A Bit O' Excitement: Updated

Sheesh. I was leaving to pick up H-Bomb from school. Our dog, Mia, decided she wanted to come with us, so I loaded her up. Number One was getting ready to haul a load of calves to Colorado.

We drove over 1/2 mile down the road, and saw CG's two dogs, Taz and Hank, on the road, just hanging out. I stopped, called them over, tried to load them up. Those two snots just walked away from me, across the road heading away from the house. Of course. Maybe they're home by now, who knows.

Town and school were uneventful.

Then, as I was heading home, approaching Marie's Place, I saw a helicopter flying low behind a ridge. I thought by the time I got around the ridge, it would be headed toward the mountains. Not so. It was still flying very low, and very erratically. I thought it was having engine troubles and getting ready to crash, so we stopped to see what would happen. I thought I could call the sheriff on my cell phone if needed.

The helicopter was bright red, and just kept veering back and forth as it crossed the road in front of us. Then I saw them. Mule deer, running scared, just in front of the helicopter. It became clear that they were chasing the deer with their helicopter. They were still veering and flying so erratically that I thought they would clip a rock with one of the propeller blades. They touched down briefly, then sank beneath a low ridge.

I tried to call the sheriff, but my cell phone battery was dead.

The helicopter rose above the ridge, when I believe they saw my van sitting on the road. They took off, straight and very fast back toward the highway. Clearly they were not having engine troubles. And clearly this sort of activity cannot be legal. I was also concerned because our neighboring rancher has about 30 horses in the same area the deer were being harassed. The horses I saw did not seem to be upset, but who knows how long this would have gone on had I not stopped the van.

I started heading for home again, drove a couple miles further, when what do I see in the road? Our two dogs, Donut and Rico. Over 12 miles from home! I'm positive they were following Number One and the cows to Colorado. "Need any help??"

Thankfully our dogs are trained, and they were tired, so they both loaded up in the van with Mia. Donut (not a small dog) sat on H-Bomb's lap for a minute until I found him a spot on the floor.

We finally made it home, and I emailed the sheriff and the wildlife law enforcement ranger about the helicopter harassing the deer. I didn't have much information to go on, but I'm hopeful. I really haven't seen very many bright red helicopters around these parts.

UPDATE: I heard back from the wildlife law enforcement guy (a friend of ours), who told me that he had made some calls and the helicopter was part of a wildlife capture program. They are capturing deer and putting radio collars on them so they can track their movements around the county. He thanked me for the report, as sometimes people are stupid and chasing wildlife with helicopters (or ATVs, snowmobiles, etc.) IS illegal and dangerous.

Some Things Just Don't Mix...

We went shopping yesterday, at the closest "city" around...which happens to be in the next state. There are a couple good restaurants we frequent when we go there, and yesterday we chose to eat at the little Chinese place. Everything is good, the prices are reasonable, and the staff is friendly.

We sit down, order our food, and start on our soup/salads when we hear some guy apparently setting up his guitar for some live music. In a Chinese place? Okaaaaay....At noon on a Tuesday? Whatev. We were dealing with the weirdness...

Until he started to play. The very first song included lyrics like "are your garments spotless, are they white as snow" AND "are you Washed in the Blood of the Lamb." Over and over and over again.

Excuse me, I'm trying to eat. I know what you are referencing, and quite honestly it is none of your business. Not to mention the fact that lamb blood sorta stains white garments. (sorry, I couldn't resist).

It just got worse from there. Not only was the guy monotone and slightly off-key, he managed to make Every Single Song sound the SAME. I can't remember his second song, it was something about Jesus again. I was relieved when he sang a poor rendition of "Mr. Bojangles" next, but then he managed to make "What a Wonderful World" sound exactly like "Mr. Bojangles." Seriously. All the songs sounded the same! How does a person accomplish that?

After two normal songs, it was back to Jesus. In a Chinese restaurant. Talk about incongruous.

Dude, if we wanted to go to church, we would!

We just tried to quickly finish up our food and get out of there before we burst into flames.

Christmas Tree Success!

Taking two boys into the mountains to chop down a Christmas tree is a fun family tradition, right? We picked H-Bomb up from school at 1:00pm on Friday, ran a couple (from a list of never-ending) errands, and we were off. We drove up the mountain road from the town side, which is only plowed for a few miles up. We only passed one other truck, and they were headed down. We had forgotten to bring hot chocolate, but fortunately I remembered to grab the rest of the cookies! Sawed Off had fallen asleep on the way to town, so I stayed in the truck with him, crocheting a scarf, while H-Bomb and Number One took off into the forest.

The only tree they found was at least 20 feet tall, which is most definitely too big for the house, not to mention quite against the rules of Christmas Tree harvesting permits.

Number One decided he and H-Bomb would sled down the road. He suggested I call and order a pizza, which would be ready by the time we got back to town. Check. I was starving.

