Moving Blog Sites

Hello to anyone reading my blog...  *crickets chirping*

I'm moving my blog from this Blogger site to a new WordPress site.  If you want to keep reading my ramblings (please, please, please) then you can come on along to the new one:  www.crookedfenceblog.com.

I've transferred my posts there and I hope you join me!

God bless the X-ray tech

As I'm sure I've mentioned before, I'm turning 40 this August.  It's all good, not too worried about the age thing.  But, I have had some weird things going on health wise so I went to the new doctor to get everything checked out.  Nothing life-altering, just more annoying, like some relatively sudden weight gain and lots of fatigue.  Hubby and I both went in for maintenance appointments...kind of like that part in "This is 40".  My life is like that movie right now, just without the age denial part and the fighting part and the pregnant part...so maybe it's not so much like it after all.  Nevermind.

Anyway....the doctor ordered a bunch blood work, a 24-hour urine test and a chest X-ray.  Have you ever had a 24-hour urine test?  Me neither.  I had no idea what it was until the lab lady handed me this giant container and one of those 'hats', saying I have to collect all my urine for the next day and put it in there.  Ladies...let me just say that this is a major pain in the ass.  I've always been jealous of men being able to pee standing up and this just reinforced it.  Good grief.  And the most awesome part is lugging a giant container filled with pee back through the hospital the next day to return it to the lab.  Yeah for 40.

After that fun filled experience, I still needed my chest X-ray so I went down the hall to check in at the imaging department.  The tech calls me and as we are walking back he looks at my chest and asks, somewhat awkwardly, "Are you wearing a bra?"  Now, that's a relatively simple question and one that I'm sure he has to ask all the women that come in, lucky him.  However, it also denoted the possibility that perhaps I was not wearing a bra and my boobs actually resided at that elevation of their own volition, something that hasn't happened since 3 small people destroyed my body in their quest for life and nourishment.  So, the fact that he asked and didn't just automatically assume that I had the structural engineering secrets of Victoria at work under my t-shirt was awesome.  Ok, ok...he probably assumed but let me have my precious illusions.  

Once the bra was off however (with t-shirt still in place), I'm sure he realized the error of his ways.  Yes, this is now the silhouette of a 40 year old mom...enjoy!  But he had one more backhanded compliment to give me before he was done.  "Because of your age," he began...oh man, come on with the age thing, I know I'm getting old..."I have to ask if you could be pregnant"...oh, well that wasn't where I thought this was going.

So this was my response to this poor guy: "No, there's no way that I'm pregnant but thank you for still having to ask me that.  And bless you for asking me if I was wearing a bra earlier and because it's awesome that you implied that these things (me making a circular motion over the area of my chest) might actually be up here without tons of help at my age.  You have made my day."

To which he looked quite puzzled and just a bit uncomfortable and finally said "Ok, well then, I need you to stand over here..." I'm sure he thought I was mental but that's OK, he really did make my day with those questions, sad as that may be.

My favorite things. Ever.

These are my favorite things of all time:

That's it...just a blank pad of paper and a smooth-writing pen.  Oh man, you have no idea how happy these two things can make me.  I love to write lists:  shopping lists, to-do lists, blog topic lists.  Lists, lists, sweet lists.  And the pleasure I receive from crossing the items off of those lists is almost embarrassing.  I will even write down something that I did but forgot to put on the list, just so I can cross it off.  I know, I know...OCD much?

My husband thinks it's silly and doesn't understand why I don't use the apps on our phones but it's just not the same.  Although I have found a new one that I really like called Wunderlist but even it does not match up to just a plain old paper and pen.

If I had to draw a picture of my brain, it would be a pad of paper.  And I would draw it on my pad of paper.  With my pen.  Very low tech.  But then I would post it on my blog and link it to my Twitter feed and maybe take a picture of it on my smartphone to put on Instagram.

Don't think about it, just run.

I went for a run today!  Not a long one...just to the end of our road and back, so about 1.5 miles...but it's a big flippin' deal to me.  I haven't even attempted to run in, oh, about a year.  See, I have this ganglion cyst in one of the joints in my left foot, if you read the "My Foot, a Bible, and curse words" post then you're already familiar with this little issue, and it can get really painful so I quit running.  I've missed it since it's really the simplest form of exercise, next to walking, and it always provided a good time for me to clear my always cluttered mind.

And this morning is an exceptionally beautiful morning.  Perhaps it's because it's been raining for the last two weeks straight.  No shit...I planted my garden, as you saw in one of the last few posts, and all that work got washed away with the rain.  I have to replant half the beans and peas and replace most of the watermelon, cucumbers and tomatoes.  Mother nature is a bitch.  But I digress...

I got all the kids off to their respective schools on time (Yeah me!) and as I turned back on to our road from the last trip to school, I thought "I'm going to go for a run this morning".  Immediately on the heels of that thought were a slew of low self esteem voices shouting things like "Are you kidding, you haven't run in forever", "You won't be able to make it half a mile, let alone a mile and a half" and "Your butt will be jiggling the whole way".  I guess my mind is kind of a bitch too.  Even when I was seriously running, like 12 miles routes, there was always a little bit of nervous trepidation before a run.  Why?  I don't really know how to explain it.  The best I can put it is a fear of failing or a fear of looking silly...not that those even make the best sense.  I don't know who I was worried about failing, other than my own standards, but as for looking silly, well that one is probably closer to the core of it.  I'm not built like a runner.  I don't have long limbs and nice calves and I'd never be caught dead running in just a sports bra.  I'm more like a pear trotting down the road being cheered on by my thighs clapping together.  And that mental image is always in the back of my head, quietly telling me to calm the f'ck down if ever I start feeling too good about myself.  So...in order to get myself out on the road and not listen to all this crap, I had to not let myself think about it for too long,  I knew that even if I went inside and looked for the arm band for my phone, I would give in and that would be that.  So as soon as I got out of the car, I headed straight down the driveway.  No more thinking...just go.

I felt pretty rusty as I started into a slow jog but I let my body take it's time to adjust.  I always sound like a bowl of Rice Krispies during the first few minutes...my ankles, knees, even hips have to voice their concern.  So, I shuffled along, hoping no cars came along to see my less-than-stellar running form.  But, after a few minutes I settled into a nice rhythm with my breathing and my body seemed to remember my old running stride.  By half a mile in, I was feeling pretty damn good!  I looked around a bit and saw a good sized bird above me.  Thinking it's one of the many hawks that we have around here (they are my favorite bird and I have nicknamed them all Ethan which my husband thinks is just ridiculous but I think is absolutely hil-arious!) and I was all "Awesome, I'm inspired by that beautiful bird to keep running".  Just as the thought formed in my head, the bird changed angles and I could see that it wasn't a hawk after all but a buzzard.   Hhhmm...a different kind of inspiration to keep running.  I kept looking back to make sure it wasn't following me.

