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!

 

 

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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.

 

The most important thing I learned during hunting season…

Sunday, January 4, 2015 was the last day for whitetail hunting here in Tennessee. Saturday had been a rainy day, I learned that deer don’t move much because they can’t see well in the rain. No sense in hunting, so we waited til afternoon to go get Michael’s hunty spot set up for one last hunt. (and by we, I mean Big Sexy went and did it himself while I goofed off)

5:00 am Sunday morning came early, the ground still wet from the 3 days of downpour that had just recently subsided, and the bed was all warm and cozy. I almost hit the pillow, but he had already turned the light on, I started some coffee instead.

It was quite warm (mid 50s) when he started the Tahoe, the weather lady said that was going to change by a couple degrees each hour on out. We went ahead and donned the cover-alls, gloved up, and hit the road.

It was still dark when he parked the buck box at the usual spot.

I started calling our blind the buck box after I got my first buck. It held true to it's name on closing day.

I started calling our blind the buck box after I got my first buck. It held true to it’s name on closing day.

Sunday was not the first time I’d been on my own. There have been a few times that he hung out in his tree stand a hundred yards away while I had the awesomeness that is this blind all to myself. Sunday was different though, after unhitching the blind and firing up the heat (part of the awesomeness) He drove off. Normally I can see where the guys park when they go further back, but watching him through the window, I lost track of him before he even parked. He was far enough away that I couldn’t see his flashlight and he probably couldn’t hear me knocking the coffee thermos over.

I have to admit, I was a little nervous, and glad to feel the phone buzz when he texted to see if I was ok. Since I had a good hour til sunup and the radio didn’t bless me with some Nick Jonas on the trip to, I hit up youtube to get my Jealous on. Our teen says I’m too old for teenybopper music, but seriously, that song wakes me up and makes me want to dance, so take that brat!

After the video, I still had pert near 56  minutes of dark left. I did what any other girly girl huntress would do in that situation and opened a window to have a look-see. With the moon closer to full than not, I was able to see across the way, something glowing, eyes? I pulled out the binoculars, but it was too dark to see what it was. What ever it was, it wasn’t moving, the eyes would glow, and then they wouldn’t.

Deer aren’t the only things that hang out at the hunty hole. There are also coyote and bobcats. I only hunt what I eat, so I wouldn’t hunt either, but I wouldn’t want to be vittles myself. I took Thor out of his case and loaded him up. (Thor is my muzzle loader) I re-filled my coffee and continued my stare down with the glowing eyes.

Finally, the sun came up. I couldn’t find the thing with the glowing eyes, so I opened the back window to check out the scenery.

The view from behind, nice, huh?

The view from behind, nice, huh?

Every now and then a birdy will come, lighting on the window ledge and I never have my phone ready. Sunday, my phone was ready, but none came calling. I did see a murder of crows hanging out in the distance. With sunup and quiet time in full force, I sat watching and waiting for the sound of Big Sexy’s rifle, sure that the need for Thor passed away with the sun coming up and the disappearance of the glowing eyes.

Giggling to myself about how the weather lady had made a mistake, I started to turn off the heat when the cool wind started rising. Instead, I closed up some of the windows to keep the heat in. There was movement out front on the mountain of earth, but it was some cut down brush and the wind. I pulled my deer call can out of my backpack, but just set it beside the coffee thermos and put my gloves back on.

Not long after the cold winds, it started getting hot in the blind, time to open up the windows when I heard a slight thud. I figured it was the crows again, so no need for ninja like stealth when opening the back windows. Thud said the wood on wood as I let the window plop. To my amazement, there was a buck almost upon me. Because they can’t see me if I close my eyes (the things we tell ourselves when practicing being invisible), I closed my eyes and shut the window.

I picked up Thor and for a moment I thought maybe the guy had run off while my eyes were closed and the back window was shutting, when all of a sudden he was beside me.

When I got the big guy, I was nervous. The scope jumped with the beat of my heart. This time, the only thing on my mind was needing one more for the freezer. Most likely, there was time to put on the ear muffs, but I didn’t think about them. All I thought about was breath, aim, cock the hammer, pull the trigger.

There had to be a boom, I saw the muzzleloader smoke, my phone vibrated. “Are you Ok?” he asked, I couldn’t reply because by the time I got the text was too long of a wait for him and he was calling. “Hey Big Sexy, I got him” I answered. “Ok, just stay put.” he replied, “I’m on my way.” I was pretty sure he was the same guy that was stalking me during fall turkey season, so I said “I think it was my lil boyfriend from turkey season”

Fall turkey season, had to shoo this guy away and away, and away.

Fall turkey season, had to shoo this guy away and away, and away.

It took a couple days and Big Sexy looking at the pictures to see that it wasn’t my lil stalker, but maybe his cousin, brother, or nephew. While they both had deformed racks (one “horn like antler” and one stumpy) the stalkers was on the left, and this guys was on the right.

Hormone and antibiotic free, grass fed, free range, as primal as it gets.

Hormone and antibiotic free, grass fed, free range, as primal as it gets.

