Honeeee!

Dear Clay,

Look at our happy family.  We are soooo happy and content.  Oh, wait a second, you're not in this photo.  Yeah, take a goooooood long look, sweetheart.  Because that's what our family is going to look like if you don't find another camera cord thingy on your way home from work tonight!  

I love you!

Hug, pinch, Kiss, kick, Hug, push, Kiss, tickle,

April- your ever persistent wife of 15 years, 4 months, 2 weeks and 2 days........

New Year, Old Things

What I'm hoping this new year will bring.

1.  Finished dining room walls.  Cause I'm sorta over looking at the termite eaten wall.

2. A longing to exercise so severe that I run right out the door and don't stop until I'm completely de-muffin topped.

3. For a little boy named Caden to be healed from cancer.

4. A garden lush with tomatoes.

5. A cow to put in my freezer.

6. Chickens, a coop, fresh eggs.

7. Turkeys to be named Harry and Martha.

8. Fruit trees heavy laden.  Therefore causing me to beg my mom and sister to come help make a gazillion jars of preserves.

9. Oh, I'm afraid to write this....here goes, to refurbish my childhood furniture that looks like it was salvaged from the dump.  I've been meaning to repaint it for um, well, uh, 14 years.  What are the chances of me actually getting it done?

10. To read more.

11. Get back into pottery.  My fingers ache to play with Clay....I mean clay.  I really miss the wheel and the creative outlet. 

12. For my parents to get their house sold so they can move closer to me and start carting my children around to games and activities while I become the next greatest potter.

13. Aaaand now for the cheese whiz.  I hope for my children to remain healthy and happy.  I can only hope for my husband to stay just the way he is, purrrfect (Honeeee, are you reading this?  I didn't mention the camera cord.....that you lost.)  And I hope for many, many more happy days here in Kansas.

Take that cookie and shove it!

I can hardly wait to visit my children when they are grown. This Christmas season as I look around my house I find myself planning the wonderful times we’ll have together.

I’ll arrive a few weeks before Christmas so I can help decorate. First, I’ll take the lights outside and bang them on the side of the house. After I’ve broken half the strand and tied it into knots I’ll toss it on the roof and exclaim, “That is soooooo beautiful!”.

I’ll beg, plead, cry and argue about whose turn it is to put the star on top of the tree. Then I’ll insist it’s my turn and would my children please hoist me up to the top so I won’t break a hip?

I’ll look appreciatively at the nativity scene then hide Baby Jesus in the toy chest, pop the head off one of the Wisemen and glue it back on with cranberry sauce.

I’ll volunteer to make sugar cookies. I’ll leave bits of dough under the sink, in the pantry and I’ll use some to make a Santa face on the oven door. When I clean up, I’ll thoroughly dust the kitchen with flour before taking a wet rag to wipe down the surfaces leaving behind a nice crusty haze. Then I’ll eat all the cookies.

I’ll want to make crafts. Lots and lots of crafts that require large amounts of glitter, glue and tiny pieces of paper. I’ll set up my crafting on the dining room table. I’ll get tired after building several three dimensional glitter-glue-paper objects and need to take a nap on my children’s bed where I’ll shed all the glitter, glue and paper off my clothes.

I’ll eat nothing but candy for three days then vomit piles of chocolate-peppermint-cinnamon-orange on every rug, pillow, blanket and shoe they own. When they offer me a plastic bucket, I’ll refuse and tell them, “No thanks, I feel much better now.”

I’ll use three rolls of wrapping paper to wrap a gift card.

I’ll hide the scotch tape in my car and put the scissors in the dryer.

I’ll violently shake all the packages under the tree and repeatedly say, “THIS BETTER NOT BE CLOTHES!!!”

Right before we leave for Christmas Eve services at church I’ll spill juice on the kids’ new outfits, pour mud in their shoes and hide them outside.

When Christmas dinner is served I’ll heap my plate with mashed potatoes and bread then tell my children how bad everything smells and I’m not very hungry.