I got to the turn around point at the end of the road and realized I was still feeling pretty good.  It felt like I was keeping a pretty even stride and I didn't feel like I had to quit so I was mildly amazed.  I hadn't brought my phone so I couldn't tell for sure about pace but I was running and not dying so that was all that mattered.

When I made it back to the house I actually felt like I could go further but the next bit of road is a nice little hill so I decided this had been a good little outing for now.  When I got back to the car I pulled out my phone and checked how long I'd been gone.  Only 16 or 17 minutes...which works out to about an 11 minute/mile pace.  Not stellar but not too bad for a very rusty runner.  And the best part was that my foot felt fine!  The whole thing left me feeling pretty damn excited about running again and that, my friends, is pretty damn awesome!

2 f'cking 30 a.m.

Ever wonder who goes out on a Monday night, gets drunk, and then wrecks their car?  Me neither.  But the answer to that question presented itself on my doorstep at 2:30 this morning.  2 f'cking 30 a.m.

I'm gonna let you in on a little secret:  the worst person to wake up in the middle of the night is the wife who's husband is gone to work and has three kids in the house and knows that we live so far out of town that the cops won't be there for a very long time.  That woman is on edge.

And here's the best part:  they asked to borrow a truck or my tractor to pull their car out of the ditch that they had dropped themselves into.  Really?  It's 2:30 am and you think I'm going to a.) come outside in my bathrobe, start up the tractor and pull your sorry asses out of the ditch or b.) hand you, random intoxicated teenager, the keys to said tractor?  Because obviously you are a stellar driver.

I left them outside and called their mother, who sounded just as pleased as I did to hear the news that her 17 year old was stranded out in the boonies and had wrecked a car that I got the impression didn't belong to him.  Then I sat up all night because I was strung out on adrenaline and running through the movie "The Strangers" in my head.  I'm going to need so much coffee today.

Universal Studios > Disneyland

A few posts ago I talked about our trip to Disneyland and my general intolerance for the whole thing.  If you haven't read that post, it's aptly titled "I'm going to throat punch a princess"... gives you a little idea of what I thought about Disneyland.  I suggest you read it since it'll give you an idea of what I'm comparing Universal Studios to, but you don't have to.  It's OK, I can handle rejection.

Anyway, the saving grace of our California vacation was, most definitely, the day we went to Universal Studios.  All five of us agreed that it was the best day of the trip, hands down.  And to get all of us to agree on anything is saying something.

The only downside was that the drive over there because it sucked.  It was about a 30 mile drive from where we were staying which is nothing back where we come from.  We live 30 miles from the 'big city' (that's a relative term, just so you know) and we drive there in about 30 minutes, no biggie.  But not here.  No, this was our introduction to LA traffic.  It took us an hour and a half to get over there....an hour and a half and a lot of the husband cussing under his breath.  Oh, and here's an interesting side note:  the motorcyclists in California can split the lanes so it's not unusual to have what appears to be a guided missile fly by your window when your stuck in traffic.  Don't stick your hand out the window without checking your mirror...just sayin.

So, with the help of the car's navigation system, which we have nicknamed Edna because she sounds like Edna Mode from the Incredibles, we found our way to Universal.  We took the obligatory pictures in front the Universal globe and then into the park we went.

Let me tell you how I knew this was going to be an awesome day:  Lucille Ball and Dracula met us right inside the gate.  Oh yeah...this was my kind of place.  Not only were the characters right there, no stalking them ala Disneyland, they were awesome!  Over the course of the day we had our picture taken with Lucy, Dracula, Marilyn Monroe, the Scooby Doo gang, Spongebob, Curious George, Jaws, the Despicable Me Minions, Woody Woodpecker and Frankenstein.  No waiting in line for 45 minutes...they were just there, hanging out.  It was awesome!

We are total movie nerds anyway, so Universal is right up our alley.  We couldn't wait to take the kids on the tram ride so they could see all the backstage stuff.  They loved it!  They recognized the downtown area from several movies and we even got to see people auditioning for America's Got Talent.  The psycho house and Bates motel, complete with Norman Bates actor, the old west town and flash flood were all neat things to see.  And the King Kong v. T-Rex thing is just too cool.  The only bummer is that the Jaws area was being repaired...that was the one that I was really looking forward to.  Also, our tram operator was hilarious and made the ride even that much better.

Once we were done there we went to the Waterworld show.  Waterworld was not one of my favorite movies but I have to say that the show is pretty cool. The stuntmen do some amazing water stunts, not to mention the guy that lights himself on fire and then falls 45' into the water.  Plus we got to stay around after the show and meet some of the stuntmen.

We filled the afternoon with more rides and more shows.  Kate won a giant stuffed ninja penguin by shooting basketballs in their midway area.  The guy gave her extra shots because he totally didn't think she could do it and then she sank back to back baskets to win it.  She was super proud of it even though we had to lug it around with us for the rest of the day.

The last thing we did before we left the park was the Haunted House maze.  We had all lined up to go in and then the girls had second thoughts about it so Mike & I ended up taking them out and Wyatt went through by himself.  This was the one thing I really wanted to do so when Wyatt came out, he waited with the girls while Mike & I got to go in.  I love scary movies but I was a little nervous to go through it.  It was a good thing we didn't take the girls through because it was wonderfully freakingly awesome and scary!  I screamed and giggled uncontrollably throughout the whole thing.

When you first go in, it's totally dark and you can hear the people ahead of you screaming so you know something is coming.  We turned a corner and a strobe light came on in a sudden burst.  There's a Nosferatu lookin' guy in the corner staring at you and then it goes dark.  The next second it comes on again and he's right beside you.  Right there.  Leaning in like, I'm-going-to-eat-your-eyeballs close.  I screamed.  Loudly.

There's lots of wonderful scares and the actors are really awesome because even though you know they aren't going to touch you, they get really, really close to it.  The best part was when we went into the room were the werewolf and Van Helsing are...you walk through it on this little bridge-like walkway that has solid wooden sides up to about your waist.  There's a werewolf statue on one side with a woman in it's arms and on the other side is a statue of Van Helsing.  I was absolutely sure that one of these was going to move so I was completely focused on them.  I'm starring at Van Helsing, waiting for him to move and I finally decide he's not going to so I start to look back over at the werewolf, because that must be where the scare is going to come from, when this guy launches himself over the side of the bridge right next to me.  I freaked out.  No...I really freaked out.  I screamed and started backpedalling away from this thing, completely running over Mike in the process.  I was shoving him backward as I was backing up but I had stepped on his foot so he couldn't move.  That didn't stop me from practically climbing over the top of him in my very best imitation of Shaggy & Scooby when they see a ghost.  I ended up knocking him into the poor guy behind us and, in general, causing a huge scene.  Like I said, I freaked out just a bit.  And the crazy thing is that I can't even tell you if the guy was dressed like a werewolf.  I didn't even see him that well, just a dark shape launching over the railing in my peripheral vision.  From there on I was a mess and all I could do was giggle ridiculously through the rest of the maze.  It was so awesome!