During hunting season, I learned that being in Unit L, the deer population is at epic proportions. So much so that during archery and muzzleloader season the bag limit is three antler-less per day, three antlered total season, even so many as to offering a Type 094 for an extra three antlerless per day during big gun season. Harvesting deer in such a densely populated area like middle Tennessee helps to cut down on the disease and starvation that comes with the ever expanding population. It also makes for a nice protein source in this day and age of feed lot, hormone and antibiotic injected, buy it at the grocery store fare.

While I learned that I could hang with the guys and not “girly girl out”, it wasn’t the most important thing. The most important thing was something I’ve known all along, just kept it at the back of my mind, thinking surely all this walking and hiking, toting wood in the summer, thanks to the awesome neighbor who had a few large trees taken down, lots of movement, and any movement is exercise…

You just can’t “out-exercise” a bad diet. During hunting season, I consumed some things I hadn’t consumed in years, all my rules went out the window because my blood glucose was still pretty good. My weight though, was creeping up on me. How much? I didn’t know, my camo pants were getting snug, no one could see my yoga pants under my coveralls, I hid the scales. I’d weigh in after hunting season. My size eights evolved into size tens, then to twelves, so I’d wager that I packed on some poundage in my plot to out exercise my really bad diet.

If I could change anything at all about hunting season, I’d change the food choices I made. I tried really hard to get myself back on track back when I posted “What are you waiting for?“, but it’s really not so easy to get back on track when you’ve got your old friends “Denial and Justification” rearing their ugly heads again. While I really really want some {chocolate, fried pickles, whopper with cheese, a bun, and fries by George} I really would rather just slip into my size eights and get into some general goofiness.

So here I am, six days into the new year, two days into getting my head back where it needs to be. The freezer is stocked with this year’s harvest and not a bite of chocolate to be found in the house.

And about those glowing eyes… Turned out to be a bit of trash someone had tossed, picked up the moonlight each time the wind blew.

 

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…

 

 

 

 

 

 

What are you waiting for?

Tis the season. The season to over-shop, over-spend, over-indulge in the spirit or is it the “spirits”?, and over-consume all things “comfort”.

Sometimes I catch myself wondering why certain foods are labeled as “comfort”. Maybe it’s the comfort while eating, because after a big ole plate of “comfort”, a slice or scoop or bowl of “comfort”, I never much felt “comfortable” afterwards. Tired, lethargic, irritable, moody even, but most definitely not comfort.

With this time of over-everything, we  realize come January that there is a price to be paid in over-everything. Be it that credit card we got to make Christmas happen, the serious hang-over from a week of excess, or maybe those clothes are a bit more snug than last winter, heck maybe more so than last week when we tried them on.

We see it every year come resolution time. Resolutions to stop bad habits, to lose weight, to improve health markers, save money, spend less, the list is as long as the number of us human beings are different in what we perceive as needed changes in our lives.

Sometimes folks talk about how they’ve been meaning to do this or that, since it’s resolution time, the meaning is over, they’ve decided that it will happen, it’s a resolution after all. Don’t get me wrong, resolutions are great, we get all gung-ho the month of January, half of February, revived during Lent, and pepped back up for bikini season…

Not everyone loses their way with a new year’s resolution. Sometimes we actually attain our goals set and accomplish change. Sometimes though, we find ourselves re-hashing resolutions past, excusing away why we weren’t successful, making a new and improved plan for success.

Here we are, a couple of short days away from the biggest comfort food event of the year, Thanksgiving, followed by the best deals and biggest shopping days, which ironically includes Thanksgiving for some retail giants… and I wonder, what are we waiting for?

Why wait until January, a whole month away? Why not start right freaking now? I’m not saying make a major dietary change just two days before the annual gorge-fest, maybe just make a plan to be a little more thankful and a little less comfort food minded? Maybe instead of leaving the table for a grand Thanksgiving day sale, stick around, watch a football game (football games have the greatest commercials btw…), hang with the fams, reflect what we’re thankful for and how maybe we can be more mindful year round of things we should be thankful for?

I know, I know, it’s no fun to think about resolutions in November, but it’s really not any fun in January either, sitting at the computer in our newly tightened clothes, thinking “good gracious, I’ve got my resolution right here” or looking at the cobwebs in our billfolds thinking maybe there is something to that 52 week money challenge. (word of advice, if you do the 52 week challenge, don’t wait until January to start, start now, with a dollar, be ready to have your cash flow in November, not January, spend the cash on Christmas instead of using it to pay interest in January, duh!)

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

Pluck it, I gotta tell ya…

I know, I shoulda spilled it yesterday, but in all the excitement (and yes, if you are thinking “laziness” you are correct lol) I just didn’t get around to it. ***warning, the rest of the story is about plucking turkeys and any other random thing I happen to think of, continue at your own risk…

After sleeping in Sunday, forgoing the hunt, Big Sexy got antsy and went back to the hunting grounds. If you read the comments Sunday morning, you would know that I stayed home and shared some (virtual) coffee with a friend. (giggles)

Not long after the coffee, Teen Wolf started playing in my pocket, and yeah, it was Big Sexy playing it all cool, he’s on his way home and by the way… I put another pot of coffee on.

