It dawned on me last week what really bothers me. I mean what really really disgusts me. It's totally nasty. I know, now you're curious. "Hmmmmm, what is it that really grosses Sharon out?"
When I look back on years of possible reasons for disgusting-ness, things come to mind... I've been pooped on, peed on, spit on (all of these by our babies and animals). I've had Tucker lick me upside the face after eating a ton of clover (which makes horses drool this nasty green splodge, by the way), and that didn't even bother me as much as what really grosses me out. I've watched the miracle of lambs being born and then the ewes eating the afterbirth as one of our sons just about tossed his cookies over it. I've sat on and fallen in all sorts of I don't even want to think about it around here. Even the smell of rotten eggs exploding in a nest that had been abandoned didn't disgust me as much as this.
Are you curious? Did I peak your interest? Well, here goes the confession. I think one of the most disgusting things to witness...to have to endure watching...is a child losing a tooth. There, I said it. It's true. I can't stand it.
Young'un has been hanging on to some of his baby teeth for just about forever it seems, to the point where the dentist was discussing what to do with them wearing down and not falling out. He (Young'un, not the dentist) has now tortured me with the expellation of teeth twice in the past week. I've had to watch him stick his hand in his mouth to twist and turn a tooth. He has flicked at it with his tongue, trying to dislodge the one little piece that was still hanging on. I've had to listen to the play-by-play of how the loosening of a tooth has been going, and watch him rinse the blood off his fingers yet again. I finally suggested the old string and doorknob thing just to get him to try a different tactic, but he wouldn't have it. It seems he remembers me telling Kid years ago that if a tooth was taken out in that particular fashion the Tooth Fairy would not pay up. Gesh, the things they remember!
Earlier in the week when Young'un finally wiggled the loose tooth out and showed it to me, I was so happy! Finally it was over. He could wash his hands off and stop making me want to throw up. He could put that little nothing of a tooth in a baggie and stick it under his pillow for the Tooth Fairy. I thought I had a reprieve. Well, as soon as he got himself cleaned up and stopped spitting out blood he said, "Hey Mom, guess what?" To which I of course said, "What?," and he answered, "I have another loose tooth!" Oh, the joy.
Today Young'un decided it was the day to go back to sticking his hand in his mouth to wiggle his tooth this way and that. He did the tongue flicking at it thing, too. He even moved on to swishing water around in his mouth to get it out. Well, after trying to teach him his lessons while not gagging at the tooth extraction process, he finally achieved his goal. Next thing I knew he had a little slip of a tooth grasped between his fingers as blood ran down his chin. Gag!
So, there you have it folks. Young'un has found much joy over the past week in not only losing a couple of teeth, but making his mother want to puke in the process. You have also learned one of those little things that have a big impact on my stomach contents. The latest tooth offering is happily sitting under his pillow in a little baggie awaiting Tooth Fairy extraction, while Young'un plots how he is going to catch the Tooth Fairy this time. Smiling & Waving, Sharon
Last month Hon bought a new car. Honestly, I wasn't thrilled about it. Not because I don't like it per se, but because we had talked about getting a used car. You know what I mean...someone else's junk is our treasure...old to them, new to us...out with the...you get the picture. That salesman was a smooth one, giving Hon the pros and cons of cars. He even told Hon to drive the car home and tell me he already bought it, even though he hadn't yet, which thank goodness Hon had the smarts not to do. Oh don't get me wrong, he deserves a cushy seat with all the trimmings since he works two jobs to keep me here happily doing all sorts of who knows what to be done, but I figured it would be a cushy seat broken in by someone else's butt. In the end, after our discussion together on what to do, I figured ultimately the decision was his to make...although I was still hoping a used car would come home.
Well, it's been a good month or so since he's had it. I've driven it a few times, but never had a chance to fool with the bells and whistles until today. When I'd driven it, Eldest had been with me, and he comandeers the radio. I don't mess with the radio because an unhappy teen in the vehicle makes everyone unhappy.
Today Hon took the van, so I had his car to drive me and Young'un to Lancaster. Let me tell you something, those heated seats are awesome. So is the fact that I can maneuver the drive'rs seat in just about any position to make a contortionist happy. But, what really really made me happy was the radio. Serius-ly ~ as in XM satellite radio Serius, that is.
Oh my goodness, I thought it was like a radio. Boy, was I fooled. It's like a music buffet to satisfy every taste. Young'un gave me the rundown on how it works (since Grandpa come to find out has satellite radio in his car). He told me all about it, so I figured he knew how to actually work it...but he only knew in theory...so we started playing around. Let me tell you, when Johnny Nash started belting out, "I can see clearly now..." I was thinking man oh man, you got that right, baby! Soon after the sun came out and unicorns started dancing to disco ~ Serius-ly!
There we were, singing and boogying to all sorts of stuff. From 2Pac to Kids Bop, Ozzy to Elvis, we were having a blast! My only problem was driving. I had to be the responsible one. Young'un was grooving all around his seat as best he could, with a seat belt on of course, while I was doing a pretty good rendition of a bobble head doll on a dashboard. Let me tell you, I can bobble head, baby!
