tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29464249411946414232024-03-05T12:52:32.949-08:00The Adventures of Betty CrockettUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger92125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2946424941194641423.post-79276290222649044062013-09-30T09:16:00.001-07:002013-09-30T09:16:29.691-07:00Success!Last Wednesday was too perfect of a day to not go hunting. I put The kid on the bus and headed out. I parked in the first pasture, sat behind a clump of trees with a coffee, did a doe-in-heat call, snapped this picture....<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwOcViRzEKPV3GlZOz8GwKjlmLQTtxbCzhcHJjrSThpL4Zt8VVKwidulj3-ew3rdYSoWHW1EQmBU081VQkQNYkhfaeDCjDaY8PIK9_gSs7KzrXYkoFlVBdGrGjJnunxB-IZHaJ1cIC70g/s640/blogger-image-1925414635.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwOcViRzEKPV3GlZOz8GwKjlmLQTtxbCzhcHJjrSThpL4Zt8VVKwidulj3-ew3rdYSoWHW1EQmBU081VQkQNYkhfaeDCjDaY8PIK9_gSs7KzrXYkoFlVBdGrGjJnunxB-IZHaJ1cIC70g/s640/blogger-image-1925414635.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">...and out walked a buck! I was completely alone, and wanted to be sure of a clean shot so I rested my elbow on a stump. It was not quite the right height and I knew I didn't have a real good hold on the gun but the aim was perfect so I took a chance and squeezed the trigger. Intense pain attacked my face, blood exploded out, and my vision went black. I staggered around in a daze for who knows how long, my vision slowly coming back and the blood pouring down my face and shirt front. I checked my gun about three times, I had no idea what happened. Did my gun back fire? Did someone hit me? I pulled out my phone to call for help and thought to take a picture to see what the hell was going on with my face.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD80cw_6r2FHrTes4Pm1LGIuMMIlhLdLVZ-hAHeYRPdsNm0odwl4Zd0LZPtPEAACRQhGbsoJ8mQ-OhkBWtF7F7_Asd9eUE9_CbWsHvzhwOkn2UN-2orzgKctKR9GK6A7TUghQAriP0xvs/s640/blogger-image--1100225894.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD80cw_6r2FHrTes4Pm1LGIuMMIlhLdLVZ-hAHeYRPdsNm0odwl4Zd0LZPtPEAACRQhGbsoJ8mQ-OhkBWtF7F7_Asd9eUE9_CbWsHvzhwOkn2UN-2orzgKctKR9GK6A7TUghQAriP0xvs/s640/blogger-image--1100225894.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">As I tried to pull my eyes into focus to look at the picture I realized I had scoped myself. My brain was still kind of fuzzy so I went down to the house and cleaned myself up and called the neighbour to come up and come with me to the recover the deer that I wasn't even sure I had hit. We drove through the field to the spot I was sure I had shot him and there he was dropped right in his tracks. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNFjqTknU97SJHDv9nNm17um5QFON8mc0GN34bxU1U8it4B1djEAWF_oeBmWQZpUiVbLeKaAJYKmNDfQAZb6iXH-0flahQCGiz2w2_5SNXwGIJEOYs0YqpKVw0nC24n2kKPfxK_0oMogg/s640/blogger-image--2133589525.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNFjqTknU97SJHDv9nNm17um5QFON8mc0GN34bxU1U8it4B1djEAWF_oeBmWQZpUiVbLeKaAJYKmNDfQAZb6iXH-0flahQCGiz2w2_5SNXwGIJEOYs0YqpKVw0nC24n2kKPfxK_0oMogg/s640/blogger-image--2133589525.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I took him home, hung him up and gutted, skinned and washed him down with vinegar water and got ready for work. I think I was still in shock, my nose was bleeding from the cut and the nostrils the entire time and it wasn't till I got to work and sat down that I realized, hey this is bad - maybe my nose is broken? I did my hour shift ( I'm a noon hour supervisor at my daughters school) and headed to emergency. Yes my nose was broken and I was given a choice of stitches or crazy glue for the inch-long slice down my nose. I chose the glue, they straightened my nose and off I was sent home with instructions of "don't touch your nose at all". Kind of hard when it's still bleeding and you need to wipe it every ten seconds! That night my face and nose got so swollen, the pressure in my face was almost unbearable. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrW8iN2KhjdCM9pTz_5MGlr79eBZEYwH0GZtzogWnxH3fltcq1R2_dX_LB-upMeSpvLcz7RQY2d6s7bjwZh9cMhC7KJi8D_j4vBEcfPOIctmduE8UiIzf3VxZAgEhKfv74ykk1h9VEk6Q/s640/blogger-image-1085234164.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrW8iN2KhjdCM9pTz_5MGlr79eBZEYwH0GZtzogWnxH3fltcq1R2_dX_LB-upMeSpvLcz7RQY2d6s7bjwZh9cMhC7KJi8D_j4vBEcfPOIctmduE8UiIzf3VxZAgEhKfv74ykk1h9VEk6Q/s640/blogger-image-1085234164.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">But I'm still smiling because there's a buck hanging in the shop! </div> </div><br></div><br></div><br></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2946424941194641423.post-72267555958893241302013-01-02T19:05:00.001-08:002013-01-02T19:21:03.342-08:00Deer!!This fall I pulled a little trick I learned from my dad. I ask the kid if she wants to go hunting, I grab the gun, we sneak the power saw into the back of the truck and head out. After driving around for an hour or so, we break it to her that we actually were just coming for firewood. She has a little fit but helps with the wood anyways. We were on our way home when Toby interrupts herself mid-sentence to scream DEER!!! I jumped out loaded a bullet and shot as fast as you could blink, the deer does a wobble, takes a half leap over a log and drops dead. I'm suddenly forgiven for the firewood trick. Toby and I take off across the field to check it out, my husband backs the truck up to the deer. This is is one of the few times in 9 years my husband has been hunting with me and it was the first time I've gotten anything more than a grouse in front of his city-boy eyes. <br />
"Grab a leg" I say "let's gut this and get it home" <br />
"I have to touch it?!" He says "no way, that's sick"<br />
