I had a birthday this week, a big one...and no one really razzed me about it. I was so ready for it too! But maybe the only one who thinks it's a big deal is me??? So what if I am 40? Age is all about your mindset. I don't feel 40, at least not mentally. I'm not sure what age I would say I feel like really. All I know is that the more candles I put on my cake, the younger my parents seem. (Ha!)
I had a pretty good 40th birthday. I was surprised with a very practical, but welcome gift - my very own shop-vac with super cool attachments. We have a really good one, but it's such a hassle for me (and Jay) to try to use it. If it's in the barn, most likely it has been sucking out hog waste and I really don't want it touching my car or blowing any fumes into my house! We do wash it out every now and then, but it's not the same, you know...
For lunch, my court reporter friend, Traci, came up to eat with me at the Mexican restaurant. Not knowing she would buy, I invited Jay to eat with us...and we both got a free meal. You can't beat that!
Then Jay surprised me with two lovely pots of bright red geraniums. If you don't know whose favorite flowers those are, you missed out. Grandma Great bought 19 bright red geraniums every spring to put in her flower bed on her porch. (I think the number was 19, it was definitely an odd number.) Later in the evening, my friend Beth brought over two more pots with geraniums. I was delighted. I can have some in the front and some in the back. She also brought some delicious gourmet cupcakes which I have been enjoying all week...(ouch!)
I also got a brand new spiffy bicycle. Last year I rode my bike quite a bit with Jay while he ran, and although my bike wasn't that old and was exactly what I had wanted at the time, I learned quickly that doing any distance on a bike with hills and dips in the road requires gears. My beach cruiser was perfect for cruising, but it wasn't built for hills. Although that had been my excuse for walking my bike two spots at Lincoln Trail Park, and now I won't have one...I'll just have to walk in shame...unless this new bike came with special powers as well.
And to top off an already great day - our sweet baby kitty Boots (now we're calling baby kitty mama) had her baby kittens! We had been watching her so close for a week now. And I said last week that maybe she would wait and have them on my birthday...Tuesday morning I told the family she sure was chatty and restless, maybe today would be the day...and it was!
I got some nice cards in the mail, my mom dropped off a birthday card (as I was being rushed away for baseball practice by my impatient son) and my father-in-law slipped me a card too. I felt a little spoiled when it was all said and done. As I was getting ready for bed I thought about how truly blessed I am. I know that phrase is over-used sometimes, but I can't help it. I have good health, a great family and friends, an awesome little community, my salvation and overall safety. What more could I ask for?
One of my favorite skits on SNL is one with Molly Shannon. "I'm Sally O'Malley and I'm Fifty." And she usually says something like, "And I can kick!" and then she throws her leg up in the air. It just cracks me up. (Honestly at this point, I would pull a muscle if I tried that.) A coworker brought me a couple pieces of Dove dark chocolate, the kind that comes with sayings on the inside wrapper. My first one said "Be proud of your age." Hmm, why not?
My mantra this year is I'm Sarah Wilhoit and I'm 40. I am fun, frugal and feisty...
Showing posts with label home. Show all posts
Showing posts with label home. Show all posts
Thursday, April 30, 2015
Tuesday, December 23, 2014
The Mouse Game
My son has a new obsession - trapping. And right now his focus is on something there is plenty of around this time of year - mice. He begged and begged for some mouse traps. I had planned on putting them in his stocking (isn't that what every child wants?), but his dad went ahead and bought two 4-packs for him. Wonderful.
He and his buddies, "Korbin & Gavin" have really gotten into this trapping thing. And they are learning how to skin animals too. Again, wonderful.
The boys were over for a bit on Sunday and went outside to check traps. (Mouse traps, that is.) Lane had placed maybe four of them around, a couple in the shed and a couple in the hunting shack, that morning before church. Lucky boy - he caught a mouse.
Lane came charging in the house and asked for a stapler. "Why do you need a stapler?" "I need to staple the mouse legs to a board while we skin it. It's dead." Um, o-kay.
Later that afternoon, Lane set all 8 traps up in various buildings at our place. What a happy little fella he was yesterday to find that 7 out of 8 traps were victorious. The one lone wolf...we're not sure what happened. The trap is gone. I don't know if that means there is a mouse walking around with a trap attached to it, or there is a raccoon or squirrel with one hanging on. (I was glad to see that neither cat was carrying around a trap - and I haven't seen the rabbit with one either.)
I almost took pictures of the mouse hide, which is attached to a board right next to my door in the garage, but I thought some may not appreciate such a glorious site.
I'm certainly no fan of mice, but I do have a little compassion for them...as long as they're not in my house or camper.
About three weeks ago, Madolyn let Boots in the back patio door. As soon as she let her come in, she yelled "Uh-OH!" I looked over and could see that Boots had a little treasure in her mouth. I told Mad immediately to throw the kitty back outside. She was standing there screaming and flailing her arms and Boots let the mouse go. The mouse headed for the living room. I grabbed a dust pan and broom. (What is it about a dust pan and broom that brings about a sense of security?) Lane ran and grabbed a cowboy boot. I was yelling to catch that mouse, I did NOT want it in my room!
We were all scrambling around trying to trap the mouse and get it in the dust pan. I finally got close and it just scurried on over the side of the dust pan and ran behind the couch. I had Madolyn dig an empty hot chocolate container out of the trash can and I ditched the dust pan. The kids tipped the couch back and I waited. The little stinker was hiding under a throw pillow (not sure why it was back there) and we threw Boots in there as Mad lifted the pillow. Boots did nothing. Pitiful.
The mouse headed towards my bedroom. I slammed the door shut, but know full well a mouse can squeeze throw the tiniest of holes. I'm still yelling that we have to get the mouse. It turns and heads back towards the kitchen, and my sweet lad bopped it over the head with his cowboy boot right there on the kitchen floor. That pretty much took care of the situation...and then Madolyn started crying. She was furious that he had killed it. I was a little taken aback, but delighted that there wasn't a mouse free in my house or bedroom.
I grabbed the motionless varmint and tossed it out from whence it came (ha - Jerry Clower reference). Then got the mop to scrub the kitchen floor. (I did thank Lane for killing it on the kitchen floor and not the carpet.)
Lane was pretty pleased with himself and made sure to mock his sister for crying. I tried to explain to him that I was happy he took care of the situation, but it was a little cruel...and he replied, So is a mouse trap or poison. Okay, you got me there. I suppose I'm okay with that because I'm not standing there when death knocks on their door, you know.
