Is it spring yet?

Even with snow piles sporadically placed along the roadside and icy chunks covered in what looks like it could still be fresh snow in the shade, it sure feels like spring today. The lion must be busy elsewhere, because much to my enjoyment, it’s nothing but lamb out there.

I could almost feel guilty for sitting here at my desk, almost. I’ll consider this my lost hour, the one I should have slept through, in the form of sleeping late, as we sprang forward some hours ago. But I awoke to the chirpy sounds and cheepy calls of the starlings as they were no doubt raiding Biscuit’s food bowl.

I thought about going back to sleep when I saw that the teen was still sleeping but the aroma of the hot coffee brewing snapped me into reality. The teen is still sleeping… After a hot cup of Folgers (I’m out of Kona), I felt myself dragging.

So many things to do, laundry, cleaning, cooking breakfast, and that beautiful sunshine pouring in through the kitchen windows. Rather than go outside and be disappointed that it is yet another deceptive day, pretty two ways, regular pretty and pretty cold, I checked the news.

50° before ten am? (would have been before nine without the whole forward thing) That right there put a little pep in my step. Add another cup of hot coffee and I was almost good to go.

Because I wouldn’t want you to think I was shirking my duties, I will tell you that after hitting the shower I got a load of towels washed and folded my yesterday’s procrastination. I seriously considered making breakfast, but the teen was still sleeping and if I’m not hungry, I have no problem fasting until hunger ensues naturally.

I passed the vacuum a second time on my way to the coffee pot. I thought about going ahead and getting that out of the way when I saw a cardinal sitting on the fence. The longing for the outdoors was overriding the importance of my to-do list.

I dug my Vibrams out of the shoe shelf (covered in jackets, coats, scarves, gloves, heck, it’s on the to-do list) and decided there was no time like now to run my errands.

When I walked outside I saw a very dirty sweet baby Cam. Since the area around the porch, where he usually gets cleaned is still partially encrusted in ice/snow, I grabbed some quarters and set to task.

Lucky for me, the train was coming through town. Cam and I got to take the scenic route, the route I used to take all the time, just so I could see the perdy blue Camaro, parked along the way. For old times sake I said “whooo hooo hooo Camaro” and laughed. It’s funny how a little promise of spring can make you giddy to the point of silly, but y’all know I’m totally down with silly.

Taking the scenic route makes my third stop my first stop and the car wash is right dab in the middle of what would have been the first stop had there been no train this morning. The car wash was also packed. Lots of folk needing to get that salty grime off their vehicles too. Instead of waiting for a stall and burning up my busy time, I passed it by and hit the grocery.

My list said sweet potatoes, so a couple sweet taters and a can of green beans (just in case) later, I went back to the car wash. As a reward for my not wasting time waiting, there was an empty stall. Eight quarters later I pulled out and headed home.

Being a pretty day and all, I only went inside long enough to put my gathers up and grab my chamois. In the full sun, he was still a dirty boy. I got to work and cleaned him again, then took my sweet time drying him off.

I’m pretty tall for a girl, but not tall enough to dry his top. I opened the door and saw to my horror that even if a car is covered and left wanting for weeks, it still can get dusty in there. (in Cam’s defense, I did drive him a couple times between the ice and snow storms, but on yucky cloudy cold days, he looked pretty clean)

An hour later and he is all shiny inside and out and though I’ve opened and slammed the front door several times throughout the morning, the teen is still asleep. There is still more me time to be had. An hour of sitting in the sun reading might seem like such a waste when there are now towels to fold and carpet to vacuum, but really, seriously, I can fold to my heart’s desire (or lack of) during TWD tonight.

As I typed that last paragraph, a shadow appeared in the living room, reminding me that the sun is still waiting and my lost hour is about over. There is noise coming from the kitchen, no doubt it’s the teen foraging for her very very late breakfast (which is too late to even be called lunch).

Too late for good morning, she calls out instead “Did you wash the car?” then proceeds to tell me that it’s supposed to snow again tonight, she saw it on Facebook funny, ha ha. What’s even funnier is that I saw the news and it may rain tonight, but the lows aren’t dipping below 40° and the highs are going to be reaching into the 60°s all week. Yep, no snow days this week, yeehaw!




Walking in a winter wonderland…

Lately local weather folk have been perfecting the art of losing friends and making enemies, what with all this wintery stuff, running late for the season, it’s March for goodness sake!!!

I awoke at three am to see if their latest predictions had come to fruition, when I see with mine eyes that there was just a measly little bit of snow that had fallen over the bit of ice left from the sleet we witnessed just prior to bedtime.

