Last week's blizzard...update

We made a fruitless effort to get to work last Thursday. We managed to get about 1 1/2 miles from the house before we got the beast pickup buried in the snow. After nearly two hours, we got it pulled out using my Suburban (much to my surprise - I figured we'd have to come back & get the tractor). That was enough to convince us both that it wasn't worth it to try to get to work!

The county then came out later that afternoon to begin clearing our roads. More accurately, they brought the road grader out in an attempt to plow a path through the drifts. They made two passes on what we call the "County Line Road" and we noticed the grader wasn't moving. The road is about a mile south of us, but we could still see him down there...not moving. R headed down there to see if he needed help. Sure enough, the county boy had the road grader stuck. How in the hell do you get a road grader stuck?? They ended up calling the neighbor and enlisting his help with a huge 4-wheel drive tractor. Between the tractor and R's pickup, they were able to pull the road grader out.

Mail delivery finally resumed for us on Tuesday of this week, after five days without. Guess that's not too bad considering how difficult it has been to get around. The roads are still terrible, probably six inches of snow & ice packed on the county roads. It has continued to drift in places since last week with the regular winds. R ran the old beast into a snowdrift coming home one night this week...buried it clear up to the hood. Ooops. Our neighbor took his big pickup down there to get R out. He basically has the same pickup, only much newer and shinier! I was glad he was able to help out - I was stuck in town and R would have had to wait about 2 hours for me to get there. Thank goodness we have awesome neighbors - all two of them!

Doesn't look like it's going to get better any time soon, either. Round 2 has started....

"We Ain't Going Nowhere, Ma!"

"We ain't going nowhere, ma". That's pretty much what R said when he finally got home this evening. We're having an early Christmas blizzard and it just keeps pounding us. I'd guess we have close to a foot of snow now, but when he came home, one of our roads had three foot drifts. It took him more than 30 minutes to travel just a few miles...and he was in the "big" pickup. The brute. The one we can always count on to get us around. The one that sometimes gets us in trouble because it takes us places we shouldn't be going. THAT pickup. Hmmm, so how in the hell am I going to get to work tomorrow?

I didn't take the chance of going in today and I'm worried about missing another day. One of my co-workers called this afternoon to see if she could hitch a ride with me tomorrow. She drives a Sunfire that has all of three inches of ground clearance. She's on my way and I'll be happy to take her *if* we're able to go.

Since I've talked to her, they've closed all but two roads in this half of the state. I didn't go to work partially because I was worried they would close the roads while I was there and I didn't want to get stuck in town. Figures they didn't shut down the roads until I would have already been on my way home. Now everything is shutting down, even the post office! I knew we wouldn't have mail delivery clear out here in the middle of nowhere, but to stop the postal service in the entire eastern half of the state? That doesn't happen every day.

Now I'm sitting here listening to the wind. It's been blowing all day, but not howling. This could be bad. Really bad. R's worried about the cows. Storms like this can be really hard on cattle. Thankfully we don't have any that are close to having calves. As long as *I* don't try to have my little calf early, we'll be in good shape!

Growth Spurt!

Wow, talk about a growth spurt...K has grown THREE INCHES since school started. She began preschool this year at 37 inches. We measured her this weekend at 40 inches. Holy Moly!

No wonder she's been complaining about her feet, knees, legs, and hips hurting. All of a sudden, her size 3 pants are inches too short (but still waaaay too big in the waist). I just bought jeans over Labor Day weekend, 2 very cute / hip pairs from Old Navy (I like Old Navy kids because they tend to fit kind of slim). That was six weeks ago and they now come just a little over half-way up her butt. I also just purchased 4 pairs of "foot jammies" as K calls them. You know, those warm, fuzzy, footed blanket sleepers? They were all a size 4 & I thought we'd skate through all winter and well into the spring with them. WRONG! A few nights ago, we notice her shoulders and feet are just about to burst right through the seams.

So, now I have a dilema of finding pants in a size 5 length with a size 2 waist! How am I going to keep clothes on this little toothpick...?

Blueberry Pudding

I woke up this morning craving my Grandma Jeanne's blueberry pudding (which was really more like a cake). I don't keep blueberries on hand and it's unreasonable to "run" to the store 30 miles away to see if they have them. So, I settled for blueberry muffins...out of a box. Hardly what I was after, that's like comparing hotdogs to T-bones, but it sort of satisfied the craving. Sort of...

I seriously started thinking about it and searched through my cook books. I found it, the recipe for GJ's blueberry pudding! I know my cuz has talked about GJ's blueberry pudding, but it's worth mentioning again. You had to eat it HER way the first time you tried it, and as disgusting as it looked, I'm sure many people adopted her way as their way once they tasted it. You had to spread some butter on top, sprinkle with sugar, then pour some cream or milk over the top. We called it "Grandma Jeanne's Mess" and what a wonderful mess it was! I wish I had committed it to memory the last time I had GJ's Mess with my grandparents. I miss them.

Maybe I'll make GJ's Mess for Thanksgiving. Of course, I will insist they try it GJ's way first...

