So I worked Monday.
Popcorn had tumbling.
This means that Brent has to grab the girls directly from the bus rush her to throw on some tumble appropriate attire and head out the door. Apparently in the midst of this chaos and rush, rush, rush, our neighborhood LDS boys came by for an offer of prayer.
"Hi, I'm Elder Ott and this is Elder Frock. We were wondering if there was anything you needed to pray about today."
Elder Ott and Elder Frock? Surely he misheard. So, he took a gander at their handy dandy name tags, complete with religious affiliation. Just in case he wasn't clear on who they were based on white shirts and black ties...Sure enough. Elder Ott and Elder Frock.
He's so mature. He immediately began to grin great big and swallow back his laughter. "No, not today. But we go to a great church if you'd like to come join us on Sundays. Our pastor is great. He does a lot of teaching out of the Bible. We'd love to have you come visit." And he told them the location and times of service.
"Yeah, we know that one, it's a really big church. Well, do you know anyone in your neighborhood that might need prayer?"
Brent helpfully said, "You can visit the house at the end on the left. Knock on their door and maybe you can get them to come."
"Do you know their name?" asked one of the Elders.
"No, you rarely see them, but maybe you can get them to come out in the daylight."
"Is this a setup?" Apparently Elder Ott and Elder Frock haven't always experienced love and kindness in their prayer walks...
"No! I've just never seen them outside. It's like the Sasquatch that lives in your neighborhood. You KNOW he's there, but you never see him."
And at this Elder Ott and Elder Frock turned around and walked away.
Huh. Such a surprise.
Stay tuned, there's more to come! Tomorrow we will learn about Brent's "street cred." It promises to be an exciting adventure!
Showing posts with label studmuffin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label studmuffin. Show all posts
Thursday, November 7, 2013
Thursday, March 29, 2012
It's All Fun and Games Until the Cops Show Up
Last Saturday night as we sat around the fire, eating ourselves sick delicately snacking on S'Mores, Studmuffin suddenly sat straight up in his chair and announced "I think I have a roman candle in the garage!" And he was already rising and heading to the garage before he got the sentence out.
"Is that legal?" Popcorn asked with great big eyes.
"No. It's not." I gave her (and her father) my no nonsense tone...
Studmuffin came jogging up to the fire pit and then he leaned forward to LIGHT THE STUPID THING IN THE FIRE, while the children ran for the house so they would be safe when the cops showed up.
I sputtered and stammered as I had horrific visions of that stupid thing, left over from July 4th, exploding in his hand...
He simply looked at me with a crazed, "I'm so doing this and nothings going to stop me" look in his eyes.
And the fireworks began.
And then they were over. And Bookworm came away from the safety of the storm door, laughing with relief that Daddy didn't have a horrific burn from unsafe handling of fireworks, and Popcorn eventually made her way back to the fire sniffling and worrying that the cops were going to come and take Daddy away.
"Oh, Baby. He won't get arrested. At most he will have to pay a fine. Like he had to do a few times before he decided that seat belts weren't really uncomfortable at all."
She slowly stopped her crying, looked me dead in the eye, and said:
"Do NOT blog this."
I'm not at ALL sure he was remorseful.
Not. At. All.
"Is that legal?" Popcorn asked with great big eyes.
"No. It's not." I gave her (and her father) my no nonsense tone...
Studmuffin came jogging up to the fire pit and then he leaned forward to LIGHT THE STUPID THING IN THE FIRE, while the children ran for the house so they would be safe when the cops showed up.
I sputtered and stammered as I had horrific visions of that stupid thing, left over from July 4th, exploding in his hand...
He simply looked at me with a crazed, "I'm so doing this and nothings going to stop me" look in his eyes.
And the fireworks began.
And then they were over. And Bookworm came away from the safety of the storm door, laughing with relief that Daddy didn't have a horrific burn from unsafe handling of fireworks, and Popcorn eventually made her way back to the fire sniffling and worrying that the cops were going to come and take Daddy away.
"Oh, Baby. He won't get arrested. At most he will have to pay a fine. Like he had to do a few times before he decided that seat belts weren't really uncomfortable at all."
She slowly stopped her crying, looked me dead in the eye, and said:
"Do NOT blog this."
I'm not at ALL sure he was remorseful.
Not. At. All.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Updates
I found the dead smell in my garage...
Thankfully it was NOT the missing cat...Merely a mouse that I actually discovered AFTER the stench went away.
I discovered it because my garage door wasn't working one day...
Then I realized the deep freeze wasn't running...
And then I realized NONE of the outlets in the garage worked...
And then I envisioned a dead cat with a chewed cord in it's mouth...Because the puppy was still alive so OBVIOUSLY it wasn't her...
But alas, it was a receptacle that had gone bad due to a long story that I shall not explain as it's too tedious...Let's just say Studmuffin replaced the receptacle and all is well, and the meat in the freezer was still good...
Whew!
Oh, did I mention this all happened the same day I found ANOTHER black widow in my house? The pest control dude came, and sprayed the inside and out and bombed the attic, and explained that it was merely because it is getting cold so they were trying to get in...
I mentioned I really don't care why they are there, they simply shouldn't be!!! So, over Thanksgiving I will grab some hedge apples to put in baskets at my doors to see if that helps. My sister, the giver of information, told me they are supposed to repel insects...
I think we may have kittens in January...
Freckles is apparently no longer a kitten if her trampy ways are anything to go buy. Two tom cats had a fight on our front porch last week. And last Wednesday she came in with a wet neck...
Popcorn pointed out she must have found a mate...
And I was a little shocked to realize how nonchalant and well versed my child was about the mating rituals of animals...
I think we will bring her in the house in the week or so before she's due so we won't have to worry about Oliver getting the kittens. Brent has NOT come around to this way of thinkin'...
If I fail to convince him of the joy of a basket of kittens in a closet, then perhaps we will put a litter box in the shop so she can have them in the boat...Because that's where ALL of the cats have kittens at my parents! And Oliver can't get in the shop if we are vigilant to keep him out...
And the threat of kittens in his boat is a sure way to let us have kittens in the house!!!
Not that I'm manipulative like that or anything...
And then, of course we must KEEP Freckles in the house so we can get her spayed BEFORE she goes back in heat...Because while I REALLY want one litter of kittens to snuggle and enjoy on a cold winter's day...I do not want ENDLESS litters of kittens!
Now. I really should get some house work done...Or at the very least get out of my pajamas. I have a date with my niece Brooke today after she finishes touring OU. I haven't seen her in ages, so that will be great!
Thankfully it was NOT the missing cat...Merely a mouse that I actually discovered AFTER the stench went away.
I discovered it because my garage door wasn't working one day...
Then I realized the deep freeze wasn't running...
And then I realized NONE of the outlets in the garage worked...
And then I envisioned a dead cat with a chewed cord in it's mouth...Because the puppy was still alive so OBVIOUSLY it wasn't her...
But alas, it was a receptacle that had gone bad due to a long story that I shall not explain as it's too tedious...Let's just say Studmuffin replaced the receptacle and all is well, and the meat in the freezer was still good...
Whew!
Oh, did I mention this all happened the same day I found ANOTHER black widow in my house? The pest control dude came, and sprayed the inside and out and bombed the attic, and explained that it was merely because it is getting cold so they were trying to get in...
I mentioned I really don't care why they are there, they simply shouldn't be!!! So, over Thanksgiving I will grab some hedge apples to put in baskets at my doors to see if that helps. My sister, the giver of information, told me they are supposed to repel insects...
I think we may have kittens in January...
Freckles is apparently no longer a kitten if her trampy ways are anything to go buy. Two tom cats had a fight on our front porch last week. And last Wednesday she came in with a wet neck...
Popcorn pointed out she must have found a mate...
And I was a little shocked to realize how nonchalant and well versed my child was about the mating rituals of animals...
I think we will bring her in the house in the week or so before she's due so we won't have to worry about Oliver getting the kittens. Brent has NOT come around to this way of thinkin'...
If I fail to convince him of the joy of a basket of kittens in a closet, then perhaps we will put a litter box in the shop so she can have them in the boat...Because that's where ALL of the cats have kittens at my parents! And Oliver can't get in the shop if we are vigilant to keep him out...
And the threat of kittens in his boat is a sure way to let us have kittens in the house!!!
Not that I'm manipulative like that or anything...
And then, of course we must KEEP Freckles in the house so we can get her spayed BEFORE she goes back in heat...Because while I REALLY want one litter of kittens to snuggle and enjoy on a cold winter's day...I do not want ENDLESS litters of kittens!
Now. I really should get some house work done...Or at the very least get out of my pajamas. I have a date with my niece Brooke today after she finishes touring OU. I haven't seen her in ages, so that will be great!
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Red Neckedness
Last Friday, at roughly 6:45am when the sun was just starting to give some light to the world, I heard Kelsey begin to bark. It was her "I'm a big dog and you better watch out because I can totally take you" bark. Or something like that...I don't actually speak dog, but if I did, I'm pretty sure this is how she'd talk.
I was standing at the sink in our kitchen, admiring the view out my front yard waiting patiently for my cup of coffee to finish. My mind was wandering.
"I'm really glad I bought that three dollar tube bird feeder to hang out this window. It seems to make the bird seed go further. And I get to watch birds directly out my window. I wish there were birds out there right now. I wonder when the hummingbirds will come back? Where will I hang this feeder when I put out my nectar feeder? It will have to be some place that I can see easily. And Kelsey can't catch the birds. That limits my possibilities...."
I heard Studmuffin come through the living room, and say something to me, in a hushed voice. I didn't bother to turn around as I heard the back door open and close. I was pretty sure he was going to tell the dog "shut up" and I had not been awake long enough to engage anyone in conversation.
I am NOT a morning person.
Just as I picked up my fresh brewed cup of Donut Shoppe coffee, I hear "Bam! Bam!" What in the world? I turned around, cup of life's blood thankfully unspilled, and firmly grasped in my hand to the back door opening. My husband burst through the door, with his gun on his hip...
"What are you doing? You don't even have shoes on!"
"I woke up to Kelsey barking, looked out our window and four coyotes were in the yard. I thought I'd try and shoot them before they were gone."
I perused his appearance...
"Do you think you could at least have bothered to put some clothes on?"
Yes, Gentle Reader. I know you find such shenanigans distressing and that you are clutching your chest in shock and bewilderment. My husband went out to shoot at coyotes. At 6:45 am. Without his shoes on. In his UNDERWEAR!!!
"Did you at least shoot one?"
"Nah. It was too dark. I couldn't see them through the scope."
Strange that. He couldn't see the coyotes at dawn in a scope that is not night vision...In fact it is a scope that he bought at Gibson's in 1984. Or somewhere around there. Either way.
That thing wasn't helping him bring down any predators at 6:45am.
In his underwear.
Oh, and I know you are just dying to know what he loudly whispered to me: You're gonna want to blog this!
He knows me so well.
I was standing at the sink in our kitchen, admiring the view out my front yard waiting patiently for my cup of coffee to finish. My mind was wandering.
