Some Things Just Ain't Right

This morning I discovered Katie...........................


......................playing with Jeff's Neti Pot.


Eeeew.

Lovely

I have three kids. I am lucky to get a shower in. I am also an organizational failure when it comes to looking at my calendar. I write it all down, then forget to look til the 'event' has already come and gone. Like my nephew's 16th birthday. I know, I'm horrible. Well,this morning I was excited that the planets were aligning in such a way as to allow me a shower. I could hear the clouds parting and angels singing. This was the day. During a brief lag in the murderous threats being thrown back and forth between the older ones, I decided to take a shower. Now, I know I do not get a shower as often as I like, but gee golly, was I ever dirty. Hey, wait, I can't be that dirty. Eeeeeeew! Gross!!!

Note to self: check calendar regularly. You might be able to prevent yourself from taking a shower during the 'semi-annual water main flushing.'

Beautiful Day

Today is a very breezy fall day. We made an impromptu stop at Tyler State Park and took a little hike in the woods. My kids are apparently part mountain goat, as they climbed up the rocky trail very well. The sun was shining, the leaves are turning, the water was sparkling and it was beautiful! Of course, I didn't have my camera.

And on a side note, when you pick up your sweet, innocent and beautiful baby and there is something dripping out his pant leg, be afraid, be very afraid.....pooptastrophe!!!

Fun Times

Fun Times, Part One:

This weekend was fun and hectic. (Aren't all weekends hectic?) And a bonus: I didn't have to show the pit of despair to any potential renters!!! Saturday was beautiful and we went to the park. Later that afternoon we went to our friends' house to celebrate their little girl's birthday. Happy Birthday, Joanne! We all had fun and the kids got to play with someone else's toys; I got to eat french onion dip. Yum. Yesterday we had a fiesta for our friend Ashley (hi!) who was in from Texas. This involved our small group, and Mexican food. Can you go wrong? No. James loves our 'small droop' and is always asking if we are having 'small droop.' He loves playing with the kids, and the adults for that matter. We all had lots of fun......drumroll, please.....Ashley brought me a present from Texas.....real live tortillas of all varieties and some delicious chips too! And how's this for dedication? She left the bag at the airport, and had the ladies stop on the way home from the women's retreat so she could go in and retrieve them! I have already had one with my lunch and not only was it superb, but it didn't even taste like the bag it came in. (which seems to be a prerequisite around here) Thanks, Ashley! We shall be eating many a tortilla this week and I am going to change my menu around to squeeze in enchiladas! Yipee!!! I apologize for using more than my alotted quota of explanation marks in this post, but when there are tortillas involved I can't help myself.

Fun Times, Part Two:

This one is disgusting, so if you are squeemish you might want to skip it. But, it is kind of humerous, in a sick way, sort of. Remember the homemade TV antenna/hot dog roaster extrodinaire that Jeff made? After determining that it did indeed work better than our bunny ears, he precariously installed it on top of the TV, sitting in a coffee cup. I was not too keen on this as I felt it may be a hazard. Let me tell ya! Hazard is right. Saturday night Jeff was messing around with it and it fell from its tenuous perch. It bounced off his noggin and then....this is were it gets gross, ladies and gents, skewered Jeff's ring finger. I am not exaggerating this point. The copper wire (the diameter of a wire hanger) went through his finger (right next to his ring) and stopped just under the skin on the other side. Eeeew. He had to pull it out. Eeeeeeeew. And you can see the entry wound and the spot where it came just under the skin on the other side. He had to take his wedding band off due to swelling, so hopefully it goes back to normal soon. Since it did not involve severing a limb or total dismemberment, it is therefore not worthy of getting checked out according to Jeff. I will now refer to the antenna (which is now safely and securely hanging on the wall) as the Antenna of Doom. While I am not glad Jeff made a finger kabob out of himself, I am glad it wasn't one of the kids. Really glad. Really really glad.

Who Knew?/Big Day

Did you know that there are artists who sculpt with cigarette butts? That is taking recycling to the extreme! Eeew.

