Seperate Beds. Gasp.

Today, I am linking up to Joyce's Super Cool Linking Party.

 

I hear it is all the rage.

Joyce is da bomb and you should go and say "hello" or "holla (not hola)" to her post haste.

1. What is the most interesting thing you've done in the last year?

Hmmmm . . . let's see.

I cannot decide.

My daughter turned 7. I went to the dentist. I potty trained my son (Oh, the Good Lord helped me through that trial) I lost 5 pounds.  I went to Cancun with my main man.  I went to a Walmart in Cancun.  I gained 5 pounds.  My daughter turned 6.  My son turned 3.   I lost 5 pounds.  My house, for the first time in 7 years,  was finally finished.  I moved to Ruralville.  Ruralville has a lagoon. My grandma died.   My son turned 2. I was informed that I have high cholesterol.   I turned 29.  For the first time.  I celebrated my 10 year anniversary with my husband.  I started a vacation rental business.I gained 5 pounds. My dearheart friend, Bimlissa, moved to mean old Tennesssee.  I went camping 4 billion times.  My husband turned 30.  Yikes. I picked 6 whole huckleberries.  I slid down a rock on a garbage bag.  I hiked.  I fished (kind of). I lost 5 pounds.  I started homeschooling (Oh, Dear Lord help me through this trial).  Our well had problems.  Yuck.  Our dog, Mabel, died. I gained 5 pounds.  We got a new dog, Lucy.  She is uber naughty.  My husband got an elk and a trophy buck.  And a pig.  I no longer like meat.  I learned how to use a snow blower.  I learned that turkeys can fly.

I learned that I can and do make long underwear look good.

All in all, it was a fairly uneventful year.

2. What is your most meaningful family heirloom?

David's grandma made us a blanket for our wedding and it is beautiful.  Now, you all know I am a goon when it comes to all things arts and craftsy, so I cannot tell you if it was knitted or crocheted or quilted.

But I am going with crocheted, regardless of whether or not crocheted is spelled right.

The blanket is lovely.

3. What food festival would you most like to attend?

Joyce.

You seem to think I am able to travel the globe and attend such lavish festivals.

If I go to said festivals, Joyce, who, pray tell, will snow blow the road?  And who will find Handsome Dude's glasses?

And who will bring delight unto my husband's soul?

Clearly, I am his wellspring of joy.

Honestly, Joyce. 

But, anyways . . .

I like food.

I like food that I don't have to cook.

I like food that my husband didn't kill with a 22.  Or a shotgun.  Or a BB gun.  Or whatever in the heck he hauls around with him when he is wearing camo.

So, I would like any food festival that would fall into those categories.

4. Snow...do you love it or is it considered a four letter word where you live?

I like snow so long as I don't have to drive in it.

Today, I had to drive in it.

Normally, I stay home for days on end.  However, today I just had to venture out into the great, white unknown to take my girls to piano lessons.

Attention girls:  You had better be famous concert pianists when you grow up.

Whilst the girls were at the aforementioned lessons, I took the boys to Walmart.

And my rig wouldn't start when we were trying to leave.

Yes.  That's right.

I said rig.

I had to call my husband.

Me:  My  car won't start.

LJ (short for Lumberjack . . . keep up, people!):  *exasperated sigh* Did you leave lights on?

Me:  I don't think so.

LJ:  Is the car in park?

Me:  Yes.

LJ:  Are you sure?

Me:  Yes.

LJ:  Do you hear anything when you turn the key?

Me:  No.  But the radio comes on.

LJ:  Is the car still in drive?

Me:  No.

LJ:  Are you sure?

Me:  Yes.

LJ:  Did you leave lights on?
Me:  No.

LJ:  Please tell me the car is in park.

Me:  Yes.

LJ:  Why are you so darn beautiful?

Me:  I have no idea.

Or something like that.

So, after much sighing and clarifying that the car was, in fact, in park, the Lumberjack had to drive all the way from wherever it was he was electrifying things to the Walmart parking lot to rescue his fair maiden.

