trick or treat smicker smeet

We don't do the traditional Halloween celebration around here. Not that we disagree with trick or treating or anything like that. We just discovered a fun and easy way of avoiding something that always somehow ends in disaster.

Three years ago on the twenty-ninth, I was life flighted out of our small town hospital. Bella's twin was born on this day, Gideon Wyatt Hawkins. With me gone, and Honeybear working there was few to watch the kids. My Mama and Daddy took them for the first week or so. (Correct me if ya gotta, Mama.)

So we started Halloween night. We buy the desired candy, a few "scary" movies, and stay up late binging on chocolate. I also "paint" the kids' faces, and usually do some sort of are project with them. Halloween inspired of course.

I tell you this to say this: After hearing what alot of my friends have said about doing the whole trick or treating thing, I don't miss it a bit. For one, about ninety percent of candy is off limits in this house anyways. And it never fails, someone comes down with a nasty bug.

Is it any wonder that flu season starts shortly after Halloween? Think of all the ucky germs floating around that night. How many times have your kids been told to grab what they want? How many kids were there before them? No, I will reaffirm I am not a germaphobe, but still ewwwww.

How about the people that still hand out homemade or unwrapped candy? Does anyone actually eat the popcorn ball? Why go to all the trouble of doing that if you know most people are just going to throw it out? Is it the principle of the matter? I gotta tell you, it's lost on most people.

All in all, one day we will trick or treat again, but for the moment:Give me chocolate-or give me death!

*Disclaimer: Please don't do either. I don't really care for chocolate, and I like living just fine thanks. ;)

it really shouldn't be that hard

This is what Degan said as he showed Bella once again the bunny running around the tree. I look at him thinking, you realize she isn't even three? You got a better chance of teaching D to use the toilet. But Degan, then Madison sat and patiently tried to show Bella over and over again.

Bella calmly looked at them both, picked up both laces, tied them in the underloop. Stood up, bowed, said "Tank you", and walked away. Degan smacked his face and hollers her name, before falling backwards. Madison dives giggling, ordering her to sit down, and Bella neatly side steps her. She smiles and says, "Can't catch me."

Can anyone else see what is about to happen? Martin makes a grab for her, and the chase is on. This chase lasts exactly five seconds. Ending in a dog pile, when Bella trips on her shoe lace. With Martin, Madison, and Degan doing one of those cartoon stops. You know the ones. Where the first person stops short, the second runs hard into their back, and the third causes all of them to fall.

This wouldn't have been so bad, except Bella decided to bite whoever she could get to. This was thought to be an act of war for the boys. Assuming that one of them would be the culprit not their dear, sweet, baby sister. The tangle that ensued was punctuated by howls of pain, anger, and several struggles.

I start grabbing waists, and throwing them to the side. When everyone is separated and I go to help Bella up...she bared her teeth and growled at me. Seriously she bared her teeth and growled. Then she announces,"I a monster. GRRRRRR." Martin has this look of absolute astonishment on his face, looks at Degan and Madison. Then hollers, "Get her."

Once again the battle is on. But this time I'm in the middle. The only way to call parlay was to shout above the ruckus. (By now D is barking, Gypsy is giving everyone disdainful looks, and chaos once again reins.) I shout," Who wants pudding?" That stops everything so suddenly you could hear a pin drop.

God bless whoever figured out how to make instant pudding. Without it I wouldn't have a bargaining chip.

I'mmmmm baaacckkkk

Like poltergeist you just can't get rid of me. Oh, come on you know you missed me. Just a little right? Right? RIGHT? Okay now that I have stroked my ego. I will fill ya in on the happenings here at the Waltons homestead.

First, we just finished butchering...a deer. Scout got a reprieve till next week. But he has eaten two more of my chickens, so he is darn lucky. Cause I will gladly dance on his grave. That's right pita, I said I will rejoice at the slaughter of an animal. I will savor his bacon.

Next, we have a new arrival. Or should I say an unwanted arrival. Unfortunately, she doesn't care how much we chuck things at her, or the dogs run her away, she just slinks back under the porch. She is a beagle. We are looking for her owner, but to no avail. We do not need another dog! Anyone want her?

Here's an interesting fact. The kids informed us we are saying Scout's name wrong. They actually named him Scallop like scallop potatoes. Honeybear and I have decided it doesn't matter, they can call him Scallop, we are still calling him Scout. I am going to have a most wanted poster tshirt made with his face on it.

Well, that's all for now. But I will be back tomorrow.

Due to technical difficulties

This blog has been interrupted due to technical issues. Stay tuned next week for more adventures in Motherhood and Mayhem!!

white lights and headlines

So... I have had a couple of very busy days. And have been using all my archived extras to fill the void of not being able to write. But now I am out. So here's a tale of two near death experiences about two minutes apart.

This last weekend I had agreed to let Ro's dogs out all weekend so she could go south to a festival. This meant I had to drive the twenty five miles both ways three times a day. After figuring out I really didn't want to drag the kids with me unless it was absolutely unavoidable, the releases became scheduled. The last doggie prison release after everyone else was in bed. (We are old and married even at twenty six this means ten at the latest. It is hunting season.)