So, there you have it folks. My new toy. Well, it's kind of mine, anyway. I'm now thinking we need to share the new car more. Hmmmmmm, I wonder if I can get a satellite radio hook-up in the house... Smiling & Waving, Sharon
I decided a few days ago to stop walking by and smiling at that loom I bought, and start learning what to do with it. I'm not keen on dusting, and if I'm going to fit dusting a loom into my days of endless nothing to do (that's a joke), I might as well get cracking with the project. Thank goodness for books, because without them, I'd still be walking past it with that goofy look on my face, instead of sitting at it looking goofy.
I never knew how much time was involved in getting that sucker ready for the fun part, which for me is putting the yarn, called the weft, on it. This is how I remember which is which - the warp is the yarn that runs north and south when I'm looking at the loom, and the weft is what runs east and west. The warp holds the weft part on, which is what I really want to do most.
The first dilemma I had to solve was what to use around here to wrap the warp strings on to get the correct yardage. I found that if I turned a particular chair upside down and used all four of the legs, I had just what I needed. Little did I notice that the legs flared out at the ends, so when I finished wrapping the warp strings around it even the Hulk wouldn't be able to get it off without damaging the warp...and the chair...and at that point if that chair wasn't an antique I'd have made firewood out of it to get that weft off. But, being as I like my dining room set, I unwound it all into a ball and started looking for another unsuspecting piece of furniture.
After noticing just about every single chair and table leg we own has fancy legs or flared legs, I found one that worked. Yes! I needed three legs to get the correct amount of warp, so I set to the task and got it done. After I tied it off, cut it, and took it to the loom so I could consult my book on what to do with all the strings, I realized the weft looked awful short. Then it dawned on me. I needed two yard lengths of weft pieces, not one, which is what I was holding. Basically...back to the drawing board.
I looked upstairs, I looked downstairs, I looked in the basement. I measured everything I could measure to see if it would work for me to measure out 60 two yard lengths of warp. I even tried putting two chairs together and using the backs, but the darn stuff kept slipping off. I think the furniture started hiding on me at that point. Finally, I did the only thing left I could do...head out to the garage...and there I found it...something I could finally use. Thank goodness I kept this old outdoor chair through another summer, because I had been questioning my keeping it around any longer. Using three of it's legs I was able to wrap around and around what I needed (in the proper 2 yard length) so I could tie it up, cut it off, and then consult the book on what to do next with it.
When Hon got home he asked me why that outdoor chair is sitting in the dining room turned upside down. I relayed the trials and tribulations of getting the warp cut to the lengths I needed without losing my sanity. I also told him of all the stuff indoors and out that I measured, that's the only thing that came out right. I think he's now afraid that chair will be spending the rest of its days there, because he looked up how to make a warping board and said he's going to make me one. That, by the way, is the easier way of measuring warp, and the weaving tool that will help me keep my sanity.
So, there you have it, folks. My warp has been measured and cut, and my sanity is still intact. Now on to the actual warping of the loom so I can get to the weft of it... Smiling & Waving, Sharon
You might not know this about me, but I'm a foodie. That's why my Jillian Michaels DVD and I have a special on again off again relationship. After the eating I did this past weekend, we're on again.
Kid and Young'un invited their Boy Scout patrol, the Invisible Scouts, over for a camping weekend to work on their cooking badge. Honestly, at first I was skeptical. Not about the boys coming for a camp out, but for the food portion of the program. Although I leave camping with the Scouts up to Hon, I do know what their menus have been like, mainly being hot dogs and under cooked macaroni and cheese, and this lovely mixture of eggs and sausage they call moose crap. Therefore, I was kind of happy to have made plans after Saturday's farmers market to go to Yoder's Greenhouse for their fall festival with Eldest and my friend Cassie to eat lunch. Those plans were made before I had a sampling of Friday night's dinner. Boy, I should have stayed...although Yoder's chicken dinner was fabulous!
Friday night when the boys started cooking I was apprehensive about the bounty they were going to procure for taste testing. So much so, Eldest and I ordered a pizza for dinner. After I had eaten my pizza, I ventured down to the campsite because the smells from there had come wafting into the house and were smelling quite good. There were two scouts having a pasta duel-off, another making grilled cheese and tomato soup (my favorite on a cold day), Kid making spider dogs, and Young'un roasting Tilapia with zucchini, mushrooms, and peppers in a foil packet over the fire. Oh. My. Goodness. Even after eating pizza, I found room to taste some of these awesome dinners. Each and every one of them were fantastic! Oh, and the desserts after...s'mores that had the added bonus of sliced apple and peanut butter with it, roasted bananas with marshmallows and M & M's...I was in a lovely chocolate haze.
On Saturday, when I got back from stuffing myself at Yoder's, the boys were all fishing at the pond. We have uneducated fish. You think once they get caught they'd head for the hills, like all the frogs do when someone shows up. Instead, it's like they get caught, thrown back in, and then impatiently wait for another tempting worm on a hook to show up. Really ruins any kid for when they go fishing somewhere else and the fish avoid them like the plague. The boys caught fish after fish, keeping the men-folk busy with helping get the hooks out and showing the boys how to bait and de-fish hooks on their own.