He and his buddies, "Korbin & Gavin" have really gotten into this trapping thing. And they are learning how to skin animals too. Again, wonderful.
The boys were over for a bit on Sunday and went outside to check traps. (Mouse traps, that is.) Lane had placed maybe four of them around, a couple in the shed and a couple in the hunting shack, that morning before church. Lucky boy - he caught a mouse.
Lane came charging in the house and asked for a stapler. "Why do you need a stapler?" "I need to staple the mouse legs to a board while we skin it. It's dead." Um, o-kay.
Later that afternoon, Lane set all 8 traps up in various buildings at our place. What a happy little fella he was yesterday to find that 7 out of 8 traps were victorious. The one lone wolf...we're not sure what happened. The trap is gone. I don't know if that means there is a mouse walking around with a trap attached to it, or there is a raccoon or squirrel with one hanging on. (I was glad to see that neither cat was carrying around a trap - and I haven't seen the rabbit with one either.)
I almost took pictures of the mouse hide, which is attached to a board right next to my door in the garage, but I thought some may not appreciate such a glorious site.
I'm certainly no fan of mice, but I do have a little compassion for them...as long as they're not in my house or camper.
About three weeks ago, Madolyn let Boots in the back patio door. As soon as she let her come in, she yelled "Uh-OH!" I looked over and could see that Boots had a little treasure in her mouth. I told Mad immediately to throw the kitty back outside. She was standing there screaming and flailing her arms and Boots let the mouse go. The mouse headed for the living room. I grabbed a dust pan and broom. (What is it about a dust pan and broom that brings about a sense of security?) Lane ran and grabbed a cowboy boot. I was yelling to catch that mouse, I did NOT want it in my room!
We were all scrambling around trying to trap the mouse and get it in the dust pan. I finally got close and it just scurried on over the side of the dust pan and ran behind the couch. I had Madolyn dig an empty hot chocolate container out of the trash can and I ditched the dust pan. The kids tipped the couch back and I waited. The little stinker was hiding under a throw pillow (not sure why it was back there) and we threw Boots in there as Mad lifted the pillow. Boots did nothing. Pitiful.
The mouse headed towards my bedroom. I slammed the door shut, but know full well a mouse can squeeze throw the tiniest of holes. I'm still yelling that we have to get the mouse. It turns and heads back towards the kitchen, and my sweet lad bopped it over the head with his cowboy boot right there on the kitchen floor. That pretty much took care of the situation...and then Madolyn started crying. She was furious that he had killed it. I was a little taken aback, but delighted that there wasn't a mouse free in my house or bedroom.
I grabbed the motionless varmint and tossed it out from whence it came (ha - Jerry Clower reference). Then got the mop to scrub the kitchen floor. (I did thank Lane for killing it on the kitchen floor and not the carpet.)
Lane was pretty pleased with himself and made sure to mock his sister for crying. I tried to explain to him that I was happy he took care of the situation, but it was a little cruel...and he replied, So is a mouse trap or poison. Okay, you got me there. I suppose I'm okay with that because I'm not standing there when death knocks on their door, you know.
Friday, September 26, 2014
The Dynamic Mouser Duo
Sunday afternoon the kids were in the living room playing a game and I heard Lane scream (he screams like a girl - it's pitiful). I ran out there and he was standing over a very small gray thing on the floor in front of the television. It was so small that I had to bend down to make out what it was. It was a deceased baby mouse that looked like it had been through the wringer (might I suggest repeatedly) at some point in the past few days. It was not a fresh kill. Ugh.
I scooped up the carcass and threw it out the back door. We carried on as usual. And by "usual" I mean, it is not necessarily unusual for us to have dead (or live) creatures brought into the house by the felines.
The weather has been so glorious. It was super silly to be running the air conditioner, so Jay got the screens out and put them in the living room windows. In the past, we have ignored the fact that our windows came with screens and opened them anyway...hence the dead (or live) varmints brought into the house by our vicious kitties.
The screens solved the problem of the kitties and the windows, however, now that we have Moxie and she is in the early stages of potty-training, leaving the sliding patio door open is a must when she's inside. If you miss her split-second stare at the back door to go out, she pees right there. (And I do mean she has a bladder control problem because it's mere seconds.) I've found it's much easier to keep the door open a little.
I can only assume that the nasty, baby mouse carcass was carried in through the back door by one of the sweet kittens.
Sunday evening, Jay, Madolyn & I are sitting on our bed chatting (I know, amazing, but my 14-year-old likes to do that every now and then). All of a sudden, as calm as could be, Madolyn looks down at the floor by our bedroom door and says, "There is a big fat mouse." Her expression was pretty flat, she wasn't overly excited, screaming and carrying on (unlike her brother earlier). Jay and I didn't take her serious at all. She repeated herself and we waited for her to make a joke about it...
And then we both leaned forward and discovered there was a very fat mouse just inside our bedroom door, with a drip of blood coming out of its ear. Jay quickly hopped off the bed, got a dirty sock and threw the wounded mouse outside.
Neither one of us could believe how Madolyn, who is terrified of the tiniest of spiders, was not freaking out over the bloodied mouse staring up at her. She remained surprisingly calm and then started laughing at us. (We weren't quite as calm.)
I know what you're thinking, oh my gosh, what is wrong with you people? I can't say as though I have a decent answer. I guess my personal thoughts are, I'd rather pick up a bloody mouse and toss it outside than clean up a pee puddle.
Here's to hoping Moxie's potty training and patience progress quickly...so we can shut that back door to keep the wounded prey out of our house.
As for the Dynamic Duo there, they need to kill whatever they attack and keep it outside.
I scooped up the carcass and threw it out the back door. We carried on as usual. And by "usual" I mean, it is not necessarily unusual for us to have dead (or live) creatures brought into the house by the felines.
The weather has been so glorious. It was super silly to be running the air conditioner, so Jay got the screens out and put them in the living room windows. In the past, we have ignored the fact that our windows came with screens and opened them anyway...hence the dead (or live) varmints brought into the house by our vicious kitties.
The screens solved the problem of the kitties and the windows, however, now that we have Moxie and she is in the early stages of potty-training, leaving the sliding patio door open is a must when she's inside. If you miss her split-second stare at the back door to go out, she pees right there. (And I do mean she has a bladder control problem because it's mere seconds.) I've found it's much easier to keep the door open a little.