I throw a leg at Toby and tell her to show daddy up and hold it, she reluctantly does it with two fingers. I give up! I hooked the back legs behind my legs and start to work. Toby just stares with a look on her face that just screams she thinks I'm insane and Big Daddy goes behind the truck to gag. I get it gutted and in the back if the truck and we head for home. A great end to getting firewood! <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEdvO35K_qMAXDkpOD8CbgkNvhNvinGTGC9ie9-OBrJR6WPndgX6z0LXdQmysTKo8phnOf16zQ9nhqfTs6ICjKCFNcnS5sXFYb5xpdtTT4zDa3bOC-REGab_je2iu33y-xkY4rl5fqyvk/s640/blogger-image--97247546.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEdvO35K_qMAXDkpOD8CbgkNvhNvinGTGC9ie9-OBrJR6WPndgX6z0LXdQmysTKo8phnOf16zQ9nhqfTs6ICjKCFNcnS5sXFYb5xpdtTT4zDa3bOC-REGab_je2iu33y-xkY4rl5fqyvk/s640/blogger-image--97247546.jpg" /></a></div> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTHvo2Fa47bl-r61zqn0gPtG0s8-2hub_d1Xox9uiNgLWp_g6kMfDjWNKbmYTOF_tFwNlHC6ja774HyeSeMgZL5n4BBfS7F77V_CdqibTrg5Wjlm-CNgzp4bBa64CDWvHURUyIigWjU74/s640/blogger-image--1137127572.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTHvo2Fa47bl-r61zqn0gPtG0s8-2hub_d1Xox9uiNgLWp_g6kMfDjWNKbmYTOF_tFwNlHC6ja774HyeSeMgZL5n4BBfS7F77V_CdqibTrg5Wjlm-CNgzp4bBa64CDWvHURUyIigWjU74/s640/blogger-image--1137127572.jpg" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2946424941194641423.post-47524157925719047612011-11-03T20:33:00.000-07:002011-11-03T20:33:28.543-07:00All I really need to know...<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Today, I was standing in the hallway waiting for Toby to be dismissed from class. I was doing the blank stare at the back of the door across from me, as I always do, when suddenly the poster came into focus. After reading, a lot of things were in focus.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">All I Really need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten ~ Robert Fulghum</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">All I really need to know about how to live and what to do and how to be I learned in kindergarten. Wisdom was not at the top of the graduate school mountain, but there in the sand pile at school.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">These are the things I learned:</span><ul style="font-family: Arial;">
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Share everything.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Play fair.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Don't hit people.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Put things back where you found them.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Clean up your own mess.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Don't take things that aren't yours.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Wash your hands before you eat.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Flush.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Live a balanced life - learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Take a nap every afternoon.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">When you go out in the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands and stick together.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Be aware of wonder. Remember the little seed in the Styrofoam cup: the roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup - they all die. So do we.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books and the first word you learned - the biggest word of all - LOOK.</span></li>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Everything you need to know is in there somewhere. The Golden Rule and love and basic sanitation. Ecology and politics and equality and sane living.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Take any one of those items and extrapolate it into sophisticated adult terms and apply it to your family life or your work or government or your world and it holds true and clear and firm. Think what a better world it would be if we all - the whole world - had cookies and milk at about 3 o'clock in the afternoon and then lay down with our blankies for a nap. Or if all governments had as a basic policy to always put things back where they found them and to clean up their own mess.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">And it is still true, no matter how old you are, when you go out in the world, it is best to hold hands and stick together.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2946424941194641423.post-61846625029702756792011-11-02T13:46:00.000-07:002011-11-02T13:46:42.598-07:00Happy Hallowe'en<div style="text-align: center;">
Whats better than carving pumpkins and lighting them up?</div>
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Blowing them up!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Toby and Pappy</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6-XWO-8CmgDlyUDgPUP9lHtl8IhDf1brIql3DBBKfdItAudjn5W8_JVDLoFxATRFLiVB0TYnP7t4Or8SCQ_2cxrrFHXGuKac3r2XqUrXL_Beg3W6B-cbwOe5xApgs8oNCMe3KDPYEl9k/s1600/DSC_0036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6-XWO-8CmgDlyUDgPUP9lHtl8IhDf1brIql3DBBKfdItAudjn5W8_JVDLoFxATRFLiVB0TYnP7t4Or8SCQ_2cxrrFHXGuKac3r2XqUrXL_Beg3W6B-cbwOe5xApgs8oNCMe3KDPYEl9k/s320/DSC_0036.JPG" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ellie May</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moi</td></tr>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2946424941194641423.post-43871514342001909582011-11-01T08:22:00.000-07:002011-11-01T08:22:51.188-07:00Still No Deer...<div style="text-align: center;">