Incidentally, and this is pretty funny, I remember when I first moved here, driving up into the mountains in my little Festiva and encountering some kids on a sled. Their whole family was up there sledding, and I thought is was stupid and dangerous: sledding on the road??? we could have run over them! (not even close)

So now, my husband and my two young boys (because Sawed Off had just woken up at the critical sled-loading moment and did NOT want to be left behind) took off sledding down the mountain road. Despite what one might think, the sled did not go fast at all. There was absolutely no traffic, and we could have heard them coming for miles. So don't judge me. I followed behind, in the truck, inching forward so slowly that I was able to crochet AND keep moving. Indeed, sometimes Number One had to pull the sled, so I just parked and crocheted a few rows, then caught up again.

I had eaten more than my share of the cookies, and was still hungry. Thank goodness we had a pizza waiting for us down the mountain. When Number One and the boys had more than enough of the "sledding" and played in the snow for a while and threw some snowballs, we loaded up in the truck and went to the pizza place.

Over nice warm pizza, we decided that there was only one place to go for a Christmas tree. That is up the mountain road from our side, where we always go, but which is never plowed. We had seen some tire tracks on the road, and honestly we are usually the ones making the tracks.

It was getting to be late afternoon, so I was a little nervous about going too far on the road (especially knowing how slow our little sled travels) So we stopped when we saw some trees. We didn't find the tree for our house, but we did find a tree for the boys.

Now I have to tell you about this little tradition we have, that my dad started. When I was in college, he suggested that I take a little tree to school for my dorm room. I did, and it was so fun. My roommate said it put her little fake tree to shame. We even decorated our mini fridge to look like a fireplace and hung stockings on it. So much fun!

So anyway, when H-Bomb was little, we were in Michigan for Christmas, and Grandpa took him out to chop down his very own little tree, to put in his room (which is still decorated with the Super Sweet Semi-Truck wallpaper). We put lights on it, and a few ornaments, and H-Bomb was in heaven. Santa even left a present under his little tree! So special!

So every year, we let the boys choose a small tree and put it in their room. They love it. And sometimes Santa still remembers to leave a little present!


This year, H-Bomb hauled the tree over to the sled, and then the two boys pulled it to the truck together. Precious.


Hopefully in their selective memories, they will forget their crying about the sled not going "all the way" down the hill that occurred just after we loaded their tree on the truck. Number One said it wasn't a Christmas tree hunt until someone was crying about something.

We loaded everyone in the truck and headed up the mountain. The thing you need to realize about Number One is that he will just keep driving and driving if you don't say something like, "Ooh, there's one!" So we drove 8 miles up the mountain, to the turnoff to the lake, which is only 10 miles from town. In other words, we were just a few miles from the place we had started on the town side of the mountain. The tracks we were following kept going, but we didn't want to follow them all the way. Besides, Number One said we'd probably find the truck that made them, stuck up there.

The pickings were slim where we stopped, but everyone got out of the truck anyway so there was no turning back. I found a cute tree that was really too short, just over 6 feet tall. We figured it would look like a dwarf under our new 9 foot ceilings, but believe me, that tree was my backup plan!

Sawed Off was having a hard time walking through the snow. H-Bomb was getting frustrated because I had told the boys to stay together, but Sawed Off couldn't keep up. Number One was getting frustrated because he couldn't find a tree and it was getting late. This is the stuff of holiday memories!

I took a deep breath and this picture of the sun setting over the canyons below us.


I found a tree that I thought would work. We were putting it in the corner of our dining room, so I figured we could hide the hole in the back. It was about the right height, although Number One thought it was too tall. I said we could make it work. We all just wanted to go home for hot chocolate.

Number One chopped it down too quickly for me to take many pictures.

Let me tell you this: a 9-foot tall Christmas tree is a heavy mother.

And as we both were dragging this tree UP a damn hill to the truck, the screaming began in earnest. H-Bomb had snow in his boots, yet refused to walk to the truck OR sit down so I could dump out his boots. Sawed Off got stuck, or got snow in his mittens, or what I honestly don't remember. The decibels out in the middle of nowhere are exaggerated, so the deafening screams replaced the deafening sounds of silence. Number One and I wrangled the tree to the side of the road. I laid down in the snow, ears bleeding.

H-Bomb made it to the truck, still screaming. Number One carried Sawed Off through the snow to the truck. At least he wasn't screaming any more.

Somehow we managed to get that tree UP onto the truck bed. H-Bomb took off his boots, I gave him my heavy gloves to put on his feet, which of course he refused. I can't remember how I convinced him to stop screaming and crying. Oh my. I know this is the start of Seasonal Selective Memory (SSM), which will cause us to attempt the very same thing next year.

Let's just hope I remember the hot chocolate.

We got the tree into the house and up in the stand amazingly without incident. It is even fairly straight. Number One put the lights on, and we set up our new Christmas train! We should have gotten C batteries in bulk from Costco, because we are going to need them.

Happy Holidays!

Christmas Tree Hunt

We had big plans today to find our Christmas tree. After school, of course. What we didn't count on was the time adding up for all our errands:

• a bag of spinach for dinner (and snacks for the ride home)
  
• a new pressure switch for the well
• a saw for cutting down the tree
• a Christmas Tree Permit (and a forest ranger wanting to chat for 15 minutes +)
• a sled to take to school and a new tube sled for pulling behind the four wheeler
• H-Bomb having to go potty Right Now.