Mother - Daughter Bonding

My Mom came out Friday morning to visit me & K. She brought a "surprise" for us to see. I had accidentially figured it out the day before while talking to her on the phone, but I promised not to tell K. She'd been looking for a puppy all spring & summer, but just hadn't found "the one". She finally found "the one" a couple of weekends ago, but wanted to surprise us by just showing up with her. K was thrilled to meet grandma's new puppy, a St. Bernard she named Bandit (as a tribute to another Saint we loved for a short time many years ago).

After getting acquainted with the new puppy, mom wanted to do a little target shooting. She's preparing for her concealed carry exam and wanted to practice. Poor thing, she lives in the city, so she doesn't have the luxury of stepping out her door and shooting any time she pleases...she actually has to *travel* somewhere (gasp!). We, on the other hand, have the "spare" picnic table set up as part of our permanent rifle range!

Of course, K came along with us. She has her very own "ear muffins" that we got for her, special order. They're just her size and exactly what she picked out. She likes to follow us around picking up the "empties". We were just shooting .22s, which cannot be reloaded, but her service is helpful for dad. He reloads almost everything we shoot.

Anyway, about half-way through a box of shells, my mom stops shooting, laughs a little, and says, "You know, nothing brings a mother an daughter together like shooting the crap out of a paper man!". I had to laugh, too. She's right, it's not every day that three generations of women get together for target practice. I'm sure she'll pass her test. She landed plenty of shots right in the family jewels! I blasted away at his head & chest, so I'm sure, between the two of us, we killed the creep.

Yep, nothing like a little mother - daughter bonding.

The Pig Sale

Last Saturday, we trekked almost 200 miles to sell pigs. Yes, it sounds crazy, but the price is so much better going to this particular sale barn, it's worth the trip. We were running late and almost missed the hog sale, but they squeezed us in and we got a decent price for them. We stopped to visit R's aunt & uncle "on the way" home (it was only about 60 miles out of the way) and didn't get home until almost midnight Saturday night.

I checked our phone messages Sunday morning. We had received several phone calls Saturday from a family that had a boar hog R wanted to buy. He called them back right away and made arrangements to get it later that afternoon (driving another 200+ miles round-trip).

Well, here's the funny thing...these people had also traveled to the very same sale the day before...and purchased every single one of the pigs we had taken! :-) Don't they realize how much easier it would have been to just meet half-way and exchange animals and money? We're still laughing about that one, but K was happy to know where "Waggy" pig was living now....

'Til The Cows Come Home

I've been down for the count these past few weeks (long story), but finally felt up to taking a ride with R & K to go check up on the cows Saturday evening. We have them pastured about 20 miles from home on a HUGE piece of grass. They have more than enough to eat and water is always running, but we (meaning R) still try to run up there several times a week, K loves to go along and check up on the "babies"...who are now probably weighing in around 350 pounds! They still look so darn cute, though!

I'm always amused by how they come running when we pull into the pasture driving his pickup. It's funny, if we take *my* vehicle, they just kind of wander towards us to check things out, but in the pickup, it's a different story. These big fat cows come running full speed towards us...literally kicking up dust.

Most people have cows that pretty much ignore them, but not R. They come right to the door of the pickup and stick their heads in to get a good scratch behind the ears, just like a dog mightv! And of course, they all have names or affectionate numbers. Baby Girl, Tanner, and #15 were some of my bottle babies. Between them, they've probably raised 7 or 8 calves already. Then there's Lop Ear. Well, she has a bent ear. K named one of the bulls George. Guess he just looked like a "George" to her (and this was LONG before a certain monkey movie came out). The list goes on.

R's thinking of brining them home when he gets back from his hunting trip in a couple of weeks. He worries about them when they're away from home and doesn't want them to get stuck out there should the snow actually start to fly soon. They act better when they're home, almost like they're more "at peace". They don't come running full speed towards the pickup. He actually has to call them some days. He'll stand in the back of the pickup yelling "Heyyyyyy COWS!" until they all come. K has even learned how to call them! I know he'll feel better having them here. But, we'll keep making several trips a week up there to check on them...'til the cows come home...

Coffee, coffee everywhere, not a drop to drink

Coffee is a habit I've had to forego right now and I am looking forward to starting up again, sometime in March! Oh, man, I wanted a cup of coffee so badly today, but I haven't been able to drink it since somewhere around week 6 of this pregnancy. I know better than to even try. I'll admit, it's not a health choice, I'd still be consuming coffee if I could, although obviously not in my typical quantities.

But, at this point, the smell sends me running and actually taking a sip is bad news for my whacked-out pregnant self. We're talking about an instant and violent reaction. It's ugly and just not worth it. It's also very unfair if you ask me.

I find myself glaring at that shiny monster lurking on the kitchen counter. I used to love it - a sleek stainless steel Bunn that can brew a pot in two minutes flat. Now, it's more like a big flashing neon sign reminding me of what I can't have. I'm having fantasies about Tony Soprano coming to my house to "off" my coffee maker. I'm sure he could make it look like an accident, such as an electrical overload.