I can only assume that the nasty, baby mouse carcass was carried in through the back door by one of the sweet kittens.
Sunday evening, Jay, Madolyn & I are sitting on our bed chatting (I know, amazing, but my 14-year-old likes to do that every now and then). All of a sudden, as calm as could be, Madolyn looks down at the floor by our bedroom door and says, "There is a big fat mouse." Her expression was pretty flat, she wasn't overly excited, screaming and carrying on (unlike her brother earlier). Jay and I didn't take her serious at all. She repeated herself and we waited for her to make a joke about it...
And then we both leaned forward and discovered there was a very fat mouse just inside our bedroom door, with a drip of blood coming out of its ear. Jay quickly hopped off the bed, got a dirty sock and threw the wounded mouse outside.
Neither one of us could believe how Madolyn, who is terrified of the tiniest of spiders, was not freaking out over the bloodied mouse staring up at her. She remained surprisingly calm and then started laughing at us. (We weren't quite as calm.)
I know what you're thinking, oh my gosh, what is wrong with you people? I can't say as though I have a decent answer. I guess my personal thoughts are, I'd rather pick up a bloody mouse and toss it outside than clean up a pee puddle.
Here's to hoping Moxie's potty training and patience progress quickly...so we can shut that back door to keep the wounded prey out of our house.
 |
| the Dynamic Mouser Duo on break |
As for the Dynamic Duo there, they need to kill whatever they attack and keep it outside.
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Bunny fun
After the 4H fair, our neighbor boys gave their 4H rabbits to our kids. As we have been around this block before, Jay told the kids the only way the bunnies were coming home with us if we did not have to cage and take care of them. Sounds perfect, huh? The kids agreed and Marshmallow & Midnight came to live at our farm. Marshmallow was completely white and Midnight was completely black. Go figure.
The rabbits stayed near the barn and occasionally we would see them zipping around through the woods, around the barn, near the pool, darting here and there. Then all of a sudden, Midnight went AWOL. We can only assume he was eaten by a bear...or something.
Early on it was discovered that the rabbits were living in the loft of the barn. Funny imagining them hopping up and down the barn stairs! The kids found the area they would snuggle up in the insulation (sounds cozy, huh?) in the 90+ degree weather. UGH. And then the kitties spotted them.
The daily ritual began. Early in the morning when the kitties went outside to explore, they would meet up with their friend, the white rabbit, and play. No joke. They played together. One morning we saw Moxie, Boo and Marshmallow out there circling one another. It was hysterical. Who would've thought a Bloodhound puppy, kitten and rabbit could play together safely?!
Marshmallow, the all-white rabbit, who simply cannot hide or camouflage itself had not been seen since the Quackdaddy's surprise party and we feared it, too, had succumbed to nature's fury. Alas, Jay texted this morning and said Marshmallow has been spotted!
Now I'm starting to wonder...did this little hiatus involve a litter of baby bunnies? The kids tell me both rabbits were males, but I still wonder why Marshmallow was gone so long. I'm curious to know if our backyard will soon be a bunny-play zone...or perhaps a bunny prey-zone.
Two mice have been slain by our ravenous kitties this week...this could get interesting. Hunger Games, take 2.
The rabbits stayed near the barn and occasionally we would see them zipping around through the woods, around the barn, near the pool, darting here and there. Then all of a sudden, Midnight went AWOL. We can only assume he was eaten by a bear...or something.
Early on it was discovered that the rabbits were living in the loft of the barn. Funny imagining them hopping up and down the barn stairs! The kids found the area they would snuggle up in the insulation (sounds cozy, huh?) in the 90+ degree weather. UGH. And then the kitties spotted them.
 |
| Look close, see Boots by the tire, the all-white rabbit and Josie right next to it. |
Marshmallow, the all-white rabbit, who simply cannot hide or camouflage itself had not been seen since the Quackdaddy's surprise party and we feared it, too, had succumbed to nature's fury. Alas, Jay texted this morning and said Marshmallow has been spotted!
Now I'm starting to wonder...did this little hiatus involve a litter of baby bunnies? The kids tell me both rabbits were males, but I still wonder why Marshmallow was gone so long. I'm curious to know if our backyard will soon be a bunny-play zone...or perhaps a bunny prey-zone.
Two mice have been slain by our ravenous kitties this week...this could get interesting. Hunger Games, take 2.
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Best coffee ever
Jay has found the key to the 'best coffee ever.' The five-cup percolator I inherited from Grandma Great.
When Grandma decided it was time to clean out her house, it was a free-for-all. Her stuff was put in the garage and we could pick through and get whatever we wanted. It may sound kind of harsh, but it's just stuff, it had to go somewhere, and we might as well get what we want before it goes to the second-hand store.
We had just gotten our first camper and I was fortunate enough to pretty much stock that baby with tools of the trade from Grandma Great's kitchen. The percolator was one little treasure I had to have. I remember having many 'tea' parties with this thing, pouring pop, tea or juice in there and then filling small Cabbage Patch Kid brand tea cups for my parties. My grandma had these glass shot-glasses that us grandkids loved to drink from and I remember using this coffee pot to fill those up too.
So I've attempted to make coffee in this mini pot several times on camping trips and it worked for the most part. (When you're desperate for coffee, won't you drink almost anything? Yep, Jay drank it.) Recently we sold our camper and I had to clean it out. This little guy had been sitting on our counter for a week or so when Jay decided to give it a try. After several attempts at getting it just right, he discovered that this five-cup percolator makes the best coffee ever.
He can't quite "put his finger" on it, but it just tastes better. The added bonus: We don't have five cups of coffee sitting in the coffee pot waiting to be thrown out every day. Jay only drinks about five cups, but has to have ten cups made in the big coffee maker for it to taste right. (Believe me, I have tried to make half a batch and he has busted me every time. Strange. Whatever.)
There's something special about using an item like this, isn't there? I love it when I look around and see things that have meaning. (They didn't just come from the local Wal-Mart.) Even something as simple as a five-cup percolator has 'great value.'
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When Grandma decided it was time to clean out her house, it was a free-for-all. Her stuff was put in the garage and we could pick through and get whatever we wanted. It may sound kind of harsh, but it's just stuff, it had to go somewhere, and we might as well get what we want before it goes to the second-hand store.