And the awesomeness didn't stop there.  We decided to go through the CityWalk area right outside the gates and see if we could find a good place to eat.  We took a picture under King Kong and while we were looking for restaurants, Wyatt saw a sign for iFly indoor skydiving.  We walked down to check it out and after watching for a few minutes Mike decided we had to do it.  Me, I'm not much of a heights/falling-to-my-death type of person, so I was skeptical.  But since I won't ever actually skydive, I figured this was a good alternative.

The whole family, suited up and ready to fly.  We look like airborne smurfs.

Me, acting like a dork, as per usual.

Our instructor explained what we would be doing and the instructions he would be giving us and then we were led to the giant wind tunnel.   Abby went first and it was fun to watch her following the instructions to keep herself flying.  Then the instructor took ahold of her arm and leg and flew her all the way up to the top of the tunnel and back down several times.  That freaked me out a bit.

When it was my turn I wasn't sure what to expect when I jumped off of the doorway and into the wind, but it I know I wasn't expecting how it felt.  I didn't feel like I was falling at all...it really was like flying.  And it was amazing!  We each got to go in two times and the instructor taught us how to move our legs to make us go forward and back and how to make 360' turns.  The kids were completely hooked.  Wyatt wanted to go again and again but it was kinda spendy so we just did the one session.  They were already planning a trip to Seattle to visit the nearest iFly location to our home.

We finished out the night with a great dinner at the HardRock Cafe and coffee at Starbucks.  It was the perfect end to the best day of our vacation.  Even the 2 hour return trip through evening traffic didn't bother us.  In fact, on the last day of our vacation we got done with our last few rides at Disneyland by noon and decided to make the drive to Universal Studios again, just to let the kids have more time in the iFly wind tunnel.

So, would I go back to Disneyland again?  Mhe.  Probably not.  But I would go to Universal Studios and the CityWalk again and again.

I think I need a Greenhouse

If my family wants to eat dinner at our table during the months of March, April & May then they need to get going and build me a greenhouse.  For the last 2 years I've started all my own seeds for my garden and they take over all the space available.  This is what I'm talking about:

What you are looking at are:  84 tomatoes, 51 peppers, 12 broccoli, 12 cabbage, 12 cauliflower, 12 zucchini, 46 cucumbers, 21 watermelons and 19 pumpkins.  All crammed into a teeny-tiny eating nook.  It's my 'seasonal greenhouse'.  Oh, and by the way, it smells like a greenhouse too.

See that cute little curtain made out of vintage fabric on the right?  Behind that is my awesome canning shelf that my hubby built me last year.  Here's a pic of that, just because I love it:

Having that many seedling in my kitchen area is a pain but I don't have to buy any plant starts so it saves us quite a bit of money and that's the whole point, right?  That and I know exactly how the food we harvest from our garden has been raised, from start to finish.  The only other step to conquer now is to start saving our own seeds.  That's my plan for this year since I've bought all open-pollinated seeds.  I'm sure that little adventure will be recorded on here over the next few months and, as with everything that goes on around here, I'm sure it'll be good for a laugh or two.

All of those seedlings are finally outside where they belong.  It took me 9 hours to get the garden put in...here's the progression of work:

First, I had to spread out the unit of compost we added to the garden plot.  I took this pic to send to my hubby at work with the caption "Look at me, I'm driving a tractor and I don't even have a penis.  What am I thinking?!" It's an inside joke and it's freakin' funny...just trust me on this one.  That's our lovely overgrown hog pen in the background behind the blueberries.  

All the compost is spread out here.  I have already made 3 rows of it in the back of the garden and planted 2 rows of beans and a row of peas.  Now to rototill all the rest of the it into the front half of the garden....

And done.  That was easy.  I've finished with the compost and planted a double row of tomatoes.  I trench plant my tomatoes to give them a stronger root system.  This means that I dig a trench about 6-8 inches deep and plant the tomatoes horizontally so that only the top 2 sets of leaves are above ground.  The plants will produce roots all along that long stem that is left above ground when planting normally. Did you catch that part about digging a trench?  3' wide by 50' long and 8 inches deep....yeah, that sucked.

And here is the final result....cue angels singing.  All the seedlings are in the ground and have soaker hoses already laid out for them.  Our well gets really dry in the summer so we have to be stingy with our water.  That's why we use soaker hoses for everything and I have to plan out the garden around that watering system.  But right now we have the other problem since it's been raining almost everyday since I planted.  Literally, today is the first day of no rain in over a week....damn you, mother nature.

So now my kitchen & eating nook are back to normal until next March.  Maybe I'll have a greenhouse by then but I'm not holding my breath...it's pretty low on the list of improvements to do around here.  There's always a huge list of things to do and a not very huge amount of money to do them with so we'll probably have another grow operation in the kitchen next spring.  But hey, on the grand scale of things, it's really not that terrible.

ESPN, you complete me.

I have watched an enormous amount of ESPN today.  It rained so that totally changed the location of my work from outside in the garden to inside in the kitchen.  So, since I was there and the TV is right near by, I decided it was a good idea to watch it while I was baking.  But there was nothing good on...funny how that happens.  A gajillion channels and nothing on but reality shows that make me want to throat punch a toddler in a tiara.  Thank God for ESPN.  I know some you ladies are groaning at me but, really, I can watch it all day.  It doesn't matter what's on.  Well, I take that back....I still can't watch golf.  I think that's more of a talent than a sport.  But I really cannot fathom how someone can watch the most fake, scripted, and just plain stupid shows like Housewives or Dance Moms and then roll their eyes at sports.

So while I baked my family biscotti and scones, I also watched recaps on all the latest goings-on in sports:  baseball, hockey, basketball, hockey, softball, hockey.  Did I mention hockey?  It's the Stanley Cup playoffs, people!  Watch some f'cking hockey!

See how that works?  I balance my nurturing-mothering-homemaker side with my scream-at-the-tv-wish-I-played-professional-sports-will-watch-practically-any-sport-and-hates-refs side.  Ya, it's still a little lopsided but it's at least weighted a bit.  It keeps me from going all June-Cleaver-with-a-cleaver on people.

By the way, my girls and I just finished watching a documentary on Abby Wambach.  Now that is some quality television.  That woman is f'cking amazeballs!  I want to be her when I grow up.  But I'll probably just go make some more scones...

I'm going to throat punch a princess. (Our trip to Disneyland.)

