Hello, Speed Racers!

(This post will make no sense unless you read this post.  Although, apparently that post also made no sense, so you might be alright.)

Oh, dear.

Have I mentioned I just turned 30?  Well, apparently when one turns 30, they become all crazy and don't make sense when they are blogging.

And, apparently they become borderline inappropriate.  I am sorry for all the grown up talk lately.  What is wrong with me?

I wrote a post yesterday when I really didn't have the time to be writing any such posts.  I was supposed to be getting ready to load the children up so we could go to that darn other house and clean it.  And I decided not to tell you all about that because I didn't want to sound like I was complaining.  But here I am now, complaining.  Darn house. 

So, I wrote the post, I hit publish, and then I made my usual announcement to the children:

"We are leaving in 20 minutes!"

(I say this when I hope to leave in an hour)

And then we have to potty and cry and potty and forget our shoes and potty and fight over a truck and redo our hair and potty and blah blah blah blah blah.

So, I get about a MILE away and notice that Lucy, our darling pup, has chased the car and has caught up with me.

Darn dog.

So, then I have to load her up and bring her home and tell her to STAY.

And she does it again.

And then I take her home again.

And we played that lovely game thrice.  And, yes, thrice is a clever word.  And I am saying "and" too much.

So, I start to get the emails with your comments on my smart phone that I am too dumb to use, and I notice that no one knows what "Bail O' Cotton" means.  So, I decide I should try to edit my post.

But I cannot figure out how to do such things on my phone.  Because I am 30 now and I have no brains.  I tried and I tried.  I even tried to download a Wordpress app for my phone and still couldn't figure it out.

I think it's time they put me out to pasture.

(To Sister Meagan:  Holla!  To Everyone Else:  Sister Meagan asked me to put the phrase "put out to pasture" in a blog post.  Did it work?  Did I use it right?  What are your thoughts?  I am 30 now, so remember I am not operating with a full deck of cards.)

And now we have come full circle.  What does Bail O Cotton mean?

First of all, I think I used the wrong spelling of "bail."  It may have been "bale," but honestly I have no idea.  Nor do I have the time or the passion to google that right now.

Secondly, I don't think I should speak of such things on my web log.  I don't know what has gotten into me!  I am not sure I can bring myself to type out the word.

Therefore, I shall leave you with clues. 

Clue 1-  It's a feminine hygiene product

Clue 2- Starts with the letter P

Clue 3- Sometimes has the word "maxi" in front of it.

Clue 4-Auntie was basically saying she needed to wear one because we were always making her laugh too hard.  And she was having bladder control issues.  She was probably 30.

I fear I've said too much.

Basically, I just shouldn't have blogged yesterday.  And I shouldn't have blogged today because I need to go into town and go back to that darn house and clean the oven because the oven is a ghastly sight.

But I have news of great joy!

The kids are going to be at VBS tonight and David and I are going to our favorite Greek restaurant.  Oh, yes, local people.  We are going to THE GREEK RESTAURANT.  You know.  You KNOW.  That yummy one.

Local people!  It is like we have an inside joke that we are keeping from the cyber people!  Although after all this senile blogging, I don't know if anyone, local or cyber, is still reading this.

Alas.  Tonight is belly dancer night at THE GREEK RESTAURANT.  It's sure to be awkward and jiggly.  And sweaty, most likely.

Speaking of VBS, my mom is a teacher there.  Now, you all know how gooberish my mom is when it comes to technology.

Mom:  I am going to watch something on YouTube.

Me:  Ok.  www.youtube.com

Mom:  Hmmm . . . I better Google it.

Me:  Why?  Just type in the address.

Mom:  That doesn't work out for me.

Me:  Whatever you wish.

Mom:  Oh, shoot.  I don't remember how to get to Google.  I will use Bing to find Google and then I will go to YouTube.

No, readers.  I did not make that up.

I pinky swear.

Apparently, she was the only one who could figure out how to set up the DVD player at VBS and she wanted me to praise her on the Internets because I am always making fun of her on the Internets.

So, there you go.

Are you all impressed with her?

Alright.  I'm leaving now.  I am going to be late.  Again.  I hope I wasn't too confusing.  I am 30 now, you know.

How many times can I talk about being 30 in one post?

Oh.  It just makes me feel so forlorn when I even say it.

30.

I shall speak of it no more.

Go, Speed Racer!

I am leaving for Las Vegas on Saturday with my mom.  My mom invited me and I was not going to go, on account of the fact that I have no money to be foolishly throwing away on airplane tickets.  However, David heard about this trip and told me I must go.

I have determined his reasons for why he is forcing me to go on this trip:

1)  He has hunting guilt.

2)  He has "I moved my wife to the boonies" guilt.

3)  He didn't know what to get me for my birthday.

4)  Did I tell you I turned 30?  I know.  I am still depressed, too.

I checked the weather and did you know that in some places the weather can reach in the 100's?!?!?  And one such place is Las Vegas?!?!

Oh, my lands.

I get weary in our 79 degree heat.  Show me a 9 degree day and I'll just slap on my long underwear and build me a fire.  But 100 degrees?  How do these people live?

We are meeting my Auntie Datenutloaf there.  Auntie Datenutloaf lives in a far off land, so we don't often see her.  When I was a child, she came and lived with us for a time. 

Years ago, when I was a young lass, Auntie Datenutloaf came for a visit. We were playing Trivial Pursuit.  This is the only game my Dad would play with us, because it is the only game he wins at.

Sidenote:  Have you ever seen a person with no creativity or imagination play Balderdash?

That would be my Dad.

Example:  When he was told to come up with the plot for a movie titled "There's one born every minute," he wrote:  "A movie about babies being born."

Yes.  We were taken aback by his ingenuity as well.

Why am I talking about Balderdash?  Let's proceed.

So, Auntie Datenutloaf was playing Trivial Pursuit with us.  My dad was in a good mood, only because he was winning, and us children were just trying to act like we knew what any of the questions were.

It was my turn to read a question:  "What contraceptive was invented in the 1950's?"

Of course, all the adults turned red and had that "Oh, snap!  Should we be playing this game with the children!?" look when Brother Danny shouted:

"I know!  I know!"

At this point, all joy has been sucked out of my father's life as he is pondering his failures as a father since his young son knows of contraceptives.

"It's color TV!  Color TV is the answer!"

At this point, Auntie Datenutloaf cannot contain herself any longer.  She begins to run/fall down the stairs to the bathroom shouting:

"Bail O' Cotton!  Bail O' Cotton!"

Which made no sense to children such as ourselves.  But now that I am 30, and wiser to life, I completely know what she was talking about.

