a little surprise

I got up this morning and as I walked into the kitchen, I found a surprise out my window.

It snowed.

And I decided that Grandma's Playhouse looks really creepy in the early morning hours with snow on the ground.

And I also decided that my lamppost surrounded by snow covered trees and bushes looks a bit like the lamppost in the famous children's books "The Chronicles of Narnia" by CS Lewis.

And of all the characters in those famous books/movies, I would want to be the white witch.

What a fantastic costume that would be...

If only I had a white fur coat and an icicle headpiece. But who really has those things just hanging around...

Oh well...There's always next year...

"Being married to goldilocks" or alternately titled, "Where shall we sleep tonight?"

My husband and I are commuting sleepers.

We travel from bed to bed depending upon which bed is higher on his list of preferences for the evening. Last weekend when we had the "hunting party sleepover" we set up two additional beds for our guests.

So now we have four beds. Four beds for one married couple. Does anyone else think this is a bit excessive???

Scotland loves it. His current favorite? The bonus room bed. He likes to turn up the heater and close the door to the rest of the house. My thoughts on this? He roasts me out.

We used to alternate between our guest room and our real bedroom. I would ask him where he wanted to sleep each night. He would ponder for a moment and then proclaim our bed-stination.

(*snicker*, yeah I think I'm pretty clever!)

I tease him that it is like living with Goldilocks

"This bed is toooooo soft!"

"This bed is toooooo hard!"

"This bed is juuuusssttttt right!"

My opinion? I would rather just stick to one bed. Less sheets to change and all of that. But that is the practical thing to do.

Scott would rather have an adventure. That's my boy... Brave little Goldilocks...never practical... living with the bears and all that. Or just one bear I guess...

(kindly keep your bear/bare jokes to yourself. I have heard them all...)

27 hours

5:00 pm got home from work, Scotland is in pocatello
5:15 pm went outside to play with kittens
5:30 pm spoke to former landlord about getting my deposit money from THREE MONTHS AGO
5:50 pm put the cats away and went back inside. Brrrr! Cold and windy Idaho!
5:55 pm sat down to read out of my favorite book, "Gone With the Wind"
6:00 pm remembered that my favorite way to read is with ice cream. Got some out of the freezer.
6:45 pm decided the best way to get warm from the ice cream is to take a hot bath
6:50 pm climbed into hot bath and started reading book again
7:50 pm realized I had fallen asleep in bathtub, wondered where my husband is, got out and dried off
8:00 pm made myself some dinner instead of waiting for him. He always takes too long anyway...
8:15 pm am really tired of waiting for him to come home. Sit patiently in the living room and admire my pink furniture.
8:30 pm wake up to my cell phone ringing, Scotland says he going to leave Pocatello now.
8:35 pm decide to wait for him in bed where it is warmer. Snuggle up in fleece sheets... mmmhhh...
12:40 pm husband crawls into bed with me, I ask what took him so long and he says "I was stopped by an old man in a hot tub" This takes me a minute to translate in my sleepy stupor. Oh. my father.
12:45 pm get up with husband and sit with him while his steak cooks in the toaster oven. Don't ask. He is crazy.
1:30 am sit in bonus room talking to husband. Realize it is 1:30 in the morning and ask myself what I am doing up! I am crazy!
2:00 am go to sleep in bonus room
6:30 am have crazy dream about dead carpet children. They have carpet for hair. Am totally freaked out.
7:00 am get crying phone call from employee who has flu
7:05 am text boss that employee has flu and will not be in, go back to sleep
9:15 am Scotland gets up and gets ready for work. I continue to sleep in (yay for late nights!)
9:55 am Scotland leaves for work, I get up and start getting ready
10:45 am I am wearing dress to work because we have appointment with bishop as soon as I get off work. I am scared he might give me a calling. Scotland already has one. I am in such trouble!
11:05 am get to work five minutes late.
3:00 pm Scotland calls and says the meeting was canceled. I am so MAD that I wore a dress all day! Scotland says bishop had to "reconsider things". Namely me. Yikes!
7:30 pm Sick of working so I post on my blog
8:00 pm Get to go home from work. I hate late nights...