The only shooting going on lately is with my camera, here's a few from yesterday...</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN1iYRN5ZF1k8IFDUiwqaafu1EK85MJKZt_Pc8zkGAFKD8Pa6YmKFZix5MtP0lvB9qXK_XJ5Cih7glwsNKABlIsl19Rnxi4X16v07wyeXZgrv_UQFOC_Is-rTkbZJrcPE0lDyH9zQyFCg/s1600/DSC_0015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN1iYRN5ZF1k8IFDUiwqaafu1EK85MJKZt_Pc8zkGAFKD8Pa6YmKFZix5MtP0lvB9qXK_XJ5Cih7glwsNKABlIsl19Rnxi4X16v07wyeXZgrv_UQFOC_Is-rTkbZJrcPE0lDyH9zQyFCg/s320/DSC_0015.JPG" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Willow River</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOca_FKnMJmbEn-CWRmstjyHtgOFGqx6CvoDiuDxohl-fLlgtx2CxnE3-juQzERuIRCmE6BtV0jhYWHGLSUCeEfIqzUdwuEFowo2L7uvu3wNsTOT11Qi8Q1L4A1pYDwFQ7dWSeyOz-P0Q/s1600/DSC_0016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOca_FKnMJmbEn-CWRmstjyHtgOFGqx6CvoDiuDxohl-fLlgtx2CxnE3-juQzERuIRCmE6BtV0jhYWHGLSUCeEfIqzUdwuEFowo2L7uvu3wNsTOT11Qi8Q1L4A1pYDwFQ7dWSeyOz-P0Q/s320/DSC_0016.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6LDsjY4aeP5uLQ4NOGcI1DfEE2xK-APnAfSlLaKAVTUst5ppttXitYlWCb73t57doTc2Q6pZ-DJDey9B_vPGYYbbEj2fUsrbFfBFK9ApkuOppPselxDZ53OuYPJcFXjpB5UI4rnl0Yok/s1600/DSC_0017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6LDsjY4aeP5uLQ4NOGcI1DfEE2xK-APnAfSlLaKAVTUst5ppttXitYlWCb73t57doTc2Q6pZ-DJDey9B_vPGYYbbEj2fUsrbFfBFK9ApkuOppPselxDZ53OuYPJcFXjpB5UI4rnl0Yok/s320/DSC_0017.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The road was washed out, but "only if your a pansy" I'm told.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Bowron River</td></tr>
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2946424941194641423.post-44566523420198678432011-10-28T12:04:00.000-07:002011-11-01T08:23:22.019-07:00Grocery Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgwHTPF-6ZxH6oRMFolbOkbemTloThNgz4G0STOwPGfbBK4KFYubxSm7IDmyq-nPN0UzadJWP8y2A8m5nE5foC3y2sYXZUKwj9eF_7dOiOD00gGXB_GEsvKyBF1EjH2j8V6qstKyPXzGU/s1600/DSC_0025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgwHTPF-6ZxH6oRMFolbOkbemTloThNgz4G0STOwPGfbBK4KFYubxSm7IDmyq-nPN0UzadJWP8y2A8m5nE5foC3y2sYXZUKwj9eF_7dOiOD00gGXB_GEsvKyBF1EjH2j8V6qstKyPXzGU/s400/DSC_0025.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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This was the actual and only contents of my purse when I went to pay for my purchases at the grocery store the other day. I did all my shopping, unloaded my groceries, the teller rang them all up and I opened my purse to pay and all I had was a pink skinning knife and a tray of 270 bullets. Some days I seriously wonder about myself. </div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2946424941194641423.post-36338150291076173662011-10-25T19:36:00.000-07:002011-10-28T12:10:42.565-07:00In my opinion.....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2946424941194641423.post-55529858754897228122011-10-24T13:05:00.000-07:002011-10-25T19:14:30.583-07:00Deer[less] Hunting<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I took the girls out deer hunting the other day, but all we found was grouse.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRLt3_kRgPUu4Acan0YnICYr-XUbVRDpGFv_4_dD83vj_tt_me8NloRvCPYTTq4zefmiz6RC8QYrAl5eExn0tVAgAyhNZ7Pde3OYmNNx-b6-JmDa5AGmJ4BiLkSSBIqTxi18oPb9-piXg/s1600/DSC_0002-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRLt3_kRgPUu4Acan0YnICYr-XUbVRDpGFv_4_dD83vj_tt_me8NloRvCPYTTq4zefmiz6RC8QYrAl5eExn0tVAgAyhNZ7Pde3OYmNNx-b6-JmDa5AGmJ4BiLkSSBIqTxi18oPb9-piXg/s400/DSC_0002-1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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We looked high and low,</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPIN-lT1K-w7o2MS_eW12kOsSlj1GNjWNwMN3FqquP_Hb2W01plTdTB422vXvEtY1ml74QYlGofkXH-fO7w0KP_t_YFkLn24SEuQ0bonzk5P6zODshqkt_OiGRky_n7aIiGQWUjYoLDsk/s1600/DSC_0009-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPIN-lT1K-w7o2MS_eW12kOsSlj1GNjWNwMN3FqquP_Hb2W01plTdTB422vXvEtY1ml74QYlGofkXH-fO7w0KP_t_YFkLn24SEuQ0bonzk5P6zODshqkt_OiGRky_n7aIiGQWUjYoLDsk/s400/DSC_0009-1.JPG" width="267" /></a> </div>
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And then we finally found some.... </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRIo2WjPq9pRxlvvuC_hn1CFOBsEJs5dmVjnobDDR42nfC6kvtSy3JPwu74TTWzCUmL6NJVlltZh2oZFEcG_KbGHAGCduPx8-b7vjaRkvHYdg3bE9a00e506PbgPFFvIY1n6tCHxWwdZA/s1600/DSC_0017-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRIo2WjPq9pRxlvvuC_hn1CFOBsEJs5dmVjnobDDR42nfC6kvtSy3JPwu74TTWzCUmL6NJVlltZh2oZFEcG_KbGHAGCduPx8-b7vjaRkvHYdg3bE9a00e506PbgPFFvIY1n6tCHxWwdZA/s400/DSC_0017-1.JPG" width="400" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span></a> </div>
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Standing behind this....</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2946424941194641423.post-91771473548917774972011-10-09T10:36:00.000-07:002011-10-09T10:36:19.296-07:00Stony Lake Day 2<div style="text-align: center;">
Day two of our trip started out a little chillier than day one.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The girls eating breakfast in their snow suits</td></tr>
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<br />So we decided against heading up the creek in our underwear again and spent the day exploring Stony lake.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They get along so good when the camera is out</td></tr>
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We stopped for lunch on one of the islands and as long as there's rocks, the girls are happy. After they filled all the empty lunch bags with rocks for the aquarium at home, they started building Inukshuks.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The island where we had lunch</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Most of the lake shore is lined with stones.</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #333333; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">"she ain't even thinking bout what's really going on right now<br />but I guarantee this memories a big one,<br />and she thinks we're just fishing"</span></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Stony Lake, Cariboo C, BC V0K, Canada53.4192043 -121.886620353.116400299999995 -122.5183343 53.7220083 -121.2549063tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2946424941194641423.post-7657110956187974162011-10-07T08:28:00.000-07:002011-10-07T08:50:48.525-07:00Escape to Stony Lake<div style="text-align: justify;">