We finally bit the bullet and took our kids to Disneyland last month.  We've been trying to save up for it for the last few years but you know how things happen just when you get some money saved up? Like repair work on the car or medical bills or any number of things?  Yeah, that's what happened with us too.  Just when we would start to think we were getting somewhere, life would come along and remind us that we weren't.

Anyway, we booked the hotel room and bought the tickets and budgeted for the gas money.  Yup, we drove.  1000 miles there and 1000 miles back.  30 hours in the car.  And normally a person would say that it was horrible but, in all honesty, it wasn't.  I like to drive.  Mostly because I don't like to fly.  And our kids are also remarkably good travelers so that makes it really easy.  And my husband drives fast so we made pretty good time as well.  So yeah, driving beats flying in my book.

We bought 3-day park hopper tickets and bright and early the next morning there we were...standing in line with a horde of people eager to have our money sucked out of our pockets, all in the name of the Mickey, the Minnie and the holy Goofy.  Mike was the pack mule for the day, burdened with the backpack full of PB&J sandwiches, snacks, sunscreen and water bottles.  We were clearly packing in our own supplies in an attempt to keep some of the afore mentioned moola securely in our possession.  The kids were all hopped up on the free hotel waffles and the kind of expectation only a child can muster. About 10 minutes into the wait, the youngest, who was dancing from foot to foot, accidentally stepped on her sister's foot.  The 'injured' child then pushed her back which caused her to fall into the oldest (who, at 15, was way too cool to be hanging around us anyway) and basically set off a chain reaction of snide comments, shoves and general feuding.  We tried to contain the chaos to the approximately 3' x 3' area we were occupying in line but that was pretty much futile.  In an attempt to save our family fun time, it was after all only 9:20 on the first day, Mike gathered the children to him in a fatherly 'bear hug' that resembled a football huddle.  Keeping his voice low enough that only the kids could hear him, he said, through gritted teeth "Listen, we just drove 1000 miles to get here and spent...well, way too much money on the tickets.  We did it because we love you and we want to make memories.  And, it's the happiest place on earth so you're going to be freakin' happy!  Got it?"  Oh, I love that man.  And it worked.  Attitudes greatly improved from that point on.  Also, they opened the gates at 9:30 so that might have helped.

Once through the gates, and after we took the obligatory picture in front of the train station, we bought each of the girls an autograph book.  That was the only souvenir they wanted and we thought we were getting off easy until the cashier told us it would be $35 bucks for 2 books, 2 pens and tax.  Damn.  But, if that was all they wanted, great.  They could fill it with free signatures and we would be golden.  And as soon as we walked into the main street area, there was Goofy!  This was going to work out great!  This was not the first time I've been wrong.

On the first day at Disney we saw Goofy and the Fairy Godmother and waited in line for 40 minutes to see Tinkerbell.  40 f'cking minutes for a fairy.  We didn't even wait that long for the rides.  And that was it...we saw other characters but they were either going on break or you had to go to their 'show' to see them.  Seriously?  Are they union?  For the amount of money we just paid to get in, there should be a Mickey Mouse in every 'land' of the park.  And princesses should be pimping themselves out on the street corners.

When we bought the tickets I wasn't sure three days would be enough to see all that the two parks had in store for us.  It was.  Honestly, by the end of the first day, I was done.  When we went to California Adventure it was more of the same.  We had to stalk Mickey Mouse to get that little rodent to sign their books.  Literally, I'm not even joking here.  We got one of the park employees to tell us when & where he was going to pop up next (we won't go into detail about that conversation) and then we staked out the joint until he came strolling in with his oversized shoes.

By the end of the third day, I was ready to throat punch a princess.  We got in to the park early that morning so after a few quick rides we headed to the place where Merida, from Brave, was supposed to be at 10:00.  The girls were second in line...score!  And I have to say that, despite being a little late, Merida was a very awesome princess.  Not at all uppity like Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty.  Those dames are stuck up.  Want to know how I know that?  Because after seeing Merida, we stood in line for 50 minutes to see the big three:  Cindy, Ariel and Snoozy.  That's five-zero.  50.  And with the exception of Ariel, who was also quite awesome, they were just like mean girls in big dresses.  Ugh.

I know, I know... I'm caustic.  I'm a cynical person by nature (or nurture, but that's another story) but I was willing to overcome all that and try to get into the spirit of the place.  I really wanted to be washed in the magic of Disney.  But it didn't happen.  I enjoyed the essence of the place but I just couldn't get there.  And it wasn't until the last day that I was able to figure out why.  You see, Walt Disney did a great job in creating all the different areas of his park to be specific in every way.  For example, you don't hear the music from Frontierland when your next door in Adventureland and so on.  Even the smells are different.  And that's awesome.  Until all that immersion just starts to feel manipulative.  It starts to feel like a cover for just plain old commercialism.  When your shelling out $40 for 5 ice creams it really doesn't matter if you're standing in ToonTown or Tomorrowland.  And after standing in line with hundreds of other families, all with that resigned look on their faces, the princesses' gowns look a bit more threadbare.  And when your kid just wants to see Minnie Mouse or Snow White and you can't find them unless you stand in endless lines, the magic starts to wane.

So yeah, that's my take on Disneyland.  Kind of a downer, aren't I?  Don't get me wrong, we still made some very awesome memories on our trip.  But it was because we were together, not because of where we went.  It wasn't Disneyland that made the trip for us.  We made the trip, Disney was just one of the stops along the way.

Universal Studios...now that was an awesome day...and one that I will put down in text soon.

Weird

I told Mike that sometimes I write a blog and then delete it because I just wanted to 'get it out' but then I wasn't happy with it from a literary stand point so I just deleted it.  Which makes complete and perfect sense to me but to which he said: "You're weird".  I blithely countered:  "Hellooo...have you met me?"

But yes, I am weird.  I fail to see the problem with it.  Quite the contrary;  I revel in my unconventionality.  That's a word...look it up.  No really, look it up because it's kind of a cool definition.  Here, I'll save you the time:

Unconventional (unconventionality):  not conventional : not bound by or in accordance with convention : being out of the ordinary

And here's the definition of weird:  Of a strikingly odd or unusual character; strange.

Again, I fail to see the problem with being identified by these words.  There's a beauty in the definitions here...'not bound', 'out of the ordinary', 'strikingly odd'.  They have the ring of freedom to them; of not being tethered to people's versions of 'normal' or being made to fit a mold.  Yeah...I'm good with that.

Clothes Shopping Sucks

Took the girls shopping yesterday for some warm weather wear and was reminded as to why I hate clothes shopping.  My girls were all excited when we got the store and went from display to display picking out some really cute tops, shorts and even a dress or two.  I even picked out a few items that looked good and then we all headed to the dressing rooms.  UGH.  No really.  U. G. H.  Is there anything worse than a dressing room?  It's like the black hole of self confidence, it just sucks it all away.