Until spring, I guess I'll just avoid the damn thing, loathing its very existence. In the meantime, I'll just wait for Tony to show up to, ahem...you know...

The Goalie is fired!

Before the rabbit died, I was visiting with an old high school classmate at the post office several months ago. She was asking me when we were having another kid. Oh, noooo! We're DONE with that! She laughed and keept teasing me about having a second, but I assured her there was NO WAY, it wasn't happening, K was going to be an only child!

The funny thing is, she also works at our local pharmacy. I took my prescription in a few weeks ago for my anti-vomiting medication and she just grinned and laughed wondering what it was for. Being my sarcastic self, I told her "to keep from vomiting uncontrollably". "Ohhhhhh?", she sings, "and whyyyy are you vomiting?". She knew right away. She was working at the pharmacy when I was pregnant with K and had filled the same prescriptions then. She laughed and reminded me how I told her a few months ago that we weren't having any more. "Heh. Yeah...well, the goalie has been fired". Pack your bags, you're outta here! Be careful - there's a free agent out there somewhere...and she sucks at her job!

The Rabbit DIED!

I suppose it's time we confirmed the rumors. It's true...the rabbit died!

We've known for a while, but we're finally far enough along that we're comfortable telling more people now. 15 weeks yesterday...whew, a little over 1/3 of the way there, but I'm afraid it's going to be a long hard pull!

I've been soooo sick. My body doesn't like being pregnant, it totally doesn't agree with me. I'm afraid I'm going to punch the next woman that tells me, "Oh, I never felt better than I did when I was pregnant!", (in that annoying, much too perky, bitch voice). OK, I probably won't really do that, but it has honestly crossed my crazed hormonal mind a time or...three. Instead, I smile and nod, then politely contribute, "Oh? I just barfed a grilled cheese sandwhich out my nose". That usually stuns them to silence.

Anyway, I started in with the dreaded Morning Sickness at about 6 weeks. This was better than my pregnancy with K. I was puking before I even had a clue what was "wrong" with me. My boss actually sent me home from work because they didn't want to catch what I had. No kidding.

Morning Sickness...I'd like to personally visit with the guy (yes, GUY) that came up with this term. I suppose that just sounded...nicer. For the purpose of making things easy, I'll relent and go along with calling it Morning Sickness. I think we should rate it, like the Fujita Scale for tornadoes.

With medication, I'm a strong F2. I can still do a little damage here and there, but overall, it's not so bad if you're cautious. Without medication, though, I'm a powerful F4, a force to be reckoned with! When I start churning, spinning, and turning green, your best bet is to hunker down away from the path of the storm!

I keep holding out a shred of hope it'll get better, but I'm not terribly optimistic. I was still vomiting the day after K was born. You can't even imagine how excruciating that is when you've just had your abdomen sliced from pelvic bone to pelvic bone and it's all being held together with the largest staples the surgical team could locate. Personally, I think they used galvanized fence staples, but my hubby assures me they didn't. (I still don't belive him!)

For now, I'll continue to take those incredibly over-priced little pills and hope tornado season ends soon!

Men or Little Boys?

I wonder some days if I'm married to a grown man or a 12 year old boy. I fish some of the strangest things out of my dear hubby's pockets when I do laundry. Sometimes it's a collection of rocks, other times, it'll be drill bits. This week; notes regarding work projects, 1/2 box of Zantac pills, a phillips driver bit, a lighter (he doesn't smoke), several pocket knives, grease zerks, and various pipe fittings. And I've only done laundry ONCE this week! I never, EVER reach into his pockets, I actually dump them out into a basket. I'm always afraid of what I'll find. On the upside, I *almost* have him cured of putting small creatures in his pockets. After 15 years, it's nice to know I've gained a little ground. Or at least I thought I had...

...but as I sit here writing this, he just walked in the house. With that boyish 12 year old gleam in his eyes he says, "wanna see what I found?". Geez, NOW what? There he stands with a small bull snake in one hand and a tarantula in the other, grinning from ear to ear. OK, the tarantula was in a jar, but still, it's a little creepy to have BOTH in your house at the same time.

Being a country girl and having farm animals, I really only have one rule regarding critters - if it's gonna come in the house, it's gotta have legs! I don't do the snake thing. I scolded him (yeah, like mom), and he took his little snake back outside. Waaaay outside, I hope! The tarantula can stay. I really don't mind them and K will LOVE taking it to preschool for show and tell. They're kind of interesting to keep...as long as they don't escape. At least now, I know how to catch them without having them jump up at you!

Now that I think about it, maybe I should go get the laundry started. If I get to it now, there's a possibility I won't find any snake skins or spider legs in his pockets. It's rubbing off on our daughter, though. Yes, I have to check her pockets, too. I see her walking around the yard with her jeans nearly falling down because she's got so many rocks stuffed in them. Maybe by the time she's 12, my hubby's inner self will have grown up a little, too, but I'm not holding my breath!