The Costly Wood Heat

Everyday in October,  I will post about one blessing from my day.  Some days might be big blessings, some might be terribly unimportant . . . some might be a bit of a joke.

But my goal is to find joy in everyday life.

We got our first wood stove early on in our marriage.  I was against it.  But this does not surprise us.

Who has time to fall trees?  Who has time to split wood?  Who has the muscles to split wood?  Who has time to keep the fire loaded?

Not I.

Alas.  We got a wood stove.  David always runs that thing hot like lava.  I'm talking 97 degrees in December.

December,  I tell you!

I have always found myself humorous.  It's one of the qualities I like best about myself.  So I, in the spirit of I, took a picture of our dogs with the Hawaiian leis because it was sooooooo hot.

See?  Funny.

Anyways.  For twelve years now, give or take a year, we have heated our home with wood.  And that wood must be gathered by my Lumberjack.  For what is a Lumberjack without his love of wood falling?  I ask you?

And, yes.  People actually talk like that.  They say things like "He felled a tree" and "load it in the rig."  I know, I know.  I can barely believe it myself.

I am convinced, readers, that wood heat has cost us a fortune.  Allow me to illustrate with a little tale that happened this very weekend.

On Saturday, David woke up bright and early to go and fulfill his life's purpose and gather wood for his beloved family.  Since his general life motto is "Go Big or Go Home,"  he of course had to take the truck and his trailer.

Lo, and behold, the trailer got a flat tire.  Therefore, he had to stop at a small town on the way home and pay many dollars to fix it.

Fine.  Super.  No big deal, right?

Mmmm-hmmmm.

On Sunday, David gets up again at O Dark Thirty to get even more wood.  Remember, this is what he lives for.  Daisy Mae goes with him, because she is clearly insane.  David had already "felled" (really!  people say it!  I KNOW!) the wood, so this trip would be a bit easier than the one the day before.  He told me he should be home by about 1pm.  When he is "wood-fellin," he does not have cell service until he is about one hour away from home.

Around 1:45, I started to get a bit nervous.  I tried calling his phone, but he was still out of service.  I went to the bathroom and missed a call from an unknown number.  I, being the sleuth that I am, used the power of The Google and learned, much to my horror, that the number was from the forest ranger for the exact area that David and Daisy Mae were gathering wood.

A million things go through my mind, but the most persistent one was that they were both dead.  Because I never worry.

I tried to call the forest ranger number back about five times and got a machine.

I called David's cell, even though it was out of range.

I called my mother twice.  TWICE.  And she did not answer.

What's up with that?

For twenty minutes I was in a panic.  And then I got a call from Jason.

Remember Jason?

Jason is David's youngest younger brother.  And he hearts it when I post that picture of him.

Apparently, David was calling from the Forest Ranger phone, but did not have the audacity to leave me a message.  David's truck broke an axle.  Or something like that.  I don't' speak "truck." He called Jason and Jason was en route to rescue David and Daisy Mae.

Finally, thanks to Jason and his mad-axle bearing skills, David and Daisy Mae were on their way home.

Only to have a tire blowout.

When David arrived, he informed me that the truck has major problems.  Like lots of dollars problems.

This is not good.

But, it's ok.

Because for twenty minutes today, I was certain the two of them were horribly injured or worse.  I felt helpless and terrified and I had no idea what to do.  All I wanted in the world at that moment was for them to be okay.

And they were.

And they were pretty successful little wood gatherers, too.

So, tonight, I smiled when Daisy Mae bragged to her siblings about her grand adventure.  I laughed when she dramatically retold a story of how she saw an eagle (or an owl . . . she can't be sure) and it was staring her down, getting ready to attack.  She prattled on and on about how Jason brought her French Fries and she ate lunch at 9:30am (giggle giggle) and she got to do cartwheels by the river.

And I am just thankful that everyone is in their beds, safe and sound.

No matter how costly the wood heat now is.

31 Days of Blessings

For the month of October, I am going to (attempt to) post every day as part of a "31 Day" challenge hosted by The Nester.

I was trying to decide on a topic for my 31 days.  At first, I was going to go with:

31 Days to Enjoying Homeschooling.

ha.

There were a few problems with that one.

1)  That would limit my audience.  Not everyone is as
doomedlucky as I am to be a homeschooling marm.

2)  I seriously could not come up with 31 posts on homeschooling.

3)  If I had to write about  "the joys" of homeschooling AND homeschool at the same time, the post series would quickly morph into:

"31 Days of Transitioning your Children into Public School."

I kid!  I jest!