She was going to pee her pants.

And I now know what a contraceptive is.

And no, it is not a color TV . . . technically speaking . . .

Auntie Datenutloaf never considered me to be the brightest crayon in the box.  It would take me awhile to catch on to things.

For example, one dreary, cold winter day, my uncle asked me to get him some sunscreen.

Isn't he just hilarious?

Well I, being the obedient child that I was, went to look for it.  For like 20 minutes.  When I came downstairs my mother and Aunt were mocking me.

Yes.  Mocking.

Mom:  Taylor.  Of course he doesn't need sunscreen.  Look outside.

Auntie Datenutloaf:  Go Speed Racer!

I just smiled and acted like I knew what a Speed Racer was.

source

Now, I know that I am 30, I know that she was making fun of me.

The nerve!

And now, I am going on a trip with these people.

My goal is to not get called "Speed Racer" once.

***

In other news, I convinced David to shave his sideburns.

I do not know how I accomplished this, nor do I know if I shall ever accomplish anything this spectacular in my life again, but they are gone.

Oh, yes.  They are gone.

***

David got a smart phone.

We are hoity-toity Ruralville-ites now.

***

I lost like 1 pound.  Do you think I will meet my 10 pound goal by Saturday?

***

(The answer is no.  No, I will not)

***

The hummingbirds have left me.  I am trying to act like it doesn't bother me, but it does.

Do hummingbirds go out of season?

Go, Speed Racer!

Loogies and Handlebars

Have you ever walked into your bathroom and found your 3 year old stark naked, standing on the counter, trying to "get da bugs!" with your hair dryer?

Me neither.

But if it were to happen to me, let me assure you that the hair dryer would surely be unplugged.

We're pretty big on safety over here.

I need to answer more questions!  I begged, nay pleaded, with you all to ask me a question assuring you I deeply needed these questions in order to formulate a blog post.  Obviously, I am a liar.  But, oh well, let us press on.

(To visit the first questions and answers posts, click here, then here.  In that order.  Or else.)

(Or don't.  Your choice.)

From Katie Brn:

(Katie asked me LOTS of questions, making her my newest BFF, holla, Katie, holla!  I am not sure I can answer all of them, but I will do my best)

(For the record, my so-called "friend," Bimlissa did not ask me a question.  Just an FYI.)

What do you do for yourself? As in, what do you do, or think you should do, with the few minutes you are allowed to yourself a week? (and blogging doesn’t count!)

By the time I have a few minutes, it is about 830pm.  David and I usually have 4th meal and watch shows until David falls asleep at 854pm.

You may ask, "Taylor!  What is 4th meal?"

Well.  A long time ago, David and I got into the habit of eating a bowl of ice cream every night while watching TV.  We made the switch to popcorn deeming it much healthier.

Because we choose to believe it is healthier.  And don't tell us otherwise.

We also partake of sodas.  David will often add a large mug of hot cocoa, because it makes his tummy feel pleasant, and we have recently added peanut M&Ms to 4th meal.

We are healthnuts.

So, that's what we do.  We sit and eat our healthier choices.

Have you ever heard the song “Taylor, the latte boy?” I know you aren’t a boy, but I always think of that song when I read your blog. That and Monte Python’s “Lumberjack Song” but don’t be affended that the only thing that ties them to this blog in my brain are the names . . .

No, I haven't heard that song.  But my husband used to ALWAYS since that Lumberjack song until I told him what it was really saying.  It totally burst his bubble.

And now the lightning round . . .

Ewan McGregor or Jude Law

I have no idea who this "Ewan" is.  I think I have seen Jude Law before?  I don't remember being repulsed?

Yet, my eyes remain true to my non-cross-dressing Lumberjack:

 

Coke or Pepsi

Diet Pepsi, of course.
Cupcake or slice of pie
Apple pie or pumpkin pie

Neither.  I am a health nut.  Remember?
New or old version of Willy Wonka

Old
Capris or shorts

Capris.  Remember these bad boys?

The public thanks me.
right or left handed

Right.
Umbrella or poncho

Umbrella
beach or mountains

Beach
tomato or potato

Potato

From Tara:

And my Q for you: When was the last time you ate MOOSE TRACKS?? Was it THE Mother’s Day outing? I’m on my Oreo kick right now because the last 1/2 gallon of MOOSE TRACKS I ate had very little fudge swirl in it and made me want to write to the ice cream makers for it.

I had Moose Tracks on Sunday at the Amusement Park.  And I could not even finish it, the disappointment that I am.

Moose Tracks from the grocery store is no good.  But $4 waffle cone from a parlor is where its at.  I like the finer things in life.

From Katie:

What is your recipe for chicken/potato/artichoke dish?

I got this recipe from Shannon when I asked you all for simple dinner recipes:

Artichoke Chicken

1 can of artichoke hearts (or 1/3 of a Costco jar)
1 pound of chicken tenders cut into chunks (I use 12)
1 bag of small red potatoes (sliced)
2 cloves of garlic
juice of one lemon
2 TBSP olive oil
salt & pepper to taste

This meal is supper simple. I bake my potatoes in the microwave until just done. Cook chicken. In a large skillet combine cooked, diced chicken, potatoes, artichokes, olive oil, garlic & lemon. Saute until potatoes are a nice golden brown. Season with salt & pepper to taste. Delightful!

Yes.  Shannon originally wrote "supper" simple, instead of "super" simple and I found it to be a snazzy typo.

From Wendy:

Let me see…do you plan to home school all of your kids until they graduate? Or just until you go stark-raving mad?

I have NO idea.

But Daisy Mae will oft ask if we can do homeschool college, so I fear I am in it for the long haul.
Does the Lumberjack plan to live in Ruralville for the rest of his life? Or will you move back to civilization?

He told me on day one that he would love to die here.  Which was an odd thing to say, but, this is his dream and we cannot fault him for that, even if we cannot understand it.

From Jessy H:

Ok, my questions
1.) So, I follow 6 blogs. Why is it, that 4 or 5 of those 6 decide to takes breaks at the same time? Do they not realize that I read them and only them and they shouldn’t all leave me at the same time!? Do they not realize that I stay home with no adult interaction through-out the day and reading them is how I feel like I am surrounded by adults?

No.  I do not think they realize.  My sympathies.
2.) I also am turning 30 this year and have not yet had the facial hair problem. Is this really something that is going to happen to me? When did you (oops, your friend) start seeing the facial hair?

I don't have facial hair, so I don't know what you are talking about.  I am flawless.

