Are You a Duck???

So with last week pretty much being just me and hubby, we were in some dangerous territory. Without a four-year-old shimming in between us, the week could have gone something like this, "So." (funny head nod) "How about this weather, eh." (more funny head nods)

But alas, we escaped the treacherous time spent without a wedging four-year-old and have made it to the other side.

I'm sure every married person has had the experience of waking up in the morning, brushing their teeth and wondering, "How did I end up here, with this person, forever? (Please tell me you have)

Actually, for me I think it's more like a longing for a little variety, like maybe if he could just morph into somebody even a tad bit different for a day just to change it up a little. Heck, I'd even go for different mole placement for a day sometimes, just to keep it interesting.

Yet despite the fact that I would like a morphing husband, we seem to do alright. He does know how to make me want to hurl his massive self into the lake sometimes though. Like just the other night, I was up late and he had already gone to bed (thank God, sometimes it's like trying to get a little kid to go to bed) and after reading my Bible and some F. Scott Fitzgerald for awhile, I turned out the light and rolled over to go to sleep. Just when I was nice and cozy, he asked me, "Are you a duck?"

"What in the heck are you talking about?"

"Are you a duck." "Do you like to quack," he asked.

Then he started mumbling something about ropes and belts or something. I don't know. See, his conversations when he's 1/3 coherent (which could be the middle of the day for all I know) just seriously irk me. Am I duck, no, I'm not a duck, and if you are having some weird dreams about ducks, keep them to yourself.

So I guess his half-coherent-ness isn't so predictable, and now that I think about it, Kaydn Rye and I have been together now for quite a few years, yet I don't seem to get as bored with Kaydn Rye. I guess maybe because he looks an inch taller everyday, so that's changing it up enough. And he'll ask me things like, "Can you quack," but I guess I don't find it as annoying. And Gertie of course can go from shaggy to shaved in a matter of hours, so whenever she gets boring she's pretty easily changeable.

I don't know, hubby's probably thinking he has the opposite problem. He could probably use a little more stability, but alas, I am what I am. I'm like a box of chocolates, if only they were all the gooey caramel nut clusters.




Show Me Your Web Site and I'll Vote For You!!

A Slip and Fall, A Ride Around Town and Mating Dogs

Right now the kid is at grandma's and it's a great feeling to eat junk food for lunch, on the couch, and stare at the wall for five minutes without "Mom, wipe my butt," or "Mom, Gertie won't share her toys with me." If you don't know Gertie, check her out here. But because my life has been completely consumed by mind numbing activities like t-ball and swimming lessons for the last two weeks, I had to completely fill my day with work. Gotta love work. I had some nice case summaries to write up including an "Oh no, I slipped on some water in your building and strained my back and now I'm suing you for $90,000" case and there was the Department of Transportation case where some teenaged girls sped over a monstrous dip in the road, flipped the car and were killed. The parents subsequently sued DOT for not tending to the dip in the road, which apparently has been there about 50 years now. The parents have lots of money now.

So anyway, with a couple case summaries written up, I started a nice supper of pizza and salad when hubby returned from his day of hunting and gathering all the money he possibly could out of the insurance business. Without having the worries of the little guy tagging along on his scooter, deflecting off of it and subsequently screaming bloody murder, we went on a bike ride/roller blade run around town.

Hubby hadn't been on his roller blades in quite a few years, and since we live in the hilliest town in an other wise not-so-hilly state, as you can imagine, he was having quite a few problems getting back on the saddle on the 90 degree hill our house sits on. So, he walked down the hill, found an old parking lot near our little "downtown" area and we rode/roller bladed around for probably an hour, me on my Wizard of Oz bike and hubby flailing around on his roller blades.

He finally got the hang of it again and we proceeded back home. He did eventually lose all his speed going up the big hill to our house, and it was then that every little pebble and stone became a giant obstacle, but he made it just fine.


(This is Gertie in her mating-time diaper.)

It was when we got home that I realized I had left Gertie tied to a tree the whole time. Now, normally that wouldn't be a problem, obviously. I took down the little chicken fence I had her confined to in the backyard because I was tired of tripping over it, and tying the dog to the tree is definitely cheaper than the millions of dollars I'd spend putting up a real fence in my massive yard. But the dog is in heat, and I guess it hadn't dawned on me that I was tying a hormonal sex machine with her butt in the air to a tree where anyone could have her way with her. So with that lapse in judgment, you wouldn't believe what I found standing next to the tree with Gertie - a little white dog. I came around the corner and they were both looking at me like, "We didn't do nothin."