"I'm really glad I bought that three dollar tube bird feeder to hang out this window. It seems to make the bird seed go further. And I get to watch birds directly out my window. I wish there were birds out there right now. I wonder when the hummingbirds will come back? Where will I hang this feeder when I put out my nectar feeder? It will have to be some place that I can see easily. And Kelsey can't catch the birds. That limits my possibilities...."
I heard Studmuffin come through the living room, and say something to me, in a hushed voice. I didn't bother to turn around as I heard the back door open and close. I was pretty sure he was going to tell the dog "shut up" and I had not been awake long enough to engage anyone in conversation.
I am NOT a morning person.
Just as I picked up my fresh brewed cup of Donut Shoppe coffee, I hear "Bam! Bam!" What in the world? I turned around, cup of life's blood thankfully unspilled, and firmly grasped in my hand to the back door opening. My husband burst through the door, with his gun on his hip...
"What are you doing? You don't even have shoes on!"
"I woke up to Kelsey barking, looked out our window and four coyotes were in the yard. I thought I'd try and shoot them before they were gone."
I perused his appearance...
"Do you think you could at least have bothered to put some clothes on?"
Yes, Gentle Reader. I know you find such shenanigans distressing and that you are clutching your chest in shock and bewilderment. My husband went out to shoot at coyotes. At 6:45 am. Without his shoes on. In his UNDERWEAR!!!
"Did you at least shoot one?"
"Nah. It was too dark. I couldn't see them through the scope."
Strange that. He couldn't see the coyotes at dawn in a scope that is not night vision...In fact it is a scope that he bought at Gibson's in 1984. Or somewhere around there. Either way.
That thing wasn't helping him bring down any predators at 6:45am.
In his underwear.
Oh, and I know you are just dying to know what he loudly whispered to me: You're gonna want to blog this!
He knows me so well.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Mother's Day Conversations
*AHEM!!!*
This post is going to start with a serious case of bragging. Because, clearly, I am a hard worker, and you should all feel slovenly in comparison. So pay attention, people!On Saturday, the day before Mother's Day I did the following tasks:
Washed windows.
Washed doors.Washed blinds.
Washed curtains.
Cleaned ceiling fans.
Washed every single light fixture.
Flipped mattress.
Washed all bedding.Cleaned my refrigerator. (I think we had enough penicillin in there to treat a third world country.)
Did 3 additional loads of laundry.On TOP of making monkey bread for breakfast, serving leftover hot dogs for lunch and running to Taco Mayo for dinner (where everyone requested bean and cheese burritos, and I wondered why I didn't make my own at home).
OH! And, I made a fantabulous purchase on my way from returning one of the girls' friends to her parents, and I will share that with you later.
But, returning to conversations regarding Mother's Day:
Bookworm is helping me wash the two windows flanking our front door. They are the easiest to wash, as they have no screen and can't be opened, so no yucky track or sill to clean dirt out of...
Dirks Bentley is blaring from the radio..."Gonna get a little bit siiidewaaaays..."
"So, Mom... Am I going to get paid for this?"
Me, looking slightly surprised, "Well, I guess you probably will. I hadn't really thought about it."
"I was just asking."
And she promptly disappeared to her room, where she only had to wash her own window, but she did make me a Mother's Day card...
Fast forward to 7:30. I have been cleaning since about 9am. I am running high on endorphins and bean burrito with a sense of accomplishment. I am hanging Bookworm's freshly laundered, curtains.
"Wow! My arms and shoulders are tired!"
"I bet they are! But, just think, Mom. You'll get all of this work done today so tomorrow you won't have to!"
Good to know, darling. Good. To. Know.
Next, we can consider this morning. Bookworm and Studmuffin got up bright and early and made me pancakes from scratch, with whole wheat flour (not even my recipe, and they were fabulous), fresh strawberries, and of course coffee.
Bookworm: Mom! Breakfast is ready! Only Dad & I worked on it...
And, I saw that to be true as her sister was on the couch under two blankets watching Disney Channel....
After breakfast, Popcorn addressed her primary concerns in all avenues of her life: Would she have enough time in her day to play.
"Um, Mom? Remember you don't have to do any work today..."
I look around and see the piles of blankets, sleeping bags from sleepovers and piles of unfolded laundry (I said I did them, not folded them all!) There is window screen (new rolls) on the table along with stacks of bills and papers to file or toss....
"Oh? Are YOU going to do all of the work today?"
Popcorn looks slightly distressed, "I don't know," in a voice barely audible, but with her most wheedling smile firmly in place...
"Well, do you think your daddy will do it?"
She ponders this for a minute...
She leans forward, then whispers conspiratorially, "Why don't we just pretend it's not there?"
I like this kid's style.So, I am sitting here blogging, my children are locked in their rooms for the day after a fist fight following church (clearly my children are full of the Spirit following worship), and Studmuffin is folding clothes and watching Science channel. Next, I'm off to clean out my closet. Which may lead to cleaning out junk drawers in my kitchen (sadly, I have about five of those...hanging my head in shame here).
Because I want to.
And it will make me almost as happy as all of those things I did yesterday...
Because, sadly, not much makes me happier than a big list of all the things I've accomplished in one day.
I am a dork.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Nagging
It doesn't work.
Surely you've heard that by now...."Don't nag. It only irritates your husband."
So, being the quiet, demure and submissive wife that I am, I don't nag.
What's the point?
It doesn't work!
Nope.
Instead, I try to play helpless and frail.
Which really doesn't work either... Ya' know, the whole bossy, nursey, I-know-what's-best, assertive personality doesn't bode well for the frail, helpless deal.
Then, I try sticking my chest out and doing the whole bend and snap thing. Hey, I've even been known to offer up certain *ahem* rewards for a job well done.
Which obviously has a pretty good return on the investment.
However, there are times, when even that fails. In those times, I pull out the big guns.
I blog.
For example, did you know what I am getting for Mother's Day?
Yes, I already know.
You see, my Mother's Day gift is the gift that keeps on giving.
And giving.
And giving.
I'm getting new bathroom faucets!
I know, I can feel your jealousy pouring through my computer even as I type. Please. Restrain yourself. Covetousness is NOT appealing.
You see, he OFFERED to buy me new lawn furniture. Which I have wanted forever.
But, we still have Holly, and she will eat any new lawn furniture that we acquire. She ate a pool pump that a fence was built around, so what's to stop her from eating furniture sitting easily within jaws reach?
Plus, two out of three faucets were dripping, and we couldn't get them to stop...
So. I'm pretty sure they will be installed by the end of the day on Mother's Day.
You see, that's the beauty of this here blog. Studmuffin can't let the whole blogosphere know he didn't get my faucets installed!
Post Note: I had started this post and planned to upload pics of the boxes of faucets before Studmuffin got started. In typical, my-husband-is-the-greatest-style, he had the first installed by 8:15 this morning and was started on the second.
Drat. He totally stole my thunder.
Perhaps for Father's Day I'll get him the matching light fixtures for him to install...
Surely you've heard that by now...."Don't nag. It only irritates your husband."
So, being the quiet, demure and submissive wife that I am, I don't nag.
What's the point?
It doesn't work!
Nope.
Instead, I try to play helpless and frail.
Which really doesn't work either... Ya' know, the whole bossy, nursey, I-know-what's-best, assertive personality doesn't bode well for the frail, helpless deal.
Then, I try sticking my chest out and doing the whole bend and snap thing. Hey, I've even been known to offer up certain *ahem* rewards for a job well done.
Which obviously has a pretty good return on the investment.
However, there are times, when even that fails. In those times, I pull out the big guns.
I blog.
For example, did you know what I am getting for Mother's Day?
Yes, I already know.
You see, my Mother's Day gift is the gift that keeps on giving.
And giving.
And giving.
I'm getting new bathroom faucets!
I know, I can feel your jealousy pouring through my computer even as I type. Please. Restrain yourself. Covetousness is NOT appealing.
You see, he OFFERED to buy me new lawn furniture. Which I have wanted forever.
But, we still have Holly, and she will eat any new lawn furniture that we acquire. She ate a pool pump that a fence was built around, so what's to stop her from eating furniture sitting easily within jaws reach?
Plus, two out of three faucets were dripping, and we couldn't get them to stop...
So. I'm pretty sure they will be installed by the end of the day on Mother's Day.
You see, that's the beauty of this here blog. Studmuffin can't let the whole blogosphere know he didn't get my faucets installed!
Post Note: I had started this post and planned to upload pics of the boxes of faucets before Studmuffin got started. In typical, my-husband-is-the-greatest-style, he had the first installed by 8:15 this morning and was started on the second.
Drat. He totally stole my thunder.
Perhaps for Father's Day I'll get him the matching light fixtures for him to install...
Friday, February 5, 2010
Redneck Moments...Sometimes they're the most creative.
Raise your hand if you know Studmuffin is creative!
Yes. That is a car battery you see in that picture. Yes. It is in my bathroom.
Yes. That is a car battery you see in that picture. Yes. It is in my bathroom.
Yes, that is a sump pump you see in my bathtub. Yes. That is pvc pipe attached to said sump pump.
Yes. That is a garden hose attached to the pvc which is attached to the sump pump which is in turn attached to the car battery. On the floor of my bathroom. Oh, and yes. Those are buckets and a mixing bowl you see for scooping in the lower left corner. I won't be using these as much in the next few days.
No. It didn't stop raining. Well, it did. The sun is out today. And supposedly again tomorrow. Rain is returning Sunday.
Yes. That is the garden hose, which is strung from the bathroom to the front door to drain the bathtub water. All of which result in me carrying approximately 20 fewer buckets of water per day. Now that is something to celebrate!
Yes. My husband is pretty stinkin' handy to have around.
I guess I'll keep him and all his redneck ways...
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Studmuffin is Half Samoan
Are you surprised?
My sister isn't. She realized that Studmuffin was "different" from the rest of his family at our wedding. Of course, hers was a strictly visual judgment. You see, Studmuffin's brothers have red hair. And they are both fair complected. She knew his father had died when he was growing up, so she just decided that he must have had a different dad than his brothers. That was a completely wrong assumption. They all 3 share the same 2 parents.
But, despite their completely shared heritage, Studmuffin is half Samoan.
That's right. Not only is he 25% veterinarian, he is also 50% Samoan.
He has to be. That is the only rational explanation for some very interesting facts. First, there's his complexion. He has brown hair, eyes, and has dark skin. When we were dating, and he spent many hours driving a cabless tractor he was as brown as a berry. His teeth and whites of his eyes practically glowed in his face. However, now he has a desk job, so he will never reach that level of tan again. Of course, I don't have a picture of those days, but I do have this picture:
Now, if that isn't the face of a Samoan, I don't know what is!
The second piece of evidence I present to you is this:
Studmuffin's parents went to Hawaii. I have seen the coconut they mailed to the kids. I have seen the photo of my mother-in-law with a handsome dark complected man who placed a suspicious necklace of flowers around her neck. Studmuffin was born the year that this trip occurred....Coincidence? I think not, Gentle Reader. I think not....
The third piece of evidence I would like to provide you with is this:
You see, Studmuffin has an unusual midnight snacking habit. Whenever he wakes up and is unable to return to sleep, he wanders to the kitchen and grabs his favorite midnight treat. He eats cans of pineapple. That's right. Pineapple. I find this totally bizarre. Who gets up and eats pineapple?