I left the house, turned off our little dirt road onto the highway and nearly avoided a cow. Then as I drove the half mile to the nearest neighbor, whose cows I assumed were out. I had my first near death, you know how they say you see a white light? Well, mine was a white face as the black calf in front of me turned to me.

I didn't even see him cause he was in a bend in the road. You know how you can't really see on a sharp curve at night, that was what happened. So I hit the brakes hard. The life that flashed before me wasn't mine, it was Roast Beef's.

At this point Roast Beef leisurely walks out of the road. I continue up the road to the driveway, which is only about a hundred feet away. I pull up, shut the engine off, and undo my seat belt, walk up to the door. The door is standing wide open. But their pack of chihuahuas was absent. (They have six of the little rat dogs. Plus about six other dogs.)

So I knock. Only to have a guy that I thought was a coat on a chair, turn and swing. I jumped back. (And I ain't goin' to lie, I might have kicked out aimin' for a soft spot.) I think I scared him as much as or more as he scared me. (Did I mention I was on one side of the screen door and he was on the other? No?)

We both kinda laughed, then I told him what was goin' on. Apparently, they weren't his and they had been tryin' to catch them for about twenty four hours. But for the second time in a few minutes time I saw something flash before my eyes-a news headline. Woman Charged With Assault Claims good samaritan defense.

how crazy are ya

So, I believe I have finally managed to lose my last adult marble. I am officially kid-crazy mama-brained with no hope in sight. I know for a fact my shut up button has been obliterated. But what are the other signs? Well, if I knew that I would stop doing them. But here are some things I have noticed.

When you are walking through the store and run into a mom you know-and you can't remember one detail about her. Yet, you can remember every detail about her kid. Down to what games he likes to play, and if he is bossy or not.

You no longer call your hubby by his love name. But call him Dad or Daddy. Even tattling to him when the kids are driving you nuts. And his reply is "Do you need a time out?"

You are trying to lesson plan, and decide on projects by your fun-a-meter. Nah, lets not study Newton's theory, I can't find a project that's messy. That right there is bad enough. You quit worrying about how much a mess you're goin to make, even though you know you'll have to clean it up.

When you call your seven year old a meanie, cause he said you are too big to play in the tree. Well, you might just have issues.

If you get all excited about new crayons, and markers, and more paper. Thinking of all the pretty pics you can do. Or how many airplanes or pumpkins or ghosts for a door display.

So do ya'all have any signs that your kids have made you crazy?

the bright side

Stinky Cheese Man! It's been one of those days. Heck it's been one of those weeks. But I chose to look on the bright side, at least after I rant to my mama and get the anger out. So here's some of the funny things I have taken from the awful day.

On the way to the courthouse, I got pulled over. In the middle of the local college. Lots of "kids" on their way to class. One was so involved with watching the cop he didn't notice his baggy pants needed hitched. As he stepped off the curb, they fell down, then he fell down.

Okay, so that might be mean, but hey it made me laugh, which I really needed. Then on the plus side, I got off with a warning on almost everything. And as I drove off I got to imagine playing hit the pedestrian for a hundred points. There was plenty of idiotic kids just walking out in front of cars, so I read the blood in other drivers eyes too.

Then I got to see the bailiff tackle another court participant. He was rather irate that they would dare to set a judgement against his elderly mother. He was all of seventy himself. And the nursing home they had removed her from was the plaintiff.

Once again, this also might be seen as mean. But come on a seventy year old with a cane brandishing it at an attorney and a wiry little bailiff. And he was using all kinds of mumbled oaths, it was hard not to laugh. The bailiff had to grab his arms and the old man stepped on his foot. Come on who wouldn't be a little amused.

Then my friend who was watching my kids told me that we had scratched a blu ray dvd. So now I have to replace it probably, but then we own Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief. And I know places that will buff it out and it will be good as new. My kids loved this movie, and so do I.

So let's see, one ticket, one judgement, and one scratch. I think the old man and his cane was enough to balance out all three. With the doofus and his baggy pants a close second. So remember to look on the bright side ya'all, it's there you just gotta look.

gypsy protection

Did you know in 1572, William the Silent (the King of Holland) was at war with Spain. One night he was awakened by one of his pugs (he took his pugs with him, wherever he went ) just in time to avoid being assassinated.

Okay there is a reason for the history lesson. All of you are aware my beloved and loyal companion is a black pug named Gypsy Rose. The last several mornings after telling the kids some famous people who have owned pugs and their stories. (There are actually quite a few royalty that owned pugs, and at one point they were the symbol of the freemasons. Which all came about because of an historic art lesson and discussing their(paintings) subjects.) They have decided to see if they can "assassinate" me in my sleep.

Well, the first morning they figured out really quickly they would have to put D out before they tried their sneak attack. (It just doesn't work to have a hundred pound galoot see where you're headed and jump on the bed to say good morning first. You just lose the element of surprise.)

The second morning did not go any better. While the rest were putting D out, Bella came and crawled in and started patting me in the face going "assapate." (Yeah, maybe we need to teach them a different word for spy traitor.) So as they came around for their blitz they found me in bed looking somewhat grouchy cause not only was Gypsy Rose licking my nose, Bella was alternating with her (she was patting my face not licking.)