So, I have realized that I am just tired lately and not finding much joy in life, particularly in my children.  And what is the point of being blessed with having children if you are not enjoying them?

And even though I am sarcastic and joke a lot, I truly do feel blessed by my children.

For reals.  Or realz.  Whichever you prefer.

They are so cute and funny and naughty all wrapped into one.

I was doing Little Dude's Bible lesson for church with him the other night.  His lesson was on being a good friend.

Me:  Is sharing being a good friend?

LD: Yup.

Me:  Is saying, "I don't like you anymore being a good friend?"

LD:  Nope.

Me:  Is hitting being a good friend?

LD:  Nope.

Me:  Is saying "You're nice." being a good friend?

LD:  Yup.

Me:  Okie dokes.  Looks like you know how to be a good friend.

LD (shouting, per usual):  AND MOM-MOM-MOM-MOM . . . IF YOU SEE A MAN DEAD ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD, YOU HAFTA  BE A GOOD FRIEND AND HELP.  RIGHT, MOM?  RIGHT?  RIGHT?  RRRRRRIIIIIGGGGGGHHHHHTTTTT?

Seriously.  The boy is always yelling.  We'll call it a blessing.  He is not shy.  See?  I'm getting the hang of this!  I CAN and will find blessings everyday.

So, in an effort to combat the blues that has so easily entangled me, I shall be finding ONE blessing from each day in October.

This will be interesting.  I am pretty cranky.

But I shall persevere. Who knows?  Perhaps I shall find blessings in those wretched rabbits.

But who are we kidding?

They are awful.

Alright.  Stayed tuned.

The $4.19 Latte

This may come as a shock to everyone, but I, Teller, am feeling stressed with the homeschool.  I know, I know.  You guys all think I have it all together.

But I don't.

Yesterday was charming.  I was planning on taking the kids on a field trip to a museum.  Therefore and henceforth, we had to squeeze all of our studies in before lunch.

This is no small feat!

So, as I was juggling my three pupils at once, I was noticing the state of my house.  I find it quite odd that I can clean everyday, and yet, my house looks like a tornado ran through it within hours.

It is clear that I have superb home and time management skills.  Readers, take note.

Books on the ground.  Hangers behind the couch.  Socks on the floor.  Kitten litter spilled in the laundry room.  Dead flies on the windowsill.  Toothpaste on the sink.  Toothpaste on the counter.  Toothpaste on the drawer.  Toothpaste on the carpet.  Gum in the carpet.  Something sticky on the floor.  Laundry pile going strong.  Fingerprints on the dishwasher.  Fingerprints on the oven.  Fingerprints on the refrigerator.  Papers all over the counter.  Hair clips behind the door.

I am making my home a haven.  Obviously.

I was about to just forget the field trip, because, clearly, I needed to spend the afternoon teaching my boys how to properly equip their toothbrush with toothpaste instead of spreading toothpaste around the entire bathroom . . . but, alas.  I was probably going to the spend the afternoon cleaning and feeling cranky, only to end up with a messy house tomorrow.

So.  I put on a clean shirt, curled my hair, and put in some big earrings.  I am convinced that a gal can feel like a person so long as the smell of hairspray is in her hair and excessively large earrings are dangling from her lobes.

Just make sure to use hairspray instead of glass cleaner.  Ask me how I know.

Getting out of the house was a superb choice.  It is amazing how much you don't care anymore once you are not living in your own nightmare of filth.

We went to the museum.

 

 We got out of the house with all kids dressed in clean clothes AND all put on the right way.  The two in glasses actually have their glasses.  And the girls have clipboards.  For to take notes.

Sadly, Little Dude had his shoes on the wrong feet.  But I am going to call it a win.

After the museum, we went to our rental.

Confused?  Reading this post might clear things up.  But I make no promises.

In a nutshell, David and I bought a house that was a complete dump about 9 years ago.  We spent 7 years gutting it and fixing it up.  Instead of selling if when we moved, we chose to turn it into a vacation rental as it is in a good location in town.  Currently, we have a love/hate relationship with this house.

When I have 7 beds to wash, I hate it.  When the house is clean and I am all done, I love it.

So, the kids and I stopped by the rental because, surprisingly enough, I needed to finish up washing some bedding.  While we were waiting on the loads to finish, we walked to the park.

I stopped at got myself a latte.  That's right.  A fancy, city coffee to go with my hairprayed curls and large earrings.

The latte was $4.19.

That is absurd.

We walked to the park.  Handsome Dude wowed me with his skills.  Or skillz.  Whichever you prefer.

Just behind him is the library.  The girls think they are all that AND a bag of chips if I give them the library card and let them go peruse on their own.

