Chuck Norris can divide by zero

I'll be playing with the layout over the next few weeks, so don't be surprised if it's different every time you visit. :)

In other news ... We didn't get the belt changed today because of some technical difficulties, but I did get three of the hoses replaced on my own. After making a trip to the parts store to replace something that broke. So, step one to taking over the world: learning how to replace engine hoses. CHECK!!!!

Edited to add: Any final new layout will be approved by SaRaH, the one with me in the picture up top. Because she is high maintenance. And also, she is the boss of me.

My Truck, or The Story of a Total POS

I have a truck. After going for almost two years with only one vehicle, we bought my truck. Found it on Craigslist, didn't pay much for it. John says we overpaid, and I say that you can't put a price on (my) happiness.

It's a complete piece of crap.

And I love it with an unfounded, makes-no-sense kind of passion.

John hates it, in a fire-of-a-thousand-suns kind of way.

She's a '94 F150, (mostly) white, two-door with a full backseat. Which means we all fit with legroom and no jump seats. Yay!! Used to belong to the City of Austin, and she was one of their paint crew trucks. She has paint ALL OVER HER. John says it makes her look really ugly. I say it gives her character. 4.9, V6 engine, so I can pull stuff if I want to, but she doesn't eat gas like a V8 would. Both kayaks fit in the back at the same time. Her name is Shirley Mae. Because she's a good 'ole country truck.

Except ...

She keeps breaking. And so, John hates her.

Here's the thing. I was talking with John one day, and he laughingly told me that I'm missing a pink gene from somewhere in my DNA. And I've decided that it's true. Don't get me wrong, I love to cook, and being a mom and wife totally rocks. However, I like a lot of decidedly un-pink things. I love guns. I like having dirt under my nails after working outside. Clearing underbrush by hand is not only enjoyable, it burns lots of calories.

My dream is to one day buy an old, non-working '69 Stingray and rebuild the whole thing. And in this dream, fantasy harshly collides with reality. I know absolutely NOTHING about cars. Or trucks. Or engines. Whatever.

My new goal in life is to learn lots of mechanical stuff. My first step? Tomorrow, I'm going to be replacing the main belt in my truck, along with several hoses. I'll have some help, but I want to be the one who really does it.

Wish me luck, and I'll let you know how much skin I lose off my knuckles in the process.

Might even post a pic or two. We'll see.

Adventures in Parenting

This happened while I was pecking out my last post, and if I don't put it down now, I'm going to forget it. :)

Drama Mama comes running into the house, crying buckets of tears.

"Evie, what's wrong, hon?"

"David said he was going to catch a cottonmouth and throw it at my head!!!!!"

"Wait, wait. Is there a cottonmouth outside right now?"

(**we did have on by the deck last week, and we killed it, but David is kind of obsessed**)

"No, but he says he's going to find one and pick it up and throw it at my head!!!!!!!"

(Seriously, that was how she was speaking to me. Italics and bold and all.)

"Ok, Evie. Let's talk for a minute. I have some news for you. If David tries to pick up a snake and throw it at your head, it's going to bite him. And it's going to hurt him really bad. And he's going to drop it, so don't worry. He won't be able to throw a snake at your head or any other part of your body."

"Oh. Ok."

"And Evie, what's the snake rule?"

"NEVER PICK UP A SNAKE!!!!!!"

"Exactly. Remind your Danger Boy brother for me, will you?"

"Sure, Mom!"

It's conversations like this that make me feel very secure in the fact that my Parent of the Year award is on its way to my house right now.

**There are four basic types of venomous snakes in Texas: CCCR, the coral snake, the copperhead, the cottonmouth, and the rattlesnake. As of last week with the death of a cottonmouth we temporarily named Tom, all four have been killed within a hundred feet of my house. And .... um ... this isn't news for my FB friends, but we kind of have an escaped coral snake somewhere in the house. We've named him George.

All that to say, my kids are very, very, VERY good about snake safety. I am fairly certain that David wouldn't go find a cottonmouth and pick it up and throw it at Evie's head.

But I think I'll go have a chat with him, just to make sure ...

Adventures In Parenting

So I'm trying to get some rest during the kids' nap time this afternoon.

(Translation: I'm praying that they keep it down long enough for me to get three winks so I don't pass out from exhaustion later.)

