Goin' Into Town

What?  You can't buy bear spray at your Walgreens?

Out of My Mind

I grew my own zucchini this year in the SFG.

And I made this zucchini casserole that smells so good when it is baking and tastes like fall.

Summer is officially over when Ms. Brenda starts to cook again.

Photos

 Just so you could see the pants were plenty long.  In fact some of the longest ones there. 

I took these blurry pictures all by myself, because that's the kind of mom I am.

Brothers?

The more weight Ben Roethlisberger gains the more he looks like my baby brother.  Oddly, my other brother's look alike is Jim Carrey.  And I have another brother.  Who doesn't look like he's related to either Ben R. or Jim C.  Maybe I was adopted after all.

Order in the Court

Ever since he started school, the Goob has had a plan.  And the plan was to drop out after eighth grade.  His comment on preschool, "There are all these teachers telling you what to do all day--like you are their slave."  At the end of fourth grade he declared, "Halfway done."  We never made a big deal out of it, because it is always easier to push through if the end is in sight.  Plus, by the time he was in sixth grade it was highly questionable if he would even reach eighth grade.  So when the time came to sign up for high school classes we held our collective breaths.  And the Goob finished his freshman year.  And here we are at the beginning of his sophomore year and not only does he still go to school, but he is also the class treasurer for the second year in a row.  And this week, because wonders never cease, he is on the homecoming court.  Let me repeat that for you.  The Goob is a homecoming attendant representing the sophomore class.  Sadly, when he told me, I thought he misunderstood the whole homecoming process.  But then his name was in the paper, so it must be true.  Today he rode in the parade--on the back of a convertible.
Me:  How did it go? 
Goob:  Fine.
Me:  What did you do?  Smile and wave?
Goob:  There wasn't much to do.  I didn't get to throw anything. I just rode around being attendable.

Tonight he will be on the football field at halftime. 
Me:  Do you think those pants are too short?
Goob:  No.
Me:  Well, if your pants are too short it makes you look like a tall geeky nerd.
Goob:  Yeah, cause I'm definately not a tall geeky nerd.
Me:  And I wouldn't want anyone to think you were.
STP (in his head):  Shut your mouth now.
Me(ignoring the STP and my own better judgment):  Are you going to wear you tie and your vest?
Goob:  I'm leaving now.
Me:  Okay, I'll have your tie and your vest in the stands in case you change your mind.
Goob:  Good.  See you after the game.
Me(unconvincingly):  Love you.

His sisters always thought there was the possibility the Goob would end up in court.  Pretty much sure they didn't think it would be the homecoming court.

Keeping Up With The Princess

I did a little project this week involving succulents in the big room.  It is not on the same scale as Amidala's fireplace room.   But it is finished.  And it solved the problem of what to do with my delicate glass birdfeeder and an old pair of trouser socks.  Ta da!






The STP and I also went on our own shopping spree and bought me a BRAND NEW CAR!!  (Because I already had a pair of butt-busting shoes). 

It came with some things I have never had in a car, like a sunroof and heated leather seats.  And it came with a few things I haven't had in years, like automatic transmission, cruise control, ...and car payments. 

Guest Dogger

The SLD's first blog

I thoroughly dislike when they pack the cooler.  Because when they pack the cooler I end up spending the day in my K-place.  They think I do not know the K-place is the kennel.  Like I can't spell?

But this morning they said the G-word.  Can you believe it?  I got to GO.

We were headed to the lake.  In the truck.  With the boat. 

They call this place Sunshine.  Aptly named.

I did not like the sound of the engine. 

But I got used to it pretty quickly. 

It was my job to help the pack leader watch the lines.

And help him pull in the big ones.

But mostly it was my job to stay close to my boy and keep an eye on him.

Because when he drove the boat it looked like this:

And the pack leader had to hold onto his hat.

Finally, I just had to take the wheel myself. Squirrel!

 Ah, a great day in the sunshine at Sunshine.

I think it wore my boy out.

I took a little nap myself on the way home.  I love that cooler.