From Rachel:

 I also have a question for you. Despite loving your lumberjack, lumberjacklings, and lumberjillings and enjoying (?) your country-living lifestyle I feel I may safely assume this is not the life you dreamed of. So when you were a young lass what did you think your life would be like when you were 30?

NO!  Yet here I am.  It is my lot in life, my burden to bear.

From Joyce

Here is my question-does the LJ know he’s pushing his luck with the handlebar thing?

Let me let you all in on a little secret:  I can't let LJ know when he is pushing my buttons.  It will not end well for me.

When we were first married, my romantic and doting husband used to pin me down on the ground and restrain my arms.  Then he would proceed to slowly let a . . .  how do you say it . . . loogie?, drop from his lips, dangle in front of my nose, and then he would suck it back up.

Hands off, ladies.  He is all mine.

Well, I would scream and kick and buck and yell and fake cry and try all sorts of things to get him to stop.  This only encourages him.

It was when I feigned indifference that he finally stopped.

Therefore and henceforth, I shall shrug and say "Whatever you want, hon" when he mentions the handlebars.  As long as I remain steadfast in this lie, he will not get handlebars.

I hope.

From Suzanne:

How in the world do you stay sane and positive living in ruralville? I’m from a beautiful coastal town in Florida that I miss every. single. day. and I now live in S. Alabama (SIIIIGGGGGHHHHH) and I have a very hard time staying sane and positive living here. On top of that, I don’t have nearly as much on my plate as you do-I have no kids so obviously I don’t homeschool. HOW do you do it?!

I have no idea.

Just kidding.  Well, life isn't THAT bad for me.  God has blessed me and I am thankful for this house and all the land we have now.  I do love homeschooling my children, as challenging as it is.  I have a husband who loves me and takes care of us who doesn't have handlebars and stopped spitting loogies on me. 

Moving here meant a lot to my husband.  He is very appreciative of my willingness to do so and he is happier, so I am happier.

***

Thanks for all the questions, you all rocked my world.

Tonight I am going on a farewell tour with my children's ministry peeps.

Yes.  None of you probably knew this because I rarely speak of such things, but I was in leadership for children's ministry for 6 years and I just stepped down.

They are all devastated, I can assure you.

Here we all are. 

Yes.  We look awesome, this cannot be helped.

No!  I am not completely stepping down.

David and I shall be serving in an elementary aged room from here on out.

Don't tell David, but I signed him up to lead worship on stage.  It's right up his alley.

Happy Tuesday!

Recent Happenstances

Ever since I turned 30, my life got super busy and I have had no time for this blogging nonsense.

Maybe I am now too old for such things.

Every time someone hears that I am now thirty, their eyes get all big.

"Wow.  I'm sorry!"

"Oh . . . . 30, huh?"

"Hey, Dave!  You gotta find a new wife now!  Yours is so old!"

And that last one is just plain nonsense because David knows he shall never find a wife to move to Ruralville and put up with his trophy buck staring at her all the livelong day.

My mother had the day off on Friday and whenever my mother has a day off during the summer-ish months, she is bound and determined to go to the beach.  And every time she has a day off, the weather is frigid. 

And yet, she refuses to retreat.

So, on Friday, I was chilly and wearing my winter layers and trying to get all the kids swimstuff packed to humor my mother who must be getting crazy because she is 51 and all now.

And we drive all the way into town and, *gasp*, we determined it was too cold to go the beach.  This displeased Little Dude and he just kept yelling at me:

"Go to BEACH!  Go to BEACH NOW!"

He is such a well-behaved boy.  So, my mom decided we should take all the kids to skating rink.

Because that sounds easy.

Whilst skating, Handsome Dude was a bit ahead of me and I noticed him having some trouble with his glasses.

Shocking, I know.

So, I tried to pull Little Dude as fast as I could and got there just in time for another little boy, about 7 years old, helping him.

And that, my friends, is just fantastic, and I hope my boys will someday be that helpful and polite . . .

One can only hope.

So, the little boy had put Handsome Dude's lens back in the frame for him and off Handsome Dude went.

And moments later, both lenses just popped out of the frames and onto the floor of the local roller rink.

My poor boy.  He finally gets responsible with the glasses (and I use the term "responsible" quite loosely)  (quite), and now he is plagued with "lenses-randomly-popping-out" syndrome.

So, that was fun and and I had to call my dapper husband who came and picked Handsome Dude up, took him to the eye glasses clinic, where everybody knows our name, and they just decided to superglue his glasses together.

This excites me!  Hopefully his lenses won't just pop out anymore.

I am 30 now.  These are the things that excite me.

Maybe I should take up knitting.

On Saturday, we stayed at home all day and it was the first time in months that Mr. Lumberjack got to stay a full 24 hours at his dream house that he forgets to live at.

He was in a jolly good mood and I was able to convince him that he needed to help the kids clean ALL the rabbit poop from around the bunny hutches.

And he did!

Attention Wives:  Please submit your husbandly queries to me and I, the expert that I obviously am, shall help you achieve the results you desire.

So, I went inside and turned on my Taylor Swift, because even though I am 30, I am not too old for Taylor Swift, and I cooked up some elk meat for lunch.

Attention Wives:  I live in Ruralville with peach walls and deer heads staring at me while I cook my husband up some elk for lunch.  Don't bother sending your queries.  Instead, send me your advice on how I can get out of this mess.  Thank you.

No!  I did not partake of the elk for my meal, you silly readers, you!

That's crazy talk.

On Sunday, David's work treated everyone to a day at the amusement park.

I know what you are thinking, dear readers.

Elk!  Rabbits!  Roller rinks!  Beaches!  Winter weather in June!  Amusement Parks!

Where does this Lumberjill live?

I know, I know.  So mysterious, so exciting.  Yes.  That is my life.

Here we are with our lovely selves, getting all amused at the park.

Fun Fact:  I took none of these pictures.  A fellow worker of David's did.

David probably thought he was safe from anyone else seeing these pictures.

Yet, his coworker was armed with a smart phone and the power of The Facebook, which is what all made these pictures possible for you today.

Handsome Dude thought he was driving a car for reals.  He was pretty elated and thrilled and all that.

A lot of David's coworkers were a bit surprised to see him there.

"Dave!  I didn't think this was your thing!"

"So, you made it all the way from Ruralville, huh?"

"I'm surprised to see you here. I thought you'd be at home 'sticking it to the man'"

Ha!

It's a good thing David has such humorous people in his life to tease him endlessly.

It's good for him.

At the aforementioned amusement park, there is also a water park (I know! I told you my life was exciting!).  Little Dude fell and scraped up his leg a bit. 