And today is a big day for us. Katie goes to CHOP for a check-up. I am hoping for good progress! I'll keep you updated.

Some things just aren't right. Prime Example: Jello Molds

Are those olives with pimentos?!

Every thing plus the kitchen sink, and half the contents of the junk drawer went into this!

I wonder how John McC@in would feel if he saw this?



Eeew. Eeew. Eeew. Why would you do this?!

This morning I was browsing on of my old 'vintage' cookbooks. I love looking at old recipes. Except for jello. But I look anyway, because it is just disgusting to read what people used to suspend in Jello. For example, the 'Frosty Cheese Mold,' which includes blue cheese, cottage cheese, milk, whipped cream, nuts, green food coloring and a carton of limeade, all suspending in a gelatinous pile 'o nastiness. It was a toss-up between that and the 'Summer Tuna Mold.' This one involved tomato soup, celery, green peppers, and tuna fish....all held together by, you guessed it! Gelatin! I don't think I'll be making them any time soon.

Several Things...

Jeff and James left this morning for their first ever Daddy/James fishing expedition! James was very wound up and kept saying 'Daddy, we need doe to da river and tatch fish right now!' I think they will have lots of fun. Hopefully they can find a nice spot to fish and actually catch something.

I don't know if I have mentioned this here, for the benefit of the relatives, that Katie has learned to wave, clap, turn on the light switch, and is starting to say little words every now and then. She has said 'Bye,' 'Boo,' and 'Da-Dee.' Why, oh why, do children learn to say daddy first!?

And now, a funny story that will make you laugh. Last night, we had Jeff's friend-with-a-swimmer-physique/coworker Ryan over for dinner. He brought his dog, a Rhodesian ridge-back. It was a pretty cool looking dog. After dinner, we all went on a walk. When we got back, we were all hanging out in the living room and the dog was running around. James was chasing him and showing him all his toys. He built a fort for Chaka and kept trying to tell him, 'Look, Chaka, I built you a fort!' Meanwhile, there was a smell. And it wasn't pleasant. Ryan suspected his dog immediately, and began apologizing. He had changed the dog's food earlier and apparently it was giving the dog gas. It came to the point where Ryan took the dog into the back yard. Unfortunately, the smell didn't go away. What I didn't mention earlier was that Ryan's dog had, how do I say this delicately, used the facilities. Ryan, the diligent dog owner, collected the deposit in a little bag. While we were sitting there, intermittently smelling the dog's gas, Jeff asked Ryan what he had done with the bag. Ryan jumped from the couch and checked his pocket, realizing that the offending smell was coming not from his dog, but from his own pocket. He had stashed the goods in his pocket till we found a trash can, and then forgot all about it. Eeeeew! Fortunately, as soon as the bag made its way outside, the smell was gone.

The Word On The Street: POOP

And don't worry, for those of you who are sick of reading poop posts, skip to the end.

James has come up with a new form of punctuation. He ends random sentences with the word 'poop.' Yesterday, when talking to his beloved Auntie Rachel and Uncle Phil on the phone, he said "I love you POOP!" This morning, when Jeff was leaving, he said "I need nuts POOP!" (Which means knucks, by the way) I don't really know where this came from, but really, nothing that a toddler does makes a whole lot of sense. He has also continued the time-honored tradition of naming ones poop. 'Look, Mama, a shark poop and a whale poop. My poop has eyes!' I must scratch my head and wonder, Where did he come from? And then I remind myself of the probability of Jeff and I producing a normal child: slim to none.

And now for a little bit of poop-less posting! I am going to run out at any second now and become a farmer. I have always liked plants, gardening, etc. Recently, I read a book called Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. This book is about a family who grew nearly all their food for one year. What they had to buy, they bought it locally from other farmers. Obviously, I am not going to be able to do that. But, growing stuff sounds like fun! I am already planning my garden for next year. I also hung out for a few days this summer with my friend Erin and she is quite the little suburban farmer. She inspired me, then sent me home to read the AVM book. I also recently heard about a concept called Community Supported Agriculture. Basically, you buy a 'share' at a farm and then get a share of its crops. I just went today to check out one today, and it was so cool. I am seriously considering doing it next year. Not only does it seem to be a good value, but it is a fun experience for the kids and the produce is organic which is that much less tasty pesticides we would potentially consume.