He came.

He looked.

He popped the hood.

He took a hammer to the engine.

The rig started up.

He kissed me and disappeared again down the white, snowy road.

What is the point of this?

I don't know.
Maybe the point is I should not have left.  The roads were awful.  I lost control of said rig a few times.  I said a lot of prayers.

And my girls lost their recital music.

See?  Stupid.  I shall stay at home until spring.

5. Can you ski? Do you ski? Are you any good?

No, No, and No.

6. What quality in your spouse or best friend are you most thankful for?

Well.

Here is a list of the things I like about David:

1)  He can back up a trailer like nobody's business.  I ain't kidding.  The man should compete for a trophy.

2)  He is usually in a good mood.  Even if he had a bad day at work.

3)  He loves the way I cook up some elk.

4)  He knows how to fix rigs with hammers.  This saves us a bundle.

5)  He has a book that we have had to haul around with us our entire married lives that is never to be taken to Goodwill.  It is called, "How to Be Your Own Veterinarian."

6)  He dedicated this song to me on the radio:

7)  He thinks he is chubby.

8)  He is uber proud of his stinking parachute.

7. Describe the coziest spot in your home.

My bed.

  Let's see.  It was a garage sale find (grody) and it is one of those tempurpedic thingies that is like two seperate beds.

When we were moving it in, my father in law asked if we were having marital problems.

But it is cozy.

8. Insert your own random thought here.

These pretzels are making me thirsty.

***

If you are feeling frisky, you should click on the badge at the top and join in with Joyce!

Happy Wednesday!

An Addition to the Maliblahblah Family

My burnt bacon finger has healed quite nicely and I am ready to continue on with the recap of the weekend festivities.

Aren't you lucky?

As I mentioned before, I had stayed the night at my parent's house and my family drove back home to the snowy wilderness.

Have you gone back as an adult to sleep at your parent's house?

It is strange.

It is like stepping back in time.  My parents still act the same as they did when I was a young lass.  I think they might even have the same pajamas. 

It was freaky.

 Mother and I woke up and started off to shop around 7am, which is quite lazy for us on a Black Friday.  We shopped and shopped and shopped and hardly spent any money at all!

Not.

Something to ponder:  Is Black Friday still a good deal if you spend your life savings in one morning frenzy? 

But the deals, man!  The deals!  Somebody has to take advantage of them.

If not me, then who?

Right?

Hello?

Little Dude dropped my phone on Thanksgiving morn and it broke open into a million pieces.

I have instructed him numerous times that he is not to ever, under any circumstances, touch my phone.

Ever.

Period.

So.  I was surprised that this happened seeing as how my children always listen to their mother's instruction and never disobey me.

Before my mother and I headed home, I asked her if we could stop by the Verizon store.

Me:  Hi.  My phone broke and I need a new one. 

Helpful Verizon Associate:  Ok.  What kind of phone are you looking for?

Me:  Whatever is free with my upgrade.  And I like the whole qwerty keyboard for texting.

I text.  I text a lot.

I am one of "those" people.

Helpful Verizon Associate:  Ok, let me see . . .

Me:  Oh!  And I don't want any of those data plans.  Just a free phone and no data.

Lest any of you are confused, the data plans are extra charges a month for use of the Internet on your phone.  I think.  Maybe.

Helpful Verizon Associate:  Well, I do need to show you our Black Friday special.

Me:  Fine.  But no data.

Guess what I left with.

It's a good thing I stuck to my guns.

Holy cow!  It's like having the World Wide Web, A Kindle, A Music Player, A Camera, and a Computer in my pocket everywhere I go!

Oh!  And a phone!  It has a phone function, too!

Could I be any cooler?  Shall we take bets on how quickly one of the children will break it?

I have implented a new "Thou Shalt Not Ever Touch Mother's Sweet New Phone Ever" rule.  And we all know how well my children listen to me.

No need to worry.

I had been contemplating trying to buy my father's Kindle that he received for Christmas last year.  He has not touched it since my sister tried to show him how to use it.