Yesterday morning, we beat them up with deer hunting and all. So as Martin put it "Rats foiled again!" (Where the heck do they get these things?)

This morning ,however, was different. For one, their Daddy had to go stay with his father who was having some heart issues again. So I was alone sprawled across our king size bed with pillows everywhere to make up for no body in the bed with me. And Gypsy Rose had come to rest on my stomach at some point in the night. (Hey why not it's probably softer than the pillows and bed.) I woke up to her growling deeply. (Gypsy Rose does not growl. Well before this morning I hadn't heard her.) I was wide eyed awake flipping out cause Honeybear wasn't there and there was obviously a murderer in the house. When Gypsy jumped to her feet and started her funny barking- followed by muffled giggling. They had managed to sneak around the door when Gypsy Rose came alert. Now Martin decided to stick his hand up over the edge of the bed. (They had crouched at the foot of the bed.) She went beserk and was jumping around on his hand. All the kids took turns, all giggling hysterically.

By the time I "officially" woke up they would have woke the dead with their belly laughter. I told Gypsy Rose to lay down and they joined me on the bed. Martin turned to me and goes "Mama, Gypsy Rose won't let you be assilenated." (Seriously we need to work on vocabulary words or something.)

the most magical time of the year.

It is that surreal time of year,every thing is magical. You wake up and it is dark and cool. You dress and walk out as the grass crunches beneath your feet.

You look around in wonder. Watching the animals play, and gather. Breathing deeply of the fragrant leaves, that crumble underneath your feet. Looking... looking for the right tree. It has to be perfect.

You find it and after a couple hours, strap your prize to the roof and take it home. All at home meet you joyously upon arrival. Dancing around, ever so happy.

It is that time of the year family comes together. We laugh, and play, as we prepare the food. The kids run around sneaking a treat from the table every now and then. (But hey that's why the bag is there.)

Your husband has that primitive smile, he has done his job well. The kids faces are alight with happiness. All is perfect.

Then comes that beautiful dinner. We bow are heads and give thanks, then happily dig in. It's as perfect as we imagined.

I'm talking about the opening of deer season. What are you thinking about?

counting lessons

Everyone has heard the expression "Never count your eggs before they hatch." I can add one to that from personal experience "Never count your hens till they start crowing." Okay, so that might seem a little backwards, but it's how it worked out. So here is a couple of things that I have learned not to count before the proper times.

First, I'll explain never counting hens till they start crowing. You remember the group photo of Porky, Li'l Red, Big Red (the rooster), and Brownie. Well, apparently BR isn't the only rooster. Yesterday morning we heard a very startling crowing. It definitely wasn't the sad little warbling that BR has been screeching out for the last three weeks. This was a robust, loud, and quite clear crowing, that was repeated three times.

Now, Honeybear said, "That's Brownie." I, of course, argued. No way would my beautiful hen be crowing!! Then another robust crow came from the yard. This time it was Martin who attested that it was Brownie. His proof? Brownie was stretching out her neck. Still I argued. NO NO NO. Not my beautiful Brownie, her beautiful black feathers with metallic undertones was going to be my best broody. Yet another robust crow sounds as we near the pen. I am still saying no way. Right up until I see the kung fu rooster launch Brownie is doing to BR. Okay, I guess I should know better than to deny thrice before the cock crows. But lesson learned.

Another thing never to count to early? A healthy child in the middle of sick siblings. For the last week, we have been battling the weather change colds. I made this mistake twice. Friday Bella had been ill. I tallied it up to sudden weather change and her allergies. So Saturday I prepared to go to church. Why not Bella was better? Right up until we arrived at the old church house. We got in and sat down, only to see Martin start holding his stomach. Yep, you got it. Pretty soon he was doubled over. I started to gather up the brood, yet he insisted he could make it through church.

So I had him lay down. That lasted a while. If you call twenty minutes a while. As we started to sing, Martin started trying to say something to me. I leaned in closer only to hear, "I think I'm going throw up, Mama." Okay, church is over for us. I gather the brood, and we head home. As we are walking to the front door...Martin's stomach rebels. Close call.

So for the next couple of days we have played the sick tango. One kids well, the next kid is sick. I was sure that Degan's very mild case Sunday was all he was going to get. He is such a tough little cookie. We start preparing to go to the revival (hallelujah!) Only to be told twenty minutes before we were preparing to leave, "Mommy, I don't feel good. My tummy hurts." I pull him close and kiss his forehead. Yep, time for him to go to bed. So much for counting a healthy kid amongst the sick. *sigh

I'm off to fight the ongoing epic battle every mom faces-lysoling every surface I can that anyone might have touched.

aging gracefrully part 2

You know I talked about my birthday and my graceful aging, when I told my Honeybear-he laughed. Apparently stating that it stinks that no one sang “Happy Birthday” makes me ungraceful. This got me to thinking about all the things that happen in the inbetween stage. You know the stage im talking about- the responsible period that starts at about 25 and ends when your “all grown up and settled” say 110.