The boys decided to swing.

Handsome Dude has learned to pump on his own.  This is glorious for me, as I am so over pushing my kids on swings.

Kidding!  Or am I . . .

Little Dude, sadly, does not know how to swing.  He was a bit miffed about it.

 

Handsome Dude, the kind big brother that he is, went to help him and started to push him.

Little Dude (wailing):  MMMMMMMMOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMM!  He is PUSHING me!  He is PUSHING me, MOM.

Me:  I know.  That's what you wanted.

LD:  He is PUSHING ME.  *sob, tear, wail*  He is SO MEAN WITH ME.

I did what any concerned and attentive mother would do.

Sipped my $4.19 latte and waved.

The Tuesday Afternoon Post

Well.  My blog fell off the face of the earth last week.  I was in my mourning period when Bimlissa's sister's husband saved the day and rescued it.  People who have been reading my blog for less than a year have no idea who Bimlissa is and probably find me to be an addled, old homeschooling marm.  And I am ok with that.

2 points for using the word "addled!"

I need to move my blog.  The horror! This makes me want to crawl into a hole and suck my thumb.  I have no time for such nonsense and just thinking about it makes my brain hurt. I did, however, learn what bandwidth means.  And it has nothing to do with the waist size on my jeans.  So that's something.

2 points for "bandwidth."

We got a kitten.

 

I KNOW.   I am out of my mind.  This cat is named Mr. Poppers and he weighs about as much as a sock.  He is actually going to be my mother-in-law's kitten, but she is needing a temporary home for him for a few weeks.  I am sure there will be no drama from my children whatsoever when it is time for him to go.

2 points for the name "Mr. Poppers."  Don't steal it.

I am so tired.  I have no reason, really.  My husband has been working extremely long hours and we are still doing the rental.  And then there's the education of the children.  I am just weary.

Weary makes it all sound so much more dramatic.  Which is totally what I was going for.

Today, whilst doing science with Sweet Pea, Daisy Mae entertained the boys by destroying the house.  Bless her heart.

 

I am so weary that I don't even care anymore.  At least we got science done.

The astute reader will notice that my pictures look a bit zazzier today.  It's true!  I EDITED them.

Look at me with my big girl blogging pants on!

One of the problems with my blog is it is TOO BIG.  Not too big as far as visitors and hits, but as far as posts and pictures.  I never resize my photos.  So, I am trying to be a good girl.  I found a site where you can resize the pictures for free and it also had some box that said "polaroid."  So, I clicked it and voila.  I am now a big time blogger all because of it.

So that's it.  Nothing is new.  I am tired.  My husband is working too much.  My blog is a mess.

I did, however, get some cozy new sweatpants.  It has certainly boosted my morale.  In case you could not tell from the tone of the post.

Oh!  I do need to brag about one thing.

You all know of my troubles with educating The Boy, right?  Well, I had to take him in for state testing yesterday and, well, you had better sit down for this.

He tested at and above grade level.

Bam!

Stand down, readers!  I do not mean to be boastful, but, hello!?  Have you read this blog?

Handsome Dude.  At grade level.  Imagine that.

It is almost like my whole life purpose has been to get him to this point.  From taking him in twice a week to get his glasses repaired to teaching him why we can't pee on mama's washing machine (sadly, a very true story) to making him keep sounding out letters even though they make him want to throw himself on the ground in despair and sorrow.

He can be taught!

Either that, or they made a mistake during testing.  Which is totally possible.

Later dudes.

Two Things

1)  The other day I was stressed.

This is not rare.

You see, dear readers, I am always late.  Late, late, late.  I think I have all the time in the world and then, out of NOWHERE, I was supposed to be in the car 15 minutes ago, the kitchen is a disaster, I am half dressed, no one can find their shoes, the farm animals need water, and Little Dude is missing, per usual.

True story.

Stand down, readers!  I don't really lose my child . . .   per say.  But the boy does this cute  . . . .precious, really . . . thing where he is in the loft playing trains and when he hears his mother and siblings call . . .

"Dude!  DUDE!  Time to go!  We are leaving?  Where are you?  Answer us!  Dude?"

. . . he chooses not to answer us.

Then we all turn to each other in a state of utter confusion:

"Have you seen him?  Who was the last one to see him?  Go and check if he is hanging out in the chicken coop again."

Yes.  My boy sits in the chicken coop and becomes one with his feathered friends.

Doesn't yours?

Anyways.  The point (yes!  there is a point!) is that the boy NEVER answers and he just keeps playing trains while we are about to send out a search party.

