Christmas program

This one is mine.


We practiced saying "Welcome everybody!", and he knew what he was supposed to do. He said it at home. He said it in the car. He said it at our Wednesday night practice.

But this one has a mind of his own. Oh boy, does he ever.

Perhaps we never had a chance, you see, the other side of his card actually said, "Welome".

He walked right up to the microphone, giggled, put on his very best smile... then grabbed himself and spoke in some strange alien tongue. Twice, because the lady in charge gave him a chance to try again.

Then he sat down, very adorable. But it didn't last long.

Going... going...


Flopping around like a desperate fish.


I was so proud.

(I retrieved him shortly after taking that photo, and he screamed at me. He knew exactly what he was doing.)

This one is also mine.


Last year the only way he would go on stage was attached to my leg, like superglue. And his younger brother said his line for him. Yes, the younger brother who did a dying fish impersonation this year.

Look at him now.

I was so proud.

He stood with the other children and said his line.


He understands the concept of reading, even though he doesn't yet read. He knew his line was written on that blue card. I love how he kept the card in his hand, examining it constantly, and "read" it perfectly.

What a difference a year makes.

Stuck to the ceiling

Around here we're so easily amused. Because, you know, we don't have a TV like normal people do, so we have no choice but to make our own fun. And lots of fun it is!

The first time, it was there almost a full day.

Yes, the purple "fwog" is back on the ceiling. This time we're waiting to see exactly how long a rubber frog can defy the laws of physics. Two days and counting so far...

It's been interesting, and I only hope the frog is comfortable.

No matter how many times I walk into the room, it always catches my eye. I wonder how many times my brain will say, "What the... oh, it's just the frog". The baby tips her head up and laughs. The boys giggle every time they see it, because it is still there. A frog on the ceiling, who would have thought it could be so good!

I have no idea how the dumb thing is staying up there. It's not a sticky frog. The ceiling doesn't have much texture, a bit, but not a lot. The corn burner is in the same room, so I would think there is an invisible, very thin layer of dusty soot on the ceiling, which I would think would keep anything from sticking.

The little boy did it the first time, and the bigger boy did it the second time. If I tried, I'm fairly certain I could not get that frog to stick if my life depended on it.


Yet there it is. Just hanging out.

I have such talented kids.

You Capture - Lines

I've been obsessed with looking for lines ALL week. It was actually fun!


My favorite clothes drying rack. AND, my favorite three year old peeking through it.




I debated about posting that picture, the chair is rather boring, but it was the chocolate milk mustache that persuaded me to put it up for you all.

I love this door.




Processing venison into jerky.




My daughter sleeping in the tiny antique crib that I used to sleep in, and that my mother used to sleep in.




Check out I Should Be Folding Laundry for lots more lines.

Saddle up

Guess what I did today? Come on. Guess! Guess!

Started washing the kitchen cupboards but then got distracted by fly poop and ended up scrubbing the kitchen ceiling? Nope, that was yesterday. Enjoyed a visit from a cousin-in-law, I mean, friend whom I have recently discovered that I have a lot in common with, and took pictures of her adorable girls? Unfortunately, no. I'm hacking up a lung so we put that off until next week, bummer. Moved the little bean out of the sun room to her new room upstairs, but only got her dresser moved as far as the dining room? Well, let's see, that would have been three days ago, and still the dresser sits. Retrieved a rubber frog which my three year old attached to the ceiling? Honestly, yes, but that's another story. Put saddles on my chickens?

Say what?

Snake skin patterned fleece fabric which my mother, who is deathly afraid of snakes, purchased.

I swear, I tell no lie. But I do occasionally swear. And come to think of it, I never did pay my mom for that fabric.

CHICKEN SADDLES!!!

There, they say you learn something new every day, and now you have. You're welcome.

Guess who goes riding? Shall we do multiple choice this time?

I've been running in and out of the house all day, trying to get these saddles just right. Too big, too small, and the birds peck and pull them half-off until the saddles are just hanging off their tails. Ugh. It's cold out too, really cold. The dog is cold and gets so excited every time I run in or out of the house. She was that close to tripping me once on my way in with three eggs in my pocket. No, I will probably never learn. Lord knows the kind of mess that could have been. Thank you, Lord, for not allowing the dog to knock me completely over, when I had eggs in my pocket.

That dog weighs almost as much as I do.

I have to make these saddles myself because it's freaking cold out, so there's no time to wait for something wacky like this to come in the mail. AND, do you have any idea whatsoever what something like a "chicken saddle" costs? Honestly, do you? Ridiculous, I'll tell you that much.

So have you figured it out yet? Who goes riding?

THE ROOSTERS!!!

My five year old knows that much. "Mommy, Fritzy just mated with that hen." In his world, I think that's about on the same level as "A truck just drove past". YES people, that's right, the rooster goes riding, well, sort of...

Didn't you ever wonder how birds have sex?