Hubby thought though that since Gertie hates all creatures great and small, she probably would bite the eyes out of whoever tried to even sniff her. Whether it's a leaf floating through the yard or a 200 pound dog across town, she will eradicate it. Plus, Gertie uses us as mating partners, so she's not really looking for an actual dog to mate with, but it looks like they were having a pretty good time before I came around the corner. So it looks like we'll be contributing to the pet over population real soon. Hubby's idea last week that we should maybe get the dog spayed was definitely not the best timing.



Show Me Your Web Site and I'll Vote For You!!

Shouldn't This Be Happening to A Much Less Intelligent Person??

We have had an eventful week. We almost died and I almost started my grandma's kitchen on fire, all in the same day, oh, and I completely spaced out a t-ball game. Kaydn Rye doesn't exactly know what day it is from one day to the next (luckily) so he didn't know he had a t-ball game that day, and I never told him about it. Ignorance is bliss. Next year at this time, if I miss a t-ball game he'll probably freak out on me, so I thought I'd take advantage of the situation while I still can.

With the airing of my little t-ball secret out of the way, the near death story goes something like this. We were on our way out to my dad's rental property that I manage, Kaydn Rye, Gertie (see The Dog, Our Old Chinese Man) and I all in the Durango, when Gertie proceeded to try and jump on my lap.

Gertie has some separation issues which prevent her from being more than a foot from any one of us, and I tried to give her the boot into the backseat when I proceeded to drive into the ditch. Gertie was clinging to the center console for dear life while I attempted at shoving her onto the floor of the backseat. You'd think she was hanging from a cliff for pete's sake. We were almost fully in the ditch when I looked ahead and realized we were almost fully in the ditch and seriously over-corrected. While we then almost entered the ditch on the other side of the road, we were definitely on two wheels, I'm sure of it. We were all over the road for quite a while before all was well again, and Kaydn Rye was on the edge of his seat when I asked him if he was alright. He said he'd be alright but that he definitely did NOT want to do that again.

So with that behind us, we proceeded to swimming lessons in neighboring Stanley. My grandparents also live in Stanley so I thought during swimming lessons I'd make them a nice puff pancake, egg and bacon dinner. No problems there, right? Well, the puffy pancake tends to poof up a little too much sometimes, and this was one of those times. The melted butter that coats the bottom of the pan must have also started dripping on the bottom of the oven, and I ended up with a seriously serious oven fire. Everyone once in a while, the puff pancake will drip on the bottom of the oven, but I still have absolutely no clue what in the heck happened, I've never had an oven fire before.



I opened the oven and there was a fire, and by the time I got the puff pancake out of the oven, the fire was completely engulfing the inside of the oven. My grandma's idea was just to shut the door and let it burn itself out, but something about sitting down to eat a nice dinner while the oven was on fire just didn't sit well with me.

To make the situation even better, two of my great-aunts were also over there that day. To save my life I could not remember how to put out an oven fire, without a fire extinguisher of course.

"Anyone have any idea how to put out an oven fire?" I asked.

"Put salt on it," said my great-aunt.

"Pour some flour on it," said my grandpa.

The salt was handier, so I threw an entire container of salt on it, which significantly decreased the fire, but didn't put it out. My grandma was getting pretty upset that I was wasting all the salt, apparently not thinking about the fact that her oven was on fire. That's when I grabbed the tupperware container of flour and doused the oven in flour. That did the trick, and with more than a century of combined cooking experience between my grandma and her two sisters, none of them had ever had an oven fire before. My guess, somebody in the bunch is lying. Really, how is that I am the one responsible for their very first oven fire experience?

Sadly, the oven fire was not the end of a day gone seriously wrong; it was perhaps the pinnacle, but not the end. After everyone was stuffed with puff pancakes and we had ruled out making a trip to the hospital for smoke inhalation, I then began the hour and a half cleanup of the oven fire.

There was a pretty big heap of salt and flour in the oven, so I thought, "Hey, let's just vacuum up the heap and I'll wipe out the rest." Well, my grandma failed to tell me that after every use, her little vacuum with all the wonderful attachments needs to be completely cleaned out. So not only did the vacuum not really do much to suck up all the crap in the oven, but I then had to spend a half hour cleaning out the vacuum.

Once I had spent more than an hour with my head in the oven, scrubbing as ferociously as I possibly could, I then had to clean up the mess I had left on the floor by the oven, and once that was done I had to clean out that stupid vacuum.

