TBLDBT

It's 5:00 in the morning and I'm sitting here wondering if anyone is going to come to our gar..er, I mean MOVING SALE!!!  I have spent way more time and energy than I care to admit getting ready for it and all I have to show for it is a driveway full of cra...er, I mean amazing stuff that deserves a better home than the big-long-dark-brown tur....er I mean Baby Ruth.

Oh, here's a good story for you;

The other day a very nice woman came to the house to look at some of the furniture we're selling.  She had her 13 and 9 year old daughters with her.  I led her through the long house winding this way and that and she commented, "Wow, this house just keeps going and going."  That's when I should have just said, "hmm-mmm" while I was striking my best Vanna pose to display the bookcase we are selling, but no, instead I blurted out in my great hick way, "Yeah, I know!  We like to call it the big-long-dark-brown-(and for a brief millisecond I paused wondering if I should say turd or Baby Ruth, but of course I said) TURD!".  That's when the woman gasped and with eyes wider than a deer caught in the headlights of a Mac Truck and she whipped her hands over her 9 year old daughters ears.  But, the damage was already done, the poor little girl's ears are now soiled with the filthy word, turd.  Turd.  

I spent the rest of that day wondering if turd is a bad word.  I put it in the same category as poop, dooky, stinky and potty.  But maybe I need to elevate it to the next level on my content advisory.  It doesn't belong with my cuss words that I'm allowed to say because they're in the bible like; ass, damn, hell and bastard, soooo where does turd belong?  Oh, I've got so many answers to that question...but let's not go there.  See?  I do censor myself fairly well.  But, I'm obviously still a potty mouth.  Turd is the word heard.  TURD!

Welcome to the farm!!!

It's almost ours. We need to go through the inspection and of course there's the handing over of funds and body parts and we also promised our first born grandchild. But you know what? It's totally worth it, who needs their right arm anyway?   Let's take a look around the place.  Come down the circle drive through the big shade trees..
Here's the one story barn and Rechelle giving me the okay to purchase this little spot of heavenly bliss.
Who wants corn for dinner?  When you climb up in the tree fort you can see Mount Oread.  For those of you that aren't Jayhawks, well, I'm sorry I can't explain it any further than that.  The fella gazing out into the beautiful pasture is my realtor, Randy.  Dandy Randy the realtor.  I like to call him Rrrrrrranday, with a nice long Spanish roll of the rrrrrr.
Hoops?  Anyone?  Listen, you can't live in a place where buildings are named after the man that created basketball and not have a basketball court, no, you can't, it's a regular feature on every home.
Thank you all for your kind words and the prayers that were said.  It's nice to know there's people that care if we have a home.  Tomorrow, I'll show you a little bit inside. 

Now, back to sorting through our stuff and deciding what deserves to live in that sweet farmhouse.  If you live near me now and need "stuff"  I'm going to try to sell everything, even the chickens are up for grabs.   

My Dream House

Last night I dreamt that we built our house. The land we found was nestled between the interstate and an industrial plant. I went to check the progress of the house and the contractor had taken it upon himself to build an A-Frame. I told him this is not what we wanted and he told me something about a second story being too difficult for him to build, but maybe he could do it later.

As I stood in the dusty yard with the looming shadows of smoke stacks belching forth the days duty, I looked at the ill contrived house I was going to inhabit. I had begun my mental process of tearing out a wall and adding this or that, just trying to come up with a design for a shed dormer or something, anything, God this can't be happening. Then the media came.

Yep, I said the media. Apparently, our house had started quite a buzz around whatever town we were in. You know, living in the median of an interstate highway is just what the ten o-clock news needs to boost some ratings. They were snapping photos and a helicopter was spotlighting the, the, the Thing that I was going to call home. Then the sales lady stopped by.

Yep, a sales lady with a four inch binder busting with fabric samples and glossy photos. I saw her mouth moving and watched her gesture towards the Thing. I looked at the pictures, I glanced at the open front door of the Thing and finally comprehended what she was attempting, "Are you trying to sell me furniture?" I sneered "Do you realized I have four children that will destroy everything in that book? And, I'm gonna be living in that, and you think I have the money to buy furniture?!" I yelled pointing my accusing finger at the Thing. Then I woke up and decided I spend waaaaaay too much time thinking about houses.

Baby Ruth

Look, it's my house on wheels!

note to my dear landlord: I'm sorry I just can't help myself.

Roar!

I am woman! Yesterday, after hours and hours and hours of raking and burning and hauling the woods in my front and back and side yards, I looked about and thought I could be raking and burning and hauling for the next twenty years and this place would still look like it was swallowed by a big leaf-belching-twig-barfing tree! That's when I decided I needed to cut down some trees!

I told my husband to teach me how to use his chainsaw and with reluctance, he did. I started out cutting small stumps off at the base that have been bugging me because I was certain that a child would be shish-ka-bobbed on them. My husband watched me from a distance. I don't know if he was more worried that I would decapitate myself or hurt his precious saw.

I cut down four trees all by myself. I had to hold one back from falling when my 5yo decided to run in front of it just as it started to fall. I think I screamed, "ISAAAAAAC MOOOOVE!!" loud enough for all of you to hear, next time I'll yell, "Timber" like every good woodswoman does.

I don't think I made a difference in the yard's appearance. Mostly; because I left the felled trees laying in the yard partially cut into logs. But, now that I know how to use the saw, look out!