Twenty five is when your suppose to start “acting your age” with less irresponsible spending and behaviors. Mine started at-well, birth., which was right around the same time I was married. Supposedly there was seventeen years between these two events. I beg to differ I was born married, I remember no other life than the one I am living. But once again I digress into a shining object moment.

This is right around the time people become better drivers-according to the insurance companies. Sad isn’t it this is your peak. (it slowly spirals downwards to the point that many people only drive as fast as they can walk) Honeybear once said ,as we slowly trudged along a back road in a train of eight cars, why is it our car says don’t drive faster than your guardian angel can fly but older people are waiting on a guardian snail

Then theres the music .I am suppose to like “my generation” music. I’m sorry-I can’t help I have good taste. No one told me a requirement of growing up meant I turned into one of the herd. I missed that memo obviously since I never have conformed to “my generation”. No I am not a rebel. I am an old person trapped in a twenty six year olds body.

You’re also suppose to start saving for retirement. How ironic. This time coincides with the birth of children. I don’t know bout ya’all but trying to save money in a one income household is like trying to catch a rainbow. Nice thought, but if you really think it’s goin to happen little men in white coats come to take ya away. Having kids means you have no money. Right about the time you think your going to save some money, someone needs braces, or ya know food.

Hmmm, seems to me I am ahead of the curve on reality checks. That’s at least worth grace right. Maybe not the “ful” but at least the grace.

antifeminist

The other day I was told by a guy “You’re the kind of woman that keeps woman down.” No, I didn’t type that wrong, really it was a guy. I’ll just wait right here while you absorb that, and let the laughter die down. Are ya done now? Okay, one more minute.

Anyways as I tried (unsuccessfully) to contain my laughter, I flashed back to Jerry Clower and the woman libber. Jerry Clower? You know Jerry Clower. Marcel Ledbetter? Oh geeze, he was around before Andy Griffith. America’s first “oral storyteller”, other words a stand up comedian.

Let me summarize the story for you. He’s waiting backstage when a women’s libber comes in an tells him she’s going to free his wife from oppression. He looks at her and goes “Ma’am, mama has a house keeper, a brand new car every year, and doesn’t get up till she wants to. (I am summarizing he is much funnier.) Mama, don’t want you messing with the deal she’s got.” I feel the same way.

Look at it from my point of view. I haven’t held a job in almost ten years. (Don’t get it wrong, I worked hard when I was gainfully employed. Ask my Mama, I earned over two thousand dollars in a little over a month ,while keeping straight A’s in my advanced classes.) I get to spend every day doing what I love. I am a teacher, I am a nurse, and I am a personal chef. But all those jobs are for the ones I love the most-the dogs. Just kidding, my family.

Anytime I want something (okay, I am a mom that doesn’t happen a lot) I get it. And sometimes it appears before I ever ask. Honeybear is a smart man, you keep mama happy you got it made.

Actually that brings up a valid point let’s look at this from my family members point of view. Honeybear never has to pick out or rummage for clothes. He never has to come home to anything less than a delicious meal, this is probably a little bit of a con. (He has put on about twenty pounds or so since our marriage almost a decade ago.) He is the envy of all his friends and acquaintances, they love when I bake for the break room. And for all intensive purposes he has it made.

Now look at it from the kids’ point of view. They have the storybook life. They help mama cook, they get to study things in a way that interests them. (I don’t care what anyone says, you put physics in front of a kid with a Scooby twist they’re goin learn.) They are also the envy of their friends (well not so much anymore since most of their friends are home schooled or have stay at home mamas too.) They are growing up the way people grew up fifty years ago. And they love it.

(I did try and get a part time job about two years ago this month. We wanted to have a really big Christmas {that’s the year we decided going broke wasn’t what Christmas was about-after the fact.} This resulted in a couple of things. Degan quit speaking to me for two weeks, Madison wouldn’t sleep till I came home to read to her, and Martin told me he hated me being gone and wished I was like other moms and just stayed home. That job did not last longer than four weeks.)

So if I am a woman that keeps woman down all I gotta say is Jerry Clower hit the nail on the head, “Mama don’t want you messin with the deal she’s got.” And I will add,"This family don't want you messin with the deal they got."

i tried to warn you

So you still want to be a mom? Even after all I have wrote on here? Really? Okay, I am going to tell you the things no one mentions before that little bundle of joy comes along.

Don't get me wrong-you'll make a great mama. But there seems to be the thought amongst other women to keep mum about the nitty gritty of motherhood. What's the saying? Misery loves company.

So here's the first thing, ya know all those charming little quirks you love about your hubby? Yeah. Well, your little bundle will have those, along with all the annoying little quirks. Oh, and all your annoying little quirks too. Fun, huh? You want to live with yourself? Yeah, I didn't think so.

And here's a little secret about having a baby boy. They get little soldiers standing at salute. For some reason when you take that diaper off and the air hits it, well they just let go. And if you don't have that diaper wipe ready to cover it-well you know. Although when it misses you its alright. Except if they get themselves in the face-then you cover and then laugh. Be sure to cover cause they can't get away from the stream, and it's just not nice.