See?  I told you it was precious.

So.  One day I was stressed like THAT.  I was in the bathroom trying to make something of my hair and Daisy Mae was with me.  As I was spraying my hair with the hair spray, I was giving her explicit instructions on how she needed to go and get a cooler in the car and load it with some ice packs and five dozen eggs.  Because we are hillbillies and when we come to town, we sell eggs.

She looked at me with her mouth agape and I was about to b-l-o-w because we seriously did not have time for her to act like she had no idea what her task was.

DM:  Mom?  Did you see that on Pinterest?

Me (snapping because I am stressed . . . remember?):  WHAT are you talking about?

DM:  Did you see that hair trick on Pinterest?

Me:  What hair trick?

She points to my hand, which was furiously spraying hair spray and it turns out I was spraying glass cleaner all over my hair.

DM:  Is that a cool trick you saw on Pinterest?

Me:  Um, no.

DM:  MOM!  You should put it on Pinterest!

Lest anyone is confused . . . no.  Glass cleaner was no good for the hair.  Or my stress level.

2)  David was getting ready to go hunting last week and before he goes anywhere special, he has to polish his boots.

Yes.  That's right.  Polish his boots.

He went and got his new-ish white sock to use for the waxing process.

Me:  What's wrong with that sock?

David:  It is all stretched out.  I cannot wear them anymore.

Me:  Oh.

Now.  People.  I steal these socks from my husband daily.  They are warm and cozy and just perfect for the homeschooling marm who lives in the country.

Could it be that I, his apparently-not-so-dainty wife, stretched out his socks with my ginormous ankles?

Me:  Well, what do you mean they are stretched out? Why can't you wear them?

David:  They keep falling down!

So, there you go. Breaking news.  I have cankles.  Because I wear these socks and they do not fall down.  Nope.  Not one bit.

***

There you go.  Two things that you just had to hear about.

Later dudes.

 

Chief Poultry Poop Wiper-Offer

It is finished.

School for the day, that is.  It is 3:13pm and we are D-O-N-E.  Well, actually, I am done, which is all I care about, apparently.  The girls are in the other room being taught Latin by a lady in the TV.  They have at least another 45 minutes.  Stinks to be the them.

I thought I would snap a photo to capture the disaster that is school.  You're welcome.

From morning until lunch, school was downstairs.  I am not sure how it came to pass, but school ended up at the kitchen table by the end of the day.

Points of Interest for the above photo:

1)  It is a disaster zone.

2)  There is a blue bowl.  This was for popcorn.  We were doing History and Latin review (before I turned them loose on TV Teacher).  Latin requires popcorn.  It is a fact.

3)  The markers exploded.

4)  There is a large, coffee mug at my seat.  Amen.

5)  On the island, there is a container with a green lid.  This is Handsome Dude's "gun money."

What's that?  Oh!  Have I not told you?  The boy is saving up his money for a gun.  He has three dollars and about 18 pennies and he is certain he is the wealthiest boy in the world.

I told him that he ain't getting no gun.  If he can't even aim into the toilet properly, we are certainly not arming him with a weapon.

6)  Also on the island are some eggs the boys gathered.  This is their joy in life.  Their purpose, if you will.

It is not my joy.  I am the Chief Poultry Poop Wiper-Offer.  Trust me.   It is not as esteemed as it sounds.

7)  Little Dude no longer has a shirt.  He started off the day with a shirt.  I do not know where it went, and currently I could not care less.

8)  Little Dude is sitting on the counter.  Which is odd since he is not supposed to do that.

I decided to show you all that picture so that you wouldn't think homeschool was all sunshine and roses and the house was always tidy and eggs were poop-free and life was peaceful and full of bliss.  But them I remember you read this blog and, most likely, had no such impressions of homeschool.

But who cares that the house looks like that?  The girls and I learned all about Guy Fawkes today and can recite the first few lines of this poem:

"Remember, remember, the fifth of November,

The gunpowder treason and plot.

I see no reason why gunpowder treason

Should ever be forgot."

So, there you go.  We are learned.

Fun Fact:  I actually do kind of like homeschool.

I KNOW.

There really are a lot of awesome aspects to it.  But it is truly exhausting and even overwhelming at times, in my opinion.  This year has been a bit tougher because I added HD to the mix.  When I think about having all four next year, I want to crawl into a hole and hide.

The problem is that you have each child in a different grade.  So you are teaching 3 different grades of math, 3 different grades of reading, and so on.  I do combine the girls with science, history, Latin, art, and so on and I plan on doing the same for the boys.  But I am having trouble coming up with a good schedule that works for us.