And then it was 4:00 and the sun was already sinking behind the mountains. And it was cold. But, we really want a tree!!, so we went anyway.

We heard about a place to get a tree~close to town! trees close to the road! they got a fabulous one!~ from two different people, so we decided to go there.

It's a little slice of National Forest, sandwiched between two sections of private property. The road was plowed, but we didn't see much "close to the road." There was a road heading off the main road, but it wasn't plowed, and although there was a set of tracks, there's really just too much snow to try it in the truck.


We stopped the truck anyway, got the boys out, piled them on the new sled and took off. Slowly. The snow was a good 12" deep, we hadn't brought snow shoes, and the sled just sank into the snow with two boys on it. They got frustrated when they got snow in their faces. We got frustrated trudging through the foot of snow pulling a heavy sled.

We didn't see any good trees.

Sawed Off fell off the sled, landing on his face. We decided to head back to the truck and eat cookies and wait for Daddy.

Daddy came back empty-handed, so we'll try again tomorrow. (school is out at 1:00 tomorrow! plenty of time!)

At least we were rewarded with this glorious sunset all the way home.

H-Bomb's Photography Class

The only thing I signed H-Bomb up for this whole summer was a 4-H photography "class." We went to it yesterday. The kids were given a disposable camera and divided into groups. They learned a bit about viewpoint, composition, and "trick" photography. H-Bomb took a couple extra photos with my digital camera.




The rest of the photos will be developed tomorrow, and if there are any good ones I'll share them. H-Bomb and the rest of the kids get to pick one favorite photo and enter them in the County Fair in August.


On the way home, we stopped and picked some flowers. It's that time of year again! (I took the flower photo)

We Have The Power!

Okay, I just couldn't resist. Sorry. If you're anywhere near my age, you remember exactly how He-Man used to say this, back in the 80's.

Anyway, our favorite electrician (who happens to share the name of an 80's pop singer! How fun! Exact same spelling, even!) came down to the ranch on Saturday. And found the problem with the electric line in about 10 minutes. Can you imagine. We've been without power in half of our house for Almost Eight (8) WEEKS. That is almost two months, people, of living with an extension cord trailing down the hall to a lamp in the bathroom, then moving the lamp-with-extension-cord into H-Bomb's room for story time, and unplugging lamp from same extension cord in order to attach it to the microwave oven. (and hoping no one has to go to the bathroom in the two minutes it takes to nuke a burrito or what-have-you). No lights whatsoever in the bathroom, living room or playroom. Almost TWO MONTHS.

>>>Here is an aside. Why did we only have the one extension cord? Well, I did try to buy one for the microwave, but I got it home and it wasn't a three-prong cord, so it wouldn't work. We didn't want to overload the circuits we still had with a bunch of extension cords. We needed the long cord to reach from the kitchen to the bathroom, so we just made do--we just dragged it back over to the microwave when we needed it, fairly infrequently. When you live down here for an extended period of time, you just learn to make do with things for a while, until they can get fixed. It seems like it is always something. Some people don't understand this.<<<

So the electrician, whom I suggested we call, oh about two months ago, located the problem in ten minutes: evidently one of the electrical wires running from the generator had gotten nicked, who knows when or how. But likely Wifey's obsessive over-watering this summer (there is still standing water, less than a foot underground, and we live in the freaking desert. Obsessive, I say firmly. Too much!) exacerbated the problem, said the electrician. Likely sped up the corrosion process. The wire completely corroded until it no longer made the connection, which is why we lost half our power. Here is part of the offending wire:


The electrician had the problem completely fixed in less than two hours. It would have saved so much if we had been allowed to call him in the first place. Now there are holes everywhere along the electrical line, dug by CG's brothers, that Number One must fill. Luckily we lost only one lamp when someone tripped over the extension cord, and no one cut their little foot on light bulb fragments.

So anyway. We have power now, everywhere we need it. Just in time for Thanksgiving. Wahoo!

And incidentally, the electrician commented that the contractor (small town!) had given him the plans for our addition, but he didn't realize it was for our addition. So electrician said he would get on the bid for the electrical portion, since the job is for us! Power and Progress too!

Cowgirl...Soccer Mom

Can you believe it? Sweet little H-Bomb is playing soccer. In Kindergarten. He really wanted to play, and it only lasts 6 weeks, so here we are. New shoes and shin guards and sweat pants. Practice two days a week, and one “game” each week. Unfortunately one of the practice days is Saturday, so we miss a lot of those. We’ve got quite a few Saturdays planned out already, and soccer didn’t fit in.

The games, on Tuesdays, are hilarious. A bunch of Kindergartners and First Graders, running around the field. Or not. Chasing after the ball. Or a flying plastic bag. Or a dog. Whatever. Usually most of the kids are standing up at least. Sometimes a couple will sit or lie down on the field. We’re definitely still in the “don’t use your hands!” stage. It’s fun. Number One and I have made an effort to learn all the kids’ names so we can cheer them all on, even though we still cheer the loudest for H-Bomb, who excitedly tells us at the end of the game how many times he kicked the ball. (Last game, it was Three Times!)