I found a lifeguard person and asked her if she had a bandaid.

She told me I had to find a paramedic.

?

So I found the paramedic and asked her if she had a bandaid.

She told me I had to come with her to the First Aid Station.

So, she had to make the small talk, don her gloves, clean the wound, give the boy a sucker, try to understand the words the boy was saying, give him a bandaid, and took her time lovingly picking out a sticker for him.

Which was super nice and all.

But I just needed a bandaid.

I know what you are thinking.

"Taylor!  Why do you not already carry bandaids around?  Have you met your children?"

I know, I know.

I guess I like to live on the wild side.

So, that was our weekend, as exciting as it was.

Oh!  I leave for Las Vegas on Saturday!

I hope to lose 10 pounds by then.

Wish me luck!

Meanwhile, back at the ranch . . .

Summer came yesterday and it came with a bang.  I went to the park with my friend MindyLou and we were hot like lava.

It was like . . . 80.  Our hearty, winter bodies are not yet acclamated to things such as sun and warmth and skies that are blue.

MindyLou has a son named Levi and Handsome Dude thinks he's the bee's knees.  Yet, Handsome Dude never remembers his bff's name.

"Hey, Caleb!"

"Hey, Riley!"

"Hey, Byron!"

"Hey, Caden!"

"Hey, guy!"

"Hey, Isaac!"

Strangely, Levi answers to all names, which further proves these two boys are a match made in heaven.

Today we are home and summer has left us.  I am back to wearing socks and my black Cabela's jacket, which always makes me look fetching.  We are having some serious bouts of thunder and lightning.

Little Dude is terrified of the thunder.  He finds it to be wee scary.  Whenever he is scared, he can't seem to control his upper lip.

He's all shook up.

(get it?)

So, I guess that was it for us for summer.  It was nice while it lasted.

In other news, this is the day of my birth. 

It's true.  I'm 30 now.  I'm one of THOSE people.  Not that there's anything wrong with that.  Just weird.

I woke up to flowers from my adoring husband and a present compiled by Daisy Mae.  I had to remove my husband's card so my children would not see it, as it was flagged for adult content.

Hi, Dad! 

Daisy Mae's present was sweet and it is obvious she is the only child who really loves me, seeing as how Little Dude just told me it was really his birthday, Handsome Dude is just mad because I won't give him "lo-gurt" round the clock, and Sweet Pea says:

"Sorry, Mom.  I don't have any money."

Turns out Daisy Mae is a bit of a "re-gifter."  She gave me her strawberry lotion and lip balm that she received from her friend.  She gave me a bookmark somebody gave me about 5 years ago and a few other knick knacks she found around the house.

Her card is super cute:

Happy Birthday Happy Birthday Happy Birthday Happy Birthday

It is you"r Birthday!

We celebraet it.  We now You 30.

Love, Daisy Mae

I hop you have a Happy Day

Wow

Nise!

Love you

prfikt

Happ BirthDay

I wish you good luck

And now for some most excellent news:  I am going on a trip next week to Las Vegas with my Marmie and my Auntie Datenutloaf.

Me:  Mom.  What are we going to do in Vegas?

Mom:  Look at hotels, shop, yuck it up by the pool.

Yuck it up? 

Yes.  Let's yuck.

?

Moms are weird.

Sister Meagan might join us.

Let us take this moment to encourage her to do so.

*Thank you*

Well.  I'm signing off.  I am hoping to watch Veggie Tales with the Fab Four via my Netflix instant thingie-ma-bob.

This will most likely frustrate me, seeing as how I can't ever get it to load at a speed I deem acceptable.

But I love me some Bob and Larry.

And popcorn.

And Diet Pepsi.

Happy Thursday!

A Family Video

Alright.  I wrote an entire post already today, and you can read all about it here.

It tells you all about these bad boys:

No.  You can't borrow them.

(By the way, I think my inlaws are sincerely proud of me and gave these to me as sort of a recognition that I have finally come to join their side.)

(Have I?)

Anyways, I must tell you that in order for us to get this picture captured in time . . .

we had to stand by that waterfall for like 2 minutes.  Which is a long time when trying to photograph such a happy family.

My father-in-law was the one taking the pictures for me and the above one was the best one. 

 I was perplexed, dear reader . . .  dumbfounded, if you will.

Couldn't there have been a better one?

Well, dear readers, it turns out that Pa-in-law was confused and was using the video function.

It happens.

So, here is a 10 second video of us posing for a picture

video-2011-06-18-14-38-36

Yes, you have to click on it.  But it is only 10 seconds and it is hilarious and you need to watch it and then come back and then we will talk about it and how many more times can I say "and" and continue this sentence?

Ok.  Did you watch it?

Let's discuss.

1.  Watch Sweet Pea.  She is on the left.  As soon as she thinks the picture is taken, watch her face completely deflate.  Hilarious.

2.  Let us all consider Handsome Dude's stance and ponder to ourselves what on earth he is doing.

Does this have anything to do with the explosive diarrhea that would visit him the next morn?

3.  David, the happy man that he is, does not change his facial expression.  Once.

4.  Does it look like I am fake smiling?

Cause I am.

5.  Daisy Mae wins.  Hands down.

And she is not even looking at the camera.

6.  Little Dude needs a better attention span.

7.  Lucy gets second place.

Alright.  That was all.  I thought it was funny.

Carry on.

PS-tell me if the video does not work, ok?  Roger?  10-4?

The Bib Overalls

When will SUMMER come?  I mean, honestly.  We need to break into the 70's here at some point.  It's JUNE. 

And all you goodie-goodies who live in the southlands can drawl on  all you want about the heat and your sweet tea and whatnot, but I am still wearing pants, drinking hot coffee, and sometimes, wearing my Cabelas jacket.

Because I now wear a Cabelas jacket.  As if I couldn't get any stranger.

Oh, wait!  I can!

For this, my upcoming 30th birthday, my inlaws got me my first pair of Carhartt's.  Yes.  I am sporting the "bib overalls" with a lovely flannel shirt, perfect for a day of hard-work-fun in Ruralville.

My inlaws.

Them are wild and crazy. 

So, yes.  They thought they were all hilarious and gave me those Carhartt overalls.  The flannel shirt is actually from the Gap circa 1993, so I guess that is kind of ironic . . . don't you think? 

(name that music artist)

  (it's really easy.  don't let me down.)

Back to the subject at hand:

 

You would NOT believe how huge these things are.  I'm not sure how to take that.  I mean, yay for things swimming on me, but boo for people thinking they might fit my girth in the first place.