I need help.  Please advise.

In other, not at all interesting, news, it has been brought to my attention that I can grow zucchini.

And that's not even all of it.

That's a lot of zucchini bread, my friends.

Alright.  The TV teacher is done (darn), the kids are back (double darn) and I need to clean some poo off eggs (oh, the humanity!).

Later dudes.

The Can Man

Before we begin, I must answer three questions I received about my last post.

1)  Yes.  Our $100 Craigslist cook-top works.  It is 5 years old, so it is not brand new.  But it works and saved us $1,600.

2)  What will we do with 300 pounds of corn?

How the heck should I know?

Why do we have over 50 chickens?  Why are we raising rabbits?  Why do we have a garden that took me all summer to weed and the rest of life to preserve the bounty?

Why do I live in the country?  Clearly I am not suited for it.

These are all very good questions that you can take up with my husband when he starts a blog.

3)  Why is canning bad for the smooth top stoves?

When David and I went to the big city appliance store, the nice salesman told us all about the inner workings of all the cook-top surfaces.

Under each burner on a smooth top, there is a disk, almost like a plate, that is the same size as the burner.  This is what heats up and cooks your food.  Canning pots are usually much bigger than the burners.  Normally, heat from a stove starts under your pot and then escapes the stove by traveling up the sides of the pot.  Since canning pots are so much bigger in size than the burner, the heat ends up getting trapped under the surface because it has a hard time getting around the pot.  Canning also takes a LONG time, so you have all this heat trapped under your surface for too long.  There is a computer inside the cook-top, and electronics do not do well with heat, so the heat was trapped in there too long and it fried the computer in my cook-top, rendering it useless for now until all eternity.

So.  There you go.  Hold your head high, you learned something new today.

***

Homeschool.

Raise your hand if you think I am going to pitch a fit.

I will try to not partake in the fit-throwing of the homeschool.  I will merely try to relay the splendor that was yesterday.

Yesterday was a day where I just could not get ahead.  Do you ever have one of those days?  I would get all situated to educate and inform my little darlings, then realize that I forgot to print out ONE paper that I REALLY needed.

"Everyone quietly work on something and I will be right back."

Ha!

'Tis like their secret code to play a rousing game of "Let's scream and run through the house because Mom is stressed!  She always loves it."

Then I get upstairs and need to get online to get the paper I need to print, but the Internet is feeling all weak and feeble, so I have to restart the computer.  While THAT is going on, I see that someone literally threw their bowl of cereal into the sink after feasting at breakfast, resulting in the splattering of milk all over the wall and counters.  Which was totally Handsome Dude.

The boy is 5! This is a no-no.  He must be taught!

So, I go find Handsome Dude and make him clean it up, which is of course the most daunting task in the world to him.  I remember about the Internet and try to start that up again when Daisy Mae comes up to tattle, as per her usual custom.

"Mooooooooooom.  I asked Sweet Pea for help with math and she didn't answer so I asked her again and she told me I was a baby."

So, I talk to Sweet Pea about being kind to others, and would she like it if someone told her she was a baby when she needed help on math?

The Internet is ready.  The milk is wiped.  The math question is answered.  On to the printer!

And the printer is out of ink.

Luckily, and this will shock you, I have a stockpile of ink.

Holla, Teller!

I remember the boys have not yet had a bath, so I inform them to get in post haste.  The boys went through a horrific period of splashing in the bath awhile ago.

This was no ordinary splashing, my friends.

This was like the entire bath blew up in the bathroom every time.  It got so bad, David and I took baths away from the boys for about 6 months and made them shower.  Oh, for the weeping and gnashing of teeth it caused them!  Because, we all know how terrifying showers are.  Obviously.

But, anyways.  I told them to take a bath.  The girls get situated at the table to finish up some science.  I remember that I need to switch a load of laundry and answer a rental house email.

As I am, yet again distracted, Daisy Mae informs me that the boys are splashing.

Hold the phone!

My boys?  Disobeying?  Get out of town.

She speaks the truth.  They are standing on a ledge near the tub and literally cannon balling into the bath.  And they have the audacity to look at me and say:

"Hi, Mom!  What, Mom?  What did we do?  Are you mad, Mom?  MOM? MOM?"

So, I put an end to the water aerobics and make them get out and start wiping up their messes.

The paper I had to print was a reading sample for Daisy Mae so I can time her and see her words per minute.

I just need it quiet for ONE minute.  Seems reasonable, right?

I tell my boys to clean up in the bathroom and to not open the door at all.  I will come and open the door when they can come out.

"Ok, Mom!"