On my way out the door I’ll give them all a hug, tell them how much I love spending Christmas with them, then smash six ornaments, just because.

I'm in love with Craig

Have I told you all how much I love Craig's list?  Well, I do.  I've sold stuff that I would never in a million years thought I'd be able to get rid of.  Today, I bought a 10 drawer dresser for my little boys.  Guess how much?  That's right, forty bucks.  

Are you looking for something you can't find?  Craig's List

Are you sick of ebay?  Craig's List

Do you want to get rid of everything in your house?  Craig's List

Just google craigslist.  Look up your state and area and get busy.

Musty Santa

Mom, what's a musty Santa?

What?  

What's a musty Santa?

Musty Santa????

(then I hear in the background the song Must Be Santa)

Merry Christmas

Tonight during the candle light service I caught my hair on fire and dripped wax on my new pants.  

Tim Hawkins - A Homeschool Family

Dear Hanley Fadder

I found my address book. It was in the strange antique cabinet thingy. I'd love to show you a picture of it and the old pedestal table that I just brought home from being repaired, but I CAN'T FIND MY CAMERA PLUG THINGY!!!!

I'd like to show you the couch and chair that arrived and discuss some paint colors, but again, the cameral cord thingy....it ain't anywheres to be found.

I'd like to show you the cute video of the boys singing Mary Did You Know, but yeah, no cord thingy.

I'd like my husband to 'splain what happened after he cleaned the office? The cord thingy was on my desk and after he did his sweep of the office, it was gone.

HONEEEEEEEEE!!!! Where is my camera plug thingy? I want it NOW!!!

Fine. I'll write about cute things Levi says, uuuh just so you know, Levi has been in quite a bit of trouble lately. The only thing that seems to get his attention is threatening to wack his butt with a wooden spoon. So there you have it.

-Don spank my Yevi.

-Mom, you don spank my Yevi......go spank my Sephy.

-I yuv you. I do, I yuv you. You elcome.

-Mom, don spank my bottum wid dat spoon, you cook wid dat spoon.

-Mom, you snuggle-snuggle-snuggle wif me.

-Mom, I sorry, I not make mess, I not poop in my unnerwear, I not.

-Mom, you poop in the toiryet, you do, I not.

-Dear Hanley Fadder, tank you dis day, tank you the moon an stars an truck an an an tree an spoon AMEN!

Man Stroke Woman: How women get away with farting

Clay and I laughed so stinking hard at this....STINKING HARD!!!!

Mary, DID YOU KNOW....or did that whole angel appearing to you leave you sticken?

Oh manonmanomanoman, I'm trying very, very hard not to make fun of people.  It's so mean spirited and totally defeats any chance of me marketing the WWJD merchandise here on my blog.  Instead I'll just pose this question.

Do you find yourself biting your cheeks, wincing, rolling your eyes, furrowing your brow, pressing your lips tightly together or expressing concern topped off with guffaws of airy laughter when you hear Kenny Rogers and Wynonna singing Mary Did You Know?  

I know, I know most of you probably love that song.  It is very sweet.  But, all I can think of when I hear it is Mary looking at Kenny and Wynonna quizzically saying, "Hail NO!"

Bathroom Blogging

So, this is what it's come to.  I'm blogging in the bathroom.  Don't worry, as tempted as I am to go deeper into this topic, I will spare you.  

My sister has been nagging me about not posting often enough.  But, honestly, what do you all want to hear?  That I have to go to the bathroom?  Sometimes I just ain't got nuthin tah say!

Actually, that's a boldface lie.  I always have a little somesin-somesin.  So, in no particular order, and in perfect bathroom form, I give you my random thoughts on random things.

For instance, I was thinking that using my blog is an excellent way to learn  perfect one sided conversation fodder.  

Like; let's talk about my hair, you know the hair that hasn't been touched since Easters?  It's looking rather ratty and I must add, quite neglected.  I need to pick up a phone, make an appointment and get it cut.  Any comments?  No?  Well, then let's move on to another one sided conversation tid bit, my gut.  