What about cookies? Wait. I don't buy cookies. Over the lips, onto my hips and all that jazz...Scratch the cookies.
What about ice cream? Wait. I don't buy that either. His cholesterol is sky high, so we buy strictly sherbet or frozen yogurt.
What about a bowl of cereal? Yes! We do have cereal! And it's whole grain, so that can totally lower those vicious LDL scores that are so frighteningly high....
But, no. He chooses pineapple. Truly, it's a mystery of epic proportions....
One that can only be explained by one answer.
My husband is clearly half Samoan.
Don't you wish you could be fly on the wall for the completely insane conversations we have in this family?
My sister isn't. She realized that Studmuffin was "different" from the rest of his family at our wedding. Of course, hers was a strictly visual judgment. You see, Studmuffin's brothers have red hair. And they are both fair complected. She knew his father had died when he was growing up, so she just decided that he must have had a different dad than his brothers. That was a completely wrong assumption. They all 3 share the same 2 parents.
But, despite their completely shared heritage, Studmuffin is half Samoan.
That's right. Not only is he 25% veterinarian, he is also 50% Samoan.
He has to be. That is the only rational explanation for some very interesting facts. First, there's his complexion. He has brown hair, eyes, and has dark skin. When we were dating, and he spent many hours driving a cabless tractor he was as brown as a berry. His teeth and whites of his eyes practically glowed in his face. However, now he has a desk job, so he will never reach that level of tan again. Of course, I don't have a picture of those days, but I do have this picture:
Now, if that isn't the face of a Samoan, I don't know what is!
The second piece of evidence I present to you is this:
Studmuffin's parents went to Hawaii. I have seen the coconut they mailed to the kids. I have seen the photo of my mother-in-law with a handsome dark complected man who placed a suspicious necklace of flowers around her neck. Studmuffin was born the year that this trip occurred....Coincidence? I think not, Gentle Reader. I think not....
The third piece of evidence I would like to provide you with is this:
You see, Studmuffin has an unusual midnight snacking habit. Whenever he wakes up and is unable to return to sleep, he wanders to the kitchen and grabs his favorite midnight treat. He eats cans of pineapple. That's right. Pineapple. I find this totally bizarre. Who gets up and eats pineapple?
What about cookies? Wait. I don't buy cookies. Over the lips, onto my hips and all that jazz...Scratch the cookies.
What about ice cream? Wait. I don't buy that either. His cholesterol is sky high, so we buy strictly sherbet or frozen yogurt.
What about a bowl of cereal? Yes! We do have cereal! And it's whole grain, so that can totally lower those vicious LDL scores that are so frighteningly high....
But, no. He chooses pineapple. Truly, it's a mystery of epic proportions....
One that can only be explained by one answer.
My husband is clearly half Samoan.
Don't you wish you could be fly on the wall for the completely insane conversations we have in this family?
Thursday, December 24, 2009
A Man Moment in the Snow
Our tale begins at 4:30 am. Bookworm was unable to sleep. Apparently she was so excited about her dollhouse, she couldn't sleep. I told her to go to bed and read. Did I mention that it also happened to be the exact time that the storm hit? The windows were rattling. The rain was pelting the windows...
At 5:30 am Popcorn woke up. She thought she heard somebody knocking and she thought she saw a head in her window. I went and laid down with her.
At 6am I gave up convincing her to sleep and went to take a hot bath while Studmuffin took his shower. We already had the news on. The current temperature was 34 degrees. The rain/snow/sleet combo we have been expecting all week was expected to hit any time. Any travel at all was discouraged.
Studmuffin left for work. After all, the roads were clear. He planned to be home by 9am. I tried to explain that I still had "stuff" to do. I would not be ready to leave by 9am. I would not be through with laundry by 9am. We have very few clothes, and I had stayed up until midnight to get the girls clothes out of the dryer and folded to pack. My clothes were currently in the washer. I had cookies to frost. I had baked about 6 dozen sugar cookies the day before, along with 6 loaves of banana bread and 6 dozen ginger cookies. Icing sugar cookies got put off until this morning. I had planned on our original departure time of around noon. Studmuffin does not understand that I plan my preparations for departure until the last minute....
At 8 am I called him at work to make sure he arrived safely. "Sure! I should be ready to leave in a few minutes. Do you have everything loaded?" Remember, Studmuffin had shoulder surgery. He is not able to use his right arm except for passive motion, except to write, type, etc. You get it, lightweight stuff.
"Are you sure we should go? The news says any traffic going west on I40 will be hazardous. They are discouraging all travel if possible." The temperature was now 24 degrees.
Fast forward to 9:30am. Studmuffin is supervising me packing our bags and gifts into trash bags and the cargo bag for our trip to his parents. He had decided we should take his pickup, so we could load everything in back, then have us and the dogs up front. He looks at me as I struggled with the zipper to the cargo bag, "Any time you think this trip is dangerous and foolish let me know."
I froze.
Wait a minute....
Didn't we discuss this last night? And before he left for work this morning at 6:30? And when I called him at 8am?
We headed out at about 10 am.....
At 11am we had reached a town that is typically 30 minutes away. The visibility was 20 yards at most, with blowing snow and icy roads. Studmuffin decided it was time to turn around...
I was relieved.
Until I got home and realized I hadn't bought any food for the last week because we were leaving for 4 days today...
I climbed into my car and headed to Walmart. I arrived with little difficulty and got my necessities...
At 1pm, I walked into the parking lot to see...Nothing.
Nothing but blowing snow and huddled bodies, and cars slipping and sliding around the parking lot. The first thing I did was get my cart stuck in a drift 2 feet out of the door. I went around to the front and drug it out. Not one person who was fortunate to have a spouse pull their car to the entrance offered me assistance to unstick my cart...Is that a word?
Anyhoo, I started out in the parking lot. Where my cart got stuck in 2 more drifts, and finally a man with a ski mask and coveralls helped me get my cart to the car with him pulling the front and me pushing from the back. See, those horror movies about men in ski masks aren't all right!
I hopped in my car to get it warming, and start defrosting as I unloaded my groceries. By the time I was finished my hands were killing me (I had forgotten gloves...Derrr). I pulled out of Walmart to see a tow truck operator pulling a truck out of the ditch on the entrance ramp to the freeway. I didn't actually need on the freeway, I only had to stay in the right lane to get on then right back off to head home. Good thing. The interstate was shut down going south.
After creeping down the road and seeing 6 cars in the ditch, I finally arrived at my street with blinding blowing snow, and barely made the corner... I eased down our street and noticed my neighbor digging his drifted car out to go heaven only knows where...
I pulled into the driveway and cringed when I noticed Studmuffin had parked in his normal spot: Right next to the garage door. I crept towards the garage, where a 1-2 foot drift had formed. Of course, there was solid ice under it, and I felt the car start to slip. I cautiously stopped to avoid hitting the house or Studmuffin's truck...
I got stuck.
I drove past 6 cars stuck in the ditch on my way home and prayed aloud for safety and for God to get me home, to get stuck 2 feet from my garage door. I started laughing...
Studmuffin started griping. Apparently I shouldn't have EVER stopped in a drift. Regardless of my slipping tires that were heading me straight for the house...
He grabbed a shovel and proceeded to have a tantrum trying to dig out the car...
Remember the shoulder?
He ignored all pleas to stop...
I decided that sometimes men are idiots, and may have let the word slip past my lips as I began to unload the car... While he would get in, spin his wheels in reverse and forward, then begin to dig again, slamming his shovel against the ground every few swipes, supposedly to break ice loose...I suspect it was to vent anger....
Remember the shoulder?
He asked me if I was finished with the groceries. I said "No. But all that's left is cat food and dog food, and you can't lift that." I picked up the 40 pound bag of food and stumbled into the garage with it... I dropped it on the floor and once again demanded....Errr, excuse me, asked in my most meek and submissive voice why the car couldn't stay where it was...
"Because we will never be able to move it again!!!" Editors note: Studmuffin protests this sentence. But the author is very certain that he said if the car did not get unstuck TODAY, it would never be moved again. He says it's out of context, I say it's an accurate account of today's events... The word idiot may have slipped past my lips again.
In a moment of irritation, Studmuffin picked up the bag of dog food and flung it to the side of the garage. I think the word tumbled out unexpectedly once again...
Remember his shoulder? Remember the dog food bag was 40 pounds?
Studmuffin insisted that he could push me out of the drift...I argued, and I hate to admit it, but idiot may have been in the phrasing of my ultra submissive, meek, mild monologue, and he started to dig again...I relented. He started out in the back. I simply spun my wheels, and prayed that when I broke loose I wouldn't skid out of control and into the house...
Pushing from back was unsuccessful.
He moved to the front...
It worked!
Only, he slipped on the ice and fell down. I panicked and slammed the car into park, and it rolled slightly forward as I jumped out to check him. The car hit him in the head as he was standing up and knocked him back down...
Remember his shoulder?
He insisted he was okay...
And I pulled the car into the garage...
Simple as you please!
Studmuffin is currently sitting on the couch watching the gold bikini episode of Star Wars to salve his wounded pride and aching shoulder...Which he insists is fine, because he never raised it above his shoulder...
But he's wearing his brace, so take from that what you will.
Idiot...
Oops! Did I just say that out loud?
At 5:30 am Popcorn woke up. She thought she heard somebody knocking and she thought she saw a head in her window. I went and laid down with her.
At 6am I gave up convincing her to sleep and went to take a hot bath while Studmuffin took his shower. We already had the news on. The current temperature was 34 degrees. The rain/snow/sleet combo we have been expecting all week was expected to hit any time. Any travel at all was discouraged.
Studmuffin left for work. After all, the roads were clear. He planned to be home by 9am. I tried to explain that I still had "stuff" to do. I would not be ready to leave by 9am. I would not be through with laundry by 9am. We have very few clothes, and I had stayed up until midnight to get the girls clothes out of the dryer and folded to pack. My clothes were currently in the washer. I had cookies to frost. I had baked about 6 dozen sugar cookies the day before, along with 6 loaves of banana bread and 6 dozen ginger cookies. Icing sugar cookies got put off until this morning. I had planned on our original departure time of around noon. Studmuffin does not understand that I plan my preparations for departure until the last minute....
At 8 am I called him at work to make sure he arrived safely. "Sure! I should be ready to leave in a few minutes. Do you have everything loaded?" Remember, Studmuffin had shoulder surgery. He is not able to use his right arm except for passive motion, except to write, type, etc. You get it, lightweight stuff.
"Are you sure we should go? The news says any traffic going west on I40 will be hazardous. They are discouraging all travel if possible." The temperature was now 24 degrees.
Fast forward to 9:30am. Studmuffin is supervising me packing our bags and gifts into trash bags and the cargo bag for our trip to his parents. He had decided we should take his pickup, so we could load everything in back, then have us and the dogs up front. He looks at me as I struggled with the zipper to the cargo bag, "Any time you think this trip is dangerous and foolish let me know."
I froze.
Wait a minute....
Didn't we discuss this last night? And before he left for work this morning at 6:30? And when I called him at 8am?
We headed out at about 10 am.....