Daisy Mae starts her 60 seconds of reading.  Ten seconds into it, the door bursts open and Handsome Dude, who is still naked, begins to shout:

"Mom!  Do you want me to put this towel in the hamper?  MOM!?  MOM!?  MOM!?"

Little Dude, also naked, comes out and begins to race his car around.

Daisy Mae stays the course, and continues to read.  I nudge Sweet Pea and mouth to her to go and get the boys back in the bathroom.

The boys, unimpressed with Sweet Pea's authority, begin to scream in protest.  I look up and Sweet Pea has both of them by the arm and is attempting to drag them back to the bathroom, while they are naked and flailing.

The sixty seconds are over and Daisy Mae read the fastest she has ever read.

Bam!

School took us until a little after 4pm.  We did Bible, Math, Spelling, Reading, Phonics, Writing, History, and Science.

And Handsome Dude had the nerve to ask me this question after dinner.

"Mom!  MOOOOM!  Why we not do school today?  Did we not wake up in time?"

Why we NOT do school today?

Oh, we DID school.  And it was full of splendor, my boy.

No need to offer advice, dear readers.  I know where I went wrong yesterday.  I was too distracted and tried to do too many things at once.  School goes much better when that is the only thing I am trying to do.

***

On a lighter note, we asked all the children what they would like to be when they grow up.

Little Dude says he would like to be a "Can Man."

Which, as he describes it, involves riding around on a 4-wheeler all day with a garbage can attached to the back, picking up cans all day to recycle.

He is reaching for the stars.

A Monday Morning List

1.  Jo-Jos.  I cannot believe the people do not know what Jo-Jos are.  We had an event at church yesterday, and, as luck would have it, Jo-Jos were on the menu.  Here is Daisy Mae posing with the beloved, fried potato wedge.

The poor picture quality is certainly not my fault.  The theme of the event was a sort of space theme and it was quite dark in there.

2.  Otherwise, the picture would have been super top notch.  As you well know.

3.  Yes.  My church has space-themed events.  Doesn't yours?

4.  The astute reader might recall that my cook top completely and utterly broke whilst I was canning the other day, resulting in me shunning peaches, canning, and my family name all in one fell swoop.

Well.

This weekend, country came to town.  David loaded up the truck and trailer.  We had rabbits to transport. We were hoping to get hay.  Also, perhaps bunk beds. Plus, we were in the market to get the little lady a new cook top.  I am sure we were quite the site, pulling up to the classy appliance store with our truck, trailer, animal cages, and four well-behaved, and not at all dirty, children.

But, I digress.

5.  To replace the exact cook top we had was going to cost us country folk $1,700.

6. I know.  It killed me dead, too.

7.  So we told the kind man we would let him know and walked our poor, country selves back to the rig.

8.  Fun fact!  Canning killed my cook top.  So, in order to pay for blowing up my old one, I will have to can for all eternity.

9.  As luck would have it, about 1 hour after we got the $1,700 quote, we found one on The Craiglist and my husband got it for $100!

Bam!  Be excited.

10.  Next, we were to join my parents for some blackberry picking.  I know.  We are relentless with the berries.  We have some friends who were going out of town and they said, and I quote,

"Please.  Come and pick our berries.  You can have them all."

Well, you know us.  So, we went and picked and picked and picked.  After a slight communication problem, we realized that we left at least half of the berries at our friends' house.  So, the next day, David and I went to fetch them and there were seven happy deer nearby and a very empty, clean blackberry container.  So, we basically picked berries to feed the deer. I am sure the deer appreciated the special treat of being able to eat berries without having to deal with thorns.

11.  It was an epic, berry picking fail.

12.  The boys got invited to their first (that I can recall) friend birthday party.  They were about to explode with excitement over these two facts:

A)  There might be cake.

B)  Their sisters were not invited.

Every 2.5 minutes, I was asked this question:

"But not the girls, right, Mom?  RIGHT?  MOM?  THE GIRLS CAN'T COME, RIGHT?"

They are so loving of their sisters.

13.  David wants to purchase 300 pounds of corn for $25.  It is another one of his Craigslist deals.

Just thought I should let you know.  So you could pity me.

14.  Take heart!  I shall not can any corn on my new $100 cook top. If you never learn anything from me while reading this blog (and you probably won't), please take heed of this warning:

Do Not Ever Can On A  Smooth Top Stove.

Don't!  Don't do it!

I will be taking my canning to the camping stove set up on my back deck.  Because I can't get any classier.

15.  I found a chicken's leg in the chicken coop.  It was horrifying and fascinating all at the same time.

Why was it there?