Dislcaimer:  This photo was taken at 8:30pm after a fun day of child-rearing, laundry, trailer cleaning, and outside work.  Which is why I look the way that I do. 

The astute reader might notice the flowers in the picture.  I am hoping you did because, I said, and I quote,

"David!  Take a picture of me in these Carhartts next to the flowers you got me! Make sure you get the flowers!  And make me look thin!"

I, yes, I, Taylor Maliblahblah received flowers from my doting husband last Friday.  And this was before he ever saw me in those Carhartts.

You may ask:  "Taylor!  How did you do that?

Well, dear readers, it was really quite simple.

Step #1-Tell your husband you want him to bring you flowers.

Step #2-Wait at least a year, give or take a few months, for him to finally buy you some because he feels it is dumb to get flowers within the same year you ask him. 

Step #3- Get the entire family ready to go camping all by yourself because your husband is working long hours.

Step #4-On the day of blissful camping departure, become all stressed-like when you see that your boys have hauled dirt into the house (?) and your girls TOLD you they took care of the rabbits, when alas, they did not.

Step #5-Slam your head smack into the roof of the rabbit hutch whilst doing your rabbit inspection.

Step #6- Stupid rabbits.

Step #7- Mutter and/or shout "I never wanted this kind of life!"

Step #8-Return inside to your peach house just in time to get a call from your unsuspecting husband who is on a "WOO-HOO!  I'M GOING CAMPING!!!" high

Step #9- Basically throw a fit because you are tired and cranky and your head hurts and who has time to worry about rabbits anyways?

Step #10- Receive flowers from your husband.

Step #11- Become slightly bummed that the flowers came mere minutes before leaving for the weekend.

Step #12-Briefly consider bringing the aforementioned flowers camping so you can enjoy them. 

Step #13- Deem that to be considered too high maintenance from the fellow camp-goers.

Step #14- Enjoy flowers when you return from blissful camping trip.

Speaking of rabbits, nobody cared to guess yesterday as to how many little baby bunnies we have.

25.

Speaking of yesterday, Mindee was perplexed as to how I was able to tow a fully-equipped toilet behind the rig to accommodate Handsome Dude's explosive diahrrea.

Mindee!  We were towing our camp trailer!

Keep up!

Yes.  We would just pull over to the side of the road and take him on inside.  It was super classy.

Darling reader Joyce had an idea that I liked.  She suggested I have my readers come up with a caption for our family camping photo and the idea tickled my fancy.

So, leave a comment with an idea for a caption, if you feel so inclined.

Happy Tuesday!

PS-I'm not 30 yet.  Just to keep the record straight.

PPS- It is true.  My husband is growing sideburns.

PPPS-I'll shall have this day for mourning.

 

Community Underwear

We have returned from a funtastic camping weekend.  And funtastic, is, of course, open to interpretation.  Because sometimes, I'm just not so sure about this whole camping thing . . .

But that is neither here nor there.

You know what is really a treat?

Camping with kids.

Wanna make it more fun?

Camping with kids in the rain.

Wanna make it ecstatic?

Camping hair.

So, we went on a hike to some waterfalls.

Dang.  We are one photogenic family.

Alex and Holly:

Lisa and baby girl #2

Sweet Pea

Alex

(He's such a show-off)

David and Little Dude . . .

"Please, Taylor.  Enough with the pictures."

"Honestly, Mother.  Enough is enough."

I would like to show you all a little sampling of the amount of wood my husband feels is necessary for a weekend camping trip:

I didn't help unload it.

I had "conveniently" misplaced my work gloves.

Darn.

Fun Fact:  I don't have work gloves.  And I don't plan on getting any.

(See the aforepictured wood pile.)

(Yes. I made up the word aforepictured.  This is why you like me.)

Little Dude turned 3!  Can we believe it? 

 No we cannot.

I wonder if Bimlissa is going to make any hoity-toity remarks about his hairstyle.  Not that SHE would ever do such a thing.

Hmph.

Do you know how dirty children get while camping?  It's shocking, really.  I mean, it's expected that one gets dirty and grimy while camping.  My kids take it to a whole new level.

When I asked Little Dude what kind of cake he wanted, all he said was:

"Brown."

Little Dude walks around and says:

"I love brown, I love mommy, I love brown."

Fun fact:  I have brown eyes.  He is smitten.

This is why I love this kid.  You all know just how awesome I am at creative cakes . . .

So, I just made him Darn Good Chocolate Cake.

On Sunday morning, Handsome Dude woke up feeling a bit sick.  So, that made for an interesting ride home.

I'll tell you one thing that ain't two things:  When you have a four year old with explosive diarrhea, you come to truly appreciate the fact that you are towing behind you a fully equipped toilet.

The explosiveness of it all added about an hour to our drive home.

My grammy used to always say that phrase: "I'll tell you one thing that ain't two things . . . "

I never understood it.  So I am now saying it to you.

You're welcome.

We came home and let Little Dude open his presents.

Please ignore his strange pants/underwear combination.  And ignore the fact that he is wearing his sister's panties.

When your brother is blowing through all the boy underwear, it's hard for a mama to keep up.

Yes.  I have community "boy" underwear and community "girl" underwear.  And I stand firmly in my beliefs.

I also have a community sock basket.

Life is too short for such tedious sorting.

I do, however, believe in individualistic toothbrushes.  As should you.

Alright.  I must leave you now.

Happy Father's Day to all the awesome Dads out there . . .

Such as mine.

PS-100 (meaningless) points to anyone who can guess how many baby bunnies we have in our "hare-um"

PPS-Do you get it?

PPPS- I think we should paint a sign called, "David's Hare-um."  thoughts?

PPPPS-500 (meaningless) points to anyone who can guess what my inlaws got me for my birthday.

Hint:  It's something to wear.  And it might make you want to send out a rescue mission.

Peace out, dudes!

The Unmentionable

I know I still have some questions to answer, but I must inform you of a recent happenstance.

This post, of which I am about to write, is guaranteed to make you feel better about your day.

Maybe.

Before we proceed, I must warn you that this post shall talk about poop.

A lot.

Since I consider myself a lady, I shall not be littering this page with "poop" this and "poop" that.  No.  I am far too high-class for that business.

From here on out, "poop" shall be referred to as "the unmentionable."

Even though I have already mentioned it many times thus far.

***

Earlier today, Handsome Dude walked by me and said, "Hi, Mom!  I not smell poop!"

(I know, I know.  But it would be weird if he called poop, "the unmentionable."  I shall call it the unmentionable starting now.)

(I promise.  Don't leave.)

