Ten Things Thursday: Weed Edition

I am SO tired.  And here are today's top ten.

You may ask:  "Taylor!  Top Ten what?"

I have no idea.

1)  We have weeds.  Lots of them.  I pulled weeds for six hours today.

Six.  SIX.  SIX.

See those rows?  Them are half rows.  We have at least 40 full rows, maybe more.

Excuse me?  I believe we wanted a large garden?

Hello!

I so tired.  And discouraged.  Isn't gardening supposed to be an enjoyable hobby?

Because I want to burn it to the ground.  True story.

2)  Pop Quiz?  What is this plant:

A pumpkin or a watermelon?  I can't remember what I planted there.  Ha!

Please don't say it's a weed.  Please don't say it's a weed.

3)  I made this recipe this week.  It was yummy.

Chicken Pad Thai from Lauren's Latest

Check it out, my internet friends.

4)  All day long I have wanted to read my book.  It is not going to happen.  The weeds are eating my fun.

5)  Look at what my crafty sister in law, Lisa, made me for my birthday:

The item on the left is for to hang necklaces.  (It hangs on the wall horizontally)

The item on the right is for to hang earrings.

Look at Lisa and her crafty self!

6)  Speaking of Lisa and all things crafty, I am heading to her house on the morrow for a Pinterest day with her and my other sis in law, Amy.

We are planning on making these:

Image source and link to original post

My one job is to bring the chicken wire.  Which just shows what kind of gal I am.  And isn't that sad?  That I am now the go-to gal for chicken wire? I was a bit worried about the aforementioned craft because David always takes his wire cutters to work with him.  And every good rancher knows you need wire cutters.  For to cut the chicken wire.

No fear!  My handy sister in law, Lisa, has a pair of her own.

I will never be as cool as her.

7)  Did you know chickens can dig holes?  Ask me how I know.

8)  David is going to be home late.  Again.  I am hoping he will get an epiphany to bring home some ice cream.

9)  Since you all just asked how I knew that chickens can dig holes, I will tell you.

I see them.

You see, dear readers, I can see the chickens from my bedroom window.  They will oft dig small little holes and sit in them throughout the day.  Well, today, I noticed at least fifteen chickens who decided to allow themselves to become "free-range" without my permission.

Turns out, they dug a hold under the fence and burrowed their way to freedom.  My girls herded the chickens back in, and I, the strong Lumberjill that I clearly am, filled in the hole.

Then I went and weeded the garden.  Because, have you heard?  Weeding is the bane of my existence.  And it is sucking all the joy out of my life.

10)  I gave all four kids haircuts yesterday.  I would describe them as:

"eh."

The girls are ok.  The boys are a bit iffy.  And if someone could please, PLEASE tell me how to cut a boys' hair with scissors and NOT with an electric trimmer, I would be forever grateful.

But anyways.

I was so proud of myself for saving some cash.  Because you know.  Sometimes we feel poor.

Well.  It's a good thing I saved that haircut money because, guess what!  The TV broke at our loathsome rental and we had to go buy a new one last night.

Because a brand, spanking new TV is quite comparable in costs to four kids haircuts that look mediocre at best.

So, tell me dear readers.

1)  Do you cut your kids' hair?

2)  How does it look?  Really?

3)  Am I growing pumpkins or watermelons?

4)  Do you want to come weed my garden?

5)  Do you have your own wire cutters?

6)  Do you have a supply of chicken wire to impress your crafty friends with?

Good Day.

The Birthday Post

If you are anywhere on or around a diet, you need to close your eyes and scroll past the first portion of today's thrilling entry.

Trust me.  You must!

If you, however, are like me and only diet on the third Tuesday of each month, feel free to read on.

(image source and link to recipe)

Oh.  My.  Lanta.  These are so good.  If you are ueber naughty like me and decide to check them out, do not fret if you do not have 8 squares of semi-sweet chocolate.  I mean, really.  Who has the squares lying around?  Not I.  I subbed a 12oz package of semi-sweet chocolate chips.  Divine!  Delicious!  Heavenly!