Home is where, exactly?

Lord? Are you there? It's me, April.

I know I haven't been talking to you about the house thing lately, I sorta figured you were tired of my incessant whining. I envision you clenching the bars on the Pearly Gates and banging your heavenly head against it while screaming to Saint Peter, "Why?! Why won't she just do what I want her to do?!!!"

So, here's the thing God, I think I may not have been paying attention when you told me where you want me to be. Is it here? In Missouri? Because my heart just really isn't here, I'm pretty sure I left it a few hundred miles west. I'm trying, really, I am. I've been trying for eight years to make this place my homeland. I have moments when I start to feel all warm and cozy here and then the chills take over again.

I feel like we moved to Missouri to be spiteful. I think we thought there would be family here, there's not. I think we thought we would find that niche, we haven't. I still feel like I'm a visitor, an outsider, the person that doesn't really know how to act, what to say, where to be, what to do. I don't feel like that when I go back to Kansas.

When I'm in Kansas I immediately connect to people. I feel comfortable walking in my shoes. It's all so familiar, pleasant, comforting. I speak their language.

Lord, I long for community. I know we've shot ourselves in the foot many times by commuting to a church twenty miles away, home schooling our children, living in an interstate community where people drive to work miles away. Are you nodding your head in agreement, Lord? Are you telling me to wake up? Smell the chicken shi...uh, crap?

Is it me? Am I just not accepting what you have given me? How many times have I looked around and mumbled, "What the heck am I doing here?” I never did that in Kansas. How many times did we silently struggle with packing up and moving back? But, we stuck it out thinking You had brought us here. Were you saying go back? Was it so hard because You thought eventually we would open our eyes and see the blinking neon arrow pointing back home?

I don't feel like I'm living the life that you gave me. I'm in a foreign land. Is it too late to go back? Can I get a do-over?

Am I suffering from comparison? Is my sinful nature getting the best of me? Can you shut off my desire to be elsewhere? Can you take away my fantasy of finding a home that fulfills all my desires? Can you show me where the heck you want us to be?

Lord, I'm trying to put it all in your hands. I'm trying to see the bright side, which is difficult when I live in a big, long, dark, brown, turd that I can't call my own. Show me something Father, this time I'll try to listen with my eyes on you.

Your ever questioning servant,

April

How 'bout Baby Ruth?

My husband thinks I need to omit "The Big Long Turd" bit in my bio over there on the right. He said that if our landlord ever reads my blog that they might not think that was so funny and they might ask us to move. My reply...

What should I call it? The big long Baby Ruth?

Isn't She lovely?

I drive by this house every chance I get. I stopped and took photos one day because I thought I heard something like, "Take a picture it lasts longer!"

Dear Custom Homebuilder Person,

I have enclosed a picture of a classic colonial home. It's simple really, it's called a rectangle. See the odd number of windows? That's pleasing to a person and so it symmetry. No need to thank me. If you have any questions about what helps a house continue to be longed for, sought after, awe inspiring or just lovely you can contact me here at Ranchoramaville.

XOXO,
April

Are you serious?

I called about an old house for sale with two acres. The realtor prefaced our conversation by telling me it needs a lot of updating. Yes, I know, cut to the chase lady, how much?

$495,000.00

Stupid. Who is going to buy that? Am I the only person that thinks this is absurd to the nth degree? Am I living amongst a bunch of millionaires and not aware of it? When did living out in the woods where life is quiet, but so Gall Bladder inconvenient become a place only for the wealthy and, God help us, the hungry land developer?

I just don't get it. I must be the only one that doesn't get it. I'm irritated.

How hard do you think it would be for one woman to change the land values in one area? What would I have to do? Start a weird rumor....people that live out here start growing extra teeth. Something like that? No?

What if I showed up on the seller's doorstep with a pie? Would he lower the price? What if he saw my pretty chickens and cute children and beautiful house design and how well I can do a pirouette?

Would it be too bold to fling myself at his feet and weep like a helpless animal shot in the back and left to die, cold, hungry, bleeding from my wound, foaming at the mouth. Pleeth, Pleeeeeeth, thell me your land cheeeeeeeeap. Have merrrrthy. I don't. Have. Much uugh...time.

Dream Kitchen

This morning I woke up thinking about kitchens. I think a good cook can function in any kitchen. Having the right tools helps, but I think if you've got the skills, then you could make a casserole on an open flame in the pouring rain.

Okay so here is what I want to know:

What kitchen configuration works for you? Not what your living with, but what you perceive to be the best kitchen ever!

The U- I have this now, it does not work, too many tight corners for me. Not enough room for another person to help. However the tight triangle between the sink, stove and fridge is nice.

The L- I like this one, but sometimes the triangle gets too big and I really don't like corner cabinets or wasted space w/ lazy susans.

The Galley- I like this one too, but again sometimes it can feel like your a ball bearing in a pinball machine, I like that it can be the connecting point at both ends to two rooms and no corner cabinets, but it doesn't lend room for an island of any sort.

Those are the styles I'm most familiar with, am I missing one?

Now how do you like your triangle?
Where do you put the fridge in relation to the pantry?
Is your dishwasher on the right or left of you sink?
Island with stove, sink, or nothing? Or no island.
Gas or electric stove? (let's see who the real cooks are, heh, heh)
Wood, ceramic or other on the floor?

Let's hear it. I know I'm not the only person with strong opinions in the kitchen.