Of Mice and Men

It's snowing here.

So that's fun.

But that is neither here nor there.  I would like to introduce you to a brand new segment on this here blog called,

"It was bound to happen sooner or later."

Yup.

My husband bought hisself a tractor.

Fun Fact:  "Hisself" is just a fancy way of saying "himself."  I think.

Yes.  We have a tractor now.

Except, and he informs me of this constantly,  it is not called a tractor.  It is a bulldozer.

Or, simply "dozer," as a cool person, such as my husband, might say.

Silly me!  I thought all big yellow-ish machines were called tractors.  Turns out I'm wrong.

But I have been taking an "interest" in his tractor shopping, so I would like to "wow" you all with the following sentence:

"It's a great dozer; the undercarriage is in great shape, it has low hours, and it even comes with a winch and a brush blade."

(Winch.  Not wench.  There is a difference.)

Don't pretend you aren't impressed.

The kids think this new toy is fantastic.

And I am sure no one will ever get hurt on it.

***

Little Dude.

Little Dude is super cute.  But we already knew that.  He is obsessed with puppies and bunnies.  He has an entourage of stuffed animals that go everywhere with him.

"Mypuppymybunnymypuppy!  See?"

He as an uber weird voice when he plays with "mypuppymybunnymypuppies."  It is creepy and high pitched and he makes strange facial expressions.

But yay for kids entertaining themselves!

Well, yesterday, Lucy grabbed Little Dude's stuffed toy bunny right out of his hands and ran off with it.

LucyFur.

It was the end of the world, I kid you not.

Check out Little Dude's boots in the above picture.  He has to wear them everywhere.  He feels quite spiffy in them.

Quite.

Everywhere we go, Little Dude is trudging around in those boots.  And this kid is chatty to strangers.

He tells every person he meets the same thing:

"My bunny's name is Screamer."

Except he is not talking about his toy bunny.  He is talking about the real bunny.

Keep up!

Why is the bunny called Screamer?

We cannot be certain.

Anyways.  I am getting a lot of weird looks lately from strangers and passersby.  I think rural life has affected us more than we realize.

And we homeschool.

Double whammy.

***

Do you remember our tiny, mice-infested Honda?

We still have it.

I had to take it the other day because my husband "accidentally" took my keys, so I could not drive the big rig.

I think it was part of an evil ploy to save on diesel.

But, anyways.

I was quite sure that he had taken care of the mouse problem.

Oh! 

What's that?! 

You've never had mice living in your cars?

Well, let me assure you, it is a treat.

The DAY after I had to drive it, Sir Lumberjack drove it to go into town.  When he came back, he informed me that AS HE WAS DRIVING A MOUSE WAS RUNNING AROUND IN THE CAR.

I am sorry, but this cannot be normal.

While he was in town, he had picked up some groceries and basically threw them into the trunk.

I know he threw them because they were no longer in their bags and cans and produce were all floating around the trunk.

LJ (short for Lumberjack . . . keep up, people!):  Is something wrong?

Me:  Well.  I am kind of grossed out that these apples were laying on what appears to be mouse droppings.

LJ:  Hmmm . . . let me see.

Me:  I mean, look at that?  Isn't that mouse poop in there?

LJ:  Maybe.  It's ok.  You don't have to eat the apples.  I will just take them in my lunches.

This is not ok, people. 

This is not ok.

I am not a gross person.  I shower regularly.  I clean up messes. 

Why are there mice living in our Honda?

Consider this a cry for help.

In other news, we are selling the Honda (darn).  So if any of you locals want to buy a reliable, cheap, and clean (relatively-speaking) car, let me know!

Happy Monday!