I looked at him and did a visual check for "the unmentionable."  Since I didn't see anything amiss, I went back to loading the camp trailer.

You may ask, "Taylor!  Have you not met your son, Handsome Dude?  Warning!  Danger! Something is wrong!"

I know, dear readers.  I know.  But when a gal, such as myself, is getting her family of six ready for a weekend of wilderness fun, she tends to remain vigiliant on her tasks at hand.

A little while later, I noticed the bathroom door was locked.  Trust me, this is not rare with my dudes.

Have you met them?

Anyways.  Who has time to prompty unlock a bathroom door?  Certainly not me.  So, I went about my camping tasks, when I noticed a foul order permeating from the aforementioned locked bathroom.

The odor was unmentionable.

(Do you get it?)

So, I went to find the metal thingie that my husband supplied me with for emergencies such as this.

You KNOW, readers!  The metal thingie.  It's like . . .long . . . and thin? And you stick it in the door?  And you wiggle a lot and poof! the door unlocks.

Well, I couldn't find it.  But I did find a random twig laying on the ground.  I would like to say this is rare, but we all know that would be a lie.

The twig was long and thin and looked eerily like a metal thingie.  So, I tried that and darn my luck the twig broke off and became lodged in the door handle where it still sits there at this very hour.

No!  I did not tell my husband!  I am hoping he will never notice.  And if he does notice, he will probably figure one of the dudes did it.

Have you met them?

Lucky for us, he doesn't read this blog, so we'll just keep the whole twig incident between us.

Finally, I found the metal thing and was able to open the door.

And would you like to know what I found when I opened that door?

The largest "unmentionable" known to man sitting right there on the bathroom floor, mere inches away from the toilet.

It was so large, I did not know from whence it could have come.  But after a bit of deductive reasoning and the process of elimination (no pun intended), I determined the unmentionable item had to have come from Handsome Dude.

But, why?

He has never unmentioned anything on the floor in the past.  And why did he choose to unmention mere inches from the toilet?

So, I cornered my Handsome Dude.

Me:  Dude.  Mommy saw the bathroom.

HD (short for Handsome Dude . . . keep up, people!) What bafroom?

Me:  The guest bathroom.

(Attention all would-be guests to Ruralville.  You might want to do a sanitation check before using our hospitable, guest bathroom.  Over and out.)

HD:  Mommy's bafroom?

Me:  No, the guest bathroom.

HD:  The downstairs bafroom?

Me:  No, the guest bathroom.  Mommy saw what was in there.

HD:  Huh?

Me:  I want you to tell me what happened.  I want you to tell me the truth.  You won't be in trouble, just don't lie to me.

HD:  Ummm . . . I think Cokey peed in there?  I not know?

Me:  Buddy.  I saw it.  Don't lie.  Just tell the truth.

HD:  I not know.  Nufing happened?  I not know.

So, my dude declined to tell the truth at first, but finally he owned up to it.

HD:  I was going potty and I was standing and then I just had to go poo and I not stop it and it went on the floor!

(cry, wail, sob)

HD:  And I try to pick it up and it was too hard.

(cry, wail, sob)

Me:  So you just locked the door and left?

HD:  Yes!

(cry, wail, sob)

Me:  Did you wash your hands?

HD:  No!  Why?

*sigh*

So, today was a funky adventure.

I'm sorry for all the bathroom talk.

Good night.

PS-Diet Vanilla Pepsi is God's gift to diet sodas.

PPS-It smells like up-dog in here.

 

Wednesday Afternoon Answers

Alright!  Are you ready for some more questions and answers?

Sure you are!

From Katie B:

What is your favorite summer activity? Aside from the joys of camping and huckleberry picking.

Ha!  The JOYS of camping and huckleberry picking.   What-ev.

Fun Fact:  I just looked in my freezer and found 8 cups of precious huckleberries still waiting for my husband to approve them for wasteful, human consumption.

Aren't they probably bad by now?

It's just so scary to use those precious berries.  I mean, what is worthy of a huckleberry?

A milk shake?

A pie?

A pancake?

They all seem so trivial in the grand scheme of things . . .

Well.  I would LOVE to travel.  I don't care where.  Just anywhere that isn't here and doesn't require our camp trailer, 4 wheeler, the lack of electrical appliances, and 15 gas cans.

But, I do like reading a good book during the summer and relaxing a bit.  I guess that's it. 

Oh, and I LOVE me some moose tracks ice cream in a waffle cone.

And I love to eat one while wearing a swimsuit and wondering why I hate wearing a swimsuit.

Cause I'm brilliant like that.

From Kristy:

Question…I know not of where you live, but I am assuming it is someplece that people want to vacation? Do you have any problem finding renters for your rental property during the summer months? What kinds of fun might a renter expect to have while vacationing at your rental property? Are there touristy things to do? Or is it more of a relaxing place?

We don't have any problems because our house is so close to the lake.  Yes, we do advertise and we are almost all booked up for the summer already!

What kinds of fun can the tourist expect?

Well.  They could . . . um . . . go to the lake.  Except right now it is freezing.  They could shop?  Eat?  Huckleberry pick?

Honestly, I have no idea why people want to come here.

But if them coming here means my house payment gets made, then who am I to judge?

And . . . it is beautiful in these here parts . . .

I better stop posting pictures.  You guys might find out I live in Hawaii.

And we wouldn't want that.

From Sharyl and The Little Brown House:

Question: How are the Varicose Veins? Still gone? Do you ever pull out the white hose for fun?

Dear readers.  Did you know that I had a gnarly case of the varicose veins whilst pregnant with the boys?

I had to have a procedure to get them taken care of.  It was awful:

Sadly, they are still there.  I think the doctor just wanted my monies.  I've grown to like them.  I feel they add interest to the back of my legs.

Oh, I have a HILARIOUS story about the veins.  But in order to share it, I would need to make sure that no men were reading that day.  Nor my dad.  Nor anyone who goes to church with me.  Or basically anyone I would ever have to see again.

Just too many risks . . . but trust me.  You would have laughed.

Sharyl, you can have my tights and repurpose them into a table runner or something.

Question 2: Is there any painting plan in your summer agenda? We know you love peach walls….they may even be the instigator of the vomit…just sayin.

No plans to paint.  We are too tired and old.

Just you wait . . . peach is the new "it" color.

I'm bringing it back, baby!

From Erin:

I have always wanted to do a q&a post on my blog, but have been too afraid that no one would ask me any questions.
So my question to you– do you think anyone would ask me any questions?

Yes, Erin.  If I can coerce people to ask me questions, surely you can.  And if no one does, just delete the post and pretend it never happened!