Enough of the random blathering. I have things to do and the world to conquer. Or at least a bunch of beans to snap.

Oy Vey!

Seriously?! Things are going to heck in a hand basket around here. Yesterday, we were having our neighbors over for dinner. I needed to mop my floor and get dinner ready, and clean up the 136,482 toys that have multiplied like rabbits on my floor. I had planned on getting the majority of my work done while the kids were napping. That's what I get for planning! Jeff planned on working on the installation of our washing machine. You know, clean clothes and all. We've been wearing the same underwear for two weeks now. Just kidding. But we have been going to my parents to do our laundry. (Thanks, Mom and Dad!) Of course, Jeff failed to mention that the Saw-zall would be involved. Shortly after I got both kids to bed, Jeff started it up. The noise was LOUD and vibrated down the pipes to amplify the noise even further. Guess what? The kids woke up. Surprise, surprise. Oh, well. We do really need to get that pesky washer installed. So, instead of getting my stuff done, I attempted to get my stuff done, sort of, with two cranky kids hanging around. Amazingly for me, I wasn't all that frazzeled. Until....I was putting the food on the table, our guests were here and...drumroll please....James stood up on the chair and spit right into the chicken!!!! Why? Why do they do that stuff?! I told Jeff he had to deal with James. I didn't really have the mental capacity to deal with it at the moment. After I fished the spit out of the gravy, we had a nice dinner. They may never come back, but we had a nice dinner. I think. They had seconds! Mmmm...spit gravy.

Today, as a result of the remaining no-nap hangover, James has been less than stellar. He peed his pants while laughing about it. He got my mascara, AGAIN, out of the medicine cabinet and 'applied' it. Needless to say, naptime can none too soon. Let's all hope for a nice long nap! My sanity is banking on it!

Franch Careers: The Brand Inspector

Cattle rustling, my friends, in not a thing of the past. Since cattle rustling still exists, albeit more hi-tech (sometimes, anyway). One article I read said that in the past 10 years, more than 9 million bucks worth of livestock has been stolen in the state of California. While some heists are inside jobs, they also noted that some people have taken to stealing calves in order to make money for a meth fix. How crazy is that!? Obviously, cattle rustling is costly problem. Enter: the Brand Inspector. Brand inspectors have probably been around as long as we have had domesticated cattle, in one way or another. The modern Brand Inspector is part of the local law enforcement. Click here to see the job requirements. The Brand Inspector inspects cattle, horses, mules and donkeys any time there is a sale, trade or when the animal is to be transported more than 75 miles. That's the rules, anyway. The Inspector makes detailed records of each animal, recording all markings, features unique to that particular animal, and the brand itself. All of this information goes on record and can be used to compare future sales, or investigate rustling. Lest you decide to run out and become a brand inspector, think again! It is not an easy job. The Colorado Department of Agriculture is looking for brand inspectors, but warns that only 4 to 5 percent of applicants pass the initial test to qualify as a candidate. This job is much more complicated that memorizing spots on a cow. What I have mentioned here is just a simple overview. Geez. I feel like I am giving a speech or something. Never you mind. I had entirely forgotten about the Brand Inspector till we were home in July and I saw him driving around. I figured it just might need to be addressed in my Franch Tales. Hope you feel enlightened!

And if you are in for some seriously disgusting, gross, horrifying reading material, check this out. Apparently tattoos, weird peircings and grommets in your ears are not enough to brand you a freak, pun intended. I just discovered while doing some quasi-research for this post that some tattoo places now offer human branding. Eeeeeew! I think I'll pass.