An open letter to my papa

Dear papa,

Tomorrow is your birthday.

Tomorrow is your birthday and I am veclempt at what to give you. Every gift seems inadequate to give to a person as important as you are. Everything I think of is not nearly enough. Anything I could get you would pale in comparison.

You are the foundation of my life, the basis of my personality and the conscience on my shoulder. I would be lost without you.

In addition to my feelings of inadequacy, I am also experiencing distress over what you need that you don't already have, something I have struggled with ever since I realized that you already have everything you want. (Or don't want, depending upon how you look at it) I remember buying you a movie one year after begging you to not buy it for yourself in the days leading up to your birthday. I was so positive that you would beat me to the punch that I actually told you what I was getting you so you would not give in to the impulse to purchase it beforehand!

So with these two struggles in mind, please accept my pre-birthday-gift-apology for my meager offerings this year. Please understand that although I am limited in my choices for this, it represents how much I love you and wish I could show you what you mean to me.

And since you don't read my blog, I will say that I hope you like the Carhartts. I think that you could use them when you are clearing the driveway of snow this winter, hunting for elk up in the mountains and chasing down your son as he gets into all sorts of trouble. I want you to stay warm and take care of yourself, and this is the best way I know to help you do that.

And dad, I know that you feel like you have some regrets from my wedding in July. Please don't feel that way. I am happy that you supported me that day and were there with me. That is all I need.

Love always,

~K~

Hand me downs

As you may know, I am child number 2 of 5 in my family, which means the concept of hand me downs is not new to me. I grew up wearing most of the clothing that my older sister once wore. It wasn't until my feet got bigger than her and then I got bigger than her that I stopped wearing hand me downs. (Not a positive, but inevitable. Have you seen her? We are not cut from the same cloth, capice?)

Anyhow, I have lived my whole life with hand me downs as a major source of my items. (Items? What I mean is for more than just clothing.) Well, when my sister was at my house this weekend, she mentioned that my mom is wanting to get rid of her old end tables and "coffee" table, and I immediately perked up.

My living room consists of two bookshelves, a love seat and a rocker seat.

I would really like a set of end tables and a coffee table.

Then, Kari pointed out that the majority of the items in my house are hand me downs. Including my entertainment center, dining room table and chairs, recliner, rocker and both love seats as well as various desks and shelving units scattered throughout Grandma's Playhouse. I think I have only ever made three furniture purchases, one of which was a used piece. But while my initial thoughts vaguely brushed upon the "poor me" sort of idea, my next thought was much more positive.

How amazing that I have such wonderful friends/family that are so generous with their belongings to just GIVE stuff to me! How fantastic that I could furnish the many crazy rooms at Grandma's Playhouse with gifts from the people that I love to remind me of them! I could be sitting on milk crates to eat my dinner or lounging in an empty living room, but I am not! I have a place for my home teachers to sit when they come to visit me, I have a table to place my food on and I am so blessed!

Hand me downs rock!

And so does my family.

"Family tradition" or alternately titled "um what was our goal again part two"

I have no camera cord. So I have no picture for you.

Yet.

But, I will write the second part of a former post entitled "um what was our goal again"

You remember that one, right?

About the purple door?




You see, the women in my family have a longstanding tradition. It all started with my great grandmother Effie Jane.

Darling Effie had a lovely little loft in her home, for her three little ones to sleep in. However, she was rather bereft that the poor things had to climb up a ladder from the outside of the house to get to it, so she asked her sweet husband if he would put in a staircase for her. Nothing fancy, mind you. Just a safer way for her kiddos to get up and down from their sleeping quarters.

But Orion, busy farmer that he was, never had time to get to the Honey Do list project of the proposed stairway. He had plowing and cutting and baling to attend to as well as the numerous other responsibilities that plague a farm man.

One day, after Orion went out to the fields, Effie decided that she would just have to build that staircase herself.

So, she cut a hole in the ceiling for her staircase.

When Orion got home, he had to finish the project for her, and hence the tradition started.