H-Bomb’s team has two good players on it, one of whom is a First Grader, and the other of whom should be a First Grader because he is six years old. But he was in H-Bomb’s preschool, and here he is in Kindergarten, and now on H-Bomb’s soccer team. (There’s at least one other six-year-old Kindergartner on the team, unfortunately not so good).

Here in our small town, I’ve run into this curiosity: Parents hold their kids back in school. Not for any academic reason, or any learning issues or any other logical reason, but in order for them to be better at sports. This seems not only, how shall I say this…stupid to me, but also quite unfair. Especially to the younger kids, the appropriately-aged kids who should be allowed to play and learn and fumble with other kids their age, instead of automatically having to compete with kids who are bigger, faster and more experienced.

I realize this is life, but it just seems like this small town has got their priorities messed up. Kids will always have to deal with other kids being stronger, faster, better at one thing or another. But why stack the deck against them from the start?

I am ecstatic that during our parent/teacher conference yesterday, H-Bomb’s teacher commented on his excellent reading comprehension and love of reading. So what if he can’t yet “dribble” a soccer ball from one end of the field to the other. He’s no David Beckham, and he probably never will be. But he will continue to love reading and learning and be smart, probably smarter than any of the other kids whose parents want them to excel at sports. I guess I’ll take it. Perhaps he won’t have much competition from kids who are “smarter” because they’ll be too involved in sports all the time to care about how smart they could have been.

Tales of a Toilet

Since Number One broke our toilet, we have been using the one in the bunk house, which is empty right now. Mostly H-Bomb pees in the yard or in the road (we do live in the country, it’s acceptable to do so) but for, shall we say, big jobs, we all have to walk next door. It’s not a huge deal, but it is an inconvenience.

I ordered a toilet from amazon.com, despite the only review it received stating something to the effect of: “Received toilet in pieces. Twice.” I crossed my fingers and ordered it anyway. Then, if you remember, amazon shipped it FedEx. I began to lose all hope.

A couple days later, while I was in town, the FedEx Express guy showed up at the ranch. He tipped the box back and forth for Wifey, so she could hear that the porcelain sounded like so much gravel at the bottom of the box. Wifey refused delivery, and FedEx guy told her if I placed another order, he would be back on Friday.

Wifey texted me this information, and when I returned to the ranch Wednesday night, I placed another order with amazon. No, we still don’t have internet service in town. Backwards, I know.

In the meantime, I saw FedEx guy in town on Thursday. He asked if we had ordered a replacement, and said “see you tomorrow then.”

On Friday in town, I managed to get an internet signal for about two seconds, long enough for me to receive an email from CG’s bookkeeper, who said FedEx guy was trying to call me about the toilet.

I called him and told him where to meet me at the town house. He showed me the box full of toilet shards. “Do you want to refuse delivery again?” he asked.

“Uhhh. Yes,” I replied.

“So let me show you what I did,” FedEx guy said. (Keep in mind this is FedEx Express, a totally separate company from FedEx Ground. Just ignore the advertising and trust me on this). He walked around to the side of his vehicle and opened the door. “I knew you were in a bind down there, so when I went through town [60 miles away from the ranch]…I bought you guys a toilet.”

He went on to say that we didn’t have to take it if we didn’t want it, it didn’t seem to have some of the features the one we had ordered did, but if we wanted it, we could buy it from him. If not, he could return it to the plumbing supply store the following day.

I couldn’t believe it. He totally went out of his way to try to help us out. However, with our upcoming trip to The Big City, we had anticipated buying a toilet of our own. I thanked him profusely for trying to help, but told him we were going to pick one up ourselves.

I still can’t quite believe it. If only someone, anyone at all from stupid FedEx Ground would read this blog and take note. They still claim they can’t even “find” our 6,000 acre ranch…

Amazon would not send out a third toilet, just gave us a refund. We put a toilet on our list for the Big City.

The Daily Grind: To School And Back

School here started three weeks ago, and we are just getting the hang of our little routine. I decided a while ago that I would drive to and from school most days, so we would still get to spend time with Daddy. Also, I’m not sure how exactly I was convinced that 35 miles was too far of a commute—it’s really not that bad. The better we get at our morning routine, the easier the commute becomes. Silly.

So, three days a week, H-Bomb, Sawed Off and I drive back and forth from the ranch to school. We leave the ranch at 10:AM, so we’re in town by 11:AM. We stop at the town house (which H-Bomb and Sawed Off call “the new house”), eat a quick lunch and exchange the van for the bike and bike trailer. We bike the five whopping blocks to school, uphill all the way, to drop off H-Bomb. (although it's not much, hauling a bike trailer with 60-70 pounds of boys in it definitely increases the exercise factor--and it adds up to at least 20 blocks per day! I am already feeling more, um, toned.)

Sawed Off and I bike back, stopping at the post office to get the mail and running any additional errands. At the new house, Sawed Off gets into all of H-Bomb’s art supplies and I follow him around with baby wipes. Why exactly is it that baby wipes clean marker off of everything from walls to leather chairs, but will not clean "washable" marker off skin?

I’ve since put the markers up, but it seems like there is always a stray, and Sawed Off always manages to find it.