We had just gotten our first camper and I was fortunate enough to pretty much stock that baby with tools of the trade from Grandma Great's kitchen. The percolator was one little treasure I had to have. I remember having many 'tea' parties with this thing, pouring pop, tea or juice in there and then filling small Cabbage Patch Kid brand tea cups for my parties. My grandma had these glass shot-glasses that us grandkids loved to drink from and I remember using this coffee pot to fill those up too.
So I've attempted to make coffee in this mini pot several times on camping trips and it worked for the most part. (When you're desperate for coffee, won't you drink almost anything? Yep, Jay drank it.) Recently we sold our camper and I had to clean it out. This little guy had been sitting on our counter for a week or so when Jay decided to give it a try. After several attempts at getting it just right, he discovered that this five-cup percolator makes the best coffee ever.
He can't quite "put his finger" on it, but it just tastes better. The added bonus: We don't have five cups of coffee sitting in the coffee pot waiting to be thrown out every day. Jay only drinks about five cups, but has to have ten cups made in the big coffee maker for it to taste right. (Believe me, I have tried to make half a batch and he has busted me every time. Strange. Whatever.)
There's something special about using an item like this, isn't there? I love it when I look around and see things that have meaning. (They didn't just come from the local Wal-Mart.) Even something as simple as a five-cup percolator has 'great value.'
Thursday, April 17, 2014
The Shoe Shelf
A while back our cute little shop in town closed. They had a close-out sale before shutting the doors and I bought this really cool double-decker shelf. The moment I saw it, I knew I had to have it...I had no idea where it was going, only that it was going home with me.
When Jay picked it up and brought it home, he asked me what I was going to do with it. I had no clue. I tried it out in the bedroom. I'm wanting a new dresser and thought maybe it would work. I folded jeans and pants and stored them away on the shelf. And then thought, who am I kidding? Those neatly folded clothes are not going to last more than a day and then it will be just another disaster I have to stare at. Nope, this is not going to be my new dresser.
Then it hit me. We have such a cluster mess of shoes at the back door. It is a total disaster...and that is where a majority of people enter our house. The first thing they see is a mass explosion of shoes. And try to find the match to the one you're looking for - it's nearly impossible. My new shelf was going to be the solution to our shoe problem.
Each of us now has our own shelf, which will hold three pair of shoes. There is no reason for any one of us to have more than that at the back door. Our rubber boots don't fit in the shelf, so they have a spot next to the shoe shelf, and once winter decides to leave us for good, I can put the winter tote in the attic and it will look even better back there.
The top two shelves have ball gloves, bird feed, gloves and hats, flashlights, ammo, just various odds and ends that usually sit on top of my clothes dryer...or on the floor.
The shoe shelf is a very simple concept. You come in the house and you put your shoes on the shelf. If they don't fit on your shelf, you have exceeded the three-shoe maximum and those shoes need to go in your bedroom. There have been several shoe shelf violations. The family thinks it's funny and don't understand why I'm obsessed with the order of the shoes. I even hear little comments like, "Uh-oh, shoe violation, mom's gonna be mad!" Right you are. Put your shoes on the shelf, people!
Here's the scoop - the laundry room/back door area is very small. The rest of my house looks like a natural disaster. I love having my laundry room area organized and looking decent...because, as I said before, this is where most people come into the house. (I can always tell when my mom has stopped in and had a few extra minutes...the shoes are lined up in rows along the wall.) When I have control of that small room, I feel like I'm with the program, you know. And now if I could just keep guests confined to that area, I'd feel pretty good.
The shoe shelf has brought order to our left-by-the-backdoor footwear and I love it. All I ask is that my family abide by the shoe shelf rules and regulations. If not, I'm going to have to come up with some penalties for those habitual shoe shelf violators.
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Turkey Time
I kid you not, I think my almost-ten-year-old son could be outside shooting at something every spare minute he has. He's an up-with-the-sun kind of kid, and now that it is daylight earlier, he eats his breakfast, gets ready for school and heads outside with his gun until it is time to go to school.
The same is true for after school...as long as an adult is at home. Thankfully, at this point, he does abide by that rule. No adult - no shooting anything but a BB gun. I'm sure his older sister will tattle on him the minute he tries to sneak through that one.
We are hunters and gun owners. We believe in teaching children how to use guns and use them properly, safely and humanely. Both of our kiddos, as well as ourselves, have passed the hunter safety course. Although I know accidents can happen, and I'm not foolish enough to believe they couldn't happen to us, I am proud of my little hunter and his passion for hunting.
He went turkey hunting for the first time this weekend and got one. He shot the turkey in the neck, which is a pretty narrow hit. Jay told me that he didn't really think Lane would make the shot at the distance they were at, but he had to go for it. And he did! All the target practice is paying off.
We actually ate half of that turkey for supper last night and it was delicious. Yes, it is a little tougher than a Butterball, and maybe Jay found a couple pieces of shot, but hey, we believe in eating what we harvest (for the most part). I'm not too fond of fowl like duck, goose, pheasant, etc., but Jay will eat it - he will eat almost anything. Madolyn was weirded out by the 'wild' turkey, but has no trouble eating the pork we receive from pigs raised in our barn. Hmm.
The older I get, the more I realize these types of life lessons will never go out of style or become extinct. No matter what happens, we need to eat. And if push comes to shove, hopefully my little guy will be able to provide for his future family (and his ailing parents).
The same is true for after school...as long as an adult is at home. Thankfully, at this point, he does abide by that rule. No adult - no shooting anything but a BB gun. I'm sure his older sister will tattle on him the minute he tries to sneak through that one.
We are hunters and gun owners. We believe in teaching children how to use guns and use them properly, safely and humanely. Both of our kiddos, as well as ourselves, have passed the hunter safety course. Although I know accidents can happen, and I'm not foolish enough to believe they couldn't happen to us, I am proud of my little hunter and his passion for hunting.
He went turkey hunting for the first time this weekend and got one. He shot the turkey in the neck, which is a pretty narrow hit. Jay told me that he didn't really think Lane would make the shot at the distance they were at, but he had to go for it. And he did! All the target practice is paying off.