Poop Tales and a Franch Story

Katie's cast leaves a lot to be desired for someone who freely poops and pees without a single bit of thought. There is no way to actually secure the diaper around her, and the opening for the diaper is not exactly large. I have to try and tuck a newborn diaper in there and 'hope for the best.' Let's just say, the best doesn't always happen. Remember my post about the poop incident of '08? Well, that scenario replayed itself, in the cast. Eeeewww. Almost a whole box of wipes. A half an hour. And there is still poop in the cast that can't be reached. Sorry. That's probably way too much information. That was last week. Now, there is an impending sense of doom whenever a certain scent wafts up from her hot pink cast. I can't imagine why. Poor girl. I am counting down the weeks....four and a half till she gets a new cast, and ten and a half altogether. And while we are on the subject of poop, if anyone is still listening, James has taken to describing his poop in great detail. 'Look at that, Mama! It's a teensy weensy poop!' or 'Hey, Mommy, my poop's standing up!' This morning he went, and then counts 'One people poop, two people poops, free people poops, FOUR PEOPLE POOPS!' Why? I don't know. The kid is weird. I don't have any idea where he gets that from.

And the Franch story I said was coming....




On the way to farm, there was an eccentric old guy who lived on his own farm out toward the lake. His property was littered, like most farmers' land, with broken down old farm implements, assorted wagon wheels, and rusty junk. He had some whirly-gig stuff twirling around too. We always knew we were getting close to his place when we started to see cowboy boots nailed to the top of each fence post. He probably has twenty boots nailed up along his fence. They've been there as long as I can remember. You can get the general idea from the picture, although I took it while Jeff was driving. At one point, the old man rented out a few of his fields to Charlie, the guy who ran the farm. Jeff and I were irrigating the fields one day and he was out moseying around. He came over to shoot the breeze with us for a few minutes. We were discussing the fact that most of the land around him was as of yet undeveloped. He pointed out that he had just planted an entire row of trees along the north end of his property. The trees, he told us, were not planted as a wind break as would be expected. No. He planted those trees so that if ever the neighboring property was subdivided and built up, his trees would obstruct their view. He told us that doggone it, if they were gonna build around him, at least they would not get a nice view of the monument. When we drove by on the way out to the lake, I noticed that his trees never really took off. So far, no one has subdivided and built up that field. The boots are still hanging on the their respective fence posts, a little more weathered and faded. I'm sure someday sooner rather than later things will be built up out there, and who knows whether he'll be alive to see it happen. I bet he's hoping not.

Go Ahead, Have Kids, Its Fun....I Promise!

For part of our vacation, we stayed with our friends Mike and Erin. They are as of yet, and now maybe never, childless. They do have a fantastic dog named Maxwell, or if you are James, Mass-wheel. They kindly offered to allow us to stay at their home for a while. They are probably wondering now what ever got into them. During the stay, there were a few, shall we say, minor mishaps involving poop, pee and puke. I really can't describe it any better than Erin, so please read here for the full story. It's hilarious! Thanks, guys, for letting us stay at your house! It was so much fun, and relaxing, and inspiring. Thanks to Erin, I know want to every vegetable and fruit in sight!

Welcome to Suburbia...

On Saturday I went to a few yard sales. It was a sunny morning, and as I was out I noticed a strange phenomena. The majority of people I saw that morning were walking along their merry way with bags of excrement dangling from their hands. It stuck me as funny that here in suburbia when you take your dog for a walk, you also have to take a bag or two with. When the dog does his duty, you have to do yours, and carry it home with you too. I am surely grateful that most people do this, because what fun would it be to take a walk on the green belt covered in scat. But it is kind of funny, seeing all these people out for a nice walk carrying a bag o' poo along with them. This is the primary reason I do not want a dog. I like dogs. But they poop. I have enough of that to take care of with the kids. I tell Jeff all the time, if he can find a dog that doesn't poop, I am all for it! So far, he hasn't come up with anything.