Win-win!

Not that I would ever do such a thing.

From Lisa Bunchanan

What curriculum do you use and what do you do with your littlest while the other are schooling?

I read a book called The Well-Trained Mind and I fell in love with it.  So, I follow that for the most part.

This will be boring for non-homeschooling people, and maybe boring for even homeschooling people, but here is what I do:

Bible:  God's Great Covenant

Grammar:  First Language Lessons

Spelling:  All about Spelling and Spelling Workout

Phonics:  Ordinary Parents Guide to Teaching Reading and Explode the Code

Writing:  Writing with Ease and 4 Square

History:  Story of the World

Science:  Apologia:  Human Anatomy with JR notebooks

Math:  We did Saxon, but it wasn't for us.  We started doing Math U See and we loved it!  But it doesn't follow our state standards very well.  So next year we are doing Math Connects (to meet standards) and supplementing with Math U See

Besides.

Who DOESN'T love doing two math programs?

Art:  Artistic Pursuits

Next year, we are adding Latin and using Prima Latina.

Look at us with our big homeschooling pants on!

The boys.

*sigh*

They usually just play trucks or trains and generally are disruptive and messy and, well, boys.

I am going to be more organized with them this next year and have a better plan for things for them to do.

I am open to suggestions!

In other words:  help!

Happy Wednesday!

Oreo Blizzard!

David has been working late a lot these days.  Daisy Mae wrote him a little note:

"To Dad.  Love you so muck.  Wi do you have to wrk so lat."

Uber cute.

Remind me to speak to her spelling teacher immediately.

***
Hold on to your pants, folks.  It's time for some questions and answers.

From Micah:

The blurb about wearing the same underwear everyday for a week is priceless… does your husband ever read your blog and shriek “Holy cow, you told everyone that?!”

Yeah.  My husband doesn't read this nonsense. 

He's too busy scouring the farm and garden section of Craigslist and trying to find a part for his dozer.

Fun Fact:  The home and garden section of Craigslist is our home page.  Exciting stuff.

From Mindee:

Question: What are you going to do with all those baby bunnies? Will you have the mamas spayed now or are you going to add “rabbit breeder” to your list of job titles?

True story: When I was a child, we lived in the mountains in a very rural environment for three loooooong years. Our neighbors up the road bred rabbits – and then ate them. Given that you eat elk and deer, rabbit wouldn’t be too big of a stretch.

Dear Mindee,

I resent the fact that you think I would raise rabbits for to eat them.  I can barely eat chicken.

Nay.  The girls are trying to sell them as PETS to earn MONEY for a HORSE.

And just to ward off any more suspicions, no we are not eating "horse".

Even if you think it sounds like something we would do.

I am normal, people!  I really am!  It's that darn husband of mine.  He's the hick-ish one.

From Holly:

Question: Who vomited?

On that day, it was Sweet Pea.  Today, Daisy Mae did.

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

Are you sure that’s not a store bought shed? It looks just like one of those sheds that sits outside of the Home Depot store that are for sale. Nice work Lumberjack, nice work indeed.

Oh yes, Heather who is not a nurse and does not reside in North Dakota, I am sure.  I helped him load the lumber.  I watched him lay out the trusses, or whatever in the heck the triangle shaped things are.  I saw him side it.  I saw him roof it.  I saw him build his own door.

I even saw his tool belt.

That's right.  Tool belt.

Hands off, ladies.  He's all mine.

From Beth

Your house looks great! Congratulations! So where do we go to rent this little bit of Heaven on Earth?

You go to the town I used to live in, of course.  It is quite a lovely town . . . I will have to ask Sir Lumberjack why it is he moved me so far, far away from it.

Our house is/was close to the lake.

Look at my dudes!  Back when they wore Baby Gap and not Carhartt for kids . . .

The house is even close to parks . . .

Where we used to run into good friends . . .

Holla, MindyLou!

It's a lovely place.  I might need to move back.

Guess what!  Today marks one year since we moved to Ruralville.

I need ice cream.

From Aimee

My questions are: What do you wish that veteran homeschool Moms (like myself) would have told you before you started homeschooling? What did you think was the hardest part of this year? What did you think was the easiest? I think you truly need to be commended Way to go! How did your girls win that award?

Hmmm . . .

I wish they would have told me to relax a bit.  I think I stressed too much and over did some things.

For example:  I use two different curricula (ooh!  a fancy word!) for spelling, social studies, writing, and science.

Because I am strange.  And annoying.  And still trying to figure out what in the heck I am doing.

Hardest part of the year:  Dealing with the boys and worrying about whether or not I was doing things right.

Easiest part:  Actually teaching the girls.  We had a blast and we love most of our curriculum.  And the stuff we don't love is getting the boot.

Win, win!

The award-I think they had to submit work that was at grade level or above all year long and test at proficient in the state testings.  Also, I think they looked at their portfolio work.

I'm pretty sure they give the award to every kid and his brother.

But let us commend me nonetheless.

***

Alright!  That's all for now!  I shall answer more later.

(feel free to leave a question if you'd like)

But, first I must inform you that I just spoke with my husband on his cellular device and he is going to attempt to bring me a BLIZZARD from DAIRY QUEEN.

Do you think the Blizzard will make the 45 minute drive?

Do you?

My husband does have a spiffy lunch box cooler.

Yum.  I'm getting Oreo.

Jealous?

It was Bimlissa

Do you ever have a hard time trying to figure out how to start a blog post?

Me neither.

So, this weekend was a super busy one.  There is this massive yard sale that happens once a year in the regions about which we live.  The entire town has their yard sales on one day.  It's genius, I tell ya.  So, we loaded up the lumberjacklings at 6:30am and headed off to find our deals.

David bought nothing, because nothing tickled his fancy.  Mainly because there was nothing with large motors and oil and wires and drills and pans and saws and horns and camo and whatnot.  I purchased my usual items:  clothing for children and other junk I think the kids need, but they really don't.

We joined up with some peeps for the yard sale.  David's sister, Lisa, offered to take Little Dude with her to the bathroom at one point when she was taking her 2 year old.  I looked at her like she was an insane, crazy person and said:

"Yes, please!"

She was gone FOR-EV-ER.  I learned that she had to take them to an outhouse, which means I need to buy Lisa a Starbucks post haste.  When she returned, she looked a little frazzled, which was to be expected.  But then she informed me that she had accidentally dropped Little Dude's shoe into the toilet, as in the outhouse toilet, as in DISGUSTING, OH MY GOODNESS, SO GROSS, NASTINESS.