I do some work on other projects, but I never seem to get very much accomplished all at once. I think this is a typical situation in motherhood…a short three hours later, we get on the bike again and go pick up H-Bomb. Sawed Off misses his big brother so much; there are always some nice hugs in the afternoon.

We spend the night in town one night a week, because every Friday H-Bomb has two hours of school instead of three hours (everyone else in school has a half day). In addition, school on Fridays starts 45 minutes earlier for the afternoon session. Although I’m sure we could make it here 45 minutes earlier, the logistics of our routine begin to break down: no time for a snack before school, things like that. We just spend the night because we can, and it makes Friday mornings just a bit easier.

Spending the night in town, we make some kind of dinner in the toaster oven, talk about the day, read books, create art. It is nice without a television. We do have one here, but of course there are no stations since we don’t have a satellite dish or cable. It’s just here for looks, I suppose, until I unhook our extra DVD player at the ranch and haul it in here.

The boys, used to quiet ranch living, complain about the noises in town. The traffic. The street lights. The head lights. The people walking by, talking. I complain about these things too. Man it’s hard to sleep here. We bring Mia to town when we’re spending the night so she doesn’t get too lonely. She is also our protector, especially when Daddy isn’t around. I don’t want to spend more than one night a week in town, or I fear I would be even more exhausted than I perpetually am.

The main thing I dislike about the town house? Besides the noisy and the lights, of course…The lack of Internet service! The house is just a block from the visitor center, so I was really hoping to pick up their free wireless signal, but no such luck. We are going to have to address this issue very soon. Occasionally my computer will pick up a random wireless signal, probably from one of the neighbors, but they’re either not strong enough or password protected. I thought of befriending some of the neighbors, but then my Real Simple magazine suggested it was “too tacky” to ask a neighbor for their wireless password. So I guess we’ll just buy our own, if we can ever get an Internet company to recognize our address: which, if there happens to be an Internet company reading this post, HAS BEEN EXACTLY THE SAME SINCE THE HOUSE WAS BUILT IN 1935. There, I said it. I’ll say this, too: You guys are dumb. Can’t locate the house?! Just because it doesn’t come up on your computer, does not mean the address does not exist. Sheesh.

We’re also adding another item to our agenda for the next six weeks: Soccer! H-Bomb was so excited, he wanted to play soccer. The first practice was on Saturday, which meant ANOTHER trip to town. Ugh. I asked the coach to schedule practices after school, any day but Saturday. Luckily the soccer “games” are on Tuesdays, so that’s not an issue. What I don’t understand, though, there is one “practice” on Saturday, and then on the very next Tuesday, there is a “game.” Huh? This oughta be fun to see—a bunch of five- and six-year-olds, running around after a ball, not knowing the first thing about what to do with it. I’ll be sure to bring the video camera.

H-Bomb has come down with another cold, number two in a string of many, I’m sure. He didn’t feel like going to his very first soccer practice, but we went anyway to get the schedule. He ended up making it through the whole practice! Although he really felt like laying down and taking a nap, he said he had fun. And, at least he wasn’t the only kid sitting down in the middle of the field near the end—the “fat kid” was sitting down as well, and for the record, that kid sat down first!

Unfortunately for us, practices have been scheduled for Thursdays and…Saturdays. I guess H-Bomb will just miss several of them as we already have plans. At least Thursday is our regular stay-the-night-in-town night, so it will be perfect.

Now that the house is somewhat in order, I’m finding I have more time to work on other things, like the two necklace orders I currently have. I’m hoping to get enough jewelry made to start selling some online, so stay tuned for that. Hopefully soon...

Plumbing and Other Updates

First, plumbing. Number One has redone the plumbing under the kitchen sink...twice? I have lost track. Perhaps three times. And it was still leaking. He finally just took a whole can (jar?) of plumber's putty, and molded it around just about every joint, and I don't think it is leaking now. I hope it's not leaking now.

At this point, we cannot WAIT for our new, professionally installed kitchen. Except, well, we do have to wait, since the bid hasn't even come in yet. But we are wholeheartedly looking forward to it!

The same day he "finished" the kitchen sink plumbing, I had asked him to replace the flush lever on our toilet. Ours was so old and corroded that H-Bomb couldn't even flush it anymore, which made for some rather unpleasant surprises in the bathroom. Plus, you had to hold it down until the flush was complete, and then manually return it to the "up" position, hoping all the while the flap inside the tank had closed. Not easy for anyone involved.

So, after the kitchen sink plumbing was thoroughly puttied, he took his tools into the bathroom. He touched the flush lever with his wrench...then he started yelling "Oh No! I need something! Help!" and I ran back there. The entire tank had CRACKED. I couldn't help it, I started laughing. Hard. It was hilarious. I emptied the bathroom garbage can and he wedged it under the tank, which was entirely full of water, as toilet tanks tend to be, and leaking all over the bathroom floor. Hilarious, I say.

Although I have never looked for one specifically, I honestly have never seen a toilet for sale in any store in our teeny-tiny town. And I wasn't willing to drive around looking for one, when just to town and back is almost 70 miles. I found a toilet on amazon, available in 5 business days. Shipping, it turns out, was probably less than the cost of fuel for driving back and forth to the nearest city.