The other thing no one tells you and after having the baby you seem to forget. They grow up! You know that cute little bundle of joy? Well, it will start walking and talking, and soon it's ninety pounds of hostility and hormones.

But I am jumping way ahead. There's also the fact that your vocabulary regresses. You will catch yourself saying things like: "I have to go potty." or even "We don't put the kitty in the thingy. Don't look at me like that you know what I mean."

Of course, your relationship with your spouse changes too. He no longer walks in the door and comes straight to you for a kiss. He walks in and gets this: "They won't let me play. And Bella ate all my popcorn, then Degan looked at me and said I was stinky. Make them be nice." This is usually when he responds with, "Babe you're the mommy." I respond by pouting.

So you still want to be a mom? Alright, don't say I didn't warn you.

teaser

One of my favorite reads put up a short fiction writing the other day. Mommy of a Monster inspired me to take the plunge. This is the prologue to the novel I am writing. I have said time and again it is nothing like what I normally write, my goal is it leaves you wanting more.

PROLOGUE

She heard the foot falls and howling in the distance. Knowing she had moments before they were upon her she ran through a rolling creek highlighted by the full moon. As she reached the opposite bank her foot slid in the mud and she stumbled to the ground. Staring up at the full moon she whispered a prayer for strength.

She just needed a few more crucial minutes. If she could just get up, but her strength was spent. As the underbrush crackled and she smelled their musky scent, she knew it was too late. A shadow flowed into the shape of a man. His cruel handsome face smug with his victory looked down on her.

“Where is she, sister?” his voice cracked in the night air. His voice held a promise of violence yet to come. Demanding an answer, and an answer she would give.

“Somewhere you will never lay your hands on her”. Her voice hushed with the hope that she spoke the truth. She looked up at him and smiled serenely. “Never.”

“Then lets not draw this out.” he snarled with hatred. As he uttered his commands to his minions and walked away, his one thought was with the infant he hunted for. The death cries of his sister did little more than make him pause to make sure she had surrendered to eternal sleep. When sure she cried no more, his attention turned back to the quest at hand. He looked to the moon and whispered “Sleep well, little one. I will find you.”

kidtism

I gotta say I am trying really hard to not laugh out loud at my children today. It has been one of those days. Every time one of them opens their mouths, they make absolutely sincere observations that are absolutely hysterical.

First we have, Martin. As they were working on their math problems I called my cuz, who just had a baby. Bella proceeded to climb on top of a bucket, trying to climb onto a table, to reach the shelf with candy. I told her to get down, and then turned my attention back to my cousin. "See what happens in two years?" This is where Martin inserted, "Yeah, they get really annoying." Ummm, when did he separate himself from the rest of the pack? He is the main heathen, the ring leader.

When I got off the phone, we started into our science lesson. It's the skeletal system this week. We were discussing what the cranium is for. Somewhere along the lines I said something about how it protects your brain. Madison looked puzzled then said, "So not everyone has one since not everyone has brains." It took everything in me to explain that one. I managed not to laugh, but my eyes watered with the effort.

Bella's was more to the point. We were all doing scientific observations and comparing our hypothesis about the chicken bones and vinegar. I got the bright idea to show them the chemical reaction of baking soda and vinegar. Doing this at the school table with out preparing, so ya know it might have made a mess. Bella looked at me and said "Momma make mess, that no no. Go time out, after you clean up YOUR mess." Hmmm, maybe I say that one to often.


With kids like these who needs a t.v.-ME!!! I do. Don't take my t.v. its my adult time. Now I must go sit in the corner and finish my time out.

hillbilly definition redefined

Origins of the term "hillbilly" are obscure. According to Anthony Harkins in Hillbilly: A Cultural History of an American Icon, the term first appeared in print in a 1900 New York Journal article, with the definition: "a Hill-Billie is a free and untrammeled white citizen of Alabama, who lives in the hills, has no means to speak of, dresses as he can, talks as he pleases, drinks whiskey when he gets it, and fires off his revolver as the fancy takes him."

Okay people, we have been going over this for a while and still haven't got this right. Someone felt the need to send this to me (they were being funny) so obviously I need to help redeem the hillbilly name. Or at least better define it than this snobbish definition.

So let's start and pick it apart piece by piece. "a Hill-Billie is a free and untrammeled white citizen of Alabama,who lives in the hills" For one the person ,albiet snobby, is ignorant! Every one knows hillbilly is spelled as one word. Not to mention his spelling is horrid. He did manage to get the free and undtrammeled part right. But puh-lease Alabama? We are from Misery (that's a Missouri joke, ha ha)or if you want to go back further (on Honeybear's side remember, I'm country-I married a hillbilly) they're Creole, or from the Louisana bayou. Hills are optional.

"has no means to speak of, dresses as he can, talks as he pleases," Once again, how wrong can one Yankee snob be? They assume that frugal, means no money. My father in law may not drive a Lexus, just an old Dodge. But that's his run around vehicle. There is also his working truck, and the Grey Ghost his "purdy" vehicle. Owns more guns than a pawn shop, and if you need a couple hundred he has it somewhere close by. He's also the only person I know that actually owns everything of his. There is no mortgage, no bank loans, no one signed off behind him. The clothing is usually whatever blends in with the landscape of what your hunting. If it isn't hunting season, then the clothing is all about function. LOTS of pockets. Never know when you will need to use your pocket knife, pliers, string, wire, and don't forget your chaw. The talking part is dead on, they don't talk much but when they decide they got something to say, you ain't going to shut them up.