She assured me to not worry because she was able to retrieve it.

*GASP*

She stuck her arm down an outhouse toilet to save my son's shoe, of which he will probably grow out of next week anyways.

Let us all have a moment to commemorate the courageous and thrifty spirit of my sister in law, Lisa.

*Thank you*

Later that evening, we walked down yonder country road to the bison ranch.

Yes.

I live near a bison ranch.

Do you?

The Bison Rancher Peoples were having a BBQ and invited peoples from all around to feast at their ranch.

Do not worry, dear readers.  I did not try any meat, because I did not know what animal the meat came from.  And there were no labels.  And I'm not going to eat bison, I'll tell you that right now.

The Bison Rancher Peoples are nice, friendly peoples and the kids had a blast.  They were able to take rides on the horse.

Sweet Pea

Little Dude and Daisy Mae.

Things to notice:

1)  Daisy Mae had just purchased that hat at the garage sales earlier that day.  Despite my instructions that she needed to launder it before wearing it, as you can see, she elected to not heed my advice and donned the grody garage sale hat and all the germs it may or may not have contained.

2)  I tried to prevent it, but I have four children and I no longer have time to care.

  I wash my hands of it.

3)  I put this picture on The Facebooks and my dearheart friend, who shall remain nameless, told me that my son looked like Lloyd from Dumb and Dumber.

source

I am shunning her.  Until I get tired of shunning her.

I shan't tell you who it was, because I am above such pettiness and wouldn't want you all to shun her as well.

In an effort to de-Lloyd-ify my son, I tried to make him look all snazzy this morning for church.

It's obvious I've missed my calling in life.

Oh, look!  A random hanger lying on my floor!

That's weird.

I'm usually the epitomy of togetherness.

After church today, we went to an appreciation BBQ for children's ministry.

Because we serve in children's ministry and we need to be appreciated.

Oh, yes.  We do.

David was talking with some other manly-men about boats and motors and other dreadfully boring matters.  I took the three eldest over to the water park feature thingie and he was in charge of Little Dude.

So, as I was happily chatting away with a friend, you can imagine my shock when I saw a pasty-white boy, who looked remarkably like Little Dude, in camo underwear strutting his stuff around the water park.

I hurried over and apologized to the group of ladies that he was obviously trying to impress.

Ladies:  It's ok, honey.  We did help him put his underwear on, though.  We thought he shouldn't be naked.

*oh, dear*

It's a good thing David and I serve in children's ministry at church.  Obviously the children at church are left in good, capable hands.

Oh, stop, readers!

I'm sure your kids have also stripped naked at the church BBQ.

Get off your high horses.

 

My Friend's Facial Hair.

1.  I invited my sister and her friend over for dinner this week. 

 David was working late and I was feeling like a hostess with the mostess.  I texted my sister and invited her, sure that I would impress her with my ability to throw together a delicious meal on a whim with four children running amok.  After she agreed, I remembered that her friend is a vegetarian.  For a brief moment, I considered serving elk. 

 You know. 

For kicks and grins. 

Instead, I went with my original plan to make an easy chicken/potato/artichoke dish.  So, me being the aforementioned hostess with the mostess served my vegetarian guest potatoes and artichokes.

Yum.

And I undercooked the potatoes.  They were a tad crunchy.

Yum.

And I was almost out of artichokes, so basically I served her raw potatoes.

She ate a lot of salad.  A lot.

She was probably thinking that elk sounded mighty tasty.

2.  I have a cold sore.  And it's gnarly.  The kids tell me all day long that I need to wipe my mouth because I have pizza sauce on it.

It is sad that they think I eat pizza round the clock, is it not?

3.  I lost 2 pounds while trying to keep up with my husband this weekend while working on the rental house.

That isn't really a confession.  More of a boasting.  Just thought I would throw it in there to make you all green with envy.

4.  Don't worry.  I am sure to gain it back within the hour.  I might make pizza for lunch.

5.  I looked outside yesterday and saw that our dog,  Lucy,  had gotten into the garbage.

LucyFur

I decided that this warranted a "warning sound."  Yes.  We have a certain collar, with certain features that works shockingly well for our naughty pup.  Well, I never have to  actually use it, but if I push the warning sound button, she knows she is being naughty and stops her mischievousness immediately.

Imagine my shock(hardy-har-har) when I discover that Lucy has also ripped off her collar and chewed it up along with the garbage.

LucyFur.

6.  Is it normal to get weird facial hair when you get close to turning 30?  Like, all down the side of your face?  Almost as if you were growing a beard?  But you're not?

I'm just asking.

For a friend.

7.  I think my husband is growing sideburns.  Everytime I ask him, he denies my allegations and assures me I am crazy.

Yet, every time he shaves, he doesn't shave his sideburns.

Perhaps I am being duped?

He has threatened for years to grow handlebars.

(Source)

I can handle moving to Ruralville.  I will permit a deer or two to hang on my wall and stare creepily at me for all eternity.  I will camp.  I will huckleberry pick.  I will pretend to like the sideburns.  I will, and do, serve him up some tasty elk for his supper.

But the handlebars just might do me in.

(If you, or someone you love, enjoy the look of the handlebar mustache, I mean you no ill-will)

8.  I held a baby bunny for the first time last night. 

I will admit, I was a little scared to hold one at first.

You may exclaim: "Taylor!  Baby bunnies are so cute!  Why would you be scared?!"

Well, dear readers.

That is just further proof of why I am not fit to live out here in Ruralville.

Yet, here I am.

It is my lot in life, my burden to bear.

9.  If a gal who was nearing 30 was to, in fact, be growing odd facial hair, how should she remove it?

My friend was wondering.

10.  I was chatting with someone this morning and they mentioned that they had to go to the doctor.

Ok.  So, I wasn't chatting, per se.  I was Facebook messaging.

Online communication takes the place of all factual relationships!  It's true!

Join the revolution!

Anyways.

She was mentioning how she had to go in for her yearly exam.

Ladies!  You know this exam of which I speak.

The yearly.

Hmmm?

I happily wished her luck and then it hit me.

My baby turned 1!  Like 2 years ago.

I probably should go in for my yearly.

But I probably won't.

Ok, I might.

But I don't want to.

***

That is all I have for today.

Go check out Kira's blog for a humorous Fess Up Friday post.

She talks about meeting someone named Stacy Julian.

?

It's ok.  I don't know who that is either.

***

Also:  I am doing a questions and answers post next week so if you would like to leave a question you may.

But you don't have to.

It's not like I'm running out of things to talk about over here . . .

We can play name the rabbits or something.

Happy Friday!