Eeeew! Creepy Old Man ALERT

My friend Erin reminded me the other day for my propensity in college to attract freaks. I had selectively forgotten this strange phenomena. In college I had some strange encounters with the male persuasion. There was the guy who stared at me all semester in Art History and then chased me down the sidewalk on the last day of class. He asked me to go out. I said NO. He said WHY. I held up my hand and said 'I'm TAKEN.' He said, 'Oh, I guess I should have checked.' Duh. Then there was the guy from German class who stalked me, literally. He would park his Beetle next to my lovely gold station wagon and would always 'happen' to be at his car when I was coming back to my car. There was also the guy who pestered me to no end about my phone number so we could 'study together.' I kept telling him no. I thought he knew I was married. Apparently he didn't know or didn't care. Finally I told him I'd be happy to have him ask my husband for my phone number. The list goes on and on, and I haven't even mentioned the creepy old guy from the retirement home who wanted to take me to his room and show me his rocket ship. (He also claimed to be an astronaut.) I guess, in hindsight, my Grandpa really did have something to worry about. He gave me a cell phone, one of the 'original' phones that weighed 5 pounds and took up 3/4 of your purse. I think it would have been more effective to throw the phone at the creeps then try to call on it. Now that I think about all these incidents, I know why he worried so much. That, and I have my own kids now.

So anyway, there is a point to all this. I haven't really been bothered by any creepy guys asking for dates lately. But today, at the grocery store, the old guy bagging my groceries asked if I needed help carrying them out. I said 'No, thanks, I am fine.' He looked me up and down and said 'Well I can see that. Yes, you are fine alright. You look good, yes you do. I know you are fine.' Right then I wanted to run away, but I was waiting for my receipt. To his credit, I think, he seemed a few fries short of a happy meal if you know what I mean, but still. The cashier sort of smiled at me with a look that said 'Yeah, he's weird.' Apparently, the freak magnet is still working.

I shootin' buss-ards!

***I think I have sunk to a new low, posting about gas, but here goes nothing. ***

This is the new phrase around here, courtesy of Grandpa. Whenever James would pass gas, Dad would ask James "Are you shooting buzzards?" Now whenever James farts, he laughs and says "I shootin' buss-ards!" If Katie passes gas, which of course being the delicate little flower that she is (just like her mommy), she never does...but if she did, James laughs and says 'Tee shootin' buss-ards, Mama!' Sometimes, being the gentleman that he is, he takes the blame for them. 'That was me, Mama!' Now, whenever he makes a noise of any sort, he says mischeviously, 'That was me, Mama!'

What's up with boys? How do they learn at such a tender young age that farts are funny? Pretty soon he'll be having belching contests with his father because of course, historically, I have never participated in such nonsense. Never.

Braising 101: What NOT to do

Using my remaining six brain cells, I decided to braise a roast yesterday in my fabulous new dutch oven. Doesn't braising sound fun and exciting? Well, let me tell ya. I heated up the dutch oven, drizzled a bit of olive oil in there and dropped in the roast. It sizzled nicely and I anticipated flipping it over to see a nice brown crust on the bottom. Instead, I flipped it over to over to find the plastic pad thingy sizzling in my fancy-schmancy new dutch oven. Note to self: do not braise while sleep deprived. At least the plastic appears to be gone from my pan. And the roast was saved too. I scrapped off a little plastic and we were good to go. For what it's worth, braising makes a pretty darn good roast. As long as you take the plastic off first.

Let’s Hope This One Doesn’t Last

James’ latest fashion fad is Jeff’s work hat. When I say Jeff’s work hat, by that I mean sweat-stained, dirt-encrusted, faded, broke-in, foul smelling, what-color-did-that-used-to-be-again, had-it-since-before-time work hat. Are we clear? The thing is nasty. I have been wondering for some time now when the thing is going to up and walk off on it’s own. And this, my friends, is what my sweet little son has been wearing for the last three days. When he takes it off I can still smell the odor emanating from his cute little noggin. It kind of takes the fun out of sniffing his hair. My favorite little James smell is masked over by the smell of my husband’s years of stale sweat, oil changes, mowed lawns, and general grime. I mentioned to Jeff James’ obsession with the hat. I casually mentioned that the hat had seen better days, perhaps since say, uh, 1997, and was getting kind of grungy. Jeff replied with ‘That hat’s in its prime!’ I think I may have made some comment about how disgusting it was to actually put that nasty carcass of a hat on his head. He informed me that any man who was a REAL man had a hat like that. While it is clear that the hat isn’t going away anytime soon, I hope James’ obsession with it does. I want my little kid smell back.