I mean my muffin-tops that lately have been smooching up to a dozen lily, white, glazed donuts and a big, fat turkey tail.  I notice this plate of delicacies each time I put on my new jeans.  I'm talking about the jeans that I jiggle, squirm and excrete beads of sweat to get up over my buttocks.  By the time I get them on, I have forced all the fat from my ankles to my lower lumbar section to rest solely on top of the waste band.  If I get a wedgie or an undesirable scratch may occur, fahgetaboutit, ain't nuthin getting through the tight seal my jeans have formed.  My daughter tried to pinch my butt, and she got nuthin, she would have been better off tryin to file her nails than get any movement of flesh between my denim and me.  Tight jeans, gotta love the protection they provide.  

And speaking of tight, oh-by-gosh-by golly, I hate all my turtle necks.  The ribbed turtle neck has been my choice of winter uniform for nearly a decade.  I liked them for many reasons; they were long enough to cover my arms and conceal the coin slot that gets a bit elongated with the tight jeans, they provide warmth but not bulk so I can put on a coat without feeling constricted and they have those lovely slenderizing vertical lines.   But, for the life of me I can't stand to have anything pressing on my neck now.  I mean, it feels like those doggone things are cutting off the juggling in my freakin' jugular vein and my clavicular artery is being clavicularized!  This is a problem since 99.99% of my long sleeved shirts are ribbed turtle necks.

I'm out of the bathroom now, just so you know.  And yes, I washed my hands.

Continuing.  Changing subjects, but still one sided.  Are you with me?  Friday, Ellen, had a molar extracted.  It had wedged itself under another tooth and never erupted.  The procedure wasn't pretty.  I held her hand, rather she squeezed all the blood out of my hand, while the oral surgeon did all manners of atrocities to her mouth.  What a brave girl.  I thought about fainting a couple of times, especially when he pulled a long bloody string out and said something about the nerve...deep breath in, cleansing breath out.  Lalalalala, find my happy place, and I'm good.  

I finished Array Pottah.  It was good, not excellent, but really good.  I liked that she brought in nearly every character ever mentioned, but thought she was stretching it a bit.  The camping parts could have been edited down a bit.  Some parts seemed deliberately written for the silver screen.  I did enjoy it, but I like the earlier books much better.  But, I still recommend it.

I watched the movie, The Notebook for the second time and cried harder than the first time I watched it.  The part that gets me is when the old man tells his kids that he won't leave the nursing home where his wife is an Alzheimer's patient.  He says something like, "Listen kids, that's my sweetheart in there, and I'm not leaving her."  Ugh.  Clay and I have both had a grandparent that lived out the remainder of their days stricken with Alzheimer's.  One had a spouse watch the disintegration and the other's spouse had passed away before the onset.  What if one of us gets it?  What if one day we both get it?  Will we stumble around the house wondering where we are and asking "Who are you?"

And finally, Ike is almost six years old.  For crying out loud, who said he could get so big? 

Now, do you think this was worth your time?  Huh?  I didn't think so.  But, at least my sister will get off my ever-lovin'-turkey tail about posting something. 

Monogram This

My mom will be so proud, I got out the iron!

This Might Be My Chrismas Card

I'll claim them today.

Ice Ice Baby

Ice Ice Baby...

We're in the middle of an ice storm and hopefully, we won't loose power again.  It went out about 3 a.m and then all the hard wired fire detectors started going off.  It was so stinkin' loud, we were trying to figure out how to turn them off in the pitch black.  It scared the bajeebas out of Ike and he didn't know what to do, so he just sat in his top bunk and cried until I was able to feel my way to his bed and rescue him.  Eventually, they went off, but I'm not sure how we did it or if we did it.  After that we had two little boys in our bed.  Two little boys that turn into giant coal fired furnaces and make it their mission to see just how small  a space their parents can cling to and still stay on the bed. 

I'm filling a big container up with water so we'll be able to flush the toilette.  I know, you all wanted that bit of info.

The worst news today......new furniture delivery postponed.  Waaahahahaahaaa!  Stupid ice storm, oh well, I still have Harry Pottah.