I proceeded to the porch for said vacuum cleaning task and accidentally emptied out half of the vacuum cleaner dust onto the porch, which then needed to be cleaned up as well.

Once the oven, the floor, the vacuum and the porch were as good as new, I headed home, where before I left for grandma's I had sprayed oven cleaner in my oven. So, you guessed it, I had a dirty oven awaiting me at home.

It made me wonder, why is it that things that would typically happen to stupid people, keep happening to me?

Oh, and for future reference, flour cleans up much better than salt in a scorched oven. Thought you'd like to know.

Oh, and that puff pancake recipe, here it is:

Pancake:
1 1/2 cups all purpose-flour
1 1/2 cups milk
6 large egges
1 tablespoon sugar
1 tsp salt
1/2 cup butter (1 stick)
To make pancake: In a bowl, whisk together flour, milk, eggs, sugar and salt until no lumps remain. Let stand for 30 minutes. (You can mix batter the night before, cover and refrigerate. Remove from refrigerator when you begin preheating oven.) Preheat oven to 450 degrees. While the oven preheats, place a large slope-sided baking pan or ovenproof skillet into oven with the stick of butter. When the butter is melted, remove from oven. Pour pancake mixture into heated pan and return to oven. Bake pancake for 15 to 20 minutes until edges are puffed high and golden.

Apple filling:
2 large apples, peeled and sliced (I leave the peelings on though)
2 tablespoon butter
1/4 cup brown sugar
To make apple filling, While pancake bakes, in medium skillet, sate apples in butter until tender, 5 to 10 minutes. Add brown sugar and stir until dissolved. Transfer to serving bowl.

To serve pancake, be sure everyone is at the table when you bring it in, as the pancake will slump quickly. Cut pancake into quarters and fill each serving with sauteed apples. Pass the whipped cream on the side if desired. Serves 4.

Here's to a fire free day!



Show Me Your Web Site and I'll Vote For You!!

The Blaisdell Rodeo Has Again Come and Gone....

Last weekend was rodeo time at Blaisdell, ND, population 12 I think, since it's had a population spurt the last year or so. The town is probably the sorriest thing I've ever seen, but the rodeo, high on the hill on the outskirts of Blaisdell, is for some reason a no-miss event.

You'd never know it by my done-up hair, wedge sandals and crop pants, but I can actually ride a horse, being from a ranch and all. I usually ride horse in my cute little blue running shoes, and I usually attend rodeos in wedge sandals or some cute flip flops, I guess because cowboy boots and wranglers just aren't in my DNA makeup, and I'm sure I looked absolutely ridiculous behind the shoots getting Kaydn Rye to hop on a sheep in my wedge sandals, but that's just how I roll.

Kaydn Rye has been in the kid's showdeo for the last two years, and this year he graduated to sheep riding, which turned out to be a terrible experience. My Mr. Safety was pretty psyched about riding a sheep, which I thought was utterly shocking. He didn't last more than a second, but he did it.

I don't really know what the point of sheep riding is, but for some reason it is socially acceptable. Of course, it's not exactly like bull riding where you get your arm in the air and swing it hoping to look cool and stay on the bull. Nope, sheep riding is a sport that is only won by hopping on, grabbing the sheep by the neck and hanging on for dear life as long as you can.



Kaydn Rye was fully prepared to grab the sheep by the neck and hang on for dear life, until he actually got on the sheep and became utterly grossed out by all its fuzziness. I'm sure he thought, "Oh my word, how many germs are lurking under all that fur?" Which is why he got on, put his hands in the air like the sheep was a bomb ready to go off, and he of course fell off before he even really made it out of the shoot.

Here are some more Blaisdell Rodeo pics for all you rodeo fans.



Kaydn Rye's the kid on the end with the brown jacket who looks like he's in some serious pain.

Here he's getting ready for the big stick pony race.



Here's him taking a much needed break from rodeo-ing.



And I can't forget the wonderment that is t-ball. We've been busy with that the last couple weeks, and we've been hard at work practicing in the yard things like, this isn't football so don't tackle your team mates for the ball. Oh, and when you bat, don't run and grab the ball just so the other team can't tag you with it. Things like that are always helpful pieces of information.



Oh, and of course there's the wonderful yard fishing, can't forget that. I don't know how many bushes he caught in the yard, but he was pretty proud of his casts.



That has been my summer vacation so far...now we're off to the lake.....



Show Me Your Web Site and I'll Vote For You!!