He was, as usual, being a snooty-pants about it all and trying to pretend that he is going to get around to it eventually.

Remember his two-song Ipod?

Now he has a one-book Kindle.

But my magic phone has a Kindle app on it!  For free!  And there is a Kindle store.  With books . . . for free!

And it is safe to say that I have used a Kindle more than my father already.

Attention Dad:  I would like to formally withdraw my offer to purchase your One-Book-Kindle.  Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda, Dad.

Shoulda.  Woulda.  Coulda.

Oh, and don't even get me started on this Pandora business.

I have never heard of Pandora.  I have been enlightened.  Does the whole world already know about this Pandora of which I speak?

I bet my dad doesn't.

I am now too cool for school. 

Alright.  Well, after all of that nonsense, we had to head over to my sis-in-law's house for some more food, fun, and fellowship in celebration of my ma-in-law's birthday.

Jason and Amy were planning on driving from wherever-it-is-they-dwell to wherever-it-is-we-dwell to spend some time with us.  But the roads were nasty bad and they had to stay put.

Boo, nasty roads.

Boo.

Whilst we were eating, Jason happened to call and asked to be put on speaker.

Hmmm.  Things are getting suspicious.

Jason:  Hi, everyone!

David:  You're engaged!

Jason and Amy: *awkward laugh*

I try to control my husband, Amy.  Honestly, I do.  But he is crazy and insane and weird and likes to hunt and has 4000 guns and refuses to smile and likes to fall trees and doesn't eat cream cheese and sings in falsetto when he is picking huckleberries.

He is beyond help.  My apologies.

Jason:  Yes, everyone!  We are engaged!

Oh, for the excitement of it all!

Amy!  Amy!  Do you not read this blog?  Are you not aware of what you are getting yourself into??

Being a Maliblahblah is not for the faint of heart.

Consider yourself warned.

Ha!  Kidding! 

Amy shall make a splendid Maliblahblah.

Alright. 

Happy Monday!

PS-Ha!  Did anyone think I was pregnant from my clever title?!

You've been punked!

Thanksgiving Clothed Open House

People.

I bring you this post with much pain and agony.  I was serving some bacon to my eldest and I burnt my right middle finger.  Right after my husband told me it was too hot.

He is such a know it all.

 And, as a result of this, each time I type any of the upper right letters of the keyboard, a tear is brought to my eye.

I do it all for you.  Is anyone reading this?  You better be.

Who has bad photography skills, a lumberjackish husband, a burnt finger and dislikes the taste/look/feel/thought of bacon?

This girl.

Bacon.  Another meat product I don't like.  Meat gives me the willies.

So.  I trust you all had a lovely Thanksgiving, no?  We did make it out of our driveway afterall and forged ahead through the 3 UNPLOWED roads before making it to the slightly plowed highway. 

We drove past the nudist resort.  They had a sign outside that read,

"Thanksgiving Open House.  Clothed."

Too bad we didn't have some extra time.

Then we drove with much stress and skidding and sliding and stress. We did all this for two turkey dinners.

Turkey.  Another meat product.  Gives me the pee pee shivers.

Our first stop was my inlaws.  It was a quieter meal seeing as how the boys were both out of town.  The boys, of course, being my husband's adult brothers.

Remember Jason?

Remember Alex?

Apparently they are too cool for us.

Whatever.

Sweet Pea reading to her cousin.  Fun Fact:  Sweet Pea had that same dress for her first Thanksgiving.

Where does the time go?

*tear*

Hold on to your pants, folks.  I am about to show you the star of the Maliblahblah Family Thanksgiving Table:

The Huckleberry Pie.

Let us have a moment to commemorate the 7.2 man hours of dreadful berry picking it took to create this yummy pie.

***

Thank you.

And now, I bring you:

Goober Parent Update:  InLaw/Husband/Computer/Internet Edition.

LJ (Lumberjack):  Dad.  Where did you butcher your pig?  Did you get a good deal?