How did the chicken die?

And, perhaps most importantly, where is the rest of the chicken?  Why was that one leg deemed unfit for consumption while the rest of the chicken was a tasty snack?

Things to ponder on a Monday morn.

The Great Homeschooling Fit

Homeschooling.  'Twill be the death of me, mark my words.  I ain't gonna lie, folks.  I feel like my brain is going to explode if I have to cram one more thing into it.

Oh!  But it is a blessing.  The homeschooling.  A joy, really.

The worst is seeing all the cute back to school pictures with all the happy children in their happy desks with their happy parents kissing them goodbye.  And I know that there are pros and cons to all aspects of the education world, but,oh my lands, when Handsome Dude is on his third fit solely from the trickery of the letter "y", I COVET the peoples who outsource the education.  Oh, yes.  Covet.

CCCCCOOOOOOVVVVVVEEEEEETTTTTTT.

So.  I am tired.  And basically throwing a huge homeschool fit.  But I'll get over it.   I have no choice.  I just need to get a better schedule.  Tuesday went horrifically long and today was a bit better.  We ended at three and loaded up to hit the library.

My kids are total homeschool kids.  You should hear the cheers and whoops and hollers I get when I announce an impending trip to the library.

At the library, Handsome Dude announced he had to use the BAFROOM  all by himself.

Well, son.  By all means!

He came back and was walking funny . . . a little "saddle-sore" if you will.  He then announced loudly for all the world (which was just us homeschoolers and the librarian) to hear:

"Mom!  I not wipe!  I need to wipe the poop!  I'll be back!"

Awesome.

After we impressed the librarian with our manners and cleanliness, we headed to the grocery store to buy a few odds and ends.  I decided to buy Jo-Jo's for a snack and then take the kids to the park.  Because I am the world's best mom, didn't you know?  And my kids have NEVER heard of a Jo-Jo!  Outrageous.

Do you know what a Jo-Jo is?  Hmmm?  HMMMM?

We went to the park.  Little Dude fell on his head, as per his usual custom.  They posed for a picture.

And then we went home.

I sent Daisy Mae on a little harvest trip to the garden.

Zucchini.  Nailed it.

I set to work on shredding this beast, which was no easy feat.  I decided to make a chocolate zucchini cake.  What a brilliant plan to take something as healthful as zucchini and shove it into a delicious cake!

Genius.

The girls, relentless with their studies, decided to do science on their own accord-the crazies that they are.  And when they asked for help, I, the good homeschooling marm that I am, told them bluntly:

"Sorry.  Mom is done with school for the day."

So.  They were on their own.

Are they doing an experiment?  I cannot be certain.

I had a zucchini to deal with.

I am fairly certain I have anywhere from 10-40 more of those zucchinis out there in my garden to deal with.  Makes me want to run and hide.

In other farm and garden news, there was a deer in our garden!

Can you see it?  Can you see it?

The poor thing was terrified and slammed all around in the garden before finally finding his/her way out.

David's not here.  He's making me popcorn.  Otherwise I would be able to fill you in on the gender of the deer.  Because I am certain you care.

Also in our garden:  coyote poop.

So, great.  Another thing to worry about.  Coyotes.  Every morn, I wake up and make sure Peter the Cat made it through the night.

Alright.  I am tired something fierce.

I need to get sleep so I can have the energy to ruin Handsome Dude's life with the letter "y."

PS-The deer was a girl.

You can rest easy now.

The Moose

We have returned from our weekend camping extravaganza.  It was full of adventure, which is to be expected when one is camping with a husband such as mine.

First off, we have to set up the parachute.  You all remember the parachute, don't you?

Well.  My husband has one.  And it is a joy, nay, a pleasure to try and set up.  My parents and I start to help him set it up when the camp host comes to offer a friendly greeting.

Friendly Camp Host:  Hey!  It's you!  It's The Parachute Guy!

David:  Oh, hi!

Friendly Camp Host:  You come here every year, right?

David: Right.

David has abandoned us, The Lowly Parachute Pole Holders, and goes to chat with his new fan.

Friendly Camp Host:  Yeah!  You are on my Facebook page!

David:  Oh, really?

Friendly Camp Host:  Hey, where can I buy one of those?

And they chat and chat and chat while we, The Lowly Parachute Pole Holder-Uppers, sit and wait for David to finish impressing the socks off of everyone.  Which apparently is not hard to do when one camps with a parachute.

Don't lie, readers.  You would want to meet The Parachute Man, too.