Perfect for the homeschool marm who is on summer break- and just might sneak them into her bedroom with a cup of coffee and a good book and LOCK THE DOOR  . . . just so she doesn't have to share.  Not that I might know from experience.  Nope, nope, nope.

And, oh yeah!  Remember my plans to continue homeschooling fairly regularly throughout the summer so that my children would be brilliant and all peoples of all nations would rise and call me blessed?

I have a comment to make on that:

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

I mean, really.  Isn't review what the whole month of September is for anyways?

Well.  I turned 31 since we last spoke.  It's true.  My one mission on my birthday was to somehow get myself a moose tracks ice cream in a waffle cone.

It happened.

I had a lovely birthday.  My beloved bought me some awesome gifts-gifts that I, the former city girl, would have scoffed at years ago.  But now, these gifts make me all giddy-like.

I got . . . wait for it . . . wait for it . . .

Six LARGE blueberry plants (I know!)

One tomato plant

One large, gorgeous hanging basket that elite people, unlike myself, usually have hanging on their porches.

Look at me and my elite, farmgirl self!

The tomato plant might be puzzling to some seeing as how our family does not eat tomatoes.  But I have great plans, my friends.  Plans that include making, and canning, my own spaghetti sauce.

Because I am 31 now.  And these are the tasks I must do.

Sweet Pea bought me a gold pie server at an antique mall.  She was SO excited and I told her I would treasure it forever, seeing as how I have no gold utensils whatsoever.  My mother bought me 3 beautiful blue canning jars and let the girls give them to me.  Because, have you heard?  Blue canning jars are all the rage.  Mother also got me the Pampered Chef covered baker and I am seriously on cloud nine.  My sis in law made me a cool necklace and earring holder that I shall have to share with you.  But not today.  It wouldn't be prudent.  And I got gobs of other good things, but we must forge on.

Let us look at some photos of this blessed weekend, shall we?
 Here are some pictures from when mother and I “Hoed with Rosa.”  As most people do with their mothers.  Naturally.

The boys.  Precious, as always.

(ha!  Hello?  Have you read this blog?)

The girls.  Enjoying some ice cream.

Back to my birthday!  Because, it is all about me and my special day.  To get the aforementioned cone of ice cream, we went to the park that amuses us.  It was a fun day for all.

Waiting in line.

(Daisy Mae and David ditched us to ride some roller coasters)

(Lumberjill does NOT ride roller coasters.  She hasn't been able to handle them since she was 17)

(Sadly, upon turning 31, even the carousel made Lumberjill ill.  Because Lumberjill is old.  Apparently)

Sweet Pea and Little Dude taking a country drive.

Fun, fun!

Today, I ordered a pressure canner.  Not to be confused with a canner, nor a pressure cooker.

A PRESSURE CANNER.

Apparently, it is everything I need in this life.

Stand down, naysayers!  I don't need one more person warning me that said pressure canner might blow up in my face.  You are all killjoys.  I wash my hands of it.

I am going to can green beans!

And dried beans, like pinto, black, and kidney!

And perhaps soups!

And maybe even elk meat!

My joy overfloweth.

Ho with Rosa

We have a big garden.  This we know to be truth.  And everything seemed all grand and glorious with said garden until I realized I had to weed it.

Oh, the humanity!

I think I am just going to have to ask David to get a few truckloads of bark so we can cover them up and pretend they are not really there.  Ignorance is bliss. I have picked weeds for a couple of hours everyday and I can't even tell.  I just finished reading a book written in the voice of a gal from the 1800's and I totally wanted to write that the weeds have me "purely addled."  Because when I read the book, I was certain "addled" meant angry. And addled just sounds like a word that would impress, wouldn't you agree?

Turns out it means "confused."

So, its a good thing I didn't write that the garden had me purely addled.  I would have looked like an addled idiot.