For me, I know I need to lose 10-15 pounds and I'm jaded by almost 40 years of this shit so I had no illusions going in.  But my girls, they are only 11 & 12, they have their wonderful innocence still intact.  But not for long if fashion-forward culture has anything to say about it.

Their healthy, athletic bodies are already considered 'plus' sized in their departments at this store.  People, these girls are not overweight.  They are athletic and solid, yes, but plus size?  No.  Out of the 6 or 7 items they each took into the dressing room, we got 1 thing.  One fucking thing.  And my girls were completely defeated.  It broke my heart.

None of the shorts, jeans or capris worked for them because they have the same problem I do:  need more room in the thighs/hips and smaller waists.  Almost every pair of pants that I put on has the same issue.  If the waist fits correctly then they make my thighs look like 15 pounds of hamburger in a 10 pound sack.  If I get a size that fits my thighs and hips then I end up with 3-4 inches of extra waistband gapping out.

We went to another store and I had the girls try on a bunch of jeans and shorts to try to find out what sizes we really needed.  I had to make them because they were really not feeling it.  Neither one wanted to do anymore shopping, let alone try on clothes all over again.  But they are also in that middle ground between the preteen department and the misses department so I wasn't sure how their sizes would translate.  So with some cajoling, and some outright threatening, we began the process of trying on lots of different sizes and lots of different brands.  Because, as we all know, every brand has it's own version of a size and every size fits differently depending on the style.  And even with their handy dandy posters telling us which style fits a certain way, it all ends up like the most frustrating algebra equation ever:  Brand X + size Y / Style Z = "just giving me some fucking jeans that fit!" 

Anyway, after a bit we did find some that the girls liked and that fit.  They were happy again because the sizes didn't mean anything to them.  All that mattered was that they found capris that fit them and we were done shopping.  I, on the other hand, let every snug waistband or sausage-like thigh chip away at my confidence.  It would be nice to regain some of that ignorant-to-the-size mindset but I know I can't really get there.  Not after so many years of defining myself by what clothes size I was currently wearing.  And I know there will come a time when the bubble breaks for them as well.  When the incessant hum and hue of 'culture' pushes in and tells them that they should be a size 2 if they really want to be happy.  Mike & I are doing our best to fill them with ideals that will hopefully carry a greater weight than an advertising pitch for jeans but, as with any woman, you can only hear it for so long before it niggles it's way into your psyche.  I struggle with it all the time and even when I think I've mastered it, something will come along and make me feel like shit because I'm not the shape I think I should be.  I don't know if it's a right of passage or a curse or just proof that we let ourselves be lied to but it sucks.  It just really sucks.

Soccer Mom Talks Sports Psychology...in a rambling kind of way.

I'm betting that if you've read through my blog you already know that I'm a sports fanatic.  If you didn't pick up on that little tidbit, let me just set the stage for you.  The other night there was nothing on TV and I couldn't find a hockey game on any of the channels we get.  So what did I do?  I got on YouTube and searched out a clip from my favorite game ever:  game 3 between the Flyers (my team) and the Penguins (who suck) in last year's playoffs.  Best.  Game.  Ever.  In the first period alone there were 72 penalty minutes and 6 goals.  Obviously, I watched the game when it was played last year and then I've  subjected my family to this particular clip of the huge fight several times but did that stop me from watching it again?  Nope.  And did it stop me from yelling at my computer screen as if it was the first time I've seen it?  Nope.  And did I enjoy watching it again even though I knew exactly what was going to happen?  Yup.  That is how much I dig sports.  Now you know.  And knowing is half the battle.

So, now that we have that out of the way...yesterday was the first day of spring soccer for my girls.  And I was ready.  I was like freakin' Spongebob: "I'm ready...I'm ready...I'm ready!"  I have been either the Team Manager/Team Mom or an "Assistant Coach" now for all 5 years the girls have been playing so when I say I'm ready what I mean is that I have the chairs and umbrellas in the car, along with my 'soccer bag'.  What's a soccer bag?  Let me tell you:  it has lots of bottled water just in case anyone forgot their own water bottle, extra ponytail holders and headbands, first aid kit, snacks (of course), extra shin guards, extra game socks, extra game shorts, a roster and towels.  When we go to a soccer game we are pretty much ready for armageddon.

Kate's game was first.  Her team had a tough season last fall with some flaky girls from Salem that joined up, with a lot of talent and a lot more attitude, and then quit half way through the season leaving us in the gold bracket with half a team.  Our girls had some huge losses that took all the fun out of the game, not to mention the really bad dynamic with these other girls.  So, coming into spring soccer we weren't even sure we would have a team left.  But, low and behold, one of the moms did some recruiting and we have a great team full of girls from our own area who just want to play the game.  And they are good at it!  And they don't have snotty attitudes!  It's great!  They took the field yesterday morning at 9am and crushed the other team.  They dominated the game play and I think the ending score was 8-0.  To be honest, I lost count.

Kate played well all game with really great passes and good touches on the ball.  She's always played defender until this last season when coach started moving her to midfield and even to forward now and then.  I've been telling her for the last few seasons to start taking shots at the goal because she has the power in her leg but she really hasn't had her eyes on the goal yet.  In the second half she was playing center mid and she was able to get her foot on the ball just at the outside of the goal box.  She sent a low ball just to the right of the keepers knee and into the net for her first ever goal!  It was great!  I, of course, was doing a sideline dance of joy because I was so happy for her.  And then the best thing ever happened: after she celebrated with her teammates, she looked over and pointed at me with a huge smile.  I pointed right back and we both did a thumbs up.  It was awesome that she shared that moment with me, just a bit, in that way.

From that game we had to hurry to Abby's, which was about an hour drive away.  Abby's team is an age level younger and they actually have enough girls in that age to make 2 teams; one in the gold bracket and one in the silver.  Abby is on the gold bracket team so they have a tougher schedule and this opening game was proof of that.  We had luckily missed the rain for Kate's game but now we sat in the increasingly wet morning and watched her team battle it out.  That's another thing I like about soccer:  we don't call our games.  As long as there is no threat of lightening, the kids play.  We've sat through torrential downpours to watch the games.  And my girls actually really like playing in the rain, they think it's fun.  Go figure.

Abby's team has a lot of talent on it...when these girls get to high school, the majority of them will be playing varsity most, if not all, of their high school career.  Abby is a solid player and once she comes into her speed I think she'll be first string the whole way.  She has great awareness of the field and positions, something I think she got from playing up on the older team for a year.  And she's a scrapper, if you take her off the ball she takes it personally and she's coming to get it back!  I love that about her. But even with all the talent on her team, they got a shellacking.  Their game was almost the same score as Kate's but not in their favor:  0-7.