"drinks whiskey when he gets it, and fires off his revolver as the fancy takes him."
Okay so one of my hillbillies drinks whiskey, but the other one does not. Honeybear never drinks. Okay in the old days, before he met me (the preacher's daughter), he drank whiskey. But come on that's profiling and it ain't right. And the whole firin' off a revolver any ole time he pleases? The first person to do that around my hillbillies will probably get his block knocked off. They believe whole heartedly in gun control. Shocking, right? But they always say if you don't use both hands, you don't got control. (Here Honeybear wants to tell you a principle of hillbilly living and gun control-if you can't grill it, don't kill it.)

So here's my definition of hillbilly. A man of infinite character, respects all, provides fiscally and nutritionally for his family, and is the man to get the job done. Honeybear read this, then said "That's all?" It would take several more blogs before I would ever have a handle of the definition of a hillbilly. But I will say this Yankees, quit trying to define us. You'll never get it.

the care and feeding of husbands

Most of us have a hubby. Most of us love and adore said hubby. And most of us at one time or another want to hide the body after a temporary moment of insanity and violence. These moments can be kept to a minimum if you follow a few simple rules.

Never ask a hubby to ask for directions. It doesn't matter if the last hour has been spent on another of his classic shortcuts. It doesn't matter if the country side is starting to look like something out of Deliverance. The moment you question his manly power of direction, you are automatically the one in the wrong. You distracted him, and he now has missed his turn. Even if you haven't once said a word since he turned down this side highway that's going to cut the trip in half, some how some way you messed up his navigation.

Always agree after the first two times of denial. Supposedly he told you he needed something today. (Whether it's a certain shirt, or a belonging he has misplaced.) Try and tell him nicely a time or two that you have no clue what he is talking about. After that just nod your head and say "Yes, dear." No matter what he throws out there just repeat after me, "Yes, dear." Whether it's the "you moved it, didn't you?" or the "I told you last night." comments. Just stand up shuffle things around and repeat the key phrase over and over. Quick movements and loud noises just draw their attention further. As soon as they leave the room, resume your casual perusal of the newest Cosmo. Casually throwing out a "nope not there, darn" and a "hmmm, I think I already looked there". Just don't forget to ruffle your page as you turn them to mimic actual searching.

When they ask what you are making for dinner before you make dinner or have something dethawing, always answer with "What do you want?" Now, if they ask for something that sounds really unappetizing just tell them you don't have the ingredients for that. Then suggest two dishes you want to make or sound appetizing. This is a great trick to still let them have their manly power, and not eating something that just sounds like way to much work.

When they wander into the kitchen, and start rattling around looking for something to eat-get out of their way! You're either about to get roped into cooking something or you can turn the tables. Sit down casually and just as they are about to come out of the kitchen, ask him for a glass of water or snack. This is a great way to repay all those times you have sat down only to have to get back up to get him what he wanted. It's kind of hard to deny some one something when they are sitting and you're right there right?

If you follow these few steps, the need to run away screaming to live with the purple penguins will be kept to a minimum.

another change of pace

Well, our life has taken another turn. Hopefully for the better. Honeybear and Madison have been put on a gluten-free diet. Let me tell ya, that's fun to figure out.
Yesterday I made a supposed gluten-free recipe. Four bites in both got really sick. Fun, fun, fun.

After hours of research, and I do literally mean hours, I found the culprit! My seasoning salt. Seriously? You have to add wheat as a filler to salt? So I start going through my seasonings, HALF had wheat fillers. Does anyone understand why we would need wheat added to salt? If you figure this out, let me know.

While this did give us an chance to teach new vocabulary words. We taught the words gluten and wheat to the kids. They already can read free. Let me tell ya, when we got to the store they found plenty that said "wheat". Gluten-free on the other hand is scarce and far between.

Degan was so proud when he found them some syrup. I don't think they were quite as appreciative-glue just isn't that appetizing of an option. I was getting so frustrated I tried to convince them it was at least worth a try. They weren't open to the possibilities. *sigh

On another note...I am sorry this week hasn't been my best for blogging. This weekend was extremely busy, with church and all. Since I made them sick, I didn't get much sleep either. I will try and make it more interesting tomorrow.

Just don't leave me-I'm needy.

a day in the life

As I open my eyes I smell freshly brewed coffee and hear bacon sizzling. The smoke detector hangs open, making me wonder what's already been burn cooking.

Rolling over I come face to face with Gypsy Rose, she darts out her pink tongue making contact with my nose. She whimpers and sticks her haunches in the air and her curly q tail wiggles in anticipation. A clear sign it is time to get up, seeing as how she won't let any one else in the house let her out.

I roll out of bed, and Gypsy lets out a warning yip, alerting the rest of the house to the good news-Mommy is awake. Before I can stand four sets of bright eyes stare at me from the door. "Good morning, Mama." they chorus.