Before I forget, I must do the COW.

For it pleases us so.

Awhile ago, I informed all y'all that I intended to get a sign for my chicken coop and I asked for input on what the sign should say.

I was thinking not-so-creatively and coming up with things like:

"Chicks and Hens"

or

"Chickens"

You know.  To keep things simple.

Christi's suggestion was hilarious and deserves the COW:

"No Vacancies"

Ha!  I loveth it.  For those who may be unawares, my husband has some odd habit of driving all around the world acquiring chickens.

There's no more room!  I repeat!  There is NO MORE ROOM.

In other equally exciting news, there are fifteen baby chickens living on my kitchen table.  They were all supposed to be Rhode Island Red chicks, but three popped out black in color.  Oops!  Not sure what happened there.  Apparently, and this might shock you, we don't really know what we are doing.  You know.  With the rabbits, chickens, children, and life in general.

Having baby chicks live on your kitchen table is not for the faint of heart.  My house stinks and quite frankly, the novelty of the idea is wearing off.  One baby chick has a gimpy leg, but seems to be thriving otherwise.  I told
John ArabelDavid there would be no "taking care of it."  You never know what a farm and ranch husband might do, you know?

My mother's birthday was yesterday.  Mother?  Are you reading this?  Hello!  Happy birthday!  She called yesterday a little aggravated.

Me:  Happy Birthday!

Mom:  Thanks.  But somehow someone let Facebook know and Facebook has been sending my phone tons of messages all day long.

Me:  Well, when you created an account, you entered your birthday so that's how Facebook "knows."

This may have been tricky for her because I am pretty sure I set up her account.  But we need to only give her as much information as she can handle.  Or she might explode.

Mom:  Oh.  Ok.

The funniest part to me is that she tried to thank my cousin, we'll call him Gregory, for that is his factual name, but ended up making

"Thank you"

as her status update for the day.

Later on we were texting, because, you know, it is the year 2012 and texting is the wave of the future.  In case you didn't know.

We were discussing getting together on my mother's day off and I told her our plans and she said she would like to join.

But then she realized that I had not invited her, so she sent me a text that read something like:

But that's okay if you want to ho with someone rosa.

I believe she meant to say "go with someone else."  But what do I know?

So, I texted her back:

I was not going to ho with Rosa.  You can come.

And I thought it was so funny and it brought an ever-so-slight smile upon my face.  But she didn't respond and had to call me later on.

Mom:  Um, Taylor.  I got your text and, well, I didn't have my glasses on, but I don't understand who Rosa is.

Me:  Mom.  You wrote Rosa.  In your text.  Did you look back and read it?

I think THAT made her brain explode.  And then she, once again, had to blame it on her missing glasses.

Alright.  I'm off to weed that dreaded garden.  And tomorrow, my addled mother and I are going to ho with Rosa.

Later.

The Birthday Fishing Picnic

Little Dude, who has been waiting for months to turn four years old, finally had his big day yesterday.  His siblings were ever so sweet to him and all brought him presents from their own belongings that they had wrapped for him.  It was ueber precious.

For a few months now, Little Dude has been informing us that learning how to "catch a fish" was on his to-do list for the summer.  So, last night, David brought him home another birthday present to add to his stash:

A Spiderman fishing pole . . . as if life could not get any more exciting.  We packed a picnic dinner and drove to a little fishing spot about 10 minutes away.

Little Dude:  Dad!  DAD!  Hey-hey-hey-hey-hey, Dad!  It takes SO LONG to catch a fish.  When will the fish come?  When, Dad?  DAD?  WHEN?!  Oh!  Look at the worm!  He is so shiny from the waters.  Did he take a bath?  Does he like to swim?  Where are the fish?  I am hungry!  Here, fishy-fishy-fishy!  DAD!  Where is my fish?  I so freezing.  SPIDERMAN!  TO THE RESCUE!  Can I have a cupcake?

Handsome Dude was the first catcher of fish.

And how does he celebrate?