We actually ate half of that turkey for supper last night and it was delicious. Yes, it is a little tougher than a Butterball, and maybe Jay found a couple pieces of shot, but hey, we believe in eating what we harvest (for the most part). I'm not too fond of fowl like duck, goose, pheasant, etc., but Jay will eat it - he will eat almost anything. Madolyn was weirded out by the 'wild' turkey, but has no trouble eating the pork we receive from pigs raised in our barn. Hmm.
The older I get, the more I realize these types of life lessons will never go out of style or become extinct. No matter what happens, we need to eat. And if push comes to shove, hopefully my little guy will be able to provide for his future family (and his ailing parents).
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Quirky cat
The quirks of a cat are never few and far between, are they? It is sooo funny how a cat can have such a personality. Dogs just aren't near as fun.
Sweet Josie is no longer a little kitten. She is becoming a pot-bellied cat. We decided a month ago to scale back on her food intake. Instead of always keep her food dish(es) full, we fill one dish in the morning and one at night. She will politely sit near her dish if it is empty unless she's not being noticed, and at such time, she will find one morsel and continuously drop it over and over in the metal dish, which creates the tinkling sound to get my attention. "Hey, I'm starving over here..."
Anyway, we think the 'diet' is helping the pot belly.
Josie has turned into that cat that has discovered morning wake-up calls, alarm clocks and when you are not up on her time. She sleeps down at the foot of the bed against my legs and won't rest until I am out of bed in the morning. I'm not one to sleep in past 6:30, but she would prefer 6:00 a.m. or earlier. It is amazing how she can find ways to make irritating noises that cannot be ignored. We can't even shut the bedroom door because she will jump up and hit the handle over and over and over...until you give up...she will not.
And most of the time, if Jay is at work and I'm alone in bed, she'll jump up on the bed, sit where his pillow is and start digging under the covers for my flesh. I'm not kidding. She will reach way under the covers to find my hand or arm and start poking at me.
Her newest fetish is the bathroom sink. We do not have the drain stopper in, never have. Jay doesn't like them. So it's just an open drain. Kitty loves dropping random objects down there. It took us a while to figure that out. "Where are the tweezers?" "Someone had to take the tweezers from the bathroom!" (Okay, I have to admit, we blame our kids for things we don't have explanation for a lot.) We had seen Josie carrying the tweezers into the living room before, but honestly thought the kids had used them and not returned them. Then Madolyn discovered her necklace was missing. The last place she had it was our bathroom vanity - she had taken it off before her shower. It was gone. Weird.
One night we heard the kitty on the bathroom counter, shuffling stuff around, and realized what was going on. Jay took the bathroom sink trap off and found tweezers and Mad's necklace. This has happened a couple of times since, and presently, there is at least one hair clip, that I know of, down the drain. Josie was watching me get ready the other morning, I walked away and heard the clanking noise...there went the clip I use when I'm straightening my hair. I guess she just wants to be noticed.
She also loves the drip-drip-drip of water. If I turn the handle just right, there is a slight drip and she loves grabbing a drink. She will stare at the dripping for a while and then go for the plunge. I think she is fascinated by things going down the drain...and while she's at it, I guess she gets real thirsty.
I had been getting after the kids about deep holes appearing in the drywall. Spots I remembered to be small marks on the wall were growing. You can actually see a bare nail in the hallway by Lane's door and I accused him of picking at it until the nail head was exposed. He denied it, but I was skeptical. Later, he blamed Sweet Josie. Yeah, I've been there, done that, pal.
Until...I saw Jo jumping up and scraping the wall by our bedroom. Somehow or another, we have lost the door guard thingy that goes on the baseboard to protect the wall from the door handle and a small dent developed in the drywall. It wasn't a big deal, except that Josie discovered it and began jumping up and swiping at it...repeatedly. Hmm, so she WAS the one that was making these holes in my drywall. Not Lane. Oops. I don't know what it is about drywall, but Josie sure likes it.
I guess what it comes down to is this: We have a super cute kitty we call Sweet Josie, who causes quite a ruckus and is very destructive. She fits right in.
Sweet Josie is no longer a little kitten. She is becoming a pot-bellied cat. We decided a month ago to scale back on her food intake. Instead of always keep her food dish(es) full, we fill one dish in the morning and one at night. She will politely sit near her dish if it is empty unless she's not being noticed, and at such time, she will find one morsel and continuously drop it over and over in the metal dish, which creates the tinkling sound to get my attention. "Hey, I'm starving over here..."
Anyway, we think the 'diet' is helping the pot belly.
Josie has turned into that cat that has discovered morning wake-up calls, alarm clocks and when you are not up on her time. She sleeps down at the foot of the bed against my legs and won't rest until I am out of bed in the morning. I'm not one to sleep in past 6:30, but she would prefer 6:00 a.m. or earlier. It is amazing how she can find ways to make irritating noises that cannot be ignored. We can't even shut the bedroom door because she will jump up and hit the handle over and over and over...until you give up...she will not.
And most of the time, if Jay is at work and I'm alone in bed, she'll jump up on the bed, sit where his pillow is and start digging under the covers for my flesh. I'm not kidding. She will reach way under the covers to find my hand or arm and start poking at me.
Her newest fetish is the bathroom sink. We do not have the drain stopper in, never have. Jay doesn't like them. So it's just an open drain. Kitty loves dropping random objects down there. It took us a while to figure that out. "Where are the tweezers?" "Someone had to take the tweezers from the bathroom!" (Okay, I have to admit, we blame our kids for things we don't have explanation for a lot.) We had seen Josie carrying the tweezers into the living room before, but honestly thought the kids had used them and not returned them. Then Madolyn discovered her necklace was missing. The last place she had it was our bathroom vanity - she had taken it off before her shower. It was gone. Weird.
One night we heard the kitty on the bathroom counter, shuffling stuff around, and realized what was going on. Jay took the bathroom sink trap off and found tweezers and Mad's necklace. This has happened a couple of times since, and presently, there is at least one hair clip, that I know of, down the drain. Josie was watching me get ready the other morning, I walked away and heard the clanking noise...there went the clip I use when I'm straightening my hair. I guess she just wants to be noticed.
She also loves the drip-drip-drip of water. If I turn the handle just right, there is a slight drip and she loves grabbing a drink. She will stare at the dripping for a while and then go for the plunge. I think she is fascinated by things going down the drain...and while she's at it, I guess she gets real thirsty.