Unfortunately, there is one problem with this amazon toilet scenario: amazon shipped the darn thing FedEx. And you know how much we like FedEx. I will keep you posted, I believe the toilet is currently in Denver...hopefully we will get it within the month.

In the meantime, we are using the bunk house toilet, and the boys are occasionally peeing outside.

In other news, it looks like Woody and Jessie are here to stay. CG has decided she likes them, and even convinced Wifey to take care of them sometimes.

Also, I have decided that the boys and I will not be staying at our town house during the week. It's just too hard without Daddy there, and we all miss him. We will only stay in town on Thursday nights, due to the fact that H-Bomb's Kindergarten starts almost an hour earlier on Fridays. It's just easier for us to already be in town rather than rushing around to get ready an hour earlier and having to drive almost an hour. That way, we can still be at the ranch, take care of the garden and the goats, and even see Daddy sometimes when he's not on the mountain. I know this whole school thing will get easier for me, and H-Bomb LOVES going to school. Sawed Off misses his big brother during the day, and sometimes has a hard time leaving him at school. It's so cute. There are big hugs all around at the end of each school day, which I wouldn't trade for anything.

And don't forget, my photo of Number One shoeing his horse has been submitted to the State Fair. We are even going to travel to the Big City in a week or two to check out the competition and see how my photo did, so stay tuned!

That's all I can think of for right now. I have several projects in the works, I will post about them in a while...I need to get busy!

A Real, Live Polygamist!

Tony Gutierrez/AP Photo

Although I've heard rumors of polygamists, and certainly nearby states have had their share of news coverage recently, I'd never seen a real, live polygamist before. That is, until TODAY.

Number One stopped by the feed store to buy dog food. The feed store is run by the owners of the thrift store, so you have to go in the thrift store to get them to come out to the feed store to sell you animal feed.

I usually just sit in the car during this whole process. But today, I decided to peek in the thrift store for some reason.

I walked in, and some creepy kid asked me if I was "looking for some i-tems." I did a loop, was walking towards the book section, when I caught a glimpse of her. Unmistakable, but in my mind I did a double-take. Was that...Prairie Garb? Was her hair...That High?

I honestly tried not to be conspicuous as I walked around to get a second look. Her hair certainly was that high, with a braid down to her hips. If the height of her hair and the length of her braid is indicative of her closeness to her prophet, that chick is RIGHTEOUS. She was wearing typical, denim-looking home-made prairie garb, long sleeves, high neck and all, in the heat of the desert summer. She made brief eye contact, with me in my skin-exposing capris, short sleeves and sandals. What a heathen. I wanted to ask her how many sister-wives she has. How old she is. How old her husband is. How many children she has. But I didn't ask any of those things. I just smiled, friendly-like, I hope.

What puzzled me was that she was alone. She also only had one child with her, a baby in a carrier. I couldn't peruse any longer without drawing attention, plus Number One was surely ready to go. I left the store, anxious to tell him what I had seen. He and I contemplated her situation as we waited for her to come out of the store. What was she driving? Are they even allowed to drive? Was she making a break for it? But we didn't want to be caught in our semi-stalking act, so we left before she came out.

Maybe next time, if there is a next time, I'll get up the courage to say hello. And if I happen to find the answers to any of my questions, you'll read them here.

Perhaps We SHOULD Home School

Learning about Tallahassee, Florida during "Foreign Friends" week isn't the only thing. The rest of the story came out during dinner, when H-Bomb proclaimed "they have crocodiles in Tallahassee, Florida!"

"Um, no, they're alligators."

"Well, Tallahassee, Florida is at the ocean."

"Uh, I don't think so. Let me mapquest it. Nope, it's 20 miles from the ocean."

If this is an example of what the kids are learning in preschool, I don't have much faith in Kindergarten and beyond. Time will tell.

I wonder if I should take my passport the next time we visit Florida, just in case it's true?

Life in a Small Town

I just think this is funny. I realize that resources from the outside world are limited in the small town in which we live. Here's what happened:

H-Bomb is going to preschool. It's a preschool run by a very nice lady, out of her home. He attends twice per week, for two hours per day. This week, the theme was "Foreign Friends."

On Tuesday, I went to pick up H-Bomb, and the teacher was mixing up some Hawaiian hot chocolate. Exotic, perhaps, but foreign? It had bananas in it. It was delicious, but I'm quite sure that one of these United States is not foreign.

Today, H-Bomb was the leader, which meant he got to bring snack. He requested muffins with pine nuts, so I rounded up a recipe on the Internet. Orange Marmie Muffins with Cardamom Pine Nut Streusel. These are excellent muffins, and cardamom just happens to be from India. (although our jar is actually Guatemalan...primarily from India, then)

After school, I asked him what else he had learned about. He had taken toys for Show and Tell from France, a Lucky Luke figurine that was a gift from our friend Jean-Claude; and from Mexico, a colorfully painted wooden fish we acquired on our trip to Zihuatanejo, Mexico. (P.S. Ukko, H-Bomb is wondering when we can go back to Mexico to the ocean. Just so you're aware.) For crafts, they had made little Mexican lanterns out of construction paper, and had glued sparkly streamers to sticks. I asked H-Bomb what country the streamers were from.