By catching another one.

Daisy Mae is quite the littler fisher girl.

She knows all about casting and reeling and whatnot.  Fun fact, and this may surprise you, I know nothing about the mysterious ways of the fishing pole.  I just sat and tried to make sure that:

A)  Little Dude did not drown

B)  The M&Ms got eaten

C)  Handsome Dude did not drown

And I had to try and answer all of Little Dude's questions.  Which is not easy, my friends.

Sweet Pea

Sweet Pea loathes getting her picture taken lately.  It is quite exasperating for this mother who is trying to capture everything in a pointless blog.  But what can you do?

Finally, David fired me from "helping"  Little Dude fish and took the Spiderman Pole away from us for about 2.9 seconds.  Then he quickly told Little Dude to hold the pole while we all participated in:

The Great Birthday Fishing Deception of 2012

Which is basically how we all tricked Little Dude into thinking that he caught a fish.

Don't judge.  You would do it, too, my friends.  You would do it, too.

Later, we sang a little tune . . . I bet you are familiar with it?  It is called "Happy Birthday."  Little Dude had a grand time passing out his birthday cupcakes-

The great fisher-boy that he clearly is.

Purely Agitated

Look at me and my farm and ranch self!

I, yes, I, Taylor Maliblahblah, have grown 11 whole baby chickens.  All by myself.  One little chick sadly did not make it . . . it died mid-crack and part of its body is poking out of the shell.

So close, little chick!  So close!

It has been like that for about 24 hours, so I think its done for.  Poor pumpkin.  We are still waiting on more to hatch, so there may be more to come!

Please.  Try and feign excitement.  Its all I have going on over here.

So, today I woke up and had many goals of which I had hoped to accomplish.  Cleaning bathrooms, vacuuming, washing bedding, you know . . . the usual.  I was even toying with the idea of starting some school with Handsome Dude . . . just to see what kind of torture and agony will befall me come September.  But then, I looked out the window and saw the dogs eating a rabbit.  Which is always a killjoy.  Turns out the rabbits dug a hole under the fence and four total were out and the three survivors had managed to get themselves into the chicken coop.

I was purely agitated.

  The girls and I got the deceased rabbit disposed of and managed to get the other three to safety, where they will await my beloved who will need to come take a gander at their private areas so we know which stall to put them in.

Yes.  Be jealous of our glamorous lives.

In other, less disturbing news, we went camping this past weekend!  It was a combo Father's Day/Little Dude's Birthday trip.

I was going to make him an exquisite tractor type cake . . . I'm sure you all remember my sweet, Titanic cake.

Its obvious I have missed my calling in life.

But, I digress.

Little Dude informed me that, no, he just wanted a cake with lots and lots and lots of candy on it.

So he is now my favorite because he made my life uEber easy.

He called it "Candy World."  Basically, we made a chocolate cake.  Slapped on some frosting.  Made a Kit Kat gate, for that was one of his requirements.  Threw on some cars.  Chopped up some candy.  And added sprinkles.

Feel free to pin it.  I know you want to.

Yes.  I should have rotated the picture before sharing it with you.  I care not.

Little Dude loves, loves, loves camping.

And combining a birthday with camping?

Fuhget about it.

The camp host gal gave him a whistle.  So, he rode all around whistling for bears.  He's pretty sure that's how you "catch" them.

He happily informed everyone 4.2 billion times that he had a Candy World cake.  Sadly, no one really cared.  But he sure did.

Finally, his moment came.

And, then, just to make him explode with excitement, we sang him The Happy Birthday Song.

He was soaking it all up!

Alright!  My husband will be home soon and I must break it to him that he gets to gender-ify some rabbits.

He is sure to be thrilled.

Hatch and Company

Last night was "Going to Town Night."  It is truly an exciting event around here.  I had to get some groceries for camping this weekend (oh, yay!) and then my parents were going to watch the kids (oh, yay!) so I could clean that wretched rental (oh, boo!).