I have this terrible habit of packing my truck, picking my girls up from school (mid-day) and taking off for a few days. Last week, we did just that!</div>
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I'm a firm believer in all kids knowing how to drive, should an emergency ever occur... plus it puts me right up there in the "Cool Mom" category. This day it was Toby's turn for a lesson. Don't worry -- old back road, miles and miles and MILES in the middle of nowhere, it's perfectly safe for a 5 yr old to drive!<br />
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I have an aunt that's always up for our kind of adventure, so we met up to explore a chain of lakes. We started out at the east end of Stony Lake. My aunt kayaks, I canoe so the kids can come along too. We go rain or shine, wind or hail - it would pretty much have to be a full on hurricane to keep us home. If there's somewhere we want to go, we get there. EVEN if it includes dragging a canoe and a kayak up a raging creek in our underwear (so we still have dry clothes to put back on before the onset of hypothermia) Now, I did specifically say the words "Don't worry, auntie, this picture won't end up on Facebook" and I completely honor that statement. But nowhere in that conversation was my blog mentioned. My sincere apologies, but that's the chance you take hanging out with a blogger. It's how we roll. We keep it real. Real life is funny, and so are my Popsicle Joe Boxers paired with camo neoprene gumboots and my aunts spray skirt, kayak-bootie ensemble.</div>
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We tied a rope on our boats and headed up stream. Sometimes we were on shore, and sometimes we had to walk in the water. The girls alternated between walking on shore and riding in the canoe. </div>
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Ellie-May rode shotgun. It's grizzly country. You don't want to be caught in your Popsicle undies without a gun, let me tell you.</div>
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Toby was the Official Complainer. </div>
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We trekked up to where it was wider and deeper and we were able to paddle, and put our pants back on. Creeks in northern BC at the end of September are freaking freezing and it felt oddly like I was dressing another person, my legs were completely numb. </div>
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The next lake is Rond Lake. Apparently the cold was affecting my brain at this point because I forgot to take a picture until the way back, so its from the wrong direction, but you get the idea.</div>
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There's another little section of creek, and then Stefan Lake. As we were coming in, I noticed a bull moose on the far shore. He immediately noticed us as well, and started prancing and throwing his head, and pacing back and forth. We watched him perform the entire trip down the lake, and when we started getting close, he started swimming out. We kept a close eye. I'm no fool. Moose are dangerous. We kept our distance and he eventually swam back to shore, and continued his show of pacing and thrashing around. We parked and watched him for close to an hour and had a snack</div>
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The next lake doesn't technically have a name, on a map, but we call it Little Stefan because it's smaller than Stefan Lake. Duh. </div>
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Once again, I forgot to take a picture, but this is taken from Stefan Lake, looking into Little Stefan.</div>
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OK, all this Stefan talk is getting me off track...</div>
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Anyways, back to the trip... After making it all the way down to the last lake, we stopped for lunch and a rest before heading back to camp. The trip back down the creek was much more fun than the trip up. It was like a roller coaster! Rapids, twists, turns, a drop off, and some fancy paddling to make it between stumps and other debris in the water. We felt like Voyageurs! Well at least I did. When I yelled that to the girls, they burst out laughing and said "what the heck is a voyageur?!" You spend all the time at school and don't know what a Voyageur is? What do you do there all day? So I gave them a little history less right then and there. I think it was much more effective learning about it while we were actually doing it. There's an element added that you just can't get by sitting at a desk - the fearing for you life while you careen a hundred miles an hour down a raging creek in a canoe, getting your face scratched on willows, portaging, and paddling till your arms burn off - it was perfect!</div>
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We came shooting out of the creek, back into Stony Lake and headed to camp for some fishing, </div>
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and a beautiful end to the day...</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1Stony Lake, Cariboo C, BC V0K, Canada53.4192043 -121.886620353.116400299999995 -122.5183343 53.7220083 -121.2549063tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2946424941194641423.post-87523242952642120192011-10-06T20:47:00.000-07:002011-10-06T20:47:40.839-07:0012 dogs. 6 weeks.For 6 weeks I had 12 dogs. Two moves ago, my husband and I each loaded our vehicles with the last loads. I got in the car and took off. He was following behind with the truck and horse trailer. By the time we got to our new place, about 25 minutes away, he had a dog the size of a Shetland pony in the front seat of my truck. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kuma - after digging himself a bed in the rose garden</td></tr>