"Tallahassee, Florida," he replied.

"Oh really?" I said, "Tallahassee, Florida is in the United States."

"But the United States is a country," H-Bomb said.

"Yes, but it's not foreign. It's our country!"

He went on to tell me that they had also had crackers with "spicy white stuff" that he tried and loved. I asked him what country that was from, and he responded, "It's not from a country. It's from Tallahassee, Florida too."

Hmmm. Exotic. I'll have to ask the teacher about this Tallahassee, Florida business next week.

The Mountain Road

There are two ways to get to town from the ranch. You can drive 20 miles out, then jump on the highway (just a two-lane deal, don't get excited) and drive 14 miles in to town. It's pretty quick, but you have to watch out for cows, deer, sometimes horses and other animals.

Or, you can drive about 10 miles out and head up into the mountains. The mountain road winds around for about 18 miles until you get to town. It is scenic and you usually see all kinds of animals: cows, deer, coyotes, sometimes a bear. If you know the mountain road, it ends up being a bit faster than heading all the way out to the highway. But there is one little problem:

The mountain road isn't maintained in the winter. That means, no snow removal until the spring thaw. A Travel At Your Own Risk kind of deal.

Usually, I take the mountain road when I am driving H-Bomb to preschool. It's been fun all fall, seeing what animals we can see, having the road essentially to ourselves every morning, and playing H-Bomb's favorite made-up game: Are We At Town YET?

Last week, the day after Thanksgiving, we got snow at the ranch. A lot of snow. But just that one day. H-Bomb didn't have school until the following Tuesday, and I'm originally from Michigan (so I'm used to driving in the snow, plowing through drifts in my little Ford Festiva or occasionally my parent's car. Wait. I didn't just admit that, did I?). So I didn't think anything of it.

On Tuesday, we turned onto the mountain road, as usual. And at first, it was fine. There was no snow in sight. Yet the higher we drove, the more snow appeared. (can you imagine?) Of course it hadn't been plowed at all, but there had been traffic on it. We were driving the minivan. It doesn't have any snow tires, but I wasn't worried. The Festiva had wheelbarrow tires and a lawnmower engine, and I took that thing everywhere.

It is a bit different when you have kids. I must clarify that during this drive I was a bit nervous, but not enough to turn around. I did figure we could walk to town if we had to. I had the stroller in the back. We would have been fine. H-Bomb would have been late for school, but we would have been fine.

The road got snowier and snowier. There was ice underneath, I could feel the tires slipping occasionally. A couple times I put the van in low gear, and then I just kept on going until we made it up some hills. If I had stopped, there would have been no going on, and we were beyond the point of no return--too close to town and over some hills that I did not want to attempt again. I am a cautious driver, a good driver. In Michigan, even when they "plow" the roads there is a sheet of ice underneath packed snow from December until April. So I have some experience with this type of driving.

And we made it, of course. There was no point that was so treacherous that I thought we were in trouble. Not in the least. And despite all this H-Bomb was STILL the very first kid at school. Some lady in the grocery store looked at me like I was crazy when I said I came over the mountain. But she looks like a ma-a-a-an, baby, so what does she know?

But I will tell you this:

As far as we are concerned, unless there is a big thaw in early December, that road is Closed for us. We'll be travelling on the highway from now until Spring.

Unless we get a snowmobile.

An Unfortunate Deer In A Small Town

This is not the actual deer.

A week or so ago, we went to our house in town and there was a little mule deer in the yard, laying down. It watched us warily, but didn't move. We circled around it completely, checking on our ripening pears, apples, etc. The deer didn't budge or even seem very nervous. Our house is a block from Main Street, so maybe it was used to people?

We should have guessed there was something wrong with it.

On Tuesday, I took H-Bomb to preschool. Sawed-Off and I ran some errands, and then I noticed something in the yard. I thought, oh! it must be that deer, maybe it's asleep. I walked closer, and it was dead, flies a-buzzin' dead. Gross. I knew that if #1 came to town and it was still there, he might feel compelled to take care of it himself. But, being that our house is in a town, I felt like there should be someone on the town payroll to take care of these kinds of things.

I didn't know who to call, so I called the Sheriff's Office. They told me to call The City, it's The City's responsibility.

I called The City. They told me to call the Police.

I called the Police. They told me to call Some Guy. But then they checked with Some Guy while I was on the phone, and he only takes care of roadkill on the highway. They then told me I should call the Dept. of Wildlife guy. Told me the Sheriff has DWR's phone number, which neither one of us could find in the phone book.

I called the Sheriff back. He gave me DWR's office and home numbers, and said if DWR won't do it, call him back and he'll "push some buttons. It's really The City's responsibility."

So, I called DWR at both office and home, left some messages. Went to pick up H-Bomb from school, an hour or so later still hadn't heard back from DWR.

I called the Sheriff again. Told him I hadn't heard from DWR, but I'd really like the dead deer out of my yard. He said he would "make it happen."

The boys and I went for pizza, ran another errand, and guess what? No dead deer in the yard. Finalmente.

I bet The City is real happy with me.