We pulled up to the store and Daisy Mae looked me up and down.  Then she said with much dismay,

"Um, I can't believe you went to town looking like that."

And I looked.  I was wearing jeans and a gray, hooded sweatshirt.

Me:  So, what?

DM:  Um, usually you look a bit nicer when you go to town.  I don't know why you are wearing that.

Me:  Do you remember what I am doing tonight?

DM:  Cleaning the house?

Me:  So, what did you think I should wear?

DM:  I don't know.  It just does not look good.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Well, folks.  You have read about my move from the city to the country and how I have learned to homeschool, make jam, make homemade laundry soap, grind up fresh elk meat, can peaches and applesauce, make my own bread, raise rabbits, and, of course, raise chickens.

The most logical next step would be to hatch baby chicks on my kitchen counter, don't you think?

I truly never intended on being this way.  My apologies.

So here is our first contestant, poking his/her way into the world:

The astute reader might notice that one egg has 4/23 written on it.  This is how one of my children wrote May 23rd.  Because I excel at the homeschool.

Contestant #2 starts to break through.

Don't worry, Little Chicks!  I am sure my responsible, young man will do you no harm during your existence here on this earth.

*ahem*

I'd like to be all inspirational and Mother Nature-ish, but the baby chicks look truly disgusting when they are birthing themselves from the egg.

Gives me the peepee shivers.

But feel free to be inspired and amazed if you'd like.

He/She popped his/her head out!

Success!

Please don't tell me I am going to have to try and determine the gender of the chickens as well.

I will have none of it!

We named the first chick "Hatch."  Because we are creative, you know?

Soon after, Hatch's sibling also joined in on the miracle of life.

Here are the two of them watching over their third sibling who is soon to peck his/her way into the world.

The hatching process takes FOR-EV-ER.  Seriously.  "Hatch" first cracked his shell around 11pm last night and finally made it through around 7 this morning.

You try and keep four kids patient during this blessed event.

Go on.  Try.

Fun Fact:  We heard the chicks start chirping in the eggs before they started to hatch.

It was ueber creepy.  I thought I was losing my marbles.

To add to the excitement, our electricity was shut off for three hours today.  I was extremely nervous because that meant the incubator would be without power and I didn't want to bring Hatch and Company into the world, only to let them freeze to death ten minutes later.

While the power was out (which was apparently a planned outage), some dudes from the electric company came to read our meter and other such nonsense.

So, these two men come down yonder country road and find me outside with four children and a plethora of animals.

Stranger Man:  Do you guys raise rabbits?

Me:  Yes.

Stranger Man:  How many you got?

Oh, dear.

Me:  Um, maybe 40?

Never mind the fact that my husband snuck a few more home the other night.  40 sounds a bit more normal than 46.

Stranger Man:  FORTY RABBITS?  Y'all having rabbit stew for dinner?

Great.  I am officially a country freak.

Me:  No, no.  We don't eat them.

Stranger Man:  You got some chickens there, too, huh?

Me:  Yes.

Stranger Man:  How many of them do you got?

Well, darn.  This is not going to get any better.

Me:  Oh, maybe 60?

Stranger Man:  SIXTY!  Holy Smokes!

And I was just praying that he would not ask me if I was, by any chance, hatching baby animals on my kitchen counter at that very moment, too.

Because then I would have really looked like a weirdo.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a rabbit to stew.

Kidding!

Or am I?

Electrician Fairies

Apparently, summer is here.

Can you see that?  Snow on yonder mountain top?  Good times.

I decided to paint my man toes to get them all nice and ready for flip flops.  Oh!  Have I not told you?  My toes are hideous.  Anyways, I decided to get them all show-worthy and everything. Because eventually, it might be flip flop weather here.

It did not help.  Sadly, I was born with my father's feet.  (Thanks, Dad)  There was no improvement on the man toes.  If anything, it just makes the ghastly beasts even more noticeable.  So it was nothing but a colossal waste of time.