HELP! I Need Somebody

Been awhile since I gave you a book report.  I got a little off course this summer in that, while I read, I did not do a good job of keeping track.  Here's to getting back on track. 
This past week I read The Help by Kathryn Stockert.  I read it on Tuesday.  I started out reading a chapter as a reward for completing something on my list of things to do on my day off.  Some things on the list (like wiping off the kitchen counter) deserved two chapters.  I added 'take a bubble bath' to my list because I could read and cross something off my list at the same time.  I rewarded myself with two chapters after I dried off for being so smart.  By lunchtime I was just settled in on the couch reading.
I usually find a quotable to share with you from each book.  The problem with The Help is that there is a quotable about every other page.  The second problem is that I was reading a borrowed copy and I could neither dogear nor underline them as I read.  (And I could not stop reading long enough to jot them down as I went.)  Here is just one I share in honor of all lazy sisters I have known, raised, and been.

Even though she has zero kids and nothing to do all day, she is the laziest woman I've ever seen.  Including my sister Doreena who never lifted a royal finger growing up because she had the heart defect that we later found out was a fly on the x-ray machine.

After reading The Help I decided I might never write anything again, because it would be so anemic in comparison.
 I decided you should all read the book, because it has the best definition of 'ugly' I have ever encountered.  As used in the sentence, "Being tired is no excuse for being ugly."   Or, "I don't mean to be ugly, but..."  And I couldn't find it when I went back to look for it.  So you should be sure to jot it down for me.
And I decided I really need a maid, so I would not have to spend the rest of the week trying to catch up on things I didn't get done on my day off. 

Miss You Like Crazy

Today we talked about Abraham moving to Canaan and the things he gave up.  This is just one of my sacrifices. 

The Heart of the Mallow

You should just know that the marshmallows we took up on the mountain came with several warnings.  I think it might be because they were jumbo marshmallows.  Jumbo marshmallows are so big you should not use them to play chubby bunny. 

Let me put them in perspective for you.  On the left--a jumbo marshmallow.  One the right--a mini marshmallow.   The jumbo marshmalllows are so big they come with the above choking hazard warning.  Indeed you should not put one in your mouth and try to talk or laugh.  The jumbo marshmallows are so big you can hollow them out and drink your hot chocolate out of them. 

The jumbo marshmallows are so big you only need only need 2 of them to make a batch of rice krispie treats. 

The jumbo marshmallows are so big you can roast them, eat off the  browned to perfection melted outside layer, roast them again, eat off the next layer, and repeat three more times. 

Jumbo marshmallows are so big, when you catch them on fire on the end of your marshmallow stick you can use it as as a torch to light your way from the campfire to the bathroom.

Jumbo marshmallows are so big that when you step in one (that someone abandoned on the ground after catching it on fire) you are stuck there until the sun comes up. 

Once you get used to seeing jumbo marshmallows, regular sized marshmallows look like mini marshmallows. 

 Regular sized marshmallows are like marshmallow hearts.  Soon you can expect to see them marketed as such.  And the price will likely increase.  

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Note:  I have a future post about roasting a chicken, but I got nothing on roasting children.

How old are you when your grandchildren go to school?

