’s birthday is later on this month and I asked him last week what he would like.

Brace yourselves.

source

Coveralls.

For to cover all.

Fantastic.  And hang on to that thought.  It shall be important in a bit.

Our Excursion has broken down, so I am stuck with the good ol’ truck this week.  I have issues with the truck.  It is so high maintenance, what with its CB radio, clutch, winch, and four wheel drive features.

Question.  Does anyone else ever forget what gear they are in and have a panic attack whilst careening down the highway because they don’t know which direction to put the big stick thingie?

Because if you were in 4th and you put in in 3rd, the truck is going to be livid and make all sorts of noises and bucking motions. But if you were in 3rd and put it in 5th, you would lose all sorts of power and manliness.

Not that I ever have issues with the transmission.

  See what I mean?  Trucks are high maintenance.

So, I am driving from Ruralville (I still hate that name) to the city and smoke is coming out of the hood.  This is never a good sign.   Luckily, I was in downtown Ruralville at the time, so I had the local liquor store/car repair shop available.

Why, yes!  My town has a liquor store/car repair shop!  Doesn’t yours?

Anyone who’s anyone knows liquor and car repairs go hand in hand.  One stop shopping. 

I had called David and he told me to just ask them to help me put coolant in it.  So, I walk into the doors and there is a table with several men sitting, smoking, and playing poker.

Men:  Hello, there!

Me:  Hi.  Is this your shop?

Men:  Nope.

Me:  Do you know where the owner is?

Men:  Nope.

So, they were helpful.  And I swear that half of them were wearing coveralls.

And that is what we shall mourn on this day.  Because on this day, I saw my future.

And it looks oily. 

So, I found the owner.  He was really not too concerned about me, the damsel in distress with the four children and the smoking hood, that I was.  And he tried to help me for about 8 seconds and then wandered off muttering.  So I called David and he, being my knight in shining Carhartts, came to my rescue.

Now, David is the man.  We already knew this.  But in about 10 minutes, he had located the nearest Napa Auto Parts store and secured the parts needed to correct the problem.  Which apparently was more than just absent coolant.  But do you think I know what the problem was?  No, I do not.  Because I do not speak “truck.”  Nor do I care to.

But here’s the wretched part.

He had to tow me.

You may ask: “Taylor!  Why not just call a tow truck?”

And I would laugh at your foolishness and reply: “Have you MET my husband?”

 David and his truck are fully equipped for all emergencies.  If you were to walk out to his truck right now, here are some items you would find:

Wrenches

Ratchets

Chainsaw Ear Plugs

Work Gloves

Bullet shells

Tie-Downs

A Gun Rack, sans guns

Sunglasses

Gum

Baby Wipes

Waylon Jennings CD

Fuses

Coupons

And a plethora of peanut M&Ms

So, David takes one of the tie downs and hooks the truck up to his work vehicle.

People!  Have you ever had the priviledge of driving a vehicle that is being towed?

It is deplorable.

The tow rope thingie was about 10-15 feet long.  This is not long.  No.  Not when you are driving a truck with no power steering or brakes and your husband is towing you 12 miles going 45 miles per hour.

Is he INSANE?

Yes.  Yes, he is.

I survived and no one perished in a fiery car wreck.  David was able to fix whatever was wrong with things and then he and his peanut M&Ms drove off into the sunset.

The children and I still needed to head into the big city to go to Costco and the grocery store.

Good times.

At the very end of the day, around 7pm, we are checking out at the grocery store.  We’ve had no dinner or naps and we are tired and sweaty.

Because, oh!  Did I tell you?  The air conditioning is broken in the truck.

Are we surprised?

No, we are not.

Anyways.  As I am trying to peel Handsome Dude off of the floor of the checkout line and tear out my coupons, because who has time to come to the store prepared?, the lady next to me interrupts me.

Lady:  Miss!  Do your children work as models?

Me:  Oh!  No . . .

Lady:  Oh!  Because they all have such unique faces.  So different . . .

Me:  Oh!  Well, thanks . . .

Lady:  Look at your face!  I have never seen anything like it!  Such different features . . . hmmm . . . weird . . .

Me:  Oh!  Well  . . .Ok

Man in front of me:  Miss!  Grapes!  GRAPES!

And I turn to see the dudes “helping” put the grapes on the line.

But really they are just dumping them out everywhere.

But holla to Mr. Grapes who saved me from creepy lady who thinks I have a weird face and should get paid for it!

Alright.  I am tired.  And I don’t know if this post made sense.

But I shan’t worry about that now.

For I need to go to sleep.

Because tomorrow . . . tomorrow me and my “unique” face are doing it all over again.

Oh, yes.

Eye doctor.

Big City.

High-Maintenace Truck.

Four children.

No air conditioning.

Bring it.