The long, long days of summer hath begun.  David works longer hours during the summer.  In fact, word on the street is he won't be home until 10pm.  Oh, the humanity!  I need to take up knitting.

So, how have we been filling up our time here on Maliblahblah farms?  I'm so glad you asked.

I started reading one of my favorite books again.  It is called "These is My Words:  The Diary of Sarah Agnes Prine" by Nancy Turner.

I did my loathsome 50 push ups and other various exercises required by my pretend-friend, Erin, all by 8am.  And I am sore.  And sadly, not any fitter.

Is "fitter" a word?  I vote yes!

I tried to trick my friend MindyLouHoo into coming over.  She did not get the hint.

I did laundry.

I dusted.

I let the boys paint.

Which is always a good idea.  Handsome Dude happily announced that he was painting Santa Clause.  And, fun fact, he was actually painting a picture of the disciple "Judas."  And why do I have random copies of Judas coloring pages lying about?  I ask you?

Little Dude paints with "All the colors, Mom!  ALL!  See?  SEE?  SEE, MOM?  SEE?!?!?  MOOOOM?!"

Little Dude turns four next week.  I shall have this day for mourning.

We found a bird's nest in the BBQ.

Which is a fine locale for any bird home.

The boys cleaned up the loft.

They did a fine job, don't you think?

The girls have a friend over.

Which means there is absolutely NO drama going on between Sweet Pea and Daisy Mae whatsoever.

I kid!  I jest!

We got drama to spare here, folks.

I am trying to get motivated to do some homeschool planning for next year, but I simply don't want to.  I think I am going to be in denial that I shall be teaching three of them next year.

Yes.  Let us pretend like that is not actually happening.  Because, you know, I was so together with teaching two of them.  I am sure I will be able to handle three different grades quite efficiently.

Chicks are about to hatch on my kitchen counter.  And I have NO idea how to handle that sitch.

David!  Mayday!  Mayday!  Come home!

I miss him.

I like him.

It is a good thing to like the person you are bound to in matrimony, wouldn't you agree?

Perhaps, if we all shout it at once, the electrician fairies will complete his work early for him and he will walk in this door in about an hour.

Because, hello!?  We live at least an hour from everything!

Ready?

One.

Two.

Three.

COME HOME, DAVID!

(I will let you know if it worked)

Later, dudes.

Grand Prize Champion

The girls have a rabbit.  Her name is Independent.  A lame name for a rabbit, don't you think?  I prefer names like Scarlet O'HARE-A and Norma Jean Riley.  But, no.  They went with Independent.  Independent has a litter of kits.

Yes.  I just said "kits."  Kits are what baby rabbits are called.  Consider yourselves informed.

Independent's kits are the first surviving litter here at Maliblahblah farms in many months.  She has eight and they are thriving.

Sweet Pea thinks this is just fantastic and rubs her father's nose in it all the time.  You see, dear readers, David can't get the rabbits to, *ahem*, do what rabbits do.  So, basically, we are feeding scores and scores of rabbits and making zeros and zeros of dollars.  Because we are good with money, didn't you know?

"Hey, Dad!  Are you jealous?  Are you jealous, Dad?  That we have babies and you DON'T?!  Huh, Dad?  Huh?"

Rest assured.  He is jealous.

Sweet Pea and Daisy Mae are planning on entering Independent in the county fair, where she is certain to win Grand Prize Champion.  This is based entirely on the fact that they feel she is awesome. Their plan is to then sell Independent's kits on Craigslist with the title of:

Grand Prize Champion Rabbit Babies

And they are certain they will sell like million dollar hotcakes.  Of which they won't, of course.  But we'll let them have their moment.

***

I have nothing to blog about.  As usual.  I asked my friend, Erin, what I should blog about and she somehow talked me into doing push ups with her everyday.

?

I am pretty sure that throughout my entire life I have completed zero correct push ups.  And I am okay with that.  But here I am, stuck with doing push ups everyday and still nothing to blog about.