I hear a tapping on one of the downstairs windows. I investigate. Nothing there. My dog is asleep, and all the doors are still locked, so I know it wasn't one of my creatures. Neighbor's dog, maybe? Really stupid humming bird? It's happened before, just not repeatedly like that. I go back to bed.

More tapping.

Upon investigation, more nothing. Starting to get a little frustrated here, so I decide to camp out in the chair beside the window and see if my poltergeist feels the urge to take a visible form.

A few minutes later, I look up from my book and see something. Hmm, a piece of paper with about ten paperclips just fell to the ground. What the hell?

Then I find my answer. A rope with a magnet tied on the end is lowered, and it picks up the paper with paperclips. Before the rope completely clears the window, a small car falls to the ground. The rope reappears a few minutes later, paper-free, and tries to get the car. No success.

At this point, the Good Parent Gene kicks in, and I decide to stop my child or children from leaning out the window, which (because of a very tall foundation on that side of the house) is about two and a half stories up.

I high-tail it up the stairs and into the boys' room. To my not-in-the-least-bit surprise, Drama Mama Evelyn is directing this shindig, Eldest Sam is the one with hands on the rope, and Danger Boy David is the one chucking stuff out the window. I whistle (after making sure David had pulled his entire body back inside) and all three whirl around. I give them The Stare.

They give me the who me? I wasn't doing anything remiss look. They are such punks. And they totally know it.

The results: I took away the rope. And the car. And the paperclips. And the chair below the window. And promised to beat them all with a big stick and make them sleep outside for a week in the rain if they ever do that again.

And I'm guessing it will be less than 24 hours before my mom figures out that a) I'm posting again, and b) calls to tell me that the babies shouldn't be hanging out the window. On this point, of course, she will be completely right.

one way to make sure your day starts off well ...

After your husband makes a totally valid point, and does so in a very loving way, get defensive.

When you turn to stomp off, he'll ask, "Are we going to have breakfast together?"

Lie and say, "I was planning on it, but then you started being an asshole, and I'm not hungry anyway."

This works out especially well if you a) are freaking starving, b) have yet to finish your first cupof coffee, and c) are completely wrong and refuse to admit it, even to yourself.

The End

**This post is brought to you by the letter L, the number 14, and a myriad of CRAZY HORMONES.

**I have apologized, and John and I are friends once again. Just in case you were wondering.

does anyone remember me?

So. Lookie here. I may be back! Yeah, I know my last post was a while ago. Like a few weeks. Or, maybe ... y'know, over four months.

Sorry, Sarah. I still love you, I promise!

But I think I just might be back. For real. Life has been over-the-top, completely stinkin' crazy, but I'm starting to get a handle on it now.

Or not. Maybe I'm just good at lying. :)

But here's what new:

I'm pregnant, which was a surprise to absolutely NO ONE except me. Long story, but after spending about an hour in tears, I got excited. Really excited. I'm 13 weeks, and due at the very end of March.

Samuel, the Eldest, turned seven in June. I'm not ok with that. Evelyn, my amazing little Drama Mama, turned six in August. I'm slightly more ok with that, but only because she has promised not to turn eight. And David, my perpetual Danger Boy, will be three in a few weeks. We're not even going there in terms of what I think of that.

I'm writing a book. It's fiction, and a lot of fun, and Sarah is going to wait until it comes out on the best seller list to read it, because she has too many other things to read right now.

I spend too much time on Facebook, so please come and be my friend! I use the term 'punk ass' a lot, and it makes my mother very upset, and the longest she has waited to call me and ask me not to say it anymore was three hours. Look, it's how I talk in day-to-day conversation. Just keeping it real, mmmk?

After MUCH prayer, and TOO MANY conversations, blessed talks with my mentor, and lots of other factors, we decided to keep the kids at home again this year. And what do you know, it's going wonderfully!!! The older two are in first grade, and we're using a modified A Beka course, and I'm surprised at how much I'm loving it.

Not only did I stop blogging, I also stopped reading other people's blogs. I've missed lots of people, especially Jessica. I'll be back to doing that, also.

After the second hottest summer on record, and the driest ever in our county, it's raining. Praise God!! People, we had 68 days of 100 or higher weather. But today, the third day of fall? I don't think it's going to reach 70. I get to wear a sweater!!!!!!!!!!!

That's about it. I'll be back soon with completely unimportant ramblings and some new recipes and funny kids stories and some updated pictures. For today, go and make some bread, then for supper have some amazing soup and cornbread, and top it off with apple spice cake.

:)