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We knew the dog, he wasn't a stranger to us. He spent many days at our house hanging out with the kids, eating numerous 18kg bags of dog food, stealing snacks and goodies straight out of kids mouths, (never mind their hands) eating our shoes and when luck was really on his side - passing out on our couch after eating our garbage can and dragging garbage from one end our house to the other. He was an orphan dog, brought to our neighbors house and left there. They looked after him as best they could, but it was at our house he was really loved. My husband (the animal hater) felt bad leaving him behind, and asked if we could have him. By asked I mean opened the truck door and asked the dog if he wanted to come. The dog jumped in and away they went. 3 days later the neighbor called to see if we had him, I said yes and she said thank you. 3 months later 8 puppies are born to my mastiff -cross female. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lilo and her pile of cuteness</td></tr>
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Add those 10 to the 2 chihuahua's we have and you have 12 dogs. Do you have any idea how much dog food 12 dogs eat? About and 18 kg bag in about 4 days. We consider ourselves lucky now that the puppies are all gone to wonderful homes and we go through 18kg of dog food in only 7 days. Did I mention the dog is the size of a flipping Shetland pony?</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2946424941194641423.post-40559588058520065272011-08-16T21:42:00.000-07:002011-08-16T21:42:37.985-07:00Hey!Guess how many times I've moved in the last three years. I'll give you a hint.... it's a ridiculous amount of times! There was so little time in between the last two moves that I hadn't even finished unpacking in between! There was so little time in between the last two moves that the very thought of moving sent me running for my bed where I stayed for 3 days in a chip-eating, romance novel-reading, pout. I drug my but out of bed long enough to fill may camper van full of my most precious possessions including:<br />
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<ul><li>11 or my 12 dogs (yikes!! the reason we temporarily have that many dogs is a post for another day) </li>
<li>1 of my 3 kids </li>
<li>my 100 gallon aquarium, with all 6 extra-large fish in a giant size tucker-tote that leaked all over my orange shag carpet</li>
<li>everything breakable I own that i couldn't bring myself to pack YET AGAIN!</li>
</ul><div>...and I headed for the new house, where I quickly unpacked everything that was living or necessary and REFUSED to go back for another load. I have to admit, I am happy we're back, I love the new house, and living in civilization with HIGHSPEED INTERNET is pretty frigging awesome! I have coffee everyday with some one other than the voices in my head! I see friends and family, take the kids to the museum, the public pool, and WALMART - all of which are AT MOST 15 minutes away! I'm supposed to be job hunting, but for the moment I'm just enjoying life :0)</div><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2946424941194641423.post-62306676723199588252011-02-16T11:40:00.000-08:002011-02-16T11:40:57.348-08:00Hello, again.It's been awhile since I've been around and I do apologize. I have exciting new projects on the go and in an effort to devote my time more wisely to them and the kids, I have disconnected the internet at home. I know!! Shocking!! I also have more time for disaster's, conundrums, and good fun to happen so in the coming weeks you'll get to hear all about it, I'm sure! Are you ready for this?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2946424941194641423.post-88381553177425940642010-02-16T19:26:00.000-08:002010-02-16T21:08:56.790-08:00Vicious Cycle7000 acres and they still use the living room, kitchen, and hallway as a racetrack. If I say, "stop running in the house" one more time I might just explode. Every time I turn around there are at least 3 kids and 2 dogs and sometimes a bike or two flying past me, hundred miles an hour. Screaming, screeching, giggling and barking crashing, smashing, crying, fighting, tattling... <i> But I love every minute of it!</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2946424941194641423.post-16035125982109281002010-02-02T21:56:00.000-08:002010-02-02T21:56:11.420-08:00Common-TaterFor some reason I can't comment on my own blog? Don't worry, I wasn't trying to third person myself or reveal a split personality, I was just trying to answer some comments I had! From strangers! From people other than my Mom and Auntie-from-Ontario! No offense, I love your comments too, but the fact that strangers stopped by and took the time to comment has made my week! So, I'm not being uppity now with my new stranger-commented-on blog status, I just cant answer, I think it's a dial-up issue... and since I AM NEVER MOVING AGAIN, there is just nothing I can do about that. So in answer to your comments...... The skating was survived with minimal injuries, we are going to try it again tomorrow. And yes! The hamster is very frigging scary! He has his own salad tongs now, so I don't have to bleach mine so much. They will come in handy for the hedgehog Ellie-May is saving up for. yay. Teeth AND quills.