Yes.  This is a typical Maliblahblah holiday meal conversation.

FIL (Father in Law):  Why?  Were you able to get your pig off the side of the road?

LJ:  How did you know about it?

FIL:  Somebody told me it was in that blog.

MIL (Mother in Law):  Taylor.  We cannot ever find your blog!  We need help.  Where is it?

My husband, being the silly that he is, went and got the laptop and pulled up my blog right then and there for my inlaws to read.

Oh,  for the horror.

MIL:  Ok.  So I see the blog here.  But how will I find it on my own?

LJ:  www.thelumberjackswife.com

MIL:  Every time?

LJ:  Every time.

MIL:  So, next week if I type in www.thelumberjackswife.com, her blog will be there?

LJ:  Yes.

MIL:  Every time?

LJ:  Every time.

So.  Now I am nervous to blog because it is uber weird to think that my inlaws are reading this.  And I know they have no idea what uber means.  Or holla. 

And they are probably wondering who this so-called Lumberjack is.

Wait!  Why am I worried?  They will probably visit www.theelectricianswife.com or www.oursonswife'sblog.com or www.howdidweendupwithsuchastrangegirlforadaughterinlaw.com.

Phew.

Holla, Inlaws!

Holla.

After we ate and fellowshipped and fellowshipped and ate we loaded up the children and headed to my parents' house for more food.  And fellowship.

Hey, Ma!  It's Thanksgiving, not Christmas!

After dinner, we had our usual Thanksgivingish game of "Chronology."

Chronology is always played in my parent's house because it allows my father to gloat over all of us imbeciles with his superior knowledge of history and events and time and happenstances.

Remember my dad?

Have you heard of Chronology?  I didn't think so.  But it exists. 

It is a game where you create your own timeline based on actual, historical events.

We sure know how to have a good time, don't we?

Sometimes we even break out some water.  With ice.

Meagan and Sweet Pea, thrilled that one of their dates was about the first Thanksgiving.  Such a coincidence.

Me and David.

I bet if I was a dead, trophy buck with a huge rack he would be smiling.

We lost.  Of course.

But we could beat any team with our sweet snow plowing/snow blowing skills of a driveway out in the middle of nowhere.

We are the Husband and Wife Snow Removal/Long Underwear Wearing Dream Team.

We got skills.  Or skillz.  Whichever you prefer.

Now, the pressure is on for my dad.  My dad forms his whole identity around his knowledge of facts and dates and knowing each word of every single history book ever written.

He does, in fact, get cocky.

We let him have his moment.

But I must tell you . . .

He lost.

Lost to Talia.

Holla, Talia!

Little Dude spent the whole night singing, "Mommy and Daddy, Sitting in a Tree . . . "

Over.  And over.  And over.  And over.

Goodness gracious this post is long.

Ok.  After all of that jazz, I stayed the night at my parent's house so me and Ma could get a head start on the Black Friday deals.

Come on.

I can't be the only 29 year old who stayed the night at her parent's house?

Right?

And then more stuff happened but my burnt bacon finger is pleading with me to end all this nonsense.

Bacon.  Nasty.

So, tell me, dear readers.

Did you go out shopping on Friday?  How many Thanksgiving meals did you eat?  Did you eat huckleberry pie?  Did your dad lose at his favorite game?  Is your son as cute as mine?

Did you sleep at yo mama's house?

Happy Weekend!

9 Pairs of Underwears.

 

Here is your daily snow picture:

I saw a bunch of frantic turkeys the other day.  Poor animals.  I wonder where they go in this arctic tundra?

I am finally going to finish answering all the questions.  I hope I remembered everyone!

From Gina

Have your girls starting borrowing “your things” and then go crazy when you ask to borrow something of theirs? (your girls may still be a little young for this one so if they are…)
I would love to say that I can fit into a girls size 7.   And I know I appear to be petite and all . . . but, no.  We cannot yet share clothes

Daisy Mae is constantly begging to wear my long, dangly, costume earrings.  However, I have known this child a long time and have seen her walk straight into walls and fall down for no apparent reason.