But here's the great thing about the whole day:  they were both happy.  Abby celebrated Kate's goal with her much in the same way that I've seen Kate celebrate Abby's goals.  Kate sympathized with Abby's loss just like Abby's done with her.  And then we went home and went on with our day.

This sport, with all its ups & downs, has taught the girls a lot.  It's taught them the value of hard work and pushing yourself, it's taught them about work ethic, it's taught them that life isn't fair and that you can't control the outcome of things, and it's taught them that win or lose, it's just a game.  They love to win but they know what it is to lose as well and they know that after you walk off the field, it's done.  You take what happened and let it make you a better player but you don't let it effect the rest of your life.

I think any sport will teach you that and that's why I think sports are so important.  Not just because they are physically healthy but also because they teach kids a certain level of mental health:  In your life you are going to win sometimes and that is awesome but sometimes you are going to lose and you can't let that end you.  You have to be able to cope with not getting what you want and not being able to control the outcome.  I don't think enough people know how to cope with defeat or with not being able to just have what they want.  Sports are a great equation for kids to learn: if you work hard and train hard you might win, but then again you might lose, and you have to decide how to make that outcome make you better.  That's freakin' life people!  We can plan and train and work for a goal and it just might happen.  But it might not, for any multitude of reasons that we can't control, and we have to be able to deal with that.  It's called coping and not many people can do it anymore, unfortunately.

And I haven't even begun to talk about the confidence I think it gives young women...but enough of my armchair psychology.  It's just a ton o' fun to watch my girls on the field playing hard and learning new things, mentally and physically, about themselves.  And if they let me share in their wins and defeats from the sidelines, so much the better for me!

Mark my spot

My daughter was trying to read while my other daughter was trying to bait her into an argument. Finally fed up, she sighed and carefully folded over the corner of her page. Closing her book, she then proceeded to launch herself at her sister.

It dawned on me in that moment that marking your place in a book is the nerd girl equivalent of 'hold my earrings'.

You're grounded!

All of my kids are grounded today.  Yes, after the morning we just survived I have issued a sweeping decree of punishment over all three children.  Actually, each kid is grounded for a reason specific to them but it was that much of a stellar morning that they all managed to piss me off and call down my wrath upon their pointed little adolescent/teenager heads.    

I won't go into all the gory details of our morning...here's just a taste, a small sampling, of our first two hours of waking:  one kid falling asleep in the bathroom and wasting ALL the hot water that they had just turned on; another one claiming that every single pair of underwear they own is now missing, never mind the ginormous pile of laundry in their closet;  yet another playing with the cats when they should be getting dressed;  missing underwear child then yelling at cat child over who's lunchbox is who's;  sleepy child continuing to sleep during the 20 minute car ride (even though I was doing my best to bounce their head off the window on the corners) and then telling me at the last possible moment that they need money for lunch.  And those are just the high points...there was plenty of lower-level grumbling, complaining and attitude to round out a wonderfully awesome morning.  Yea, just awesome.

Who put me in charge of this circus anyway?  Oh, wait, that's right...my uterus did.  Damn it.

Ties That Bind

I didn't go to church today.  Yes, on Easter Sunday we did not go to church.  I'm a heathen.  I get it.  We really haven't gone to church with any regularity for, um, the last 3 years or so.  I know, I know...

But I did have a very wonderful sunrise service all of my own this morning.  After my husband left for work I sat on our front steps with my coffee and watched the sun come up over the hills.  It was really beautiful.  And everything was just nature.  No cars went by, no people, no radios.  Just the sounds of birds and the creek and the steers chomping on grass.  So I sat and had my time with the Lord.  And I would put that up against most corporate worship any day.  

Once the kids were up and had their breakfast of bacon and pancakes remotely shaped like bunny heads, we had our own church service in the living room.  My favorite gospel is the Book of John so that is what I turned to when I began to talk to them about the meaning of today.  I flipped through the book, skimming the descriptive paragraph headings to find the beginning of the story of Easter.  But as I got to His prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane I stopped at a passage that I had underlined in chapter 17.  Jesus had been praying for his disciples but he also goes on to pray for "those who will believe in Me through their word." (John 17:20 NKJV, emphasis mine)  

Which means, He prayed for me before He went to the cross.  He prayed for my children and my husband and for people that I don't even know and some that I don't even like.  We were on his mind before he undertook the rest of the Easter story.  Before the rest of the events we know so well took place, He was feeling the weight of our belief and praying for our lives.  That twists something inside my heart when I think about it and it's both sorrowful and beautiful.  It's a binding of my heart to His, a connection to Him that is as tangible as any I ever felt. 

I mean, here He was, in the Garden, knowing what was in store for Him, praying that if there was another way, please let it be but accepting God's will and preparing Himself for it.  The human-ness of that moment is a stark contrast to the etherial, miracle-working Jesus that can be, at times, hard to connect with on a personal level.  He was scared.  And in the midst of that fear, He still thought of His followers across the span of ages to come.  It just blows my mind.

So that was our Easter service this morning...we didn't even get to the rest of the story because I felt like this little gem of a verse gets lost in the preamble and yet holds so much of what we should know about those events.  I wanted my kids to know that they were on His mind and He thought of each of them before He went to the cross.  His hand is in each of our lives, has been since before we were thoughts and cells and the drawing of breath.  He is not vacant from our day to day, He doesn't sit aloft and watch the clockwork spin and tick.  He is a personal savior, involved and invested, and we are tightly bound to Him by cords of faith and deeds, mercy and redemption.  A point He drove home with that verse and 3 nails.  

My trip to Costco (also called "Amy loses her shit")

I have been waiting for today for months.  Planning.  Saving. Writing lists.  Rewriting lists.  I write a lot of lists.  My bi-annual trip to Costco.  We only go in the Spring and in the Fall to stock up on certain items:  toilet paper, paper towels, contact solution, vitamins, trash sacks, etc.  Basically things that are cheaper there than at our usual shopping spot:  Winco.

I know some people hate Winco but I love it!  Those pajama wearing, child smacking, loudly cussing, cheapskates are my peeps!  Seriously, though...at least they know and obey the basic rules of the road like driving your cart on the right side.  This is something that the people at Costco just don't get.  They cannot grasp the rudimentary skill of moving through the aisles.  'Oh here, let me park my cart with 2 items in it right in the middle of the aisle so that you, who are driving an overfull flatbed, must try to maneuver around me'.  Really people???