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2946424941194641423.post-30190323743816324582010-02-02T21:30:00.000-08:002010-02-02T21:30:42.894-08:00Sleep TalkerEver read the blog <a href="http://sleeptalkinman.blogspot.com/">Sleep Talkin Man</a>? I read it all the time. It's pretty funny. Mostly because my husband is also a sleep talker. He yells, laughs, swears, and occasionally throws punches. A few weeks ago I heard him laughing so hard in his sleep, so I went down to see what was so funny, and he tells me to "check out the costco-lookin bitch in the corner". I started to laugh and asked him what he was talking about, and his answer was "gulbranson boobies". A few days after that, I was laying in bed watching tv. He was sound asleep and had been for hours. I can tell by his obnoxiously loud breathing. I was laying flat on my back and he was laying on his side facing me. With out any warning at all, and faster than I could have ever imagined, he punched me right square between the eyes. Pasted me right in the glasses, driving them right into my eyeballs with such force I swear it turned my eyelids inside out. I yelled out in pain at the same time HE did as well! "What the hell are you doing?!" I yelled. "oh ow! something happened with your tooth or something!" he says. "You just punched my frigging lights out!" I screamed at him. He pats my head like a little dog and says "sor-ry" in a singsongy voice and is instantly sleeping again, if he even woke up in the first place. The next morning he had no recollection of anything. Or did he...? Tonight as I was writing this post, we again heard yelling from the bedroom so we snuck down to listen to him. " What the frick are you doing, CHAIR?! Ya those are my pipes, what are yours? Oh your laughing?! O really?!<br />
Yes, we are laughing.. is it with you or at you?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2946424941194641423.post-13760913552231555552010-02-01T22:10:00.000-08:002010-02-01T22:10:10.734-08:00You've Got MailWow it works. I have been desperately trying to post for days and weeks. I had so much to say. So much to laugh about, funny shit was happening left and right. But the unfunny reality of life in the boonies has overwhelmed me. I had to get dial up internet. Yes, it does still exist. Who new?! I didn't know. I thought the entire world ran on high speed. When we moved out here I was offered an internet stick. High speed service anywhere there is 3G. Only 30 bucks a month. Come on.... what do you have to lose? umm, only about $300 of hard earned money for one month of internet sticking. Seriously. They actually found it totally reasonable to charge me $300 for one month of service. I found it totally reasonable that I call them every swear word I ever learned, and even few that I made up on the fly. Those ones haunt me embarrassingly. So now I am condemned to relive 1998 when we got out first computer and were introduced to the wonderful world of rotten.com. oh! I meant email, Mom. Sorry. It was EMAIL! All we did was email. I did not show my 12 year old brother pictures of peoples brains smashed all over the pavement. Actually he showed me....<br />
Anyways, I couldn't even remember how to work the archaic form of internet. I had to phone Telus and ask the,. "umm, plug the computer to the phone jack and hit connect. Well no, you can't talk on the phone at the same time." So I hung up and hook up the phone cord to the computer. Then came the noise of signing on.. dialing... weeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeooooonnnnggggg tinga tinga..... I put on a rerun of friends, cooked up a chimichanga in the microwave, filled an extra large A&W mug with Tang, and felt 18 again.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2946424941194641423.post-38254856361227491472010-01-11T20:22:00.000-08:002010-01-11T20:22:48.357-08:00Skating on Thin IceI somehow was persuade to take two little girls skating tomorrow. I have no idea how they managed to do it. I'm pretty sure I wasn't drunk. They asked so sweetly I just couldn't refuse... if there is no post tomorrow, it's because I have broken my neck, or my wrists or my ass or something. I can't skate to save my life. I couldn't skate to save my kids life! I now have to try and skate while helping a 2 and a 4 year old as well. Oh my god, I can feel my bones snapping already.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2946424941194641423.post-82394132766238214482010-01-10T20:49:00.000-08:002010-01-10T20:49:31.302-08:00Cow Patty<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQcpAHeYQpvDqcbGg_yW07v7Lit7kkUab_J4RV-hSVDfvXZ6w24krS92yukXCmNQnRe-y6o1FjQ1YMtd2hVaOA1p7Qw3W2sdvhqbn6faQMy_J92Ddb_AiRw31bfBXDnKQ0K60dZvd8Tr8/s1600-h/DSC_0069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQcpAHeYQpvDqcbGg_yW07v7Lit7kkUab_J4RV-hSVDfvXZ6w24krS92yukXCmNQnRe-y6o1FjQ1YMtd2hVaOA1p7Qw3W2sdvhqbn6faQMy_J92Ddb_AiRw31bfBXDnKQ0K60dZvd8Tr8/s320/DSC_0069.JPG" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Look at that face! You would never guess she has a filthy addiction that she tries to hide. I hate to rat her out... Lilo is addicted to cow patties. My dogs have a kennel. It's by the front door. Every time I let Lilo in from outside she races to her kennel. I assume... she's excited... she loves her bed.... she's a big dork. Whatever the reason, I never gave it much thought. I noticed about a week ago that she had started to chew her bed a bit. By Friday, it was chewed ALOT, and all the pieces were spread out so that the entire floor of the kennel was covered. There was a really rank smell coming from it. I decided the bed had seen its last day and pulled it out to throw it away. Underneath it was the most unbelievable site of my life. The entire bottom of the kennel was lined with cow patty chunks, that must have been snuck in in her mouth, frozen, and have since thawed out. She had been chewing her bed up to hide and bury her treasure, till she could go in there and snack in peace. I have no idea how long she has been hoarding cow shit, but there was quite a pile in there. I drug the kennel to the front door and heaved it, and the cow shit outside. She ran around trying to dig it all underneath her, frantically gathering it up. We now have nightly kennel checks to make sure there is no further smuggling issues.<br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2946424941194641423.post-67496120498521813982010-01-05T16:21:00.000-08:002010-01-05T16:21:32.468-08:00Cheese-BabyLuckily for me, Toby got money for Christmas from my Meemaw and Poppa. She finally had enough money to buy the one thing her heart has been longing for.... <div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A hamster.