I smiled to myself, thinking “they got it wrong this time” and went back to bed. I was not prepared for the sight when I awoke again.

No dragon hunting today, the dragon is stuck in a good four inches of snow.

No dragon hunting today, the dragon is stuck in a good four inches of snow.

I have a garden out front, lined with large stones, that was enveloped in the white stuff, sometime after I went back to bed.

The stone lined walkway and garden have been rendered invisible.

The stone lined walkway and garden have been rendered invisible.

I asked Big Sexy if there was a fire going and he said yes, be careful if you go out there. I told him I was going to put another log on, which is code for “I gotta go step in it!”. Donning yoga pants, a t-shirt, socks, and a pair of shoes, I stepped outside.

I tried to stay in his tracks. This is right off the side stoop.

I tried to stay in his tracks. This is right off the side stoop.

My third step into the deep powdery snow, I realized not only was I a tad bit under-dressed, but I longed for my hiking/hunty boots as “shoes” just don’t stand up to this depth.

Rounding the corner of the house, I spied the deck.

Rounding the corner of the house, I spied the deck.

By the time I got to the basement steps, I was a wee bit apprehensive of going down to the basement to check the fire.

The steps to the basement

The steps to the basement

I mentally thought of my gray yoga pants as big girl pants and went down to the basement. Biscuit and stripy cat were in the basement, warm and dry. I added another log and decided to test my luck against the treacherous journey back to the warmth of our home.

a view from the bottom of the basement steps

a view from the bottom of the basement steps

You can probably guess that I made it back safe, or I wouldn’t be typing. I also made it back with my shoes filled with snow, confirming my realization that yes indeed I was under-dressed.

I’m thinking now about putting on my coveralls and boots and going on a recovery mission to find the sled. The only thing holding me back is the smell of hot coffee brewing and these daggum wet socks!



Cat crazy days of winter…

Meet Bella, our cat.

Meet Bella, our cat.

I’m not a cat person. Bella came into our lives as a kitten, rescued by our son and his friend one cold winter day about seven years ago.

She was born of a stray, under the house of one of their friends, destined to freeze to a horrible chunk of cat ice if we did not take her in. “I’m not taking care of her, she’s your responsibility”

Famous last words.

Bella seemed normal, until she didn’t. She had a seizure, then another. Shortly after I partook of a LCHF way of eating, I started cooking offal and meat, often in bone broth for her. Switching her sometimes to sardines, tuna, mackerel, occasional oysters, and the strangest thing happened. She hasn’t had a seizure in we don’t remember how long.

I cook for Bella because going back to {insert any wet or dry cat food here, we tried them all before putting her on real food} would most likely result in her having seizures again. Anyways, she has kinda grown on us, so I don’t mind spending a small portion of my time cooking cat food.

I’m still not a cat person.

Lately though, I’ve been pondering which came first, the crazy or the cat in crazy cat lady.

About a month ago a stripy cat was sitting on our porch, then sleeping in our basement, with our dog (who is most def not a cat person). Since it’s cold this time a year, I tried finding her family (to no avail) on facebook.

Stripy cat. She's nice, polite, I can't believe her family would leave her or just drop her off.

Stripy cat. She’s nice, polite, I can’t believe her family would leave her or just drop her off.

Anyways, I don’t feed stripy cat. With the exception of left-overs, Biscuit is more than happy to share his dog food bowl, provided he is not around it when she gets hungry. She has managed full roam of the underneath of the house, beyond the basement. I’ve not missed any of the camel crickets or field mice that normally find a way indoors during these cold months.

I’m still not a cat person.

Shortly after stripy cat showed up on the porch, there was a big black cat sitting on the hot tub. For a while I thought that maybe the crazy came first and I was seeing things, no one ever saw the black cat, well until Biscuit saw him one day and told him to get the heck out of Dodge.

Over the past few years, occasionally, we would glimpse a white cat, like Bella, only larger, walking along the creek way back. More recently, this winter, he’s been coming to our house, never on the porch, and spooks easy. I really think he is one of Bella’s siblings, except he has battle scars.

I’m crossing my fingers that all these cats don’t turn me into a cat person, especially a crazy one, when Bob shows up.

This is Bob. Because he looks like a bobcat, even has a stubby tail.

This is Bob. Because he looks like a bobcat, even has a stubby tail.

It is hard for me to believe that Bob is an outdoor cat, much less a stray cat. He is bold, he may be a she, I’ve not been close enough, but he is not scared to come on the porch.