So, after I almost DIE whilst holding up a parachute pole (which may or may not have come crashing down a time or two), I have to go gather wood with my Lumberjack.  On the side of a road.   Here is the lesson I learned while gathering wood on the side of the road with my husband:

Do not go gather wood on the side of the road with your husband.  Ever.

My husband knows where every dead and downed tree within a 20 mile radius is at any given time.  True Story.  He is like The Dead Tree Whisperer.  As luck would have it, this tree is off the side of the road, in a ditch.

He hooks it up with a chain.  I think?  What do I know.  I was probably checking Facebook on my phone.  Then  he has to try and pull it out of the ditch without getting the truck stuck in the ditch.  If that makes sense.  And it probably doesn't, because, again, I really didn't care.  But what I do care about is dying and the truck was all smoking and bucking and basically throwing a HUGE fit and I was sure immediate death-by-ditch was upon us.

It was so terrifying,  I stopped checking Facebook.  True Story.

He pulls it out and gets us onto the road, but now we are towing a huge, dead tree on a road with all sorts of dust flying behind us.  Because my husband likes to keep life interesting.  He pulls it  about 1/4 mile down the road and gets us off to a wider space, yet still on the side of the road, where he cuts the wood into logs and I, the loyal helpmeet that I clearly am, load them into the rig.

And, yes.  I called the truck a rig.  It seemed appropriate for the tone of the story, wouldn't you agree?

As I was recovering from two near-death experiences in one hour, we pulled up to camp behind a truck, driven by the aforementioned Friendly Camp Host with a Facebook page that contains a picture of our campsite,  carrying a dead moose.

Exciting, I know.

My mother, yes MY MOTHER, comes up to the window and has THIS convo with MY husband.

(You can tell from my excessive use of all caps that I am a bit OUTRAGED at the following happenstance. )

Mom:  I got it for you.

David:  What?!

This is the most emotion my husband has shown in at least two years.  At least.

Mom:  It's yours.

David:  Are you SERIOUS?!?!

Mom:  I'm serious.

David:  100%????

Mom:  100%

And David, who for some reason is driving his truck barefoot after wood cutting (?) hops out of the truck in his barefeet and basically skips with joy to the poor, dead animal.

Be warned!  The following picture might contain a dead moose!

I'm not kidding!

Leave now or forever hold your peace!

In the past year, the state has made it legal for peoples to harvest road kill.

Oh, joy.

So, instead of letting this moose go to waste, my husband, yes, MY husband gets to gut and clean this moose.

At camp.

Guess who gets to have moose meat in her freezer now?

Please.  Try to contain your jealousy.  Not everyone can live my glamorous life.

So, yes.  That was all one, lovely, calm evening being married to my husband.

You can't make this stuff up, people.

***

The next day, my mother-in-law, ever worried about the cleanliness of the moose meat, organizes second Moose Meat Clean Up Crew, where basically all able-bodies adults get to stare at the flesh and cut it up all over again.

Fun!

That was the closest I could stand to get to the moose flesh.  My apologies.

I decided to volunteer to watch all the small children under the age of 5 and take them on a trip to town to buy ice.

Aren't I the smartest?

Somehow, my mother in law ended up with all the moose meat and I am ever-so-grateful and hopeful that it will stay forever and ever in her freezer.

Amen.

The blackberries are on like Donkey Kong in this area and on Friday, my husband and the rest of the Moose Meat Crew went on a blackberry hunt while I, once again, watched the children.

Then on Saturday, I went on a bike ride with my mom-in-law, my mom, Amy (sis in law), Alex (bro in law) and Holly (sis in law-Alex's wife).

My mother in law is not your typical Grandma.  She bikes for fun and basically I was exhausted, hungry, and praying she would get fatigued and let us turn back.

She remained strong and steadfast and we biked for about 12 miles.  Which is good because later on, I had a Moose Tracks ice cream (no relation to the animal in my ma-in-law's freezer).

On the bike ride, I, being a true Maliblahblah now, spotted millions and millions of blackberry bushes.  I informed my husband when I got back, and he just had to go get them.

So, he asked Amy if he could borrow her bike.  Since it has a basket.

My husband.  He is such a mystery.  One second he's got his hands deep inside the cavity of a moose.

The next he is riding a bike with a basket to find some tasty berries.

Alright.  This post has gone on long enough!

We had fun.

We ate a lot.

We went to the fireworks.

Amy took pictures.

See?

David, HD, and I

Amy, Sweet Pea, and Jason.

I know you are confused and wondering why there are fireworks.  Regretfully, this post has droned on enough and I have no time to explain.  You are just going to have to accept it.

So, tell me dear readers.

What are your exciting camping adventures?

Do tell.