My mother waited until my dad went out of town for a day or two, and when he returned, he was enlisted to help finish up the complete renovation of the family room. He was handed a paintbrush amidst his protestations and they finished the project a few days later.



So when Scotland went to work on Friday, I scurried off to the Home Depot to obtain my painting supplies for the front door. I chose the darkest plum purple that they had and rushed home to begin my project.

I had removed the handles and locks and applied three coats of paint before Scotland called to say he was coming home for lunch. Luckily, the door was mostly dry as I hurriedly attempted to secure the lock mechanisms before he arrived. I left the garage door open so he would come in the back way, and after eating lunch, he went to the front door to check the mailbox.

Whoa!

He was surprised, yes.

And the next day when he went down to Pocatello to help Mo with his firewood adventure, I painted the back door the same lovely color.

And when he got home that night, I asked him to reassemble the locks mechanism.

So yes, it is a family tradition.

And he is going hunting this weekend..........

So many walls and so many options......

I promise...

...I have a really great blog for you.

I do.

But I can't find the blasted cord to transfer the pictures from my camera to the computer.

It's really good.

I'm really frustrated.

What does one do when one's creative expressions are stopped up, quietly suppressed by the world she lives in?

Indeed. What does one do...

Wretched cord!

Why I deserve a magic wand

I know, I know. Everyone thinks they deserve a magic wand. But I am really serious! I need one. Let’s see, what are my arguments…

I would only use the magic wand for good. I would never use it when I was in a bad mood, (because really, who could be in a bad mood if they had a magic wand) so there would be no concern about other people not wanting me to have it. I would only use it for myself just a teeny weeny bit, mostly I would use it for others.

My husband would be much happier if our house was clean and all the laundry was done. I promise, I would use it to do that for him.

My cats would love it if the litter box magically cleaned itself every time they used it. They would be happier and healthier if I used my magic wand for that.

My brother would be less overworked and stressed if I used my magic wand to fix my car so he didn’t have to. And he would probably appreciate it if I also used it to install a new car stereo so he doesn’t have to worry about that.

My parents would be so very pleased if I were able to use that magic wand to procure another motor home, so that they wouldn’t be so crowded when Scotland and I join them in camping adventures. And we would probably have to keep it since the last thing they need is another vehicle to worry about.

My sister (the hairstylist) would be so happy if I used that magic wand to give myself long thick hair so that she would have more fun playing with it. It would really be doing her a favor…

My sister (the attorney) would be ecstatic if that magic wand gave her more time with me, by way of a private jet so I can zip on over to Boise any time she needs me.

So you see, I, unlike other unworthy egocentric people would be a commendable recipient of such a prestigious honor.

By the way I would also be willing to fill in when the tooth fairy is out of town, but only if they give me the ability to fly. And not just when I am filling in, but all the time.

Sweet Dreams (parental supervision strongly suggested)

In my office, I hold the reigning title of "queen of the strangest dreams," an honor, to be sure.

I am sure everyone loves it when I start a sentence with "I had a dream last night about..."

No really, I think they do.

Unfortunately, in holding such a prestigious title, I have to deal with somewhat violent dreams as well. Actually, mostly violent dreams is more like it.

Three weeks ago, Scotland and I ran into Pete from the singles branch at the west side Wal-Mart. That night, I remember dreaming that Pete cut two peoples heads off and wrapped them in plastic wrap so he could take them to the airport. Naturally, I was a bit disturbed that such a dream would come into my mind, especially about harmless little, innocent Pete.

Huh. That came out a little less manly than I wanted him to sound. Sorry Pete.

Anyway, last night I had a dream that I found two children abandoned in a store so I decided to take them home with me. Then their father showed up, but being that I had already decided that his parental skills were in question, I refused to give them up. Yes that is right, I essentially kidnapped two innocent dream kids. And then I stabbed the father. (minor detail)

And what about the time I was on a date with Randy Travis (of all people) and there was a violent mob at the restaurant that we were at and he pulled out his six shooters and killed everyone?

So what does all this mean exactly?

Am I a violent person? Or is my fear of violence what is driving these strange dreams? Or perhaps do I have some kind of cosmic connection to the universe that helps me predict future violent occurrences.