She can't handle the costume earrings.

We share ponytail holders.

How often do you and LJ have a “date night” (no kiddos)?

Once every 3 months or so.

Boo.  Lame.  Boo.

From Katie B:

Do you write letters to Santa?

I finally stopped.  I am beginning to think he isn't real.

When do you put up decorations?

Around the first of December.

When do you allow Christmas music to start being played/sang in the house/car?

Mariah Carey has been performing here daily for us every since the snow fell.

All I Want for Christmas is You, baby.

From Heather (not the nurse and not living in ND)

Hi Taylor! (I’m yelling at my computerish device now)

1. Do you and the LJ fight or have arguments over stupid stuff? If so, I will require an example.

Never.  We live in perfect harmony.

He's thrilled whenever I complain, whine, or give him safety lectures and I'm dazzled each time he uses severed deer heads to taunt me, leaves the toilet paper roll empty, sneaks food that I made onto the kids plates when he doesn't care for it, and chases 400 pound pigs down the highway.

Here's a question for you, readers.

My husband has the strangest system with his clothes. 

 Dirty clothes, of course, go in the hamper.

Clean clothes hung in the closet.

But . . . he also has a "kind of clean/kind of dirty" section.  These clothes just get thrown in a pile on the floor of the closet.

If I hang them up, he gets mad.  Because they are not truly clean.  If I wash them, I am silly.  Because they weren't really dirty.  I feel that if he is willing to wear them again, hanging them up is feasible.

Is the Lumberjack insane?  I vote yes.

2. Are you ever going to share with us what two things you are not allowed to blog about? Inquiring minds need to, nay must know!

Do you want my husband to kill me?

There is a lot of weaponry in this house.

3. If you weren’t a super awesome stay at home mom/homeschool teacher/dog trainer/cook/maid/supervisor/task master, what would your dream job be? What would the LJ’s dream job be?

I would like to be an ultrasound technician who worked minimal hours and made maximum dollars.  Ideally, I would love to go to the gym and frequent it 5 times a week.  My husband would take me on lavish vacations each year.  And I would never have a bad hair day.

LJ is not here.  But, it is safe to say that he truly wants to be a logger.

That is all. Over and out!

10-4, Heather not the nurse and not living in ND.

From Gianna

Do you have a lawn to mow? And if you do, who does it?

Our new place does not have grass.  It has bushes and weeds.  Our well doesn't produce enough water to actually water a lawn, so we will not ever have one.

LJ is hoping to bulldoze it all and plant "prairie grass."

Or whatever in the heck that is.

He's weird.

We have to regularly mow the other house . . . you know . . . the cute one in town by the lake? 

I try to mow, but I can't ever start the lawn mower.

Darn.

From Mindee

My questions:
1) Why are the pictures on your blog suddenly bigger? Are you getting all fancy pants on us?

Fancy is my middle name.

2) What is the liquid Taylor? What IS the liquid?

(This was from a comment I left on Mindee's blog.  It refers to puddles of mysterious liquid that has toilet paper soaked into it and can be oft found on the floor of public restrooms.)

Urine, Mindee.

The liquid is urine.

Wash your hands.

From JoAnne:

Why is buying a house so much work? I am exhausted. Why do they want to see my third grade report card before they give me a loan?

I don't know.  All I know is that when we bought our house, I had worry diarrea for a week.

Mostly because I was worried I would have to move to Ruralville.

When are you guys coming to visit?

When you properly invite me.

What is your favorite recipe, for like, food?

I can't say.  Basically, because I am an amazing cook and all my recipes are just from my brilliant mind and can never be duplicated.

But to give you an idea on what you are missing out on, each night, my husband praises me and my mad wifely skills and my kids declare themselves blessed to be birthed from my loins.

From Christina

If that is your messy house then I don’t know if we can be friends.
Are we friends?

Yes.

 I always thought of us as friends, even though we’ve never met.
Can we be friends?

Yes.

Even though my house is about 78 times messier than yours?