At 11am we had reached a town that is typically 30 minutes away. The visibility was 20 yards at most, with blowing snow and icy roads. Studmuffin decided it was time to turn around...
I was relieved.
Until I got home and realized I hadn't bought any food for the last week because we were leaving for 4 days today...
I climbed into my car and headed to Walmart. I arrived with little difficulty and got my necessities...
At 1pm, I walked into the parking lot to see...Nothing.
Nothing but blowing snow and huddled bodies, and cars slipping and sliding around the parking lot. The first thing I did was get my cart stuck in a drift 2 feet out of the door. I went around to the front and drug it out. Not one person who was fortunate to have a spouse pull their car to the entrance offered me assistance to unstick my cart...Is that a word?
Anyhoo, I started out in the parking lot. Where my cart got stuck in 2 more drifts, and finally a man with a ski mask and coveralls helped me get my cart to the car with him pulling the front and me pushing from the back. See, those horror movies about men in ski masks aren't all right!
I hopped in my car to get it warming, and start defrosting as I unloaded my groceries. By the time I was finished my hands were killing me (I had forgotten gloves...Derrr). I pulled out of Walmart to see a tow truck operator pulling a truck out of the ditch on the entrance ramp to the freeway. I didn't actually need on the freeway, I only had to stay in the right lane to get on then right back off to head home. Good thing. The interstate was shut down going south.
After creeping down the road and seeing 6 cars in the ditch, I finally arrived at my street with blinding blowing snow, and barely made the corner... I eased down our street and noticed my neighbor digging his drifted car out to go heaven only knows where...
I pulled into the driveway and cringed when I noticed Studmuffin had parked in his normal spot: Right next to the garage door. I crept towards the garage, where a 1-2 foot drift had formed. Of course, there was solid ice under it, and I felt the car start to slip. I cautiously stopped to avoid hitting the house or Studmuffin's truck...
I got stuck.
I drove past 6 cars stuck in the ditch on my way home and prayed aloud for safety and for God to get me home, to get stuck 2 feet from my garage door. I started laughing...
Studmuffin started griping. Apparently I shouldn't have EVER stopped in a drift. Regardless of my slipping tires that were heading me straight for the house...
He grabbed a shovel and proceeded to have a tantrum trying to dig out the car...
Remember the shoulder?
He ignored all pleas to stop...
I decided that sometimes men are idiots, and may have let the word slip past my lips as I began to unload the car... While he would get in, spin his wheels in reverse and forward, then begin to dig again, slamming his shovel against the ground every few swipes, supposedly to break ice loose...I suspect it was to vent anger....
Remember the shoulder?
He asked me if I was finished with the groceries. I said "No. But all that's left is cat food and dog food, and you can't lift that." I picked up the 40 pound bag of food and stumbled into the garage with it... I dropped it on the floor and once again demanded....Errr, excuse me, asked in my most meek and submissive voice why the car couldn't stay where it was...
"Because we will never be able to move it again!!!" Editors note: Studmuffin protests this sentence. But the author is very certain that he said if the car did not get unstuck TODAY, it would never be moved again. He says it's out of context, I say it's an accurate account of today's events... The word idiot may have slipped past my lips again.
In a moment of irritation, Studmuffin picked up the bag of dog food and flung it to the side of the garage. I think the word tumbled out unexpectedly once again...
Remember his shoulder? Remember the dog food bag was 40 pounds?
Studmuffin insisted that he could push me out of the drift...I argued, and I hate to admit it, but idiot may have been in the phrasing of my ultra submissive, meek, mild monologue, and he started to dig again...I relented. He started out in the back. I simply spun my wheels, and prayed that when I broke loose I wouldn't skid out of control and into the house...
Pushing from back was unsuccessful.
He moved to the front...
It worked!
Only, he slipped on the ice and fell down. I panicked and slammed the car into park, and it rolled slightly forward as I jumped out to check him. The car hit him in the head as he was standing up and knocked him back down...
Remember his shoulder?
He insisted he was okay...
And I pulled the car into the garage...
Simple as you please!
Studmuffin is currently sitting on the couch watching the gold bikini episode of Star Wars to salve his wounded pride and aching shoulder...Which he insists is fine, because he never raised it above his shoulder...
But he's wearing his brace, so take from that what you will.
Idiot...
Oops! Did I just say that out loud?
Thursday, October 29, 2009
To My Darling Husband,
I know you are fretting about what to do with yourself while I'm at Women of Faith this weekend. As your loving wife, who hates to see you in any distress, I realize it is my duty to help you. Out of concern and love for you I have compiled a brief list of things to occupy the eternal hours between Friday morning and Saturday evening. I'm just a giver that way.
1. Fix the toilet in our bathroom. In addition to the problem you are already aware of (it's not bolted down) there is a slow trickle of water running continuously. I know you are oblivious to this, as it can only be seen if your face is practically in the toilet, as when scrubbing it.
2. This second task will be a surprise, because with all that you have on your plate at work and weekends being burdened with providing sustenance for your family (I know the sacrifice of fishing and hunting and how you despair of leaving your family, but I do appreciate the the food you bring to the table) I have refrained from pointing out the leak in our bathroom window. There is always a tiny puddle on the lip of the frame of the window. If you could discover the leak and caulk it, or however you repair it with your manly knowledge of such things, I would be grateful.
3. Build the doghouse. You have the plans. You have the wood. I am in complete confidence that you can complete this project in a mere hour or twelve.
4. Winterize the pool. Yes, I realize Popcorn has visions of a Polar Bear swimming party on December 30th, and as much as I hate to not indulge her every whim, I feel the wavers we would have to obtain in throwing such a party may be a tad burdensome.
5. Find out if the headlight on the Saturn is covered under our warranty. I have looked for the so-called warranty papers you claim we have, but as you are in charge of all filing with your superior organizing abilities I have been unable to find the aforementioned papers. Please deal with this at your earliest convience as I despair of driving the dumb car with one headlight any longer. I fear driving the Dakota anywhere because the tags are out of date. I realize you are very busy at work and fulfilling your many, many hunter/gatherer duties, but I would also greatly appreciate you reminding me to go to the tag office to get new tags so I don't have to worry about getting a ticket every time I drive it for out of date tags, or for driving a car with only one headlight. You see, I understand your need to provide for me in every way. So, I'm patiently waiting for you to remind me to go to the tag office for the Dakota, and to find the mysterious warranty papers so we can fix the headlamp on the Saturn. Thank you. I love you, and I love that you are so prepared to deal with every detail so that I don't have to worry my pretty little head.
Well, I know that you could achieve so much more, if I only requested it. However, I want you to spend some special time with the girls this weekend too. Please feel free to use the remaining time to enjoy the time with them.
You can paint the house, stain the deck, and extend the roof out over our front walkway(I know you share my dream of a giant covered porch out front) another weekend.
Your loving wife,
Andi
1. Fix the toilet in our bathroom. In addition to the problem you are already aware of (it's not bolted down) there is a slow trickle of water running continuously. I know you are oblivious to this, as it can only be seen if your face is practically in the toilet, as when scrubbing it.
2. This second task will be a surprise, because with all that you have on your plate at work and weekends being burdened with providing sustenance for your family (I know the sacrifice of fishing and hunting and how you despair of leaving your family, but I do appreciate the the food you bring to the table) I have refrained from pointing out the leak in our bathroom window. There is always a tiny puddle on the lip of the frame of the window. If you could discover the leak and caulk it, or however you repair it with your manly knowledge of such things, I would be grateful.
3. Build the doghouse. You have the plans. You have the wood. I am in complete confidence that you can complete this project in a mere hour or twelve.
4. Winterize the pool. Yes, I realize Popcorn has visions of a Polar Bear swimming party on December 30th, and as much as I hate to not indulge her every whim, I feel the wavers we would have to obtain in throwing such a party may be a tad burdensome.
5. Find out if the headlight on the Saturn is covered under our warranty. I have looked for the so-called warranty papers you claim we have, but as you are in charge of all filing with your superior organizing abilities I have been unable to find the aforementioned papers. Please deal with this at your earliest convience as I despair of driving the dumb car with one headlight any longer. I fear driving the Dakota anywhere because the tags are out of date. I realize you are very busy at work and fulfilling your many, many hunter/gatherer duties, but I would also greatly appreciate you reminding me to go to the tag office to get new tags so I don't have to worry about getting a ticket every time I drive it for out of date tags, or for driving a car with only one headlight. You see, I understand your need to provide for me in every way. So, I'm patiently waiting for you to remind me to go to the tag office for the Dakota, and to find the mysterious warranty papers so we can fix the headlamp on the Saturn. Thank you. I love you, and I love that you are so prepared to deal with every detail so that I don't have to worry my pretty little head.
Well, I know that you could achieve so much more, if I only requested it. However, I want you to spend some special time with the girls this weekend too. Please feel free to use the remaining time to enjoy the time with them.
You can paint the house, stain the deck, and extend the roof out over our front walkway(I know you share my dream of a giant covered porch out front) another weekend.
Your loving wife,
Andi
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Studmuffin's Friend
Okay, before I begin, I must use the disclaimer that I have Studmuffin's full permission to write this post...
Studmuffin has a friend from work. He is from Tennessee (I think), and he has no family here. Consequently, he and my man do stuff together. Kevin is a nice guy, who has never been married, but he has a girlfriend, who seems to be very nice based on the third hand stories I hear from Studmuffin...
Anyhoo, they frequently lunch together, and fish together on the weekends, and have attempted to plan hunting trips, but have been unable to coordinate free time for the trip. Kevin's girlfriend works 2 jobs and is in college, so she literally only has one evening off a week, and of course Kevin sees her then. Since they're such great friends, it came as no surprise when Studmuffin called to say he'd be late getting home, because he was going with Kevin to look at a house Kevin is thinking of renting.
They got to the house, and the owners weren't there yet. They looked around, noted that lots of people were plenty of people riding bikes, walking, and jogging...All signs of a friendly neighborhood. It's an older neighborhood, well established with lots of trees and character. Most of the houses were in good condition, but as in all neighborhoods, you have the places where you wonder what the heck people are thinking...
So. They're both standing in the driveway, arms folded across their chest, legs spread, pelvis slightly forward...typical man stance, right? Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if one of them spit a few times....
The neighbors next door were outside, and came over to introduce themselves. Studmuffin was keeping quiet. After all, he's not the one going to live there, so he was leaving the conversation up to Kevin.
Then, he started to tune into the conversation more, and thought to himself, "This conversation seems kind of weird." No sooner had he had the thought when he hears the prospective neighbor ask, "So, when do you two plan to move in?"
"Oh! OH NO! We're not gay! He's married with 2 kids, and I got a girlfriend. I mean, we like each other and all, but not that well....Yeah, sure we get together for lunch, and stuff, but we're just friends...." And Kevin's excuses just kept pouring out. Studmuffin was so shocked his jaw nearly hit the ground. Then, they both got tickled at the whole situation and started laughing like junior high boys. Complete with belly grasping and snorting...
When Studmuffin got home, he could barely wait for the girls to leave the table to tell me what happened. Only he finished with, "And guess what I was wearing? That turquoise shirt you bought me, that you swore wasn't gay!"