Spend the Night

A few updates are due from last weekend's fourth annual camping trip to the mountains.  This year we borrowed the yurt again and on Saturday night I was especially thankful for the wood stove in said yurt.  Because on Saturday night the temperature dipped to 15 degrees in said mountains.  And I'm not talking Celsius here.  The STP is not really big on camping.  Over the three day weekend he spends 24 hours on the mountain and then he comes down and takes a shower and sleeps in his own bed and then he goes back up the mountain for another 24 hours.  Conveniently, this year the 15 degree (F) night was the night the STP was not on the mountain.  He did build me a pre-fire in the stove before he left.  As in all I had to do was strike a match and light the newspaper which would catch the cardboard on fire which would catch the kindling wood on fire, which would catch the pine logs on fire, which would heat the yurt and keep me warm. 
9:30 pm  I strike the match and the fire roars to life in the stove and I return to join the freezing souls huddled around the campfire.  They want to tell me the temperature but I put my fingers in my ears and say,  "Blah, blah, blah."  Someone says it is already below freezing.  I say "I wished you hadn't telled me that."
10:00pm  I say goodnight to the freezing campfire souls and head to my yurt.  I say I don't want to leave the fire unattended because I don't want the yurt to catch fire.  The nice lady in the Taj Mahal camper says if it does I can come in their camper with the heater.  I say,"I'm just going to set the thing on fire right now."  Instead I add a log to the fire and crawl into my sleeping bag.  The Goob is sleeping in his tent.  I pray he does not freeze to death.  That he has enough sense to come in out of the cold.
1:15am  I wake up, either because the fire has quit crackling or because my nose is cold.  I add some wood to the stove and coax the coals back into flames.  I do the math and decide that I have been asleep for three hours.  If the fire lasts three hours, then I will only have to get up once more before morning.  I crawl back into my sleeping bag.  My toes are cold, but I snuggle in and fall back asleep quickly.
The next time I wake up my nose is cold, my toes are too.  I miss the STP.  He is a great toewarmer. The fire is reduced to embers in the stove.   I check my watch.  It says 12:26am.  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?  Either I am in a time warp or I did not pull my sweatshirt cuff back far enough at 11:15pm.  Either way, my night just got a lot longer.  I add some wood to the fire.  I pray that the STP has cut enough wood to last the whole night. I crawl back into my sleeping bag.  I try to contort my legs in such a way to put my cold toes against a warmer part of my body.  I have less than limited success.
1:48am  I am awake again.  My nose is cold, my toes are cold, the fire is non-existent, and I have to pee.  I try to decide if I am better off staying in my sleeping bag and conserving my body heat, or getting out to feed the fire.  I am not good at making decisions.  Especially when I have to pee.  I decide I will not go all the way to the outhouse.  I will go just around the side of the yurt.  I pray there are no bears out there.  I crawl out of the tent and see that the neighboring campers have left their porchlight on.  And that consequently the side of my tent is well lighted.  What are the chances that someone is looking out towards my yurt at 2:00am?  I mean, what are the chances.  Better than I care to take.  The moon has already set.  The sky is clear.  The stars are awesome.  When I get back from the outhouse I add wood to the coals and crawl back into bed. 
3:08am  My air mattress has significantly less volume at 15 degrees than at 75 degrees.  When I am in the middle it is not bad.  When I try to sit up on the end, I fall off onto the floor. I can't find my mittens in the tangled mess that is my sleeping bag.  I fix the fire.  I wish I had warmer socks.  I pray for warmer socks.  Big thick socks like the STP has.  Maybe wool socks.  Then I remember that the STP's bag is at the foot of the bed.  I (carefully) move to the foot of the bed and search the STP's duffle for socks.  SCORE.  I pull the STP's thick socks right over my own thin little socks.   I thank God for the socks, but I feel compelled to remind Him they are not wool.  He obviously answered my prayer before I got to the wool part. My toes and nose warm up and I am back to sleep.
4:35 am  The fire is out AGAIN.  I am low on little wood.  It takes me half an hour sitting on the tarp in front of the stove blowing on and reaarranging the coals to coax them back into flames.  I put a pan of water on top of the stove.  I rearrange my sleeping bag. Everything about me smells like smoke.   Miraculously I fall back asleep.  
6:00am  I have lived through the night and I have to pee again.  My big thick socked feet do not fit inside my shoes.  I head out to use the bathroom.  I don't know what the temperature is but I think it must be 20 below.  There is frost on everything.  Including the toilet seat.   When I return to the yurt I make myself a cup of hot chocolate, I feed the fire, I crawl back into the center of the bed.  If I lift my feet, my butt sinks into the mattress.  I put my pillow behind my back.  Like a recliner.  I pull the covers to my neck and cradle the big warm mug in my hands. I would have taken a picture, but the camera was out of reach and battery power.
 I am so proud of myself.  Totally convinced that if I had a walled tent with a stove, cut firewood, a flashlight, extra clothing, and a mug of hot chocolate that I could survive a night alone in the wilderness. 
8:47am  I go the Goob's tent.  I say. "Are you alive in there?"  He was. 

The kayaks returned to the Mountain and Lake Sibley this weekend for the annual Labor Day Campout.  A good time was had by all.