It's not.
What is your favorite line from a movie? (That is for each of you.)

LJ is not here.  His probably has to do with guns and shooting and whatnot.

I have too many to pick just one.

Today, I'm liking:

"I made my family disappear."

Name that movie.

From Debra

Do you like beets? And if so, or even if not, how do you get the beet stain out of the carpet?

No and clear ammonia mixed with hot water takes lots of oopsies out of carpet.

Not that I know about oopsies on carpet.  LucyFur.

From Calfkeeper

I have a question (and an answer to one of the questions above): How do you convince a 3 and 1/2 yr old who’s just been potty trained that she can’t go commando the rest of her life, she needs to wear panties under her pants, dresses…etc?

Well.  I bought my son 9 pairs of new underwear to encourage him to like underwear.

And he tried to put all 9 pairs on at once.

So, I am not a good person to ask.

From Melissa

What is a "Carhartt?"

Oh, Melissa.  You could not be a Lumberjack's wife.  Nor an electrician's.

Carhartt is a brand of heavy duty work clothing.

My husband has classified his Carhartt collection into two categories.

The first is "Work Carhartts."

Work Carhartts are what he wears every day of his life.  They are torn and ripped from where drills have gone through them and chainsaws have knicked them.  They have 65 convenient pockets, of which I always miss one and end up washing a fuse or two.

A little electrical phrasology there for you.

The second is "Dressy Carhartts."

These are the Carhartts that are kept spanking new for occasions such as weddings, funerals, and any other event where I tell him he has to wear a button down shirt and he throws a fit and says, "Fine.  But I am wearing my dressy Carhartts."

It's all about compromise, people.

Dressy Carhartts still have the added bonus of many, convenient pockets.

None of my pants can hold sippy cups.

Holla, Carhartts!

Holla.

Happy Wednesday!

***

Blizzard!

Are you tired of seeing snow pictures?

Too bad.

Yesterday morning, my husband woke up at 4am so he could plow our driveway.

Is he not a good man?

  Our driveway is now like around 100 yards.  He has a plow on his 4-wheeler, so he used that and then off to work he went.

Whilst he was gone, the snow continued to fall and I contemplated trying to figure out how to drive a 4wheeler so I could help out.

But, who are we kidding?

My husband stopped at his parent's house in town to borrow their snow blower.  They pleaded with him to stay the night there on account of the dreadful blizzard warnings.

He, however, declined, and said he must make it home to his lovely wife.

I can't say that I blame him.

He got home at 9pm and said he needed to plow.  I offered to help. 

So, I donned my JCPenney's clearanced long underwear, GAP jeans, Old Navy Performance Fleece shirt, my husband's hunting socks, my husband's Carhartt beanie, my jacket, my boots, and Sweet Pea's 99cent gloves.

My husband wore his Under-Armour gear, Carhartt's double knee work pants, Sweatshirt, Carhartt'sheavy duty bib overalls, Carhartt heavy duty jacket, Under-Armour beanie, and heavy duty gloves.

I suspect he is more prepared for the blizzard.  I think instead of asking for my favorite perfume for Christmas, I shall be requesting Carhartt Ladies Ranchwear.

I have never used a snow blower before.  It is harder to push through a foot of snow than you might think.  Plus it shoots snow out, along with small rocks.  LJ had to remind me that I must not shoot the snow towards the house or vehicles.

Oh for the stress of it all.

This took a lot of extra thinking on my part.  I had to keep asking him to remind me of the plan.

I was a good little worker bee.  I pushed and pushed that wretched machine and made sure to not damage any of our property.

I was cold.  I had snow all over me.  I was covered in snot.

(source)

Name that movie.

I began to wonder what my purpose was out there in the blizzard.  Because everytime I would finish a section, my husband would just go over it again with his plow.

I think I was just out there to be his eye candy.

At 11:30 we finally came in.

My husband is now at work again.  I don't know how to turn the snowblower on (darn).  And it appears as if all the snow we just plowed fell again.