And I have no patience for people who come to Costco and get less than 5 items.  That is not how you shop Costco.  I have been going to Costco since I was a teenager with my mom and we had to drive 50 miles to get there because they weren't as popular then.  Yea, I shopped Costco before it was cool.  Anyway, we stocked up.  No, you don't get it.  We drove a Chevrolet Caprice Classic station wagon, do you know how big those things are?  They are freakin' road whales.   We got so much stuff that it was squatting so bad that we couldn't drive it home.  No shit.  We had to call my sister-in-law to come up and help us bring our haul home.  Now, that is how you shop Costco.

Another thing you don't see at Costco:  people stopping to go through their grocery list and tally the cost.  At Winco everyone does that!  I've made my own shopping list template that has a spot to write down the amount of each item because when you use cash you have to know this shit.  No one wants to get to the checkout and come up short on money.  But the people in Costco looked at me like I was a dumbass when we would pull our carts over (out of the way mind you!) and start tallying up the cost of what we had so far.  And we had to go back around the store and put certain items back because we were over our budget.  Shocking!

Let me just highlight the fun I had today:

• We used 2 flatbeds, driven by me and my eldest daughter.  The youngest one, who is 11, was standing on the flatbed while eldest pushed it.  Two older ladies came by and, frowning, expressed their opinion that she should not be doing that.  I just looked at them and told them to mind their own business.  This was about 10 minutes into our adventure.
• Later on, as we were making a second round through the aisles to put some of it back, a gentleman stopped in the aisle right in front of us.  He was facing us so he looked right at me and then got on his phone for a very long conversation.  Without moving out of the way.  Right.  In.  The.  Middle.  Of.  The.  Aisle.   And then had the gall to look at me like he was annoyed at me for eavesdropping on his call.  So I called him a tool as I steered around him.  
• Every person that made some comment about 'prepping' or outright asked me if we were 'preppers' got the stink eye.  Yes, I realize that most people don't buy 3 cases of toilet paper, 2 cases of paper towels and several sacks of flour & sugar but I'm not digging bunkers people.  I'm just stocking the pantry & linen closet for then next 6 months.  

I will say that there was one good experience.  The couple that was in line behind us commented on how much we were buying (of course) but seemed genuinely appreciative of my twice-a-year plan.  When the lady saw my list she commented on how organized I was.  When we paid in cash (and came in $2 under budget, I might add) she commented to her husband how rare it was to see that anymore.  I felt vindicated and almost forgave the people of Costco, en mass, until some idiot flew through the parking lot way too close to the cart being pushed by my eldest.  Thank goodness I don't have to be back here for another 6 months...

No major crimes...

The other night I ran into a old high school friend that I haven't seen in...let's see, 22 years.  Shit, I'm old.  Anyway, this guy is only a year younger than me but as we got to talking about our families I found out that he has a 7 month old.  Interesting...I have a 15 year old.  Again I say:  I'm old.

That got me thinking about the different things you experience as a parent when your kids start growing up.  Anyone with older kids will totally get this, I'm sure.  For those that don't, let me explain.  There's a shift that happens in your responsibilities as a parent when your kids reach a certain age and after a lot of thought, here's the best way I can explain it:

When your children are small/young, your job is to meet their needs.  When they are hungry, you feed them.  When they are tired, you put them down for a nap.  When they mess up, you teach them right & wrong.  You are meeting their needs and it consumes your life.  They have a need, you fill it, job done, yeah mom.  You are shaping these little heathens in the hopes that they become reasonably well-adjusted members of society and don't commit any major crimes.  Fingers crossed.

Then they reach a certain point in their lives where things change.  I can't put an age on it because I think it's probably different for each kids but I'm going to say it's around middle school age.  All of a sudden these kids turn into little humans.  And they develop needs that you can't meet.  You can't fix it or make it go away...you have to let them live through it.  And live through it with them.  For example, if they are having trouble with other kids at school who think they aren't "cool" enough...no snack or nap is going to fill that need.  You can to talk to your kids about who their true friends are and about standing up for themselves but you can't actually do it for them.  You can't go to the school and tell the other kids that they are little brats and that you hope they grow up to be empty shells living in their parent's basement working a dead-end job reliving their glory days every weekend at the local bar and wondering why they peaked in high school.  Wait, what was I saying?

Anyway, you can't fix the mess-ups and losses and the embarrassing moments.  You just have to help them cope with them and move on.  But just like my fear of heights is greatly amplified when the kids are up high (just ask my husband about the near mental breakdown I had at Crater Lake when he tried to pose the kids on a ledge for a picture...it was freakin' epic.) the hurt of the situation is amplified when you can't protect them.

So that's the change:  when your kid's needs change from the ones you can meet to the ones you can't.  And that's a painful transition for a parent.  You feel everything your kid goes through even more when you know there's not a damn thing you can do about it.  And it's not something you can really explain to the parents of younger kids...you just have to live it.  And feel it.  And hope like hell that you somehow managed to give your kid the skills needed to navigate the situation and come out the other side better for it.  And that they don't grow up to commit any major crimes.  Just felt the need to reiterate that one....

Work is work, no matter where it happens

"Do you work outside the home?"

I guess this has become the PC way to ask if you are a stay at home mom or not.  But, personally, this particular question drives me nuts.  Mostly because I don't know how to answer it.  See, I work 2 jobs (and considering a third) but I don't work outside the home.  I have a pretty sweet set-up with a home office and it works great for my work as a trade show manager and a director for a non-profit ag organization.  So I know what people are really asking when they pose that question, "do you have a job?", and the answer is "yes, thanks" but the technically correct answer is "no, I don't work outside the home".  

My head always vapor locks for a second before I answer because I'm trying to work out what is the most honest answer.  Perhaps I should just forget about an honest answer and come up with something far more interesting.  "No, my husband has only let me off the chain for this trip to town" or "Does mowing the lawn count?" or something else witty that I apparently can't think of at this moment.

I think the reason people ask the question is because we still have a divide in our culture between women who have a job and those who don't.  That's what it comes down to...people can banter back and forth about the correct terminology but let's just call it as it is.  Do you have a job or do you stay at home?  People have demonized both choices and that's why we have an entirely new vocabulary to describe what we do.  "Stay at home mom" is now almost a slur...we try to come up with ways to explain all the things we do as moms:  domestic goddess, domestic engineer, family management, the list goes on.  And in our attempt to justify our choice to stay with our children, we cast doubt on those of us who choose to (or have to) work a job in addition to being moms.  And then moms with jobs feel that we need to justify our choice by reminding everyone that we do all the household work AND hold a job.  It really doesn't help any of us...women divided against women over a personal choice just holds us all back.