I had been getting after the kids about deep holes appearing in the drywall. Spots I remembered to be small marks on the wall were growing. You can actually see a bare nail in the hallway by Lane's door and I accused him of picking at it until the nail head was exposed. He denied it, but I was skeptical. Later, he blamed Sweet Josie. Yeah, I've been there, done that, pal.
Until...I saw Jo jumping up and scraping the wall by our bedroom. Somehow or another, we have lost the door guard thingy that goes on the baseboard to protect the wall from the door handle and a small dent developed in the drywall. It wasn't a big deal, except that Josie discovered it and began jumping up and swiping at it...repeatedly. Hmm, so she WAS the one that was making these holes in my drywall. Not Lane. Oops. I don't know what it is about drywall, but Josie sure likes it.
I guess what it comes down to is this: We have a super cute kitty we call Sweet Josie, who causes quite a ruckus and is very destructive. She fits right in.
Saturday, February 8, 2014
January 2014 Snow Fun
Well, I guess we're making up for lost time this year. Seems like every year, my kids are disappointed with the snowfall. I think they are highly satisfied this year. The downside has been the super cold temperatures.
Early in January we had about a foot of snow. We did make it to French Lick that weekend prior and had a great time in the water park. We headed back a little early the next day and hit snow about thirty minutes from home. We didn't leave the house again for a full 48 hours. We couldn't. It wasn't even possible to attempt an escape because of the high snow drifts on our lane and on the road.
We lost power for about 23 hours and it almost did us in. Not being able to leave and not having electricity in this day and age is not a good combination. We did figure out a few things though:
1) You can cook a frozen pizza on a gas range, using a cookie sheet and tin foil. It actually was delicious. 2) Running the car in the garage with a converter hooked to the battery will run the TV or charge two devices. 3) Headlamps are awesome. I wore one while knitting a hat. Jay wore one walking around the house. They are great. You need them in your house. 4) Although the pigs in the barn need heat, so does the family in the house. However, removing heat from the barn to bring to the house will result in busted water lines. 5) No matter how awesome this thing called WIFI is, if you do not have electricity, the WIFI does not work. It took a while for the kids to accept this.
6) We will survive, even if we have to resort to old-fashion fun...which doesn't require WIFI. 7) Regardless of how bad you think you have it, someone else has it worse. Our power was only out 23 hours, others were without it much longer.
As always, it's not as bad as it seems at the time. The next day our power was restored, which was great, even though we were still snowed in for a while.
About mid-day, our road was opened up and our drive was plowed. Jay went on to work. I attempted to leave and got about 50 feet from the garage before returning. I just stayed home. Jay took this picture on his way to work about a half mile from our house. It had been a very, very tall snowdrift. Even the V-plow had a little trouble busting through it.
I took advantage of the snow days and tried out a new Fair Isle hat pattern. (See, I don't need power to fuel my addiction...just a headlamp.) I think I need more snow days!
We lost power for about 23 hours and it almost did us in. Not being able to leave and not having electricity in this day and age is not a good combination. We did figure out a few things though:
As always, it's not as bad as it seems at the time. The next day our power was restored, which was great, even though we were still snowed in for a while.
Monday, February 3, 2014
"About 20 minutes"
Last week I had another cooking fiasco that supports my theory that although, for many, a woman's place is in the kitchen, I fit into the better-in-the-barn category.
I'm back on the Weight Watcher's wagon (it is a new year, you know), and I was perusing the recipes on their website. I stumbled upon a roasted sirloin beef that had great reviews and looked fairly simple. My family loves meat, it's a healthy meal...it's a win-win situation. Yes.
I found the perfect sirloin and made sure I had everything to prepare the meat before I left for my weekly Weight Watcher's meeting. I read over the recipe at least three times and knew I could attend the meeting, come home, prepare the beef and not starve to death in the process. It was a quick fix, the recipe said 20 minutes in the oven. Sweet. My family would love me - they love beef!
So I do just that. I attend the meeting, come home and get right to work rubbing down the sirloin. I put it in the oven and start some vegetables in the microwave because it will be quick. (Yes, I happen to love the frozen veggies that you can just throw in the microwave.)
Meanwhile, my family is quizzing me on supper, wanting to snack on anything and everything, and I'm trying to maintain my composure because I, too, am ready to gnaw a finger off. Weigh-in/Meeting night is particularly rough because you try to be so good until you weigh in.
Hang on, I said, it will just be about 20 minutes.
Here is the key sentence in this recipe: "Roast until a thermometer inserted in center of beef reads a minimum of 145ºF, about 20 minutes." This is the sentence I was fixated on and had complete and total faith in. I read and reread this sentence several times over the course of the next 90 minutes wondering what happened to the "about 20 minutes" aspect.
I was even more puzzled by the comments in the review section that suggested not cooking it quite as long as called for because the meat was tough. Again, I kept thinking, less than 20 minutes cooking time for a 2.5 lb beef roast? Hmm, but I checked and double-checked and that is what it said. So we waited.
This is where a very average cook like myself has trouble. I know just enough to be dangerous and not enough to realize there is no way, this side of heaven, I can cook a 2.5 lb beef roast for 20 minutes in the oven and it be fit to eat.
I had to wrangle Jay in and get his opinion. He couldn't see how it could possibly be done in 20 minutes either. We got the roast out, stuck the meat thermometer in, returned it to the oven and waited. Again, more analyzing of the recipe took place, and finally it dawned on me that "about 20 minutes" pertained to how long the stupid meat thermometer was supposed to read 145 degrees! Because there were no other references to time, I just assumed that "about 20 minutes" was it.
There are those moments you look back on and realize, duh, I'm such an idiot. How could I possibly believe I could cook a 2.5 lb sirloin in 20 minutes? (I think Grandma Great would find this humorous.)
After at least 90 minutes, we sliced up the medium-rare sirloin roast, warmed up the almost-back-to-frozen vegetables and ate our supper. Fortunately, my family likes rare meat. If it were not so, it might have been midnight before we were ready to dine.
Someone, anyone, open a local restaurant where you can order complete take-home meals at a decent price...and I will be there in about 20 minutes.
I'm back on the Weight Watcher's wagon (it is a new year, you know), and I was perusing the recipes on their website. I stumbled upon a roasted sirloin beef that had great reviews and looked fairly simple. My family loves meat, it's a healthy meal...it's a win-win situation. Yes.