I make my way to the kitchen to be greeted by my hubby. He hands me a cup of coffee, to strong and bitter but hey he tries. Then he turns the spatula over to me as I yawn and I take over the turning of already slightly charred bacon. Yummy.

As the breakfast is finished, and school begins, the kids are fully awake and rearing to go. I try and hold their attention on things as mundane as fractions and geography. No easy task with their father in the next room throwing out interesting tidbits he finds as he researches their next science project. He gets all the fun stuff.

As school ends we grapple with what to do with the rest of our day. Our list of chores stretches day to day. Do we clean the church? Help the grandparent? Or take a field trip? Oh let's not forget it's time to go check animals yet again. Three times a day just like us humans.

Wait it's Monday, don't forget cub scouts! Where did we but that popcorn sheet? What do you mean you need your uniform ironed? I told you to hang it up. Oh, alright give it to me.

Dinner, it's dinner time already I just woke up! Yes, I know you want a four course meal. No, I didn't know I was expected to make thirty cupcakes for tonight. Tonight? You knew last week, and wait until ten minutes before we leave to tell me? Well, Wal-Mart is on the way. Get in the van.

An hour later we head for home, the kids hyped up on sugar that I would never give them. We drag into the house. I start with the simple request, "Get ready for bed."
All of the sudden I realize I have yet to feed or water four children all day. At least that's what they make it sound like. I am told I promised a story, then this is revised to two stories. I tell them a story that goes something like this, "There once was four children that were suppose to be in bed, the end."

The protests grow louder. And then Daddy steps in with the look. Suddenly I am bombarded with hugs and kisses and all is quiet. We say prayers, and I fall exhausted onto the sofa. Look at my husband and smile. Only to see the sleepy child standing in the hall, she has misplaced her blanky.

We look through the bedrooms, living room, anywhere we can think of ,finally tell the upset child we will locate it in the morning. As I pull the covers up to tuck her in the missing blanky is located. The now placated child rolls up in her comfort, as I go to join the hubby on the sofa.

He's asleep. Oh well there is always tomorrow.

nostalgia

This morning I listened to my playlist, while I fiddled with the photos and such. It made me think back to how this (my life as of now) started. Believe it or not, it started with a straw.

I was seventeen, working at Sonic. Fall had just started rearing it's head. Seemed like any other Saturday, I was at my second job. (Yes, I was still in school. But I was working two jobs to get my car.)My best friend and I were both carhops at Sonic. The town we lived in was a sleepy country town, by nine everyone was at home. So we were goofing around, we had another two hours till closing.

We heard the deep rumble of a truck, and looked out the window. In Eldo you usually know the owner by the vehicle. This time we didn't. They pulled around to a parking spot, Jan and I looked at each other. She said, "Old guys." and I said, "Next towners." (A little game we played at guessing who our customers were that we didn't know.) We later found out I was right. It was my turn to take the order, the intercom and computer were right in front of their parking spot.

I walked over, looking back at Jan and laughing. The minute I turned to push the button, I was frozen. Startling eyes met mine. Before I pushed the button to answer them, I turned to Jan. "Get over here." That was enough for her, she came and acted like she was helping me. We took their order, and then argued over who would take the order out. We finally decided to use the straw trick. This is where the one carhop takes the order out, but forgets the straw for the drink. The other carhop then follows a few seconds later. (Hey, I was seventeen. Give me a break.)

I got to be first, she already had once that night. (Did I mention by 8:30 we were usually dead, unless there was a football game?) I walked out to the truck, and smiled into-teeth. A dog so ugly it was cute, with a definite underbite was waiting at the open window. With my appearance the two guys cut off their conversation, and looked at me. The driver smiled at me, and said something irrelevant, pulling the dog out of the window.

I started handing him food, and he took it, asking about the town being dead. I told him it was always like this, noticing his hands-they looked blood splattered!! He must have caught my look and explained they had just come from catfishing. I smiled and told him I loved fishing. Jan arrived right about then, she saw the dog and started cooing over him. Since we had nothing better to do, we sat and chatted with the guys for a few. When another customer drove in, we excused ourselves, and went back to work. They drove away.

For the next little bit we cleaned and talked about how gorgeous these guys were. I had no idea about the other guy really. We were about an hour from closing when who drives back up-the gorgeous guys.

I took out an order and he hollered at me playfully. I smiled, and kept walking. When we were out of customers, I took a foot long hotdog out to his ugly dog. He asked my name, and I pointed to my name tag and laughed. We had another customer so I ran inside. I didn't notice till I was coming back from delivering an order, but Jan was at his truck. I was a little perturbed, I told her I liked him. When I got back in, she was right behind me. I turned to say something (probably snotty), and she handed me a scrap of paper with his name and number. I was stunned, but what was I going to do? I wasn't allowed to call guys! Before I could do anything he drove away. Cripes!