And then I laughed so hard I nearly peed my pants...
BTW: That turquoise shirt is gorgeous. And he looks fabulous in it with his dark hair, eyes, and tan. So there.
Studmuffin has a friend from work. He is from Tennessee (I think), and he has no family here. Consequently, he and my man do stuff together. Kevin is a nice guy, who has never been married, but he has a girlfriend, who seems to be very nice based on the third hand stories I hear from Studmuffin...
Anyhoo, they frequently lunch together, and fish together on the weekends, and have attempted to plan hunting trips, but have been unable to coordinate free time for the trip. Kevin's girlfriend works 2 jobs and is in college, so she literally only has one evening off a week, and of course Kevin sees her then. Since they're such great friends, it came as no surprise when Studmuffin called to say he'd be late getting home, because he was going with Kevin to look at a house Kevin is thinking of renting.
They got to the house, and the owners weren't there yet. They looked around, noted that lots of people were plenty of people riding bikes, walking, and jogging...All signs of a friendly neighborhood. It's an older neighborhood, well established with lots of trees and character. Most of the houses were in good condition, but as in all neighborhoods, you have the places where you wonder what the heck people are thinking...
So. They're both standing in the driveway, arms folded across their chest, legs spread, pelvis slightly forward...typical man stance, right? Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if one of them spit a few times....
The neighbors next door were outside, and came over to introduce themselves. Studmuffin was keeping quiet. After all, he's not the one going to live there, so he was leaving the conversation up to Kevin.
Then, he started to tune into the conversation more, and thought to himself, "This conversation seems kind of weird." No sooner had he had the thought when he hears the prospective neighbor ask, "So, when do you two plan to move in?"
"Oh! OH NO! We're not gay! He's married with 2 kids, and I got a girlfriend. I mean, we like each other and all, but not that well....Yeah, sure we get together for lunch, and stuff, but we're just friends...." And Kevin's excuses just kept pouring out. Studmuffin was so shocked his jaw nearly hit the ground. Then, they both got tickled at the whole situation and started laughing like junior high boys. Complete with belly grasping and snorting...
When Studmuffin got home, he could barely wait for the girls to leave the table to tell me what happened. Only he finished with, "And guess what I was wearing? That turquoise shirt you bought me, that you swore wasn't gay!"
And then I laughed so hard I nearly peed my pants...
BTW: That turquoise shirt is gorgeous. And he looks fabulous in it with his dark hair, eyes, and tan. So there.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
I've got your.....BACK?
Studmuffin was...ahem.... helping me clean up the kitchen tonight. I know he got the table washed. I'm pretty sure he put at least 2 plates in the dishwasher....
Me: Did you know that when you "help" me clean the kitchen, you just follow me around?
Studmuffin: Yep. But I make sure I can look at your butt the whole time! I have to make sure nothing happens to it.
Me: So, basically, you've got my....butt?
Studmuffin: Yep. If you ever suddenly start to trip and fall, I'm there, ready to grab your butt....
Dear Reader, I feel so much safer in my kitchen now!
Me: Did you know that when you "help" me clean the kitchen, you just follow me around?
Studmuffin: Yep. But I make sure I can look at your butt the whole time! I have to make sure nothing happens to it.
Me: So, basically, you've got my....butt?
Studmuffin: Yep. If you ever suddenly start to trip and fall, I'm there, ready to grab your butt....
Dear Reader, I feel so much safer in my kitchen now!
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Studmuffin living dangerously....
I bought 2 new swimsuits. The suits I had were officially worn out to the point that I couldn't even wear them in my own back yard. I thought the one I bought 3 summers ago was still okay until Studmuffin kept asking me to grab stuff for him in the boat...
He had a strange smirk on his face...
I realized the elastic was shot in my top and he was getting a view every time I bent forward...
MEN!!!
So. I went and bought 2 new suits. One is a tank top and skirt. The other is a tank top and board shorts. Stufmuffin asked me if I bought anything "sexy."
Ummm...Does this man know me at all? I am not baring my white belly for anyone. Plus on the boat I need to feel well covered and know that nothing will fall out or off out on the water. Plus I need to be a good example for the girls... And, in all honesty, my tank tops and gym shorts have always bared more than any bathing suit I own. That's just the way I am....I'm a white girl, and nobody wants to see that much white skin unless it's very firm, with no dimplage or stretch marks, and I have an abundance of both...
So, I showed him my new suits.
His comment: Those look like appropriate suits for a 30 something mom.
Okay. So they are. But when he says it that way, I totally felt like an old frump. Men. Sometimes they should just stick with "You look very pretty in that." There is no way to misconstrue that...Unless it's "You mean I don't always look pretty?" But, I would never be that manipulative...
Unless I just felt the need to pick on him!
He had a strange smirk on his face...
I realized the elastic was shot in my top and he was getting a view every time I bent forward...
MEN!!!
So. I went and bought 2 new suits. One is a tank top and skirt. The other is a tank top and board shorts. Stufmuffin asked me if I bought anything "sexy."
Ummm...Does this man know me at all? I am not baring my white belly for anyone. Plus on the boat I need to feel well covered and know that nothing will fall out or off out on the water. Plus I need to be a good example for the girls... And, in all honesty, my tank tops and gym shorts have always bared more than any bathing suit I own. That's just the way I am....I'm a white girl, and nobody wants to see that much white skin unless it's very firm, with no dimplage or stretch marks, and I have an abundance of both...
So, I showed him my new suits.
His comment: Those look like appropriate suits for a 30 something mom.
Okay. So they are. But when he says it that way, I totally felt like an old frump. Men. Sometimes they should just stick with "You look very pretty in that." There is no way to misconstrue that...Unless it's "You mean I don't always look pretty?" But, I would never be that manipulative...
Unless I just felt the need to pick on him!
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Mr. Black & Decker himself...
Remember the yard swing I got at our town wide garage sale for a whopping $5? I'm sure you remember how Holly finished my decision on how to salvage the cushions. She promptly destroyed them and reminded me that fabric anything and puppies don't mix.
Studmuffin decided to make a bench for the frame. He said, "You know, for about 30 bucks I could build you a nice wooden bench for that."
Of course, I agreed. Gentle Reader, can I just tell you how awesome my husband is?
He started cutting the wood for the swing last Sunday. I was shocked when I walked in and discovered him routering (spelling?) the edges.
I was even more amazed when he spent his second evening working on it Friday. And he finished it. He did a fantastic job.
Today he is attaching the rope, and he's decided that he's going to crackle it in blue and white. I'm not sure which will be the top color, and which the base. Of course, this will also require him repainting the frame. But, hey, I'm not going to interfere with obvious creative genius when I see it!
I can tell you it will look great. This sure beats the heck out of what I originally pictured, which was a very basic squared off bench suspended by a rope. I'm sure since it's prettier, it's bound to be more comfy too!
Post Note: Ummm, yes, I realize I could be a tad more patient and post a picture of the finished product. One little problem. He has yet to purchase the paint. You do realize that this is where progress will stutter and stall for an extended period. At least if I go by previous projects. He works really hard and brilliantly fast, but when he gets to the last, simple stretch, he loses interest and moves on to a new one. I can't blame him. Anyone who dug through our closets would undoubtedly find countless craft projects that I've begun with good intentions, yet failed to complete. This is the reason I no longer do crafts. I can't handle the guilt of the uncompleted project, yet I lack the ambition to finish it. My answer: don't start what you know you won't finish! Of course, Studmuffin will finish it. He's just great that way.
Studmuffin decided to make a bench for the frame. He said, "You know, for about 30 bucks I could build you a nice wooden bench for that."
Of course, I agreed. Gentle Reader, can I just tell you how awesome my husband is?
He started cutting the wood for the swing last Sunday. I was shocked when I walked in and discovered him routering (spelling?) the edges.
I was even more amazed when he spent his second evening working on it Friday. And he finished it. He did a fantastic job.
Today he is attaching the rope, and he's decided that he's going to crackle it in blue and white. I'm not sure which will be the top color, and which the base. Of course, this will also require him repainting the frame. But, hey, I'm not going to interfere with obvious creative genius when I see it!
I can tell you it will look great. This sure beats the heck out of what I originally pictured, which was a very basic squared off bench suspended by a rope. I'm sure since it's prettier, it's bound to be more comfy too!
Post Note: Ummm, yes, I realize I could be a tad more patient and post a picture of the finished product. One little problem. He has yet to purchase the paint. You do realize that this is where progress will stutter and stall for an extended period. At least if I go by previous projects. He works really hard and brilliantly fast, but when he gets to the last, simple stretch, he loses interest and moves on to a new one. I can't blame him. Anyone who dug through our closets would undoubtedly find countless craft projects that I've begun with good intentions, yet failed to complete. This is the reason I no longer do crafts. I can't handle the guilt of the uncompleted project, yet I lack the ambition to finish it. My answer: don't start what you know you won't finish! Of course, Studmuffin will finish it. He's just great that way.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Yes, I'm laughing at Studmuffin's expense....
Studmuffin graciously read my post this evening...and he promptly asked "You didn't mention me falling off of the boat?"
What?
What is wrong with me?! I completely forgot to share his humiliation...AHA!!! Payback for the beating from the tube ride...Christian virtues, out the window, prepare to laugh at someone other than me...
So, we pulled into a lovely little cove to eat our noon meal. The scene was idyllic, no other boats around, nice break from the wind....
"Hand me the anchors, Babe."
"Sure thing Studmuffin!" I tremblingly (hey, a new word) hefted them out from the cargo space under the front seats. He threw the first one in off of the back and secured it. I began preparing our lovely meal of premade sandwiches, apple slices and Nacho Cheese Doritos...
SPLASH!!!
Man, that anchor sure mad a loud splash, I thought to myself. I continued about my Proverbs 31 duties...Her children fear no hunger...
"MOM!!! DAD FELL IN THE LAKE!"
"What?!" And I looked behind me, and sure enough, he was gone....And he wasn't coming up....So, I waited.
And waited.
Started to get a tad concerned....
At last he surfaced, HOLDING THE BLOODY 15 POUND ANCHOR IN HIS HANDS!!!!!!!
It seems that he accidentally fell in when a passing boat's wake knocked him off balance. He was afraid of losing his $12 anchor, so he held on for dear life and swam to the surface....
Gentle Reader...He has increased his ranking as the King of Cheap....
He would rather drown than lose a $12 anchor....
His obituary would have read, "He was found on the bottom of the lake clinging to an anchor. His wife reported that she heard a loud splash but was too busy preparing lunch to take note of her husband's unfortunate plummet."
You wanna know what's sad? He was in 7 foot of water....The anchor had a 30 foot NYLON rope attached. I suspect it may have floated to the top even without his help. It seems that was a risk he wasn't willing to take.
More on Studmuffin's tendency to fall out of the boat:
2 years ago he bought a casting net. He had never used one before. He went to neatly toss it out, and fell in right behind it. The water was so shallow he landed on his butt on the bottom of the lake. His buddies with him said, "So, did you see any shad down there?"
The second time he fell in was a whopping 10 minutes later....casting the net again.
So, it seems he has mastered falling out of the boat!
What?