Bob hiding behind Ms. Piggy's apron.

Bob hiding behind Ms. Piggy’s apron.

He is scared to go in the back yard, Biscuit does not like him either. I don’t think we need to worry about Bob getting in the basement, but seriously if he doesn’t miss his family, I bet he misses the indoors and food.

Yesterday afternoon, as I sat on the porch reading, another cat ventured into the yard. This one is really fat, really furry, white with big brown splotches. Too elusive for the camera, think dairy cow morphed into a cat with shaggy hair.

The cats are driving me crazy. I am not a cat person, so you can maybe see my dilemma. If crazy came first, I may very well be on my way to being a cat person…

On a serious note, it’s cold outside. If you have pets, keep them warm, keep them fed, and keep up with them. Of all the strays hanging around lately, only the white battle scarred cat looks like he is really truly stray.


Random acts of children…

The girls have known for a while that they had a little brother on the way. The date and time had been chosen, so the girls were going to stay with us while their little brother entered this world. The date and time meant that they would miss a little school/daycare, but Aunt May still had school and Pepaw still had to go to work. Two rounds of breakfast is enough, so I copped out. I gave in to their “Reeses Puffs dreams” and bought some freaking cereal (yeah, bad memaw you think, but hey, even us memaws need a cop out now and then.)

Since the girls were missing the most important days of the school year, you know the holiday parties, in addition to the evils of cereal, I also bought sugar, brown sugar, and flour (oh the horrors). After my purchases, I pulled out and dusted off the ole cooky press and set out planning for spritz as a baking lesson that was just party-like enough to keep them from whining about missing the festivities at school.

Sweet baby Cam and I picked the girls up on Sunday afternoon. Ever the conversationalist, Diamond sat shotgun. We talked about where were Aunt May and Pepaw, and what we were going to be doing. I told her about cooky making and she was especially excited, “Chocolate chip cookies?” she asked, and I said “no, shapes, like Christmas cookies”. “I really like chocolate chip”, so I told her we’d make both.

Eventually we got to talking about school and how she likes school but the kids laugh at her. Imagine this beautiful little girl being picked on, I asked her why would the kids laugh at her, they must be jealous. “Oh no Memaw, they aren’t jealous, they laugh at me because I have a memaw”. She told me. “They have grandmas” she added. Since Diamond not only has a memaw, but she also has a “grandma”, a “grandmother”, a “mimi”, and so on with extended family, I told her that now I knew for sure they were jealous because I know she’s got a “Grandma” and me, they were jealous because they didn’t have a memaw.

Turns out nobody has memaws and “nobodys not supposed” to have memaws, kids should only have grandmas. (Dem dare kids are gonna light my fuse, I tell ya) Anyways, I told her about how their Aunt Lori is also their friend’s memaw and we went on to talk about how Aunt May played her saxophone in the Christmas parade.

The first thing they noticed upon arrival was that “Oh! Memaw got Reeses Puffs!” “Thank you Memaw can we have cereal for dinner?” (um, no!)

Since Lovely and Faith had slept through the over the river and through the woods conversation, I asked Lovely if the kids laugh about her having a Memaw. She said “No, I keep it a secret.”

Had I known that being a “memaw” would be making them subject of ridicule, I would have insisted they call me “grandma” like they call their grandma, but I never would have dreamed this outcome.

Anyways, being a Memaw takes special skills (read good freaking luck lol) and I ended up showing them a picture I took of Cam’s memaw during the Christmas parade.

Super sweet huh? They should have driven her in the parade, not just parked on the sidelines.

Super sweet huh? They should have driven her in the parade, not just parked on the sidelines.

I don’t know if telling them that even Cam has a memaw made them feel any better about having a memaw or if it just gave them a good giggle, they haven’t talked about the down side of “memaws” since right after we got here.

Since the late night dance party didn’t end until I about blew a fuse at 3:00 am Monday morning, only Diamond got up early. It was too early to make the cookies, so we just prepped for them. By the time the other girls got up, she wasn’t feeling well and didn’t feel like helping.

Not many green trees. Stupid cooky press I haven't used in forever!

Not many green trees. Stupid cooky press I haven’t used in forever!

Lovely and Faith ended up eating a crapload of mistakes before I could scrape the dough off the pan and get it back in the press. By the time we got around to the blue snowflakes, we had the hang of it. The girls did not consume any raw blue cooky dough, but they thoroughly enjoyed the green.

Pink wreaths. Not flowers. Wreaths.

Pink wreaths. Not flowers. Wreaths.