I sat there for a little bit, and we started cleaning again. It was fifteen minutes till close. I was jumping at every rumble of a big motor, till I finally gave up. Then while I was in back, Jan came told me I had an order. I looked at her like she was crazy, I was doing prep. Till I saw her smile. I calmly walked to the front, (Anyone believe that?) got his order, (he hadn't seen me so he ordered a Pepper, hoping, he says) and walked towards his truck with butterflies in my stomache. I gave him his drink, took a breathe, and handed him his number back. I told him "I don't call guys, if they want me they have to call me." (Pretty good save, huh?) He seemed a little shocked, so I turned and walked away. As I was walking back in, he stood on his running board and hollered,"Well, then can I have yours?" I looked over my shoulder, and smiled. When I got a free minute, I ran back out. Asked him to wait for a few till I was off, and gave him my number.

He did wait, and I was ecstatic! He asked me out for the following Monday-I, of course, said yes. I drew him a map to my house, and explained he should honk. My aussie hated men, he had already attacked two of my boyfriends. We said good bye and went our separate ways.

I might want to explain here, I had never been on a date. I had boyfriends, but I refused to go on a date with them. They were to handsy. They were allowed to come to my house for dinner, which is where Rusty(my aussie) met them. So while I had boy experience, I had no idea whatsoever what to do on a date.

He called the next day, to confirm our date, and I was over the moon. I gave him specific instructions about what time to arrive, because I had to work before our date. (It was Labor Day Monday.)I had to have danced around for an hour after is call.

The next day was our date, I was jumping around watching the clock for every second to pass. When it was about an hour from the end of my shift, Jan came and grabbed me. She said, "Your ride is here." I couldn't figure out why the heck my mom would show up so early. At least till I looked out-it was him!!!! I freaked, literally! I had been working in the back for a couple of hours, this was not easy lifting carhopping, I was a wreck.

I ran out and asked him what he was doing here? (Okay, I could have been a little more subtle.) But then was shocked by his answer, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to find my house, so he figured he'd just come get me at work. I melted, told him I would see if I could go a few minutes early, and ran inside. Only then did I realize my mom was probably leaving the house. Sure enough, I called the house and she was on her way.

I looked at the clock, I had thirty minutes left in my shift. So I went looking for my boss, I asked if I could get off a few minutes early. She was reluctant but let me. By the time I got outside, my mom was waiting, so I went over pointed to Honeybear and told her what was going on. She smiled like a cat with cream, and told me not to keep him waiting. I ran over opened the door and told him I was off. His worried look dissolved into a smile. I jumped in and he took me to my house so I could clean up.

When we got to the house I jumped out, told him not to pet Rusty, and ran inside. Little did I know, my brother had let Rusty off his chain, to try and scare Honeybear probably. He denies it to this day. My dad and brother were in the back working on the brickwork. They chatted with Honeybear, right up until Rusty came running up. I'm sure my dad was flipping out, just as I am sure, my brother was smirking, watching my dog walk up to this strange guy. Much to everyone present amazement, Rusty sat down and put his paw on Honeybear's foot. He allowed for Honeybear to pet him, and Honeybear looked up and asked, "Is this the vicious attack dog she keeps warning me about?"

My dad just stared, my brother looked at him and said," Alright, leave now." My dad says he should have known then that this was the man for me. They came in and chatted in the formal parlor. I came down the staircase (exactly like my future wedding day, actually) and Daddy says then he knew it was over. The look on Honeybear's face ,according to Daddy, was the beginning of the end.

We went on our date, and as they say the rest is history. But I never forget it all- started with a straw.

the zoo examined

Well, yesterday it was brought to my attention I had never talked about Zues. Yes, I realize it is usually spelled Zeus, but his papers say Zues. Not that he can read. But I figured that today I would give you all a rundown of all our babies, furry or otherwise.


This is Zues. Affectionately called old man, or Zuesy. He is a master of escape. He uses these powers for any female within a hundred mile radius. Which is why he is the only one of our animals not allowed free rein-puppy support is expensive.



You guys have heard me talk about D well the next picture is slightly graphic so you might want to skip it.


This is from the day we brought him home. Poor baby, he weighed all of twenty three pounds. You wouldn't recognize him now a days of course. His fur has grown back out, as well as gained about sixty pounds. (That happens when you feed an animal.)

Not to mention he found his best friend.

Of course we can not forget the queen of the house. No, I don't mean me-Gypsy Rose of course.

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Now onto the babies of the nonfurry variety.
Oldest first. This is Martin. Oh, that's his furry baby-Buck Blaster.

We're so country our animals think they're cowboys.

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Then of course there is my Madison.

She had her wonderful Princess.

Then there is her Jewels. If you look closely the little white head peeking out next to her is her cat.

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Now we are to Degan.

He's isn't five yet so he hasn't got his own furbaby. But he does share in the ownership of D.
He's always on the move doing something so I don't have tons of pics of him that aren't blurry.

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That leaves Bella. The one that uses her halo to hide her horns.
This is my favorite pic of her.

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That just leaves Honeybear. You've already seen him on the toilet (in the field people-on my bday... Our prank. Minds out of the gutter.)
That's Tank with him. He had passed from seizures, poor baby. Honeybear loved him. He was another of our rescues.



Here's our only other furbaby. At Christmas he wears a Santa hat. The kids pet him, and he is very much a member of the family. So take that pita. lol.

Hopefully this will give everyone a better idea of who I talk about.