What is wrong with me?! I completely forgot to share his humiliation...AHA!!! Payback for the beating from the tube ride...Christian virtues, out the window, prepare to laugh at someone other than me...
So, we pulled into a lovely little cove to eat our noon meal. The scene was idyllic, no other boats around, nice break from the wind....
"Hand me the anchors, Babe."
"Sure thing Studmuffin!" I tremblingly (hey, a new word) hefted them out from the cargo space under the front seats. He threw the first one in off of the back and secured it. I began preparing our lovely meal of premade sandwiches, apple slices and Nacho Cheese Doritos...
SPLASH!!!
Man, that anchor sure mad a loud splash, I thought to myself. I continued about my Proverbs 31 duties...Her children fear no hunger...
"MOM!!! DAD FELL IN THE LAKE!"
"What?!" And I looked behind me, and sure enough, he was gone....And he wasn't coming up....So, I waited.
And waited.
Started to get a tad concerned....
At last he surfaced, HOLDING THE BLOODY 15 POUND ANCHOR IN HIS HANDS!!!!!!!
It seems that he accidentally fell in when a passing boat's wake knocked him off balance. He was afraid of losing his $12 anchor, so he held on for dear life and swam to the surface....
Gentle Reader...He has increased his ranking as the King of Cheap....
He would rather drown than lose a $12 anchor....
His obituary would have read, "He was found on the bottom of the lake clinging to an anchor. His wife reported that she heard a loud splash but was too busy preparing lunch to take note of her husband's unfortunate plummet."
You wanna know what's sad? He was in 7 foot of water....The anchor had a 30 foot NYLON rope attached. I suspect it may have floated to the top even without his help. It seems that was a risk he wasn't willing to take.
More on Studmuffin's tendency to fall out of the boat:
2 years ago he bought a casting net. He had never used one before. He went to neatly toss it out, and fell in right behind it. The water was so shallow he landed on his butt on the bottom of the lake. His buddies with him said, "So, did you see any shad down there?"
The second time he fell in was a whopping 10 minutes later....casting the net again.
So, it seems he has mastered falling out of the boat!
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Skivvies: A Universal Question
Skivvies.
Underwear.
Unmentionables.
Tighty Whities.
Drawers.
Underpants.
Briefs.
I'm sure I missed a few names for them, but they all refer to one thing. That's what we're going to be covering today. Those of you with more tender sensibilities may want to move on. Remember, I'm a nurse. Very little surprises or offends me. You can't say I didn't warn you.
Here we go.
Last night Studmuffin and I were curled up on the couch watching "Rules of Engagement." I love that show. It has one of my favorite actors, David Warburton, in it. I love when he played David Putty on "Seinfeld." I loved him as the voice of Kronk in "The Emperor's New Groove." I love his voice, his facial expressions, and his sense of timing with his lines. He is just hilarious. If you've missed this sitcom, I recommend you try and catch it next week.
Last night the newly married couple on the show (sorry, can't remember their names and I'm too darn lazy to look it up right now) went camping on the rooftop of their building in New York. The wife hated the thought of camping and the husband was trying to convince her of the romance of it. Anyway, the main thing you need to know is this:
At the end of the show the hubby ends up getting freaked out and runs screaming into the building in his underwear and wife beater shirt. Studmuffin said "Why is she fully dressed, and he's in his underwear?"
HELLOOOO! Of course the woman is dressed nice and warm, and the man is clothed in as little as possible!!!
"Because men refuse to wear anything but underwear to bed. They claim it is too constricting, and uncomfortable. For example: Camping in October when it's in the 30s every night. What did you wear? Your underwear. What did you do? Cram up against me the entire night and complained of being cold. What do you do every night? Complain of being cold and pile on a million covers. What do I do? Wear flannel pajamas....."
And on and on and on I went. Verbosity lends for wonderful nagging abilities, I'm tellin' ya! So, here's the deal, my cosmic question that I may never have answered, because I am a female. I will never fully understand the strange tendencies of men. But I must ask the question anyway........................................
At what point does the transition occur? I know all parents put their babies in nice warm jammies. I know that little boys get pjs for Christmas. But, not being a mother of boys, I'm confused. At what point, exactly, do they decide that pajamas are too confining for their testosterone levels? When do they decide that pajamas are not only uncomfortable, but somehow are a threat to their manhood? Do they have to reach a certain age where a special skivvy hormone is released that bars them from ever being able to sleep in pajamas again?
Studmuffin said it happens after marriage. At least it did for him. He always wore gym shorts to bed until then. Now, no matter how cold he is, he WILL NOT wear pajamas to bed. I told him that he refuses to wear them because he's always gambling that it will be "the night." You know what I mean, Gentle Reader. I'm sorry if I offend your tender sensibilities here, but that has to be the sole reason that men abandon pajamas at marriage. They are hoping that at any moment they will get to, err, express their love in a, ummmm, physical sense. So, they do not dare wear pajamas because this may somehow reduce their chances of getting lucky that night.
Anyway, that's my theory....
But again, what do I know? I'm just a female and will never be capable of fully understanding the male brain.....But I'm pretty sure I'm right!
Underwear.
Unmentionables.
Tighty Whities.
Drawers.
Underpants.
Briefs.
I'm sure I missed a few names for them, but they all refer to one thing. That's what we're going to be covering today. Those of you with more tender sensibilities may want to move on. Remember, I'm a nurse. Very little surprises or offends me. You can't say I didn't warn you.
Here we go.
Last night Studmuffin and I were curled up on the couch watching "Rules of Engagement." I love that show. It has one of my favorite actors, David Warburton, in it. I love when he played David Putty on "Seinfeld." I loved him as the voice of Kronk in "The Emperor's New Groove." I love his voice, his facial expressions, and his sense of timing with his lines. He is just hilarious. If you've missed this sitcom, I recommend you try and catch it next week.
Last night the newly married couple on the show (sorry, can't remember their names and I'm too darn lazy to look it up right now) went camping on the rooftop of their building in New York. The wife hated the thought of camping and the husband was trying to convince her of the romance of it. Anyway, the main thing you need to know is this:
At the end of the show the hubby ends up getting freaked out and runs screaming into the building in his underwear and wife beater shirt. Studmuffin said "Why is she fully dressed, and he's in his underwear?"
HELLOOOO! Of course the woman is dressed nice and warm, and the man is clothed in as little as possible!!!
"Because men refuse to wear anything but underwear to bed. They claim it is too constricting, and uncomfortable. For example: Camping in October when it's in the 30s every night. What did you wear? Your underwear. What did you do? Cram up against me the entire night and complained of being cold. What do you do every night? Complain of being cold and pile on a million covers. What do I do? Wear flannel pajamas....."
And on and on and on I went. Verbosity lends for wonderful nagging abilities, I'm tellin' ya! So, here's the deal, my cosmic question that I may never have answered, because I am a female. I will never fully understand the strange tendencies of men. But I must ask the question anyway........................................
At what point does the transition occur? I know all parents put their babies in nice warm jammies. I know that little boys get pjs for Christmas. But, not being a mother of boys, I'm confused. At what point, exactly, do they decide that pajamas are too confining for their testosterone levels? When do they decide that pajamas are not only uncomfortable, but somehow are a threat to their manhood? Do they have to reach a certain age where a special skivvy hormone is released that bars them from ever being able to sleep in pajamas again?
Studmuffin said it happens after marriage. At least it did for him. He always wore gym shorts to bed until then. Now, no matter how cold he is, he WILL NOT wear pajamas to bed. I told him that he refuses to wear them because he's always gambling that it will be "the night." You know what I mean, Gentle Reader. I'm sorry if I offend your tender sensibilities here, but that has to be the sole reason that men abandon pajamas at marriage. They are hoping that at any moment they will get to, err, express their love in a, ummmm, physical sense. So, they do not dare wear pajamas because this may somehow reduce their chances of getting lucky that night.
Anyway, that's my theory....
But again, what do I know? I'm just a female and will never be capable of fully understanding the male brain.....But I'm pretty sure I'm right!
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
How we came to own a cat named Satan....err....Mitts
Remember our cat named Mitts? Did you ever wonder where she came from? After I told you about her love for Studmuffin did you lie awake in bed wondering where we obtained such a cat, and how could I have failed to tell you even the most minute detail of my life? Were you shocked that I actually left a stone unturned in my open book life? Well FEAR NOT!!! I am here to relieve your curiosity regarding a cat named Satan....I mean Mitts.
Studmuffin and I immediately moved to the big city after getting married. Well, a few days after getting married. First he had to receive his ceremonial circumcision (click here to learn more) by my pet rabbit, Buster, then we moved.
I had never envisioned myself leaving the farm, much less leaving the Grand Ole State of Oklahoma. I was soon startled to find myself living not only in Texas, but in an apartment in the big city of Arlington (smack between Dallas & Fort Worth for anyone who doesn't know.) I was working in a bridal shop (big failure for me...but I'll refrain from that story until another day) and I was home sick.
I had been hiding my misery from Studmuffin for weeks. I didn't want him to know the pit of despair he had flung me to when he took me away from wide open space to a place of cars, smog and humidity. He asked me one day, "Are you okay? You don't seem yourself lately."
"I'm fine. I don't really want to talk about it." Sensitive, romantic, caring soul that he is, he sensed perhaps I wasn't really "fine."
Now, this is the point where Studmuffin learned what he claims to be his most important marital lesson to date. He said "It's okay. Let's talk about it. Tell me how you really feel."
I responded with "BWAAAAAAAA!!! I hate living in the city. I hate living in an apartment. I hate my job. I hate Texas. I have no friends. I have no family here, and I WANT MY MOMMY!!!" Booooooo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoooooowooowooowoowoowooooooooO!!! Sob, sob, sob, waa, waa, waa, hiccup, sniff, sniff, snort,and on it went.....
Well, to say he was shocked and completely unable to handle the situation is not at all an understatement. He held me and let me cry my tears out. He was very sweet, even though he did tell me to never tell him how I really feel again, if it was anything like this, because he really didn't want to know.
Fast forward a few days.....
I came home from work. Studmuffin met me at the door. "Close your eyes! I have a surprise for you!" And he placed a warm ball of fur in my hands.
"A kitten! It's white! With Blue Eyes! And it has fleas! How........sweet!"
It seems Studmuffin had decided that the perfect cure for my loneliness would be a kitten. So, he went to a pet shop and picked the feistiest kitten they had. And he brought her home. Fleas and all.
There was only two little hitches in this brilliant plan of Studmuffin's. First, the cat was white. Now, in my experience of farm cats, the white ones with blue eyes and the ones with Siamese markings were always the least friendly. So, that was immediately a strike against her. Strike two? She loved Studmuffin. Not me. In fact, she rarely loved Studmuffin, unless he was asleep, or attempting to draw, then she had to be on top of him, or whatever work he was involved in.
Oh, she had some interesting idiosyncrasies. She loved to fetch. She lived for the seals off of milk jugs. She was fascinated with touch lamps, and would spend forever batting them off and on. She was a good hunter. One apartment we lived in had a gap under the door, that no matter how many times the maintenance man "fixed" it, roaches could still crawl under it.