What, you believe that Pete could behead people and I could stab someone but Randy Travis taking me on a date is really that unbelievable?

Psh. Whatever.

And yes, I am still the "queen of the strangest dreams." Nobody but nobody is takin that crown from me anytime soon....

Three months

Yesterday Scotland and I hit our three month anniversary.

I know, you are saying to yourself, "Three months? What is three months? Who cares about three months?"

Three months is the amount of time you are on probation when you start a new job.

Three months is the amount of time you are given to learn a class full of information in college.

Three months is one third of the way through the time it takes to grow a baby

Three months is all the time you have to grow a garden (at least in Idaho)

(Ok maybe I am stretching a bit on that last one...)

But still, three months is three months...

No, we really didn't do much. We went to church, we made cookies, we danced in the kitchen, just newlywed stuff...

But last night, I started thinking about it after we had already gone to bed, and I was supposed to be asleep. In three months, our relationship has taken leaps and bounds. In three months we have developed a strong trust in one another and in ourselves. We depend upon each other and share things with each other.

Everyone says marriage changes things. Yeah it does. Things are very different from when we were dating. But it is good. We grow and stretch together and it makes us stronger people, better people.

I love him with every beat of my heart. I cannot imagine my life without him. I hate saying stuff like that because I think it always comes out hollow sounding and mushy, but I have no other words. So instead maybe I will post some pictures for you...

random pics from my cell phone...

Lancelot with the peacock hat that looks like a bad toupee.

Kari with the old lady hat. I like the flowerpot hat better but it looks like the sun is shining out of it....

A freezer full of meat, the most random and yummy of our wedding gifts.

My dirty husband after a day of riding in the mud. He looks like a gum commercial, "Dirty mouth? Clean it up!"

New baby kittens, sugar and trixy.

Funny self portraits.

um, what was our goal again?

Last night, I was just starting to drift off to sleep after writing in my journal and finishing a bowl of perfectly cinnamony fried ice cream, when Scotland came into the bedroom toting the laptop beneath his arm.

My eyes were closed when he sat on the bed next to me, and he started to explain the benefits of replacing our windows for energy efficiency. I was only half way listening, and then he mentioned something about doors. I sleepily mentioned that I wanted to remove the front storm door.

"What do you want to replace it with?" He questioned.

"Nothing" I replied, my eyes still closed.

Then he proceeded to tell me all of the ways that storm doors can help with energy efficiency with a wooden door. Apparently, if you have a metal door, the effects of a storm door are minimal because the steel doors are efficient enough without them.

"Ok" I sleepily replied, "Then I want a new front door so I can paint it and not have a storm door."

Amused, he asked me what color I would paint it.

"Mmmmm, a deliciously plum purple, dark and rich. The trim would have to be white with two brushed silver lantern style lights on either side of it, and a big silver knocker at eye level with a shiny mail slot too... That would be perfect...." I purred to him with my head on the pillow and eyes still closed.

"But that would defeat our goal!" He exclaimed with frustration...

"Um, what was our goal again?" I asked innocently.

"Energy efficiency!" He proclaimed.

Huh. That's not my goal. My goal is to have a cute house... a stylish and fashionable house with a plum front door....

Then he asked me where he was going to live when I painted the front door plum.

With the cats, in the garage.

And then I went back to sleep.

Fresh bread and sugary jam

I am really not the Betty Crocker type most times. I rarely make breakfast for my husband, I eat leftovers for lunch and usually my dinners consist of items I remember my mother making over and over again. I just don't fit the fantastic cook and housewife mold.

But, the other day, I succumbed to the desire to be housewifey.

I spent hours and hours on a Saturday morning to make homemade jam.

Two flats of berries, twenty five pounds of sugar and 103 containers later, we had jam.

And then I realized we were out of bread.

No problem, I can just whip some up...

This would have been the point that I should have had my head examined. Who was I kidding? I hadn't made bread in years and I had never made bread successfully.

Three misshapen loaves later, we had bread to put our jam on.

If I start churning my own butter, please check me into Blackfoot South.