The cookies ended up being a success. The girls had fun, and by Tuesday, Diamond felt better and got to try them herself.

Today’s plan is to make the chocolate chip cookies, when ever the lazy bums who stay up half the night wake up. Diamond and I have been up all morning, keeping this house cleaned (lol) while those lazy bums sleep all day. again.

Most likely, they will wake up and want Reeses Puffs, just like Diamond did. They’ll probably wait a good ten minutes after eating to ask me to make them some bacon or eggs, they’re still hungry, just like she was and they all have been each morning. Turns out cereal wasn’t a cop-out after all, I’m preparing four different breakfasts now.

Whattaya know, Memaw is also a psychic, they’re up demanding the cereal. Guess I’d better get the griddle going again so we can get straight to cooky making after breakfast fixed number 5…







Mothers VS Turtle, and didja know it’s Diabetes Awareness Month?

Believe me when I type to you that I had no intentions of blogging today. I did however, intend on giving Sweet Baby Cam a nice wash and wax, preparing him for the long cold winter to be.

Maybe I should start off by telling you that the first time we waxed him, my hot husband bought me some turtle wax. While I was grateful that he took the time to not just get if for me, but also teach me how to use it, the silly girl in me said something like “I really wanted to try the ‘fancy’ kind”. He told me how Turtle had been around forever and it would be fine to use. In the end, he was right, Turtle and lots of elbow grease did a fine job, Sweet Baby Cam was a red rock metallic mirror several hours after we set to task.

After getting our muzzleloader licenses yesterday, Big Sexy was looking around at the hunty stuff and I told him I’d be right back. Turning left, I went to the car stuff, grabbed some new micro-fiber towels, applicators, and a bottle of Mothers California Gold Brazilian Carnauba wax.

Starting from the inside out, Cam got a nice wipe down, vacuuming, and exterior wash. The works like that normally takes me a solid two hours, but this morning I must have had a little pep in my step because by the time I had him all dried off, I had finished in under an hour and a half.

Turns out, I forgot the tires. I always forget the tires. Usually I remember them when I sit down to admire my work with a hot cup of coffee. This time, I drank my coffee on the way to the basement and back to put a little wood on the fire and feed the dog.

I set my cup down and grabbed the wax, applicators, and microfiber towels. I would be a liar if I said at that point that I was super excited about waxing him. I seriously thought about maybe doing laundry instead, procrastination and I were old chums, went so far as to load the wash and see that there wasn’t enough dirty to justify washing. “Do I really want to spend the next four hours straight wiping on/wiping off?” vs “you’ll just have to wash him again if you put it off, besides, it won’t be this warm again for a good five days…” was playing in my noggin, so since I had my big girl pajama pants on, I went ahead and hit the door.

The first thing I noticed about Mothers California Gold was that it smells really nice. If I were to rate this stuff on smell alone, I would never even try another wax. The second thing I noticed was that it went on really easy, no clumping, no ridges of “not quite dry”, even coverage, no bare spots. It hazed over nicely, wiped off with not much elbow grease at all. I seriously thought about how if I were a car in love with a wax, that wax would be Mothers.

Sometimes the craziest things pop into my head when I’m busy. I started thinking about the Turtle wax and how yeah, it did a really good job, it’s been around forever, but this “new to me” stuff is the freaking bomb.

That lead to me thinking about my diabetes and how when I was diagnosed, I went with the “tried and true”, all things in moderation, nothing is off limits, there’s a pill for that and just how that worked for me.

Like the Mothers car wax, LCHF was new to me. I figured the wax would be difficult, take several hours and that my arms would be killing me at the finish line. With LCHF, I figured I’d give it a try, it probably wouldn’t work, and I’d quit it before it killed me. Because I finally did something different, I got different results. I learned to check my blood glucose levels often, that moderation is a fairy tail, off limits is the way to go.

As I walked into the house to get a refill on my coffee, I noticed that I had only spent an hour or so waxing my sweet baby. Add another point to Mothers tally for time saving. I took my hot mug of goodness outside and sat down to admire my handy work. Cam looked just as shiny as when I spent four hours with the Turtle. Mothers, even though it was new and different to me, is getting closer to being the clear winner.

I was giving him one last look over when I noticed that I had forgotten the tires, breakfast was going to be pushed back to lunch time at this rate. There was a time in my journey with type 2 diabetes that just the thought of being late for a meal would land me in hysterics, let alone missing one. I didn’t think about that when I grabbed my towels and set to task.