I found the perfect sirloin and made sure I had everything to prepare the meat before I left for my weekly Weight Watcher's meeting. I read over the recipe at least three times and knew I could attend the meeting, come home, prepare the beef and not starve to death in the process. It was a quick fix, the recipe said 20 minutes in the oven. Sweet. My family would love me - they love beef!
So I do just that. I attend the meeting, come home and get right to work rubbing down the sirloin. I put it in the oven and start some vegetables in the microwave because it will be quick. (Yes, I happen to love the frozen veggies that you can just throw in the microwave.)
Meanwhile, my family is quizzing me on supper, wanting to snack on anything and everything, and I'm trying to maintain my composure because I, too, am ready to gnaw a finger off. Weigh-in/Meeting night is particularly rough because you try to be so good until you weigh in.
Hang on, I said, it will just be about 20 minutes.
Here is the key sentence in this recipe: "Roast until a thermometer inserted in center of beef reads a minimum of 145ºF, about 20 minutes." This is the sentence I was fixated on and had complete and total faith in. I read and reread this sentence several times over the course of the next 90 minutes wondering what happened to the "about 20 minutes" aspect.
I was even more puzzled by the comments in the review section that suggested not cooking it quite as long as called for because the meat was tough. Again, I kept thinking, less than 20 minutes cooking time for a 2.5 lb beef roast? Hmm, but I checked and double-checked and that is what it said. So we waited.
This is where a very average cook like myself has trouble. I know just enough to be dangerous and not enough to realize there is no way, this side of heaven, I can cook a 2.5 lb beef roast for 20 minutes in the oven and it be fit to eat.
I had to wrangle Jay in and get his opinion. He couldn't see how it could possibly be done in 20 minutes either. We got the roast out, stuck the meat thermometer in, returned it to the oven and waited. Again, more analyzing of the recipe took place, and finally it dawned on me that "about 20 minutes" pertained to how long the stupid meat thermometer was supposed to read 145 degrees! Because there were no other references to time, I just assumed that "about 20 minutes" was it.
There are those moments you look back on and realize, duh, I'm such an idiot. How could I possibly believe I could cook a 2.5 lb sirloin in 20 minutes? (I think Grandma Great would find this humorous.)
After at least 90 minutes, we sliced up the medium-rare sirloin roast, warmed up the almost-back-to-frozen vegetables and ate our supper. Fortunately, my family likes rare meat. If it were not so, it might have been midnight before we were ready to dine.
Someone, anyone, open a local restaurant where you can order complete take-home meals at a decent price...and I will be there in about 20 minutes.
Thursday, January 9, 2014
A sigh - a sign?
The Merriam-Webster dictionary gives the following as the definition of the verb, sigh:
: to take in and let out a long, loud breath in a way that shows you are bored, disappointed, relieved, etc.
: to make a sound like sighing
: to take in and let out a long, loud breath in a way that shows you are bored, disappointed, relieved, etc.
: to make a sound like sighing
: to say (something) with a sigh
I would say that I am not a sigher (my made-up word for this post). I feel confident about that statement because I am around at least three people who sigh...a lot. I know for certain I do not sigh as much as some people, if indeed I do sigh.
I guess I have never really noticed people who sigh until recently...thanks to the three sighers of whom I speak.
I won't throw out any names, you can try and guess them on your own, but I will start off with Sigher #1. This person sighs a lot, sighs loudly, and almost growls as the sigh is expelled. Many times I want to holler out, "Is there something I can help you with?" because I am assuming that the sigh is a sign that there is a problem...and perhaps this person wants my assistance?? Most likely it is frustration with whatever #1 is doing, but honestly, if #1 doesn't want my help, then stop with the incessant sighing...
Moving onto Sigher #2 . #2 doesn't necessarily sigh a lot, but when he or she does sigh, it is loud enough for all the world to hear, and again, I can't help but wonder if that is intended for my ears and/or if it is a cry for help. Other times, I feel like it's my sign that #2 is having difficulties, doesn't really want my help, but wants to make certain I realize things are not going smoothly...as if to one-up me.
And finally, Sigher #3. #3 is just at that stage in life (I'm hoping) where everything is just one big sigh. I'm not even sure if #3 realizes how much they sigh. It's almost as if it has become an unconscious habit or something. If you just stop and wait for #3 to sigh, it is comical how many times you will hear it. And once again, do I offer some assistance? No, because I don't know anything of importance, I cannot possibly understand their situation, and frankly, I think it boils down to #3's age and stage in life. We can only hope...*sigh*
I have decided that even the Precious Hank the Tank II has picked up on the sighing...
It is funny how much I have tuned into the sighing during the last couple of weeks...perhaps because I have heard it consistently from all three sighers...or maybe I just have really good hearing. *sigh*
Friday, January 3, 2014
Weather Forecastin' Family right here.
As luck would have it, a winter storm warning/advisory/watch of historical proportions is predicted over the weekend and early part of next week for the Midwest. Six weeks ago when Jay had been working for what seemed like an eternity, I made reservations to the French Lick Water Park/Resort for the family (three other families are going also) for this very weekend.
Jay says not everything is about me. I realize this (or at least I'm trying to). But I really am starting to wonder if my/our purpose in life is to predict nasty weather. It seems we cannot go anywhere outside of Clark County (and many times at our local state park in county) without being blessed with unpleasant weather. It appears as if it follows us where 'ere we go...you know what I'm saying.
It is January, and the heart of the winter season, but still. There are like, what, 15 weekends during winter...this weekend is just ONE of them. Last March we went to Branson with the 4-H Horse Club and drove home in some of the worst winter weather I've ever been out in. It was frightening at times.
Just this morning, Madolyn and I were talking about that treacherous drive home, how scary/stupid it was, etc. And guess what? We are heading east tomorrow as soon as volleyball practice is over. Yee-Haw.
My advice to you - go in the exact opposite direction of where the Wilhoit's plan on being. And go to Wal-Mart before the weather advisory hits the airwaves...Stay safe and warm, friends!!
Jay says not everything is about me. I realize this (or at least I'm trying to). But I really am starting to wonder if my/our purpose in life is to predict nasty weather. It seems we cannot go anywhere outside of Clark County (and many times at our local state park in county) without being blessed with unpleasant weather. It appears as if it follows us where 'ere we go...you know what I'm saying.
It is January, and the heart of the winter season, but still. There are like, what, 15 weekends during winter...this weekend is just ONE of them. Last March we went to Branson with the 4-H Horse Club and drove home in some of the worst winter weather I've ever been out in. It was frightening at times.