The problem is... yes, there is a problem. I am not saddling up my hens just because I'm bored out of my mind, and have snake skin fleece slithering around the house begging to be cut up. The problem is, there are only ten hens, and two roosters. The roos have their favorites (imagine my husband's most evil laugh here), who end up being mated too often, and... are you still reading?

Would you like to ask yourself why you are still reading?

Anyway... the roosters stomp around on the hens backs causing some of the ladies to have bald patches. It can be a real problem if the hens end up with open sores. When chickens see blood, they go crazy. The more blood, the crazier, and in short time can kill another chicken that has a bloody wound. Baby chicks, especially, can be very cannibalistic.

There, you learned at least two new things today.



Fleece doesn't unravel (ravel?) so this is (should be) an easy, no-sew project. Cut two holes for the wings, and a slit at the bottom for the tail. Plug and play. Or something like that.

We're not to the point of sores (yet), but we're getting temperatures well below zero now. It's going to be getting colder before it gets warmer. Lots colder. I did my research, and these chickens of mine are hardy, cold-weather birds, but not if they have huge patches of naked skin. And anyway, who doesn't love a fleece jacket, when it's ten degrees below zero?



Want to learn something else new?

There is actually such a thing as a chicken diaper. But even I am not about to go there.

Changes

Winter cold is here, and we've been getting settled into some changes.

The kids can't play outside much at all now. The dog, cat and chickens are cold, really cold, you can just tell. The cat reminds me of a grumpy old man. The corn stove fills the house with a constant hmmmmmmmmm... and sends us on an evening ritual of fetching pails of corn from the barn. The fancy car starts, but the old green one refuses.

I can accept that the garden is asleep, and that the car needs to be warmed up before we leave. I don't mind pouring dusty buckets of corn into the stove, so we can avoid using the furnace. I happily go to the coop several times a day, to gather the eggs before they have a chance to freeze. I bundle the kids before we leave the house, even if it takes 20 minutes by the time everyone has been dressed, undressed to go potty, and dressed back up again.

I even have a pile of winter squash in the middle of the kitchen, because I was afraid they would freeze on the basement stairs.

But I also realize now, that I must admit temporary defeat in regard to one thing that I love dearly.


Yeah I know, I'm weird. I love my clothesline. It makes me happy.

A drying rack in front of the corn burner's hot blast of air (yes, in my living room) just doesn't satisfy like the clothesline. Don't get me wrong, I like my clothes drying rack, but I love my clothesline.

A small success

I finally did it, a month and a half later.

It all seemed to be successful, despite my fears. Because, you know, around here our motto could truthfully be "disaster at every turn". It is almost amusing how things turn out well when I have someone else around to watch the kids.

I did can some plum jam last year. Water bath canning is easy. I managed it while one kid was yelling, "Mommy wipe my butt!" and the other was trying to climb the fridge. But pressure canning, now that scares the bejeebers out of me.

I faced my fears, and look what I made!


My oldest boy watched me cut it up. I told him it looked like cantaloupe, and he asked if he could have some. Well, it's not cantaloupe. Goofy kid. My husband thinks it looks like peaches. Mmmmmm... I wish it was peaches. But no, it isn't nearly that exciting.

It's pumpkin, of course. Of the eighteen we had marching up the stairs, only one now remains. I'm tired of them. I'm so glad to see them go. The last lonely one might just get split in half and sent out to the chicken coop.

But it sure looks nice in the jar, doesn't it?

"You Capture" - What makes me happy

This is my first time participating in You Capture. This week's challenge was to tell a story, using pictures, of what makes you happy. Hope I followed all the rules!

I did learn a few things. I did a custom white balance on my camera for the very first time, and I learned that it causes problems if I forget to change it back. Huh, imagine that. And because my life is so spontaneous and fun, the only white thing I could find (at the moment I needed it) was a grungy, dirty, sort-of-white bucket. But you know what? It worked pretty darn well!

So here, for you all, is one thing that makes me happy. Every day. Every day it gets me outside, ever so briefly, for some fresh air and sunshine. Every day, it gives me a moment or two of peace, away from my noisy children. Yes indeed, it truly does make me happy.

This is the Nest Queen, sometimes I call her by a different name that I dare not type here. She isn't my favorite hen, but I think she's going to come in handy next Spring. I bet you anything, next Spring she'll be Miss Don't You Even Try To Take My Eggs Away. And that's just fine with me.

Isn't she lovely? And she sings too. I think she'll make a great mom.

Five, count them, FIVE eggs she had gathered up and parked herself upon. And it was only noon. The girls had been busy this morning.

Big, beautiful, brown eggs, they don't come any fresher than this.

The yolks of free range eggs are brilliant orange, loaded with all kinds of good stuff that plain old store-bought eggs lack.

And they taste pretty darn good too. Yum. Ah, yes, my lovely hens give me lovely eggs. Can you tell it makes me happy?

Go on over to I Should Be Folding Laundry for more happy picture stories.