She's tricky.

So, if this post is pointless to you, go blame Erin.

In other absolutely pointless news . . .

The chicken coop is painted!

Ain't she a beaut?  She needs a star or a nice sign or something, doesn't she?  What should the sign say?

Please Advise.

Dandy

Yesterday, we went to town.  I am happy to report that we did NOT have to stop by the eye glasses repair place, which used to be a regular hot spot for us.

Holla, Space Man Glasses!

We also went to the dentist.  As the observant reader might have already deduced from the above photograph.

Yes.  I took all four at once to a new dentist.  Remember the old dentist office?  The office that mistook Handsome Dude, AKA Space Man, for a girl? On two separate occasions?  Because he looks so girly?  We are so over that dentist.  Except for David and I.  We still go there.  Because are gluttons for punishment.  But anyways.  We L-O-V-E-D the new dentist.  He saw all four kids at once and the appointment lasted only 1 hour and 20 minutes!

Holla, new dentist who correctly identified the gender of all four of my children!

Holla!

Let's do a summary of phrases I heard to recap how well the appointment went:

  "Boy, you've for your hands full!" . . . . twice

"You are such a good listening boy!"  . . . . forty quadrillion (?!)

"Looks like this kiddo needs to floss, Mom!"  . . . four (bummer)

"Zero cavities!" . . . . four (neener, neener)

"Do they all have the same dad?"   . . . . ZERO

It was a successful trip.

After the dentist, we went and hung out with my friend MindyLouHoo, who was graciously accepting visitors at her parents' house.  Ha!  That's the way to do it, folks.  MindyLou is brilliant.  We sat and chatted and her delightful mother made cookies while her delightful father took the kids on pony rides!

MindyLou's pa came up to me and said:

"The kids can ride a horse?  Dandy?"

And I nodded and happily replied:

"Yes!  That would be Dandy!"

Too bad the pony was named Dandy and I looked like a doofus.  But what else is new?

It was the highlight of their summer.  My kids are already begging to go back!  Oh, and summer must be over because the weather forecast yesterday was high of 37 and chance of rain and snow.  Ah, well.  It was fun while it lasted.

And before I go, we must discuss this here egg:

Pop Quiz, Hot Shots:

WHAT is going on with that egg?!

Do I have an alien hen?

What's with the skid marks?  Or grooves?  Or whatever you would call it?

Can you still eat this sort of egg?

Do I even want to find out?

Perhaps I should just sell it to an innocent bystander.  Yes.  That sounds good.

And, no.  I don't chew my nails.  Why do you ask?

Later dudes.

Wednesday Happenings

The company David works for gave us all passes to a nearby amusement park.  So on Monday, I took the kids to said park.  For to amuse them.

As we were walking in, I saw a huge stack of sheets of OSB!  And since this blog's purpose is to keep you all abreast of all things construction, I thought I would take a picture.  For YOU.  You're welcome.

See?  It does exist.  I speak the truth.  I asked my husband if it was the same as plywood and he said no.  Then I asked what the difference was.  And he explained it to me, but do you think I can recall what he said?  No.  No, I cannot.  I do remember him saying that OSB is more water-resistant, so it is better for a sub floor in places like bathrooms and laundry rooms.  And yes.  I just said sub floor.  Because every room needs TWO floors, didn't you know?

Taylor's blog.  Where you come to learn how to build houses.  Or not.

So, here are the kids enjoying themselves and all.

Please take notice of Handsome Dude's still-intact Space Man Goggles.  Sadly, I have not seen my BFFs at the eye glasses repair place in many days.  I am sure we are all having separation issues.

I have still not notified my girls that school, for the year, has ended.  Aren't I the worst?  We are taking things pretty easy, though.  I just want to keep things fresh in their minds, you know?  So they can be the most brilliant kids in the world and all peoples will rise and call me blessed.  Or something like that.

Alright.  Gotta go.

All four kids are going to the dentist today.  It is sure to be a treat.