Anyways, because it is diabetes awareness month, I’d like to make you aware that tried and true is not always tried and true, that conventional wisdom is only conventional, not so much wise at all. If like I did, you are living your life with diabetes in the driver’s seat, letting it control you, via the tried and true methods of conventional wisdom and getting the same results while expecting something different, how about try something different? Yeah, the old way is comfortable, nothing is off limits, but is {insert that cake, pie, sourdough, whatevs, here} really worth upping the dosage, feeling like crap, and having the doc say “You’re not compliant”?

I’ve got to tell you that there is nothing on this planet that tastes better than feeling good, not having to worry about highs and lows and losing the freaking weight feels.

Anyways, I was pert near all thought out by the time I finished the tires. While finishing my re-heated coffee and typing this, I’ve come to two conclusions. 1. Mothers costs about twice as much as Turtle, but takes less than half the time (plus the smell good bonus!!!), a clear winner in the battle of the waxes. And 2. LCHF/JERF/Primal/Paleo/whatevs takes time, dedication, and lots of blood glucose testing, it’s not easy until it becomes easy, but kicking diabetes out of the driver’s seat, taking control, is worth it.






Goodbye Sweet Halloween, until next year!

Since I lost my zombie tats, and ran out of time for shadowhunter runes, I guess you could say I was a warlock...

Since I lost my zombie tats, and ran out of time for shadowhunter runes, I guess you could say I was a warlock…

Well, yeah! I recycled 2013’s costume. (In case you missed last Halloween, I was Ann Boleyn, Big Sexy was Freddy Kruger, and May was a Zombie prom queen.)

This Halloween, I wanted to kinda be a zombie and kinda be a Shadowhunter, and then I found the feathered mask at Party City. I’m not going to lie, I paid three times as much for that mask as I paid for the dress. ($15.00 mask, the dress was an excellent find last October at one of my favoritest places to shop, Goodwill 🙂 ) The skull jewels (clip on earrings, choker, skull bracelets, be-jeweled spider rings) and wig (still in sealed package) were also recycled from last year, also fabulous finds at the Super Saturday Sale of October 2013 at Goodwill. (which makes me think that my whole costume, save the mask, might very well be “tri-cycle”d giggles)

Anyways, Halloween was a blast!! My first trick-or-treater aka my friend Lori came calling before sunset, while I was getting everything ready for the evening. I let her pick her own candy from the grabby bowls and she was quite happy with my decision to offer glasses of home made sangria to the adults. We were on our second glass when Big Sexy got home and changed into his zombie suit.

Since we live on a main road that connects a couple highways, we don’t get a lot of trick-or-treaters. (I think last year was 4, maybe?) By 8:00 pm, we had gotten 6! So happy, I decided to have another glass of wine (If you’re thinking “that’s glass number 3, she’s a wino”, let me explain that my glass of wine is half wine and half diet ginger ale, so a re-do on the math, it’s glass number 1.5……).

I’m adding the ginger ale when “Bam Bam Bam” comes a banging on the front storm door. Halfway to the door, I hear “Mom, Mum, Mam, Mom”, it reminds me of “Stewie”, it doesn’t sound like Matthew and Carmen, when I see it is “Sally” (from A Nightmare Before Christmas) aka May and all her friends. Friday afternoon, I was sad. May is almost grown up, 14, too old to hang out with the parental figures on Halloween, she was going to her friend’s house for a party.

Needless to say, it was pretty fabulous when her and her friends brought her friends little brothers over for treats. Exhausted from the walk, and the candy getting, Hot Stuff gave them a lift back to the party. My son and his girlfriend brought her little cuties (Devil girl and Optimus Prime) over and got some treats, making this Halloween have the least left over candy, ever!

I guess I should have donned my cover-alls, braved the cold, and took down the decor on Saturday, but it was cold and windy. So cold, so windy, that bolts would most like fly off target, so at 4:00 am, we opted to go back to bed instead of hit the woods.

Sunday morning was cold, not so much windy, so at 4:00 am, we donned our gear and hit the woods with the new blind Big Sexy built us. By the time we finished hunting, it was time for lunch and a nap. I guess I could have taken Halloween out of the front yard after the nap, but I wasn’t really feeling it, and well, the totes are filled with pine needles and hunting gear.

This morning I got new totes, they are sitting empty, waiting for me to come back outside and fill them with the joy of Halloween. Maybe I’m having a hard time letting go because the sun is shining, it’s not too cold to put Halloween back in the attic, but I’m all of a sudden thinking it’s a nice day to tote firewood. 🙂

Spooky ooky

Spooky ooky