Do you know about the roaches in Texas? They are huge. Think of the Madagascar hissing cockroaches on Fear Factor, and add an inch. They would crawl under our door at night. Mitts would sit at the door, twitch her tail, and wait for them to come in....then POUNCE!!! She would always bring her trophy over for us to see. Yuck. If they got past the cat, you could hear them fly and hit the wall with a whack. I would wake Studmuffin up at night and insist he find the roach and kill it before we could go back to sleep....I hated those things.
So, there you have it....The saga of Mitts, the Satan cat who hated everyone but Studmuffin.
Oh! You still aren't sure why I call her evil are you? Well, she hated the kids. When Bookworm was born she immediately went into hiding. She only came out from under the bed when Bookworm was asleep. Then, when Popcorn was born, she'd had enough. She came out of hiding with a vengeance.
She peed in the crib. She pooped on the floor in the nursery. She attacked Bookworm. And on and on.....One day I called Studmuffin in all of my post partum calmness and abundance of patience and serenely screamed "EITHER YOU GET THIS CAT OUT OF MY HOUSE TODAY OR I AM PERSONALLY GOING TO KILL HER!!!!" And I meant it.
Studmuffin took her to the pound soon after that. Strangely we could find no one to take a full grown cat that hated children and had no use for anyone but Studmuffin. Imagine that.
Studmuffin and I immediately moved to the big city after getting married. Well, a few days after getting married. First he had to receive his ceremonial circumcision (click here to learn more) by my pet rabbit, Buster, then we moved.
I had never envisioned myself leaving the farm, much less leaving the Grand Ole State of Oklahoma. I was soon startled to find myself living not only in Texas, but in an apartment in the big city of Arlington (smack between Dallas & Fort Worth for anyone who doesn't know.) I was working in a bridal shop (big failure for me...but I'll refrain from that story until another day) and I was home sick.
I had been hiding my misery from Studmuffin for weeks. I didn't want him to know the pit of despair he had flung me to when he took me away from wide open space to a place of cars, smog and humidity. He asked me one day, "Are you okay? You don't seem yourself lately."
"I'm fine. I don't really want to talk about it." Sensitive, romantic, caring soul that he is, he sensed perhaps I wasn't really "fine."
Now, this is the point where Studmuffin learned what he claims to be his most important marital lesson to date. He said "It's okay. Let's talk about it. Tell me how you really feel."
I responded with "BWAAAAAAAA!!! I hate living in the city. I hate living in an apartment. I hate my job. I hate Texas. I have no friends. I have no family here, and I WANT MY MOMMY!!!" Booooooo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoooooowooowooowoowoowooooooooO!!! Sob, sob, sob, waa, waa, waa, hiccup, sniff, sniff, snort,and on it went.....
Well, to say he was shocked and completely unable to handle the situation is not at all an understatement. He held me and let me cry my tears out. He was very sweet, even though he did tell me to never tell him how I really feel again, if it was anything like this, because he really didn't want to know.
Fast forward a few days.....
I came home from work. Studmuffin met me at the door. "Close your eyes! I have a surprise for you!" And he placed a warm ball of fur in my hands.
"A kitten! It's white! With Blue Eyes! And it has fleas! How........sweet!"
It seems Studmuffin had decided that the perfect cure for my loneliness would be a kitten. So, he went to a pet shop and picked the feistiest kitten they had. And he brought her home. Fleas and all.
There was only two little hitches in this brilliant plan of Studmuffin's. First, the cat was white. Now, in my experience of farm cats, the white ones with blue eyes and the ones with Siamese markings were always the least friendly. So, that was immediately a strike against her. Strike two? She loved Studmuffin. Not me. In fact, she rarely loved Studmuffin, unless he was asleep, or attempting to draw, then she had to be on top of him, or whatever work he was involved in.
Oh, she had some interesting idiosyncrasies. She loved to fetch. She lived for the seals off of milk jugs. She was fascinated with touch lamps, and would spend forever batting them off and on. She was a good hunter. One apartment we lived in had a gap under the door, that no matter how many times the maintenance man "fixed" it, roaches could still crawl under it.
Do you know about the roaches in Texas? They are huge. Think of the Madagascar hissing cockroaches on Fear Factor, and add an inch. They would crawl under our door at night. Mitts would sit at the door, twitch her tail, and wait for them to come in....then POUNCE!!! She would always bring her trophy over for us to see. Yuck. If they got past the cat, you could hear them fly and hit the wall with a whack. I would wake Studmuffin up at night and insist he find the roach and kill it before we could go back to sleep....I hated those things.
So, there you have it....The saga of Mitts, the Satan cat who hated everyone but Studmuffin.
Oh! You still aren't sure why I call her evil are you? Well, she hated the kids. When Bookworm was born she immediately went into hiding. She only came out from under the bed when Bookworm was asleep. Then, when Popcorn was born, she'd had enough. She came out of hiding with a vengeance.
She peed in the crib. She pooped on the floor in the nursery. She attacked Bookworm. And on and on.....One day I called Studmuffin in all of my post partum calmness and abundance of patience and serenely screamed "EITHER YOU GET THIS CAT OUT OF MY HOUSE TODAY OR I AM PERSONALLY GOING TO KILL HER!!!!" And I meant it.
Studmuffin took her to the pound soon after that. Strangely we could find no one to take a full grown cat that hated children and had no use for anyone but Studmuffin. Imagine that.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
How to Tell if Your Husband is a Redneck
Not that I ever had any questions about mine...But if your hubby displays similar behavior...Take my word for it...He's a true redneck!
So, I was sitting in my recliner blogging (of course) when Studmuffin got home from work. He was rattling the front knob, and trying to frantically unlock it. By the time I peeled my worthless tookus out of my chair, he was in, had dropped his stuff on the floor, had shouted "There's a coyote in the back yard!" and headed to the bedroom for his......GUN!!!
He appeared a few minutes later totin' his gun and calls. I stayed in the house to watch the excitement through the window. I could see the coyote in the field behind us. He was trotting up the fence line west of us, heading north (away from the house.) The Canadian geese are back. They were just north of our house. I could hear Studmuffin using his call. The coyote would slow down, look over his shoulder, and resume his trot into town. However, when the geese heard the call, they would all stand up and look at our house. The dogs were pretty excited by the noise too. The coyote was too weary of our house and although the was interested, he wasn't trusting Studmuffin's wounded animal sounds.
I, of course, lost interest and went to gather up some laundry. I passed back through the living room to discover this:
Studmuffin was standing in the house watching the coyote walk all the way into town. He stopped at a pond, then Studmuffin lost track of him. Yep, you might be a redneck if you use your rifle scope to watch wildlife through your living room window!
I think I encountered this same wily fellow nearly every morning last summer. He was younger then, and he would walk right through my back yard every morning as I would be out weeding my flower beds. However, on the weekends, when Studmuffin was sitting on the porch with his gun loaded and ready for action, he never passed by. Yep, he's on to Studmuffin's game. We'll see who comes out the winner in the end!
Hey, and for anyone who noticed my bare gazebo...I DO NOT recommend gazebos with cloth covers for Oklahoma. The previous owners had purchased the one we have the fall of 'o7, and anchored it to the concrete slab in the back. The frame stayed put, but the cover didn't last through the summer. The wind tore it to bits....Now we're trying to decide what to do about it. Buy a heavier canvas? Cover it with a light weight wood for an arbor effect? Tear it down and build an arbor out of lumber and relocate the gazebo to a different area of the yard?
Of course, we are in the middle of trying to get a fence built for the backyard, and getting a garden in. The porch cover is on the back burner for now...But it's still something I think about. Oh well, these rambles are for another day........
So, I was sitting in my recliner blogging (of course) when Studmuffin got home from work. He was rattling the front knob, and trying to frantically unlock it. By the time I peeled my worthless tookus out of my chair, he was in, had dropped his stuff on the floor, had shouted "There's a coyote in the back yard!" and headed to the bedroom for his......GUN!!!
He appeared a few minutes later totin' his gun and calls. I stayed in the house to watch the excitement through the window. I could see the coyote in the field behind us. He was trotting up the fence line west of us, heading north (away from the house.) The Canadian geese are back. They were just north of our house. I could hear Studmuffin using his call. The coyote would slow down, look over his shoulder, and resume his trot into town. However, when the geese heard the call, they would all stand up and look at our house. The dogs were pretty excited by the noise too. The coyote was too weary of our house and although the was interested, he wasn't trusting Studmuffin's wounded animal sounds.
I, of course, lost interest and went to gather up some laundry. I passed back through the living room to discover this:
Studmuffin was standing in the house watching the coyote walk all the way into town. He stopped at a pond, then Studmuffin lost track of him. Yep, you might be a redneck if you use your rifle scope to watch wildlife through your living room window!
I think I encountered this same wily fellow nearly every morning last summer. He was younger then, and he would walk right through my back yard every morning as I would be out weeding my flower beds. However, on the weekends, when Studmuffin was sitting on the porch with his gun loaded and ready for action, he never passed by. Yep, he's on to Studmuffin's game. We'll see who comes out the winner in the end!
Hey, and for anyone who noticed my bare gazebo...I DO NOT recommend gazebos with cloth covers for Oklahoma. The previous owners had purchased the one we have the fall of 'o7, and anchored it to the concrete slab in the back. The frame stayed put, but the cover didn't last through the summer. The wind tore it to bits....Now we're trying to decide what to do about it. Buy a heavier canvas? Cover it with a light weight wood for an arbor effect? Tear it down and build an arbor out of lumber and relocate the gazebo to a different area of the yard?
Of course, we are in the middle of trying to get a fence built for the backyard, and getting a garden in. The porch cover is on the back burner for now...But it's still something I think about. Oh well, these rambles are for another day........
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Herding Cats
We used to have a house cat. She was beautiful cat. She was colored like a siamese, but she had incredibly long fur and blue eyes. She was one of the most gorgeous cats I've ever seen. Her name was Satan.
Just kidding. Her name was Mitts, but it could have been Satan. She was not friendly. We took her with us any time we went to see our parents. But, nobody ever new she was there. She spen the entire time hiding under the bed. She liked Studmuffin. But that was it. She tolerated me, because I came with Studmuffin, so she really had no other choice.
She used to sleep on top of Studmuffin. One time he was napping on the couch, and she had fallen asleep on his chest.
Wait. I need to hit the pause button on our little tale here. I need to describe our living room at the time. We had the same couches we have now, arranged at right angles to each other. We also had a long coffee table that sat in between them. The coffee table, of course, was a hand-me-down from my mother-in-law. It was the same table Studmuffin grew up with, as a matter of fact. It was approximately 6 feet long. It had a cabinet in the middle, and two open areas on other ends with decorative finials. These open areas were approximately 18 inches square and about 2 feet tall.
Okay, back to our tale: Studmuffin is asleep, Mitts is sleeping on his chest.
You know, cats are fickle. When they are done with you, they're done. Mitts decided she was done with her nap. She stood up and tried to get down. Notice I said tried. She started to get down. Studmuffin jerked into action. He grabbed for the cat. He chased the cat. Down his body. Onto the floor. And under the coffee table.
The cat escaped to the other side. Studmuffin calmly climbed out from under the table, and laid back down. Mitts hid around the other side of the table and sat there, panting and looking terrified.