Yay, winter!

***

Clarification:  Some of you are seeming impressed at how "green" we are because we plug in our rig.

The only thing "green" about our rig is that I have to use the "green" diesel pump when getting gas.

Apparently, diesel engines are fickle and need to stay warm or they won't start.

So, no we are not driving energy efficient rigs.

We do, however, save cans. 

Does this impress you?

***

I am aware that I still have people's questions to answer for my questions and answers posts,  and I will get to them soon.

***

I am beginning to wonder if we will be snowed in for Thanksgiving.

After contemplating what I could serve, I fear our menu would be elk meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and peas.  And I think I can make cookies.

Normally we go to both my husband's family and my family for both Thanksgiving dinners.

Oink Oink.

So.

Tell me, dear readers.

What are you plans for Thanksgiving?

Have you ever used a snow blower?

Are you able to dress for success in the winter like my husband or are you a sissypants like me?

Happy Tuesday!

Wabbles and Snow

I have discovered the biggest perk to homeschooling.

When the weather outside is frightful . . .

I don't have to go anywhere!

Besides.

I neglected to plug in my ginormous rig.  So I can't go anywhere.

Win-Win!

***

Last week we had our first real snowfall of the year and the children had to go outside post haste.

I talked Little Dude into staying inside with me.

I bribed him my promising he could help me make "wabbles"

Which are actually waffles.

And I really made pancakes.  Huckleberry pancakes.  Shhh!  Don't tell my husband!

When the kids became kid-sicles, they came in and we all enjoyed a late breakfast.

Holy Cow!  I have four kids!  When did that happen?

Little Dude:  Ohmygoodness, Mother!  Oh. My. Good. Ness.  You make delicious pancakes!

Ok, I lied.  He actually said,

"Wabbles!"

***

Contest News-Thank you for the votes for the Babble contest.  I learned that the voting goes through October 2011.  Bummer.  So, there is now a badge/link thingie-ma-bob on my sidebar.  I shall enjoy being in the Top Ten for the next 10 minutes.

***

Back to some Questions and Answers.  Today, The Lumberjack will be answering all of his questions.

 He was super thrilled about it when I informed him of this great privilege at 9pm last night.

From The Musician's Wife

I want to know from the Lumberjack: What advice do you have for newly married guys on ways to show their wives that you care, appreciate and otherwise adore them?

Stand up in front of a group of people and announce why love her.

I don't know.

From Shelly:

Hi Taylor! Here is a question for you and LJ, who in the Bible do you relate to the most and why?

LJ: Samson.  Because I am strong.

Taylor:  Guess that makes me Delilah.  Wink wink.  I kid!  I jest!

From Diana:

LJ: What is your favorite ice cream?

Tillamook Strawberry

 Does music really sooth a wild beast?

What are you talking about?

 How many wild animals can be ‘harvested’ from your very own woods every year?

As many as I have tags for.

Why DID you take T to Old Navy last weekend?

Because I thought it would be nice.

 Is your wife the best wife, the wife to whom all wives aspire?

Heck yeah.

From Suzanne:

I have a question for the Lumberjack….

What should I get my husband for Christmas? seriously, do you have any ideas?? I have no idea what to get the hubby.

A 4 wheeler.

From Auntie Datenutloaf:

Are you actually allowed to hunt on your own land?

Yes.

Sorry I’m just ignorant of hunting, and like where do you cut it up, I mean who has a cutting board as big as a deer?

Take it to a butcher.  Although I did do it myself before on the kitchen table.

(Interruption from Taylor:  This event almost ended our marriage.)

 And what is a 5 x 5 deer?

5 points on each side of his rack

 Where do you put the innards and butcher paper and all that jazz?

The innards go back in the woods for the coyotes to eat.

 I mean so if you shoot it, do you have to hurry and butcher it and package it up right then and there?

You let it hang for about a week.

Is LJ also a butcher?

No.

 Don’t they have to eat special feed to be edible to humans?

Nope.

***

That's all I got.

Happy Monday!