Back to the Randomness

Its Monday, and now I'm back from outer space. Here is a random update on the life and times of us.

1. Out of three appointments on Saturday, two actually showed up to see the house! It was a miracle. They even showed up early. Both sets of people said they were interested. The first couple, a girlfriend/boyfriend duo, said they would bring back the application the same day. They didn't. Me thinks that his credit was a little worse than he let on. He gave us his business card for his company, 'Da Sneaka Sp0t.' Would you think it a little strange if your own name is not on your business card, especially if you are the owner?

The second lady seemed very promising and said she would fax her application over today. Keep praying peoples! We need a renter!!

2. Katie is now officially 'rolling over,' beyond the fluke roll-over here and there. I knew she was so close, and last night I laid her on the floor and kept James at bay long enough for her to get in some good practice. Of course, when she rolls over she is like a little turtle flailing around.

3. James is just chattering up a storm. He is starting say 'wuv you, tee' or 'wuv you, daddy.' Its so sweet and melts your heart. A habit that is not so endearing is his shrieking. He likes to let out a high-pitched shriek when he's bored, excited, or wants attention.

4. Katie got to wear a dress yesterday that I wore when I was a baby. See how cute she looked:

5. Jeff is currently committing the first 36 elements from the periodic table to memory. Sounds fun, huh?

6. I almost forgot! James pooped in the actual potty on Saturday! I can't tell you how exciting this event was for our family. I realize blogging about poop is a little, hmm, strange, but this is a MAJOR ACCOMPLISHMENT that we have long been waiting for. Yipeee! Hooray!!!!!

STOP Reading This Post...

This post is about poop. It will disgust you. I guarantee it is gross.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Rach and Phil, this one's for you. It's better/worse/more disgusting than the raisin story, in my opinion.

Have I mentioned that James is in the potty training era of his life? He started asking to go so I jumped on the opportunity to work our way out of diapers. We went to the store and he picked out his very own undies: ones covered in cars and trucks. Now, in our house, 'unnies' are the season's latest fashions as they say on Nappy Dyn@mite. He is very good at going pee in the bathroom and has very few accidents with that. The only problem is, James is afraid to do certain business in the pot. OK. I already warned you. He refuses to POOP in the pot. Why? I don't know. He likes to do it surreptitiously and then come to me and say 'wet'. I bet that feels awkward, walking around with a big chunk 'o poo hanging out in your tractor undies. (Again, if you are still reading/cringing/disgusted...I warned you!) So anyway, yesterday afternoon he walked over to me with his ankles together like a penguin. At first, I thought maybe he wet himself. After all, he already pooped that morning. Why would he do it again? It was this same faulty reasoning that allowed me to let him go running around sans undies yesterday afternoon. Did I mention that my reasoning was flawed? Apparently all the multi-grain pancakes James eats have turned him in to a pooping ma-cheen. There, hanging out in the leg of his jammies was a giant blob-o-you-know-what. Eeeeewww! If you are wondering why James was in his jammies in the afternoon, he found his 'line' (lion) jammies in the closet upstairs and insisted on wearing them. They had an elastic band around the ankle, preventing the renegade poop from completely falling out of his pant let. Going back to the clean-up effort, I had quite a time extracting him and I think he was equally as disgusted as I by the 'nassy' poop smeared all down his leg. And his foot. And between his toes. Maybe next time he'll decide to use the pot when he goes. And maybe next time you'll listen when I tell you to stop reading a post. I told you it was going to be gross!