Here's the bummer about later Saturday. It started to rain. I mean reeeeally rain. We knew it was coming, and the boys decided to depart early, which I can't blame them for. Problem is, when they packed up, the food was packed up, too. At least they cooked dinner before they left. I didn't order pizza that night.
Saturday night was another filling experience. There were submarine sandwiches that were better than the ones I buy at Subway. There was a bow tie pasta dish with peas and carrots in it. There was barbecued chicken soup. There was even a hobo stew cooked in foil packets. I sampled and sampled, then sampled some more...then there was desert...another blissful chocolate haze with marshmallow chasers. Mmmmmmmm!
So, there you have it, folks. A weekend of eating meals I never thought I'd eat from foil packets, camp stoves, and fires. I'm still upset about missing out on the homemade Pop-tarts for breakfast. Due to the uncooperative weather, the solar oven made using a pizza box will have to be used another day, but I'm willing to do my duty and taste test the results. Time for me to go. Jillian Michaels is calling... Smiling & Waving, Sharon
Well, it happened. A milestone in our family. Our first teen driver. I'm not talking about the permit to learn to drive...I'm talking about the honest to goodness make our insurance rates go up real driver's license. I was thinking now that it's official, I'd go ahead and give those of you that will be sitting in the passenger seat while your teen learns to drive a few tips. No need to thank me. You'll be in that hot seat soon enough.
I don't know how your roads are, but in our neck of the county our roads are quite narrow, ours in particular being one lane. After the narrow, there's a small strip of grass you're lucky your tire might fit on, and then ditch...and not one of those gradual sloping ones either...I'm talking about one that's Grand Canyon steep. The first day in February that Eldest got his permit he went home, happy to have passed the written test for it, and that was that. Then when the novelty of it wore off I heard the dreaded, "Mom, will you take me out driving?" In my most confident of voices I said, "Why sure, we'll go right after school." Of course, my inner-Sharon was actually cringing in horror, white as a sheet, and screaming, "AHHHHH, go ask your dad to do it!"
When the time came, with the patience of an angel, I explained to Eldest how to adjust the mirrors, shift the gears, and use the pedals. Then off we went, me giving a teenager verbal guidance, which I saw go in one ear and out the other. Eldest seemed quite confident as he swayed from one side of our road to the other, taking those turns too wide and too quick. Now here's tip #1: When you are sitting there in the passenger seat...white knuckle gripping the arm rest to the point of strangulation...trying to casually lean to the left in hopes of getting your vehicle to do the same won't work. You are at the mercy of your teenage driver now. I vaguely remember saying, "Eldest, going in the ditch would be really really bad...like tow truck bad," but it's kind of hazy due to the grip I had on the arm rest.
Now, as your teenager is getting his driving wings, swaying less and building confidence, his speed will increase. With that increase in speed comes tip #2 - as you continue to white knuckle the arm rest, trying to nonchalantly push down on an imaginary break peddle with your right foot, that will not work, either. Again, you are at the mercy of your learning to drive teenager. It's like you've entered a mix between the Twilight Zone and Elmo's World...And. You. Can't. Get. Out.
I'll never forget asking Eldest to drive me home from the movie theater one night. We learned real quick that sitting in the passenger seat for years, while paying no attention to the surroundings as a parent drives home, is not the same as sitting in the driver's seat for the first time, surrounded by the lights of shops, traffic lights, and other vehicles. Once we realized the van's lights weren't on, Eldest found the light switch to get them on, and another driver stopped honking wildly at us, we decided dead-of-night driving while there is no traffic on the road to contend with was our best option. And here comes tip #3 - take your teenage driver out at night to a business/shopping area while there is minimal to no traffic so they can practice driving up and down the road. That way when you are white knuckling the arm rest, leaning to the left, and pushing on your imaginary break peddle, your teen won't see you doing it as easily...and freaking out other drivers will be cut to a minimum. Also, while they're practicing parking in a dark and virtually vacant parking lot, and the police ask what you're doing, they'll agree that it's a good idea...especially when you re-hash the first nighttime driving experience. I still have nightmares over that red light incident.
The good thing about all of the driving we did together, along with the class Eldest took through Neff's Driving School, is that he has become a pretty good teenage driver. All in all he must be doing a pretty good job because when he did his maneuverability and driving tests with the police officer yesterday he was given a genuine 100% no points taken off score. It was a happy day at the BMV!
So, there you have it, folks. Eldest...our first teenage driver. I learned a lot while sitting there in the passenger seat, like how to pry my fingers from the arm rest and to keep swallowing quickly so I don't throw up my popcorn onto the windshield. Why, I even have a glorious two years of recovery time before I begin the wild ride of teaching another teen to drive. If I make it through what I am afraid will be a harrowing experience with Kid, I'll move into a bit of downtime before it's my final journey into the Twilight Driving Zone - Young'un style. Smiling & Waving, Sharon
I'm the queen of our farm, although the animals haven't figured that out yet. My title is Head Chicken Wrangler, but most days I'm called Mom. Life is a comedy and I plan on documenting it.