Just this morning, Madolyn and I were talking about that treacherous drive home, how scary/stupid it was, etc. And guess what? We are heading east tomorrow as soon as volleyball practice is over. Yee-Haw.
My advice to you - go in the exact opposite direction of where the Wilhoit's plan on being. And go to Wal-Mart before the weather advisory hits the airwaves...Stay safe and warm, friends!!
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
'80s on Eight - I think so.
I'm pretty sure that Sirius/XM Radio was created, in part, to torture young children. That is my take on it anyway. I had XM radio many years ago when I commuted to work. At first, I thought it was silly to pay for radio, but once I had it, I was hooked. I listened to a lot of Dave Ramsey shows over the years, and it helped pass the time as I drove many miles.
Jay has Sirius in his truck, but I'm not in there a whole lot. I traded vehicles a couple weeks ago and it came with a year subscription to Sirius...and I am loving it! Eighties on Eight and Nineties on Nine are fabulous. I must admit I enjoy a little Hairnation too! I love, love, love to hear music from my younger years. What is it about the power of music that it can take you back to a particular time - the very moment you hear a certain song?
One of the other things I like about the Sirius radio is it gives you the name of the song, the artist or band and the year it was released. I love telling my kids, hey, I loved this song...back when I was only ten years old, etc.
And the kids think it is just torturous when Jay and I are in the front seat with our favorite channels on, singing along and blasting those sweet tunes as loud as we can. They beg us to turn the channel, make faces, huff and puff...and we love it.
If I really want to make them crazy, I put it back to the Sixties on Six channel. I love music from that decade and they really think it's archaic. The Beatles, the Turtles, the Monkees, CCR...oh yeah!
The night before Thanksgiving, I took Madolyn and some of her friends to watch Catching Fire. On the way home (sometime around midnight - I was having trouble with tired eyes), I decided I had had enough of their obnoxious music, turned the radio to my tunes...and sang along to keep me awake and to help keep my sanity. It was so funny, Michael Jackson's "Thriller" came on and I piped up and told the kids, "I remember getting this RECORD for Christmas." Immediately after that, a Men At Work song came on, and I laughed and told them that the very same year, my brother got that record for Christmas.
I'm sure they didn't appreciate that little blast from my past, but it made me smile. I love music, lots of different kinds of music, and how they connect us to our memories. And I will continue to Rock On to the detriment of my children...
Jay has Sirius in his truck, but I'm not in there a whole lot. I traded vehicles a couple weeks ago and it came with a year subscription to Sirius...and I am loving it! Eighties on Eight and Nineties on Nine are fabulous. I must admit I enjoy a little Hairnation too! I love, love, love to hear music from my younger years. What is it about the power of music that it can take you back to a particular time - the very moment you hear a certain song?
One of the other things I like about the Sirius radio is it gives you the name of the song, the artist or band and the year it was released. I love telling my kids, hey, I loved this song...back when I was only ten years old, etc.
And the kids think it is just torturous when Jay and I are in the front seat with our favorite channels on, singing along and blasting those sweet tunes as loud as we can. They beg us to turn the channel, make faces, huff and puff...and we love it.
If I really want to make them crazy, I put it back to the Sixties on Six channel. I love music from that decade and they really think it's archaic. The Beatles, the Turtles, the Monkees, CCR...oh yeah!
The night before Thanksgiving, I took Madolyn and some of her friends to watch Catching Fire. On the way home (sometime around midnight - I was having trouble with tired eyes), I decided I had had enough of their obnoxious music, turned the radio to my tunes...and sang along to keep me awake and to help keep my sanity. It was so funny, Michael Jackson's "Thriller" came on and I piped up and told the kids, "I remember getting this RECORD for Christmas." Immediately after that, a Men At Work song came on, and I laughed and told them that the very same year, my brother got that record for Christmas.
I'm sure they didn't appreciate that little blast from my past, but it made me smile. I love music, lots of different kinds of music, and how they connect us to our memories. And I will continue to Rock On to the detriment of my children...
Friday, July 22, 2011
The dog did it.
And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free. (John 8:32 NLT)
I am guessing when I was about eight, my parents decided to let me try out the lawnmower. I had begged and begged to learn how to mow. I had learned how to drive the three-wheeler, and surely if I could drive a three-wheeler, I could drive a four-wheeled lawnmower. I think it was a Cub Cadet, maybe that was later, I can't remember. I know it wasn't a Snapper. My grandparents loved those Snappers and those things cracked me up. They were so goofy looking. Anyway...
I don't recall how many times I had actually mowed the yard before the little incident with the tree and the mower occurred. Oh, I should say we had a lab at the time. I'm not sure if that was Ozzie, our yellow lab, or if it was the one right before that, Nellie, maybe. Oh well, it's hard to remember so many pets, you know. Getting back to my story, I was zipping along with the big mighty mower mowing the grass around the growing, but somewhat powerless wind break, when I accidentally, of course, ran over a poor defenseless little pine tree. Zip, zip, and it was gone. When I say little, I mean little as in comparison to a full-size tree. These had been growing probably at least three years so they were a couple feet tall. I plowed that thing over, chewed it up and spit it out.
Oh, crap I thought...I'm dead. My dad is gonna kill me. I'll never be able to mow again. I remember thinking I've got to come up with some story, a logical one, something he'll believe, you know, because I love to mow and he finally had trusted me to mow. So I thought it over and mustered up the courage to tell dad the one and only explanation I could think of...The dog did it.
If you've had a Labrador, you know that a Lab can destroy just about anything...even if it seems unbelievable... well, I guess, maybe not slicing a pine tree. Trying to convince my father that the dog had laid on the tree, and as a result, had cut, with razor-like perfection, the stem off at the base didn't work. And of course, I crumbled like a stale cookie but, thankfully, he got over it and let me mow again...many times.
I tried this little story one other time, about 12 months ago. I love to mow. I find it peaceful and relaxing. We planted a wind break several years ago and have continued to plant and replant trees thanks to the animals that graze our pasture...I mean, yard. I got on our tractor one day last summer and was cruising right along when it happened AGAIN...somehow that little bush-hog just crept over a little too far and, whack, took down a tree. I didn't say a word until Jay noticed and inquired...and only then did I confess, hey, don't blame me, I guess the dog did it...
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