You'll notice that I took ownership in both descriptions when I talked about moms at home and moms with jobs.  That's because I feel that I have one foot firmly planted in each side.  An odd position to be in and one that comes with it's own unique set of pros & cons.  To be sure, it's a blessing for me.  My work is mostly performance based so I can manage my time as needed.  This lets me take off time to go to a school play, soccer practice or doctors appointment without having to punch a clock or arrange for time off.  I can work at 5 am or 10 pm, as long as I get stuff done.  With 3 kids who play sports in town (we live 12 miles out) and a small farm and a husband who works 24 hr. shifts, that is huge!  This type of flexibility is enough of a benefit for me that it has kept me from seeking out higher paying, more conventional jobs that might actually have retirement benefits and the like.  For our family dynamic, this is the best thing for all of us.

An average day for me can consist of getting the kids off to school then working in the barn then making bread and then settling in at my desk, all before 10 am.  And, if I need to take advantage of good weather to work in the garden or clean the chicken coop,  I know that I can catch up on desk work at night or when it's yucky outside.  Like today, my youngest is home sick but I don't have to rearrange my schedule too much to be there for her and still get my work done.  And in between business calls I'm taking calls from the high school about my son's class schedule and making dentist appointments  It's a multi-taskers dream!

What is also means is that I never really leave my work behind.  I'm always checking my email and I  always have a To-Do list.  It also means that my kids don't always understand that I have to keep some kind of office hours, even when they are home from school for various reasons.  I have to balance my time pretty well to make it all work so I wake up early and I stay up late to get it all done.  And I take my work very personally so it means a lot of stress if the show isn't filling up like it should or if the membership numbers are down...regardless of other responsible factors,  like the economy, I feel a constant pressure to make it profitable and viable.  So sometimes there's more stress involved with this type of job because it's entwined with the rest of my daily life and not something that I leave behind when I leave an office.  But again, it's worth the flexibility that gives me time with my family.

So yeah, I have a weird set up.  And it makes answering that ridiculous question a little difficult.  But never fear, I'm sure I'll come up with some type of smartass remark that will satisfy as an answer...perhaps a bit more coffee will help the thought process.

My foot, a Bible and curse words

I've developed a ganglion cyst in the knuckle of my big toe on my left foot.  For those of you who don't know what that is, it's like a teeny tiny water balloon but instead of water it's filled with joint fluid.  And the more it fills up, the more pressure it causes and, of course, the more pain.  Until finally....POP...it bursts.

According to the foot doctor, most people get them on the wrist and they used to call them Bible Bumps.  Why? Because in the olden days, they would use a Bible to whack it with and cause it to burst.  Why a Bible?  Because it was generally the heaviest book in the house and it's softer (slightly) than a 2x4.

Anyway, this one on my foot has grown and burst several times over...to the point that I know when it gets really painful, it's about ready to pop and then it'll be better for awhile.  When it's inflamed it hurts to walk or bend my big toe, even just having a shoe on can be painful.  And, no foolin', it really does feel better almost immediately after the cyst bursts.   It's kinda crazy.

So a few weeks ago it was in the really painful part of this cycle.  Just really driving me nuts.  Enough so that I decided to speed up the process a bit.

"Hey, honey....I need you to take this Bible and whack my foot with it."

"Um, what???"

"Yea, can you just whack my foot with this so the thingy will burst and it'll stop hurting so much?  Please?"

"Your sure you want me to smack you with a Bible?"

"Yes...a good husband would do it."

Ya...that's pretty much how that conversation went down.  Eventually he agreed and then spent 5 minutes lining up my foot so he could hit it just right.  It was like he was teeing up on the ninth fairway.  By the time he was actually ready to swing I think he was enjoying the prospect a bit too much.

"Stop grinning and whack it already.  But you have to hit it hard enough to burst it the first time because I'm pretty sure I won't let you do it a second time."

When he finally decided he had the correct angle and that my foot was properly propped up on yet another Bible, he took his holy book in both hands and raised it over his head.  (My niece has rightly suggested that at this point he should have yelled out: "The power of Christ compels you!"...which would have been awesome).  I squeezed my eyes shut and gripped the arms of my chair....

WHACK!!!!

Holy MotherF$%@&#!!!!!  Well, it was holy because of the proximity to 2 Bibles but everything else that came out of my mouth after that point was pure filth.  I stood straight up out of the chair on my good foot, curse words spewing from my mouth.  And I didn't even use them in the correct context...it was just a jumble of random profanity.  I immediately sat back down and covered my head with my arms, muttering to myself while tears streamed from my eyes.

My husband, on the other hand, wavered between consoling me and laughing at me.

"I'm so sorry babe.  But, remember that you did ask me to do it.  And what did you just say?"

I sat like that for a good 5 minutes or so until I could get ahold of myself.  Then I gingerly felt my foot...sure enough, the lump was gone!

"Wahoo!  It worked!  When my foot quits throbbing it's going to feel so much better!"

And it did, it totally did.  By that evening the pain from being whacked with a Bible had gone away and the next morning I was completely pain free.  Now the question is, knowing how much it hurt, will I have him do it again the next time...

Handy Dandy Fire Starters

I seem to be pretty hit and miss with my posts lately but, eh, whatcha gonna do?  Life has a way of being, well, life.

But, I did have the forethought to take pictures the day I made a batch of fire starters, just in case I had the time to sit and write about it.  So, here they are and they are super simple to make at relatively no cost because they use only three things that I usually have around that house (and maybe you do too).

Here's what you need:  egg cartons (not the foam kind), dryer lint, and household wax.  See...simple.

Rip the lid off the egg carton (you can use that for fire tinder or just recycle it).  Line up all the ones you will use, side by side.  I normally put them paper towels because I tend to make a mess no matter what I'm doing.  

Now pull off pieces of lint and stuff them in the egg holes.  Wait, is that the right term for that?  Egg holes?  Well, you get it...put it in the spots the eggs go.  There's no magic amount, about half full...just enough to give it a good absorber for the wax.

Now melt the wax in a double boiler type set up.  I have an old metal pitcher that I set inside a saucepan.  One package of wax will usually make 10 dozen starters.  When the wax is melted, just pour it over the top of the lint/egg cartons.  Just enough to make sure the lint will adhere down in the carton but you don't have to soak it.  

Here is a close up of what it will look like....

And here are all of them laid out on the table drying...I made 11 dozen this go-round and probably should have stayed with 10 to give them a bit more wax on each.

Once they are all cooled/dry, just rip them apart in individual sections.  All done!  

I store them in a basket near the fireplace for easy keeping.  They light quickly and I usually only use one to start the fire...no other newspaper/tinder/starter material needed.

We use almost exclusively wood heat in our home which means I start a fire just about every morning along with the coffee.  I make up a batch of these at the beginning of the fall and then another around January and that sees me through.  

What's a little frightening is that I have enough dryer lint to make the these batches...but living on a farm and having 3 kids who are in sports makes enough laundry to produce a massive amount of lint.

Ok...so there's my handy dandy fire starters.  Hope they work for you as well as they do for me!