Word to ya Mothah

Woman finally caves to society's pressure.

Sorry, no time to post.  Finally, reading Harry Potter.  I put it off until I knew I'd have time.  Right before the holidays seemed like a wise time...puh!

Yesterday, I sat on the couch and read off and on all day.  And no matter how hard I pointed my wooden spoon around the house and said....

accio hot tea

accio blanket

accio Children to bed

accio laundry

accio blueberry muffin

nothing moved for me.  I guess it's a Muggle's life for me.  

By the way, if you haven't jumped on this enchanted band wagon because you try very hard not to buy into the "latest-greatest-thingy", then the nicest thing I can say is, "Get Over IT!"  Go  read Harry Potter and let your kids read it too.

Now, I'm only on page 359, so no discussions about the book, please.  If my family can successfully carry out a gag order for over five months, then I know all you Internetians can do me this itty-bitty kindness.

Okay, back to Harry.

Christ's Mass

I've been looking for an Advent calendar that apparently doesn't exist.  I've found lots of books, chocolate calendars, cards, and expensive wood statue triptychs, but not the calendar I'm envisioning. While I've been searching for this calendar, I was reminded of the Jesse tree.  I don't have a Jesse tree, but I'd like to have one.  Most people make them and that's probably what I will do when I have a crafty moment.

The calendar I'm looking for would hang on the wall, have flaps that open to tell the story of Christ's birth starting with Caesar Augustus's decree to register and ending with the Resurrection or even better The Great Commission.

I don't want it to have any sort of cartoon characters or weird scenes from Jerusalem with angels exploding with light and glitter.  In fact I think a really cool thing to have on the outside of the flaps would be different names used in the Bible for Jesus; like Immanuel, Good Shephard, Bread of Life, etc.   This year, our church sent every family an Advent calendar that uses the names of Christ and we are enjoying it very much. 

I wonder if I'm going to have to make the calendar?  Does anyone out there have one they love?I've been on this search for two or three years, maybe I'm not looking in the right spots.  

Okay, that's it, carry on.

Little Treasures

This deserves an explanation.  Unfortunately, I don't have the time.  So, I leave you wondering,  what the holly tarnation!

Sitting and Waiting

It is finished, I pulled the trigger, I stepped off the edge, I took the plunge, I bit the bullet. For awhile I was stuck in a round-a-bout wondering which way to go? Then I got dizzy, puked, passed out and made a sharp right. I awoke fresh with a clear head, put the pedal to the metal and now I'm headed down a long black strip of highway leading to my final destination. I'm not going back.

I'm talking about the living room furniture-makeover-redo-decorating gala of the century, of course. What did you think I was talking about? Geesh!

I know I said I was going to go with the Room and Board couches. I loved them. I wanted them. I had a short steamy love affair with them. I dreamed of teasing them with my Swiffer while dusting the floors but then I woke up and felt the shame. I hid in my bathroom for a week hoping the couches wouldn't haunt my dreams.

I just couldn't carry on a relationship with a piece of furniture that I hadn't physically touched I liken it to a handsome actor on screen. They look tall, strong, demure but in reality, they're short, have acne and wear acid wash jeans. Then there was Clay who yearned to do the horizontal flop in which he tests the couch for napablility, snooze-worthiness if you will.

With that said, we ended up at Discovery Furniture in Topeka, Kansas. It's a veritable wonderland of loveliness, however their website looks like crap-on-a-stick, I'm just sayin', you'll not find a link here.


I became the fabric coordinator extraordinaire, but only after I made four trips back and forth from my house to Discovery Furniture to make certain that this bit of fabric would take the beauty of my house, bask in the glow of wonderful that is the old house without burning, scorching or causing a stench in the room that it will reside.

Now I sit and wait and wait and wait. Probably until January. I ordered everything in early November, but there was a fabric mill that closed and that's causing delays in the fabric industry.

That's okay, I'll sit on our futon and garage sale rejects until then. Then I'll show you all the real pictures.