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(yes I know, she has no shirt on and her hair isn't brushed, give me a break)<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So, she has her hamster, she loves it to pieces, she feeds and waters it a million times a day, kisses it, has hours-long conversations with it. Until... you guessed it! the disgusting rodent took a chomp at her. I heard a blood curdling scream from the basement. I looked at B.D. and said "how much you wanna bet Cheese-Baby just bit her?" Seconds later, Shooter carried the attack victim upstairs. She was too upset to walk. "I HATE Cheese-Baby!! WAAAAAAA-AHHHHHHHHH!! Feed it to the DO-OG!! It went on for at least 20 minutes. We managed to suppress the bleeding and get it cleaned out. Minutes later, she was back in love. Since then, it's bit every kid that stuck it's fingers anywhere near it. Really, who in their right mind went about catching these vicious little creatures, putting them in space-age little cages and selling them for a small fortune? Have you ever seen the teeth these things are sporting?<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">They are like a miniature grizzly bear! Worse probably if you put them in proportion to each other!<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Today was cage cleaning day. There is no way in hell I am getting any where near those fangs. I picked him up with the salad tongs and quickly stuck him in his travel case before Toby seen me or she would be using every utensil I own to to torture the poor thing.<br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2946424941194641423.post-67413450592295642072010-01-01T18:44:00.001-08:002010-01-01T18:44:22.615-08:00Happy New Year!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGYAzLpDQ4IFXzbEN1fIU-Zs2OBzsLGJhRMTKF2M0uMtfXCOMqD8vJXNQ1gIh0v7HhoZU63q_9uLQFenMU7Kb-HAMtg90ANKP1DZEZI_TjN880VFpjcE2dG-2NtN0PDN9tTBeyTiNEJ20/s1600-h/happy+new+year.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGYAzLpDQ4IFXzbEN1fIU-Zs2OBzsLGJhRMTKF2M0uMtfXCOMqD8vJXNQ1gIh0v7HhoZU63q_9uLQFenMU7Kb-HAMtg90ANKP1DZEZI_TjN880VFpjcE2dG-2NtN0PDN9tTBeyTiNEJ20/s640/happy+new+year.jpg" /></a><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2946424941194641423.post-32657528099038970072009-12-30T13:17:00.000-08:002009-12-30T13:17:23.187-08:00Truckin'I grew up a loggers daughter, and now despite my best efforts, I am a loggers wife. It's a feast or famine industry. Either its logging season, he's working as many hours as can legally be fit into a day/week, we never see him, and we have money or it's break up and we're dirt poor and he's home 24 hours a day, wishing he was at work. Right now, it's full swing logging season and the only way I get to spend any amount of time with him is to go to work. Yesterday, me and Toby went for a ride. We had to get up at the crack of 6 am... (it's the Christmas holidays, the're only hauling one load a day, so he gets to sleep in from his usual 2am start time)<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">She slept or stared blankly the whole way to the block.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrWZDik_egX4Mq9qitQUvbxVgou10-t9aha3EiHtdClf5rMX59_BhxJkq3w4ycPSJMwyanKAO5fwUt39wz66YIWMj26Sqq4zOFPadtlhaiRtuNrEV-aATjL2s-KiDUot8AzV-IPB3CzwY/s1600-h/DSC_0217.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrWZDik_egX4Mq9qitQUvbxVgou10-t9aha3EiHtdClf5rMX59_BhxJkq3w4ycPSJMwyanKAO5fwUt39wz66YIWMj26Sqq4zOFPadtlhaiRtuNrEV-aATjL2s-KiDUot8AzV-IPB3CzwY/s320/DSC_0217.JPG" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">If you think the ride in on the goat trail seems bad, try it on the way out! The heavily loaded trailer pulls and pushes your truck around as your trying to navigate the bumpy, skinny little road that winds it's way around gullies, and over over one lane bridges, barely wide enough for your truck.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8kCiPWWXE0ki6sVWupKdwZ-IQY68XqlJEMQRwKT4_F8dAWLUMJHzhFlYh519ljmixtA1ZouUPxbGEBElj56i1YsybDHy6FrHzOh9LsIHc9BLGqXVTBkPxgOUd222aA2bPeHU66HqhdVw/s1600-h/DSC_0221.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8kCiPWWXE0ki6sVWupKdwZ-IQY68XqlJEMQRwKT4_F8dAWLUMJHzhFlYh519ljmixtA1ZouUPxbGEBElj56i1YsybDHy6FrHzOh9LsIHc9BLGqXVTBkPxgOUd222aA2bPeHU66HqhdVw/s320/DSC_0221.JPG" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Smoke Break. I should ride with him everyday, he doesn't smoke while we're in the truck with him, so he only had three that whole day!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha-Th7DJESwW7dK6vUramKNHWKK5pbZlhJ5bYQgcL6wA9WNt8u4gtlWMXSX5xRL1trmLR7KknSaUhf0uJX_8kzo6GuMNjrHKaj1eVRmUm5ThPxMhSN2JP6zkEBLIY-dnN5xIOf_t-nGkU/s1600-h/DSC_0227.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha-Th7DJESwW7dK6vUramKNHWKK5pbZlhJ5bYQgcL6wA9WNt8u4gtlWMXSX5xRL1trmLR7KknSaUhf0uJX_8kzo6GuMNjrHKaj1eVRmUm5ThPxMhSN2JP6zkEBLIY-dnN5xIOf_t-nGkU/s320/DSC_0227.JPG" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Back onto the main road, its snowing and blowing so hard, you can't seen the other trucks coming until they are really close...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Pndu4SZiYStWfnwATMapAGKo0bNpvZfVDiMe9TKRK_CFPWKAbL3bxr_BmFRviWiX0yxUkVkjk_k7vx18H3stgkF40jgqBXwUqiMq2zNh3r947SxMFkTcKCKz8vySktXgOVk24rpQsGw/s1600-h/DSC_0245.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Pndu4SZiYStWfnwATMapAGKo0bNpvZfVDiMe9TKRK_CFPWKAbL3bxr_BmFRviWiX0yxUkVkjk_k7vx18H3stgkF40jgqBXwUqiMq2zNh3r947SxMFkTcKCKz8vySktXgOVk24rpQsGw/s320/DSC_0245.JPG" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">...and you're not sure if theres room enough for both trucks on the road. I really don't know how he does this for a living, every day, without us there to entertain him.<br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2946424941194641423.post-81618861747215891512009-12-28T10:49:00.000-08:002009-12-28T10:49:58.734-08:00Happy Holidays!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Wow what a week! This is the first time in days I didn't have a million things to do, a houseful of people, or somewhere to be! We had the best Christmas ever!