A moment passes....
Studmuffin sits up and looks at me with a very confused look on his face.....
"Did I just do something weird?"
I laughed so hard, I almost wet my pants.
Just kidding. Her name was Mitts, but it could have been Satan. She was not friendly. We took her with us any time we went to see our parents. But, nobody ever new she was there. She spen the entire time hiding under the bed. She liked Studmuffin. But that was it. She tolerated me, because I came with Studmuffin, so she really had no other choice.
She used to sleep on top of Studmuffin. One time he was napping on the couch, and she had fallen asleep on his chest.
Wait. I need to hit the pause button on our little tale here. I need to describe our living room at the time. We had the same couches we have now, arranged at right angles to each other. We also had a long coffee table that sat in between them. The coffee table, of course, was a hand-me-down from my mother-in-law. It was the same table Studmuffin grew up with, as a matter of fact. It was approximately 6 feet long. It had a cabinet in the middle, and two open areas on other ends with decorative finials. These open areas were approximately 18 inches square and about 2 feet tall.
Okay, back to our tale: Studmuffin is asleep, Mitts is sleeping on his chest.
You know, cats are fickle. When they are done with you, they're done. Mitts decided she was done with her nap. She stood up and tried to get down. Notice I said tried. She started to get down. Studmuffin jerked into action. He grabbed for the cat. He chased the cat. Down his body. Onto the floor. And under the coffee table.
The cat escaped to the other side. Studmuffin calmly climbed out from under the table, and laid back down. Mitts hid around the other side of the table and sat there, panting and looking terrified.
A moment passes....
Studmuffin sits up and looks at me with a very confused look on his face.....
"Did I just do something weird?"
I laughed so hard, I almost wet my pants.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Rodents on the Run
Studmuffin can be pretty smug. He read my True Love Story. He said he knew I was in love with him that night. So much for thinking he's modest! He reminded me that he gave me a little peck good night, and I grabbed his face and planted a big ole smacker on him. I'm sure he exaggerates. That seems more forward than friendly....I'm sure I was just....friendly!
My mom saved me from complete Valentine Chocolate deprivation. She showed up with some Lindt truffles. Thank heavens. Now I don't have to harbor secret bitterness about that for the next 12 months!
Our day got off to an exciting start yesterday. Ava was missing from her cage. It seems her cage door was left open at some point Saturday. Studmuffin had been dreaming about hearing a mouse chewing....We found a gerbil dropping in the hallway...Another in the living room. It was almost time for church, and I was really dreading spending my Sunday nap time looking for a gerbil that could really be anywhere. I had finished getting everyone ready and was ironing my shirt. A dark object ran out from under our bed, then darted back. I screamed. Of course. Then I cheered. Yay, now I know where Ava is! Apparently that dream about a mouse chewing was Ava chewing under our bed! She ran back out and under again. I couldn't help it...I screamed again. I couldn't help it. I'm not at all frightened of Ava. It's just the suggestion of a rodent running out from under my bed that makes me squeal like a girl. Studmuffin came in, and caught the little booger. She's normally very slow and awkward. It seems she had the taste of freedom, and she wasn't giving up without a fight. We ran her out from under the bed. She ran behind the night stand. Then she ran under a pile of pillows. Studmuffin trapped her, lifted her, and she LEAPED out and dove under the chest of drawers, but fortunately came out the other side. We finally got her cornered under the flap of a box. Studmuffin reached in and grasped her very firmly while returning the little escape artist to her cage.
So, the trauma of Ava's escape reminded me of a story....Aren't you excited?
When I was in high school, I always slept until the last possible moment. My mom was my bus driver, so I had to be on the bus at 6:50 in the morning. I would do my makeup on the way to school, and even had a butane curling iron to help me achieve the appropriate 90s big bangs. I would usually eat a very nutritious breakfast of chocolate cake, or something equally healthy. Anyway, I am not a morning person. I don't do well with intelligent thought in the early moments of waking...This particular morning was no exception.
I woke up to my alarm, and my mom's usual chipper "Good morning!" Sometimes she even SANG! Ugh!I resisted the urge to throw something at her, and stumbled out of bed to the smell of fresh pancakes and hot maple syrup. My mom made pancakes every morning, and she used to even make her own syrup...But, by this point she had fallen from her tower of idealism, and resorted to buying maple syrup and heating it in the microwave. I hated the smell and taste of maple syrup for years. Remember, I'm not a morning person, and I associated that smell with early mornings and chipper parents...Not a good combo for a cranky teenager.
So, I digressed. Forgive me....
I stumbled out of bed, and went directly to the bathroom across the hall. I assumed my usual position. Elbows on knees. Head in hands. Eyes closed. Something ran across my foot. I cracked one eye open....There was a mouse between my bare toes and the wall. I shrieked. This startled the monster, and it ran BACK across my foot, and squeezed between the hamper door, and disappeared (we had a built in hamper.)
I totally freaked out at this point. I jumped up on the toilet, with one foot on either side of the bowl and continued to scream and shriek. My dad came busting in the bathroom, sure I was dying a horrible death, to find me in my Donald Duck nightgown, with my panties around my ankles, standing on the toilet, screaming....For no immediately apparent reason.
"M-m-m-m-mouse! Mouse! MOUSE! MOUSE!!!!"
"Where?" he asked.
"It r-r-r-r-rannnn u-u-u-u-under th-th-th-the h-h-h-hh-h-h-h-hammp-p-p-p-perrr!" More crying and wailing and general hysteria.
Dad opens the hamper. No mouse. He unhinges it, so it can open up flat. No mouse. You see, the access to get under the house was under the hamper. The little devil had done his duty of scaring the daylights out of me, then disappeared under the trap door (okay, this is really just a piece of plywood over the opening), to make me look like an over reactive crazy teenager. Which I'm sure I wasn't.
Dad started laughing.
And laughing.
And laughing some more.
Tears rolled down his cheeks.
His face turned red.
His laughter went all silent, like it does when he's so tickled he can't even breathe, his face turns purple, and you are sure he is going to have a stroke right then unless he stops and breathes.......which he finally does with a little gasp, and then this begins again with the only sound escaping being a little whine of air that comes out occasionally. The laughing goes on and on and on....Until it is finally finished with the official family finale... A big sigh.
I did not laugh. I was not amused. I was horrified. I was mortified. I was embarrassed. I was furious. My DAD had seen me standing on the toilet with my panties around my ankles, screaming about apparently.....NOTHING!
Dad laughed every time he looked at me that morning.
I was so embarrassed. Eventually I recovered. And even laughed......A little.
So, there you have it. A story to brighten your Monday morning. Hope your day is humiliation and rodent free!
My mom saved me from complete Valentine Chocolate deprivation. She showed up with some Lindt truffles. Thank heavens. Now I don't have to harbor secret bitterness about that for the next 12 months!
Our day got off to an exciting start yesterday. Ava was missing from her cage. It seems her cage door was left open at some point Saturday. Studmuffin had been dreaming about hearing a mouse chewing....We found a gerbil dropping in the hallway...Another in the living room. It was almost time for church, and I was really dreading spending my Sunday nap time looking for a gerbil that could really be anywhere. I had finished getting everyone ready and was ironing my shirt. A dark object ran out from under our bed, then darted back. I screamed. Of course. Then I cheered. Yay, now I know where Ava is! Apparently that dream about a mouse chewing was Ava chewing under our bed! She ran back out and under again. I couldn't help it...I screamed again. I couldn't help it. I'm not at all frightened of Ava. It's just the suggestion of a rodent running out from under my bed that makes me squeal like a girl. Studmuffin came in, and caught the little booger. She's normally very slow and awkward. It seems she had the taste of freedom, and she wasn't giving up without a fight. We ran her out from under the bed. She ran behind the night stand. Then she ran under a pile of pillows. Studmuffin trapped her, lifted her, and she LEAPED out and dove under the chest of drawers, but fortunately came out the other side. We finally got her cornered under the flap of a box. Studmuffin reached in and grasped her very firmly while returning the little escape artist to her cage.
So, the trauma of Ava's escape reminded me of a story....Aren't you excited?
When I was in high school, I always slept until the last possible moment. My mom was my bus driver, so I had to be on the bus at 6:50 in the morning. I would do my makeup on the way to school, and even had a butane curling iron to help me achieve the appropriate 90s big bangs. I would usually eat a very nutritious breakfast of chocolate cake, or something equally healthy. Anyway, I am not a morning person. I don't do well with intelligent thought in the early moments of waking...This particular morning was no exception.
I woke up to my alarm, and my mom's usual chipper "Good morning!" Sometimes she even SANG! Ugh!I resisted the urge to throw something at her, and stumbled out of bed to the smell of fresh pancakes and hot maple syrup. My mom made pancakes every morning, and she used to even make her own syrup...But, by this point she had fallen from her tower of idealism, and resorted to buying maple syrup and heating it in the microwave. I hated the smell and taste of maple syrup for years. Remember, I'm not a morning person, and I associated that smell with early mornings and chipper parents...Not a good combo for a cranky teenager.
So, I digressed. Forgive me....
I stumbled out of bed, and went directly to the bathroom across the hall. I assumed my usual position. Elbows on knees. Head in hands. Eyes closed. Something ran across my foot. I cracked one eye open....There was a mouse between my bare toes and the wall. I shrieked. This startled the monster, and it ran BACK across my foot, and squeezed between the hamper door, and disappeared (we had a built in hamper.)
I totally freaked out at this point. I jumped up on the toilet, with one foot on either side of the bowl and continued to scream and shriek. My dad came busting in the bathroom, sure I was dying a horrible death, to find me in my Donald Duck nightgown, with my panties around my ankles, standing on the toilet, screaming....For no immediately apparent reason.
"M-m-m-m-mouse! Mouse! MOUSE! MOUSE!!!!"
"Where?" he asked.
"It r-r-r-r-rannnn u-u-u-u-under th-th-th-the h-h-h-hh-h-h-h-hammp-p-p-p-perrr!" More crying and wailing and general hysteria.
Dad opens the hamper. No mouse. He unhinges it, so it can open up flat. No mouse. You see, the access to get under the house was under the hamper. The little devil had done his duty of scaring the daylights out of me, then disappeared under the trap door (okay, this is really just a piece of plywood over the opening), to make me look like an over reactive crazy teenager. Which I'm sure I wasn't.
Dad started laughing.
And laughing.
And laughing some more.
Tears rolled down his cheeks.
His face turned red.
His laughter went all silent, like it does when he's so tickled he can't even breathe, his face turns purple, and you are sure he is going to have a stroke right then unless he stops and breathes.......which he finally does with a little gasp, and then this begins again with the only sound escaping being a little whine of air that comes out occasionally. The laughing goes on and on and on....Until it is finally finished with the official family finale... A big sigh.
I did not laugh. I was not amused. I was horrified. I was mortified. I was embarrassed. I was furious. My DAD had seen me standing on the toilet with my panties around my ankles, screaming about apparently.....NOTHING!
Dad laughed every time he looked at me that morning.
I was so embarrassed. Eventually I recovered. And even laughed......A little.
So, there you have it. A story to brighten your Monday morning. Hope your day is humiliation and rodent free!
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