The turkeys arrived and I thanked them. I decided that I wanted to keep the skins on and smoke them, so I gloved up.

Plucking turkeys is not a difficult job, but I will admit that after plucking the breast and legs, then finding lice  (And now I understand why some folks scald them first.) that I did cease plucking them and opted for the quarters and breasts route.

I thought sending my niece a pic of the turkeys and requesting her presence at the plucking would totally gross her out, but she actually texted me back. (never showed up, go figure…)

I thought the actual plucking would gross me out, but It didn’t. I thought it would be hard, but it was fairly easy. Call me crazy, but I’m starting to look at my non-producing hens in a new light…

Something that did cross my mind yesterday while making a serious pile of feathers in a trash bag was “they must think I forgot I have diabetes”. Seriously, all I ever talk about is freaking hunting, halloween, and camaros. Further thought led me to thinking that it’s not that I’ve forgotten about my diabetes, it’s just that my diabetes is not me. I don’t have to think of it all the time because I don’t do the silly things to provoke it, well except for wine and chocolate, but I’ve not touched a morsel of chocolate in twenty-four hours (it was dark chocolate of course…).

Ah, How Sweet, A Love Story…

Once upon a time there was a hospitality manager at this fish house on West End Avenue in Nashville. It was a nice sunny fall day when a sweet maroon and silver GMC pulled up in the parking lot.

“I’m going to marry that man” she said to her friend Pam, who just happened to be working the drive-thru. “Who?” Pam asked. “The guy in that truck” she said. “Girl, you’re crazy” laughed Pam.

This cutie patootie and some dude got out of the truck. They came in, ordered, and sat down to wait. They were in deep conversation about painting hallways when she so rudely interrupted. “I can paint” she said. He looked up and the angels sang.

“Take the tea out, give him your number” Pam said conspiratorially.

She went to his table and offered him a refill on tea. (He had ordered sprite and she was blond at the time)

For nine years they were inseparable, and then they were married, just as she had predicted all those years ago.

Tomorrow is Big Sexy and My seventh wedding anniversary. He asked me what I wanted and I told him “coveralls”. (Fall turkey season starts Saturday, do you blame me? and yeah, I love them!!)

I asked him what he wanted and he said “Another year.” How freaking romantic is that?

Yep, I love him and he can have all my years. Happy Anniversary Big Sexy Hot Husband. Since I gosh darned done gone and typed it out-loud like that, you’re stuck with me. (giggles)

No questions asked, I’ll take it as his blessing…

Halloween is so close, I can smell it in the air. Whiffs of smoke and candy on the breeze, well, maybe the candy is my imagination, the smoke though is hickory. It’s cool enough for chili this evening, so as it bubbles away on the stove we find ourselves stuck between watching another football game or boredom.

What’s that noise coming from the garage, the nosy part of me wonders, as I open the door and feel the presence of Halloween getting closer. “I made your spikes” the hot dude I’m married to says as surely my face has broken out in the cheesiest of smiles.

Playing it cool, I let him sit them down on the porch as he goes to check the fire. Time passes, surely hours, not minutes as the clock would have me believe. I’ve stirred the chili, played a game of Mahjong Titans when the thought of posts and spikes and zip ties zings through my head. I head outside when from up above his hotness says “What are you looking for?” from the roof of the garage. “Just seeing where you moved the zip ties to”. (no questions asked, he’s already made the spikes, why bother him with details lol)

He gives me a fresh pack, the black ones, they’re more Halloween than the white ones anyways. I thank him and we talk a moment about how he’s turned the heat back on in the hot tub, tonight will be a good night for a dip, and the fate of our bell pepper plant. (It’s massive)

I'm 5'6", so the bell pepper plant has to be close to 4'6". It's still blooming, so we're gonna let it be for now.

I’m 5’6″, so the bell pepper plant has to be close to 4’6″. It’s still blooming, so we’re gonna let it be for now.

Not a word about Halloween I’m thinking, as I scoop the spikes up off the porch. “What are you doing?” he asked. “Oh, I was just gonna test out one of these spikes.” I say, yeah, busted. Fortunately for me he says he guesses he’ll watch some more football.

The spikes are in the posts. It's only a matter of time before Cersi, Joffery, and the rest make their re-appearance.

The spikes are in the posts. It’s only a matter of time before Cersi, Joffery, and the rest make their re-appearance.

Before I knew it, I had a spike installed in each post. Six spikes instead of one. Looks like they are going to work out just dandy. Since the spikes have been out, there have been several cars slowing. I am not sure how many of them are wondering “why in the heck are those sticks sticking out of their hedges” or how many remember Halloween past and are wondering when in the heck am I going to get on with the show.

Halloween past. Halloween present, coming soon.

Halloween past. Halloween present, coming soon.

I guess right now, I’m just waiting for the right moment. I’ve tested the recycled decor purchased from Goodwill and everything works dandy. Last year’s decor is ready and waiting. The right moment is so close, I can feel it, but not today. Just the spikes for now and the windchime. Surely they will leave me un-supervised in the near future….

Last week's Sunday surprise looks great at night!

Last week’s Sunday surprise looks great at night!