<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"> My tree went from this.....<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5RsQkKOG7pJUqM5Fsr4UJ8UhM0gyzcvibuDfPRA9G6xFW1tdj-KOoCdxqJ2At_aAu4j7nnbyKAsZ1PXrpHm9_n7G7-bC3_uIdDGaYBX-mm3EAnLXBo4BPbFyTktfHd9txqx737o4o15o/s1600-h/DSC_0081.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5RsQkKOG7pJUqM5Fsr4UJ8UhM0gyzcvibuDfPRA9G6xFW1tdj-KOoCdxqJ2At_aAu4j7nnbyKAsZ1PXrpHm9_n7G7-bC3_uIdDGaYBX-mm3EAnLXBo4BPbFyTktfHd9txqx737o4o15o/s320/DSC_0081.JPG" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">To this....<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJkChE1JA6stYsm7tdT8GdSVTnHiRAl9JjDTsG4USx51uYjZEINuOSNsxncImpmcDCTN_5xHILGkeMs0CACUbi1Z9vS2YO_PfRIctUYI4Raq_ZPqWKxkaC3V5N0gKJiuMio5C_Mp8GBqM/s1600-h/DSC_0138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJkChE1JA6stYsm7tdT8GdSVTnHiRAl9JjDTsG4USx51uYjZEINuOSNsxncImpmcDCTN_5xHILGkeMs0CACUbi1Z9vS2YO_PfRIctUYI4Raq_ZPqWKxkaC3V5N0gKJiuMio5C_Mp8GBqM/s320/DSC_0138.JPG" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And my husband went from this....<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnf0HcRPRVvHo2IirUe7z856UQdxfJEhc1Z1HUuIyIgWxMW8-NRzrj9i4V9gukB6th4kgG-2WB0Iy5K85NRFPAAr2ZqVy5Dghb-nRxCCz9T7ntYqyx_8VOiB2JV2Cuy3yjFDqb495TZv4/s1600-h/DSC_0123.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnf0HcRPRVvHo2IirUe7z856UQdxfJEhc1Z1HUuIyIgWxMW8-NRzrj9i4V9gukB6th4kgG-2WB0Iy5K85NRFPAAr2ZqVy5Dghb-nRxCCz9T7ntYqyx_8VOiB2JV2Cuy3yjFDqb495TZv4/s320/DSC_0123.JPG" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">to this.......<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">after quite a bit of this....<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtV39-9ru54nOSMHaPqE4tK_sEgQZ9JO-UcZvMDmU-lXNONjngBKBEZnmO0Bsoxt_lqjGy4Bsrdy0SXd1znB62lJ4w5Rv-Axio7-jeOhw1Bw-0zlFlF5L1ibkToU2TjdYe8Dq4FUKzPn8/s1600-h/bottles-of-alcoholic-drinks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtV39-9ru54nOSMHaPqE4tK_sEgQZ9JO-UcZvMDmU-lXNONjngBKBEZnmO0Bsoxt_lqjGy4Bsrdy0SXd1znB62lJ4w5Rv-Axio7-jeOhw1Bw-0zlFlF5L1ibkToU2TjdYe8Dq4FUKzPn8/s320/bottles-of-alcoholic-drinks.jpg" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It just wouldn't be Christmas if someone didn't get drunk, shave a stupid mustache and blow up the Christmas tree! I'm just glad they drug it outside before they lit the match.<br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2946424941194641423.post-48937143906561314422009-12-21T19:33:00.001-08:002009-12-21T19:33:35.205-08:00Too Busy!! I had big plans a few weeks ago of getting my Christmas baking all done and freezing it, so I could just spend the Christmas holidays doing what ever fun things came up. We ate every crumb within 24 hours. So here I am, three days before my family comes, preparing for a Griswold family Christmas. We are going to have a houseful for a few days, so I am washing ALL the bedding, remaking beds (and making kids sleep on the couch) cleaning bedrooms, cupboards, the fridge, the freezer, and making cookies and candy, and last minute present and grocery shopping. I am running around like a chicken with my head cut off, doing so many things at once, that today I made 85 spicy molasses cookies before I realized I forgot the baking soda. They're perfect for some Christmas day skeet shooting. I don't recommend eating them, the dentist is closed for the holidays.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2946424941194641423.post-33754181317790493332009-12-19T12:52:00.000-08:002009-12-19T12:52:01.432-08:00Concert Season<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size: medium;">It's the time of year for Christmas concerts. It's all I see when I go on facebook. People gushing about their kids doing such a good job, and their so proud of them. Umm, is there a different kid of Christmas concert that my kids school doesn't know about? Am I having hallucinations of awful Christmas carols, with even awfuller singing? I can't help but wonder if I'm missing a genetic component vital to the enjoyment of Christmas concerts. They really are the most tortuous events I've ever had to to endure. 500 people crammed into a gym. Not enough chairs, of course, so the walls are lined with people 10 deep, with all the tallest ones in front. So I move up to the front, but still against the wall, where the only body part I get to see of my kid is his left shoulder, but I'm pretty sure he is "pulling a Britney" as he puts it, and lip syncing. The cool kids DON'T sing at christmas concerts you know. Don't get me wrong, my kids sing all the time. I love hearing them sing. I really do enjoy, and encourage it. But at Christmas concerts, the only kids you can hear are the tone deaf ones, completely butchering an already horrible song. During which, they are also picking their butt, or nose, or adjusting some other such body part. And then there are the siblings of these kids who have no interest whatsoever in watching the concert. It's much more entertaining to roll around the floor, kick the seats, rip their socks off and throw them at unsuspecting audience members, and demand to be taken home RIGHT NOW!! With the mother trying all the while to convince the little jerk that they need to watch! they'll like it! and to be good or Santa won't come! and if they continue the behavior, she's just going to ignore him! "Umm... well.... pardon me ma'am, but I can't seem to ignore the little asshole, so do you mind if I spank him for you?" I know I don't have the best behaved little girl but I try to save the please-be-nice-lessons for the <a href="http://theadventuresofbettycrockett.blogspot.com/2009/12/walk-in-park.html">video, hardware, or outdoor supply store</a>, where it's not interrupting 500 people that I am pretty sure, are just as thrilled as me that it's once again Christmas Concert Season..... yip-ee.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0