It's A Small Town, After All

So a while ago, I complained to the Febreze people (I think technically Proctor and Gamble) or maybe I just commented to them that it sucks that their sprayer thingie on the bottles always leaks and drips and runs down your hand and send huge droplets of Febreze onto whatever you're spraying. Seems like they could fix that pretty easily. They sent me two coupons: Free Febreze, Any Size, Any Type.

Today, I took my two coupons in to the teeny-tiny local grocery. I purchased two huge refill size Febrezes, they're free, might as well. Now, these coupons don't look like a standard colorful, Sunday-newspaper-type coupon. They were the standard manufacturer's coupon, complete with watermark and hologram-type things. So, I hand the checkout girl my coupons and tell her they're for the Febreze.

**Rest assured, it will take you less time to read this that it took for me to get out of that damn grocery.**

She looks at them. For a long time. She scans one, and the register asks her to input the amount. It is painfully obvious what she needs to do here. The register display says: "Enter coupon amount." She calls someone up to the register.

Someone else comes up, looks at the coupons. Reads them. Notices the "one coupon per purchase" rule. I say, "so take one Febreze off, I'll do a separate purchase." No problem, right? They are acting put out. A line is forming behind me. They scan the coupon again, and after discussing it, they enter the price: 7.99. Then they discuss whether to take the 2nd Febreze off. Then they finally take it off. I pay my bill. And only now does it get interesting.

She scans the Febreze bottle that she previously removed from my cart. And she stands there. And the other woman stands there. AS IF they have never before seen this Free Febreze coupon that just happens, miracle of miracles, to be EXACTLY THE SAME as the last coupon. (gasp!) I say, helpfully, "just scan it in like you did the last one."

The 2nd woman says, "She doesn't want to mess anything up." I say, "...mess anything up? It's a COUPON, just scan it like the last one." (I used to work in a grocery store, I know these little tricks) They call ANOTHER PERSON to come up and help them. I kid you not. I look behind me at the next person in line, shrug and mouth the words, "It's just a coupon??" And she laughs. H-Bomb, on the other hand, is hungry and tired after preschool and is getting antsy. He wants to go. I say, "Honey, I'm sorry this is taking SO long. We'll be able to go soon."

The 3rd person comes up. Luckily I recognize her as a Woman with a Brain. The other two ask her what to do. She says, "Just scan it and see what happens." Can we get a group "DUH-HUH" up in he-yah???

Everyone practically holds their breath (except for me and the brainiac) as she scans the coupon. Again, the register asks, "Enter coupon amount." She looks at her two co-workers and asks, "7.99?" Um, yeah, that's the price. The brainiac says, "she will pay the tax." And the total comes to $0.52.

And I should have just put it on my credit card, I really should have. Or I should have brought my purse in. The same way I should have realized that the coupon said "one coupon per purchase" before I tried to use the two coupons for two products at the same time. But, I said, "I'll go get the 52 cents out of the car." And the checkout girl looked questioningly at the braniac. And the brainiac said, "just close it out and take the money when she comes back." I start to run out. The second clerk says, "what about your Febreze?" I tell her I'll grab it when I come back.

Now, not only do I have frozen groceries that I need to get home, I have two boys that are anxious and hungry and don't understand why we have to go back in the store and why they can't just have an animal cracker in the jeep. THANK GOD I had a freakin' dollar in my purse. I normally don't.

I run back, pushing my cart with the boys in. I wait for another transaction with that clerk, and then hand her my dollar. She looks at it. Smoothes it out. Puts it down. Pulls out her cell phone. Starts...typing? Even the clerk next to her says, "Hey, what are you doing?" She doesn't respond, but then starts to open the cash drawer. "I say, OH--Calculator." The other clerk laughs and says, "Yeah, we don't have calculators here. Ha-ha! Did you think she was texting??" "I didn't know..."

Now, here is an aside. I personally believe if you are in ANY kind of position at all where you have to deal with money, whether you work in a bank or a store or a strip club, you should HAVE TO KNOW how to make change.

For this transaction, there are myriad ways to calculate, in your head or even on your fingers, the difference between $1.00 and $0.52. I assume most of you reading this can think of three different ways in your head (and indeed probably saw where this was going about four paragraphs ago) so I won't bore you. She used her little cell phone calculator, and determined that she had to give me 48 cents back. Thank goodness she was able to count out those 48 cents without calling for backup.

After all this, I said Thank You. And she ignored me. So I said it louder, more sing-songy, very politely, again, "THANK YOU." And she ignored me. She turned away from me, toward the other clerk, and said, "I am hungry."

Girl, it ain't my fault they hired you for a job you don't know how to do.

Propane Update

You gotta love small towns. This is the email I just received from C.G.'s bookkeeper regarding the propane:


"No response on the driver’s cell or the office. I called the Superette, who recently transferred their account to So-And-So Fuels, and the clerk directed me to the bar next to So-And-So Fuels. Sure enough, the barkeep found the office person who assured me the driver was on his way to you. I hope that’s true!"


By the way, still no sign of the propane truck at 5:00pm, but, he'll show. He usually does. Although, it is, once again, dinner time. And no propane with which to cook the macaroni and cheese that H-Bomb requested. Dinner time. No propane. Of course.