My Dog Ate My Blog Post

Though I wouldn't put it past one of the despicable animals, I mean, they have eaten shoes, toys, and kittens, the dog did not in fact eat my blog post. At least as far as I know. If I was shooting for a realistic excuse I would've said my baby ate my blog post, I mean, he has eaten shoes, toys, and kittens. Well, he nibbled on them. Shoes, toys, and kittens. He never actually swallowed one or anything. As far as I know.

I was writing another post very soon after the last one I posted. By very soon I mean a day or two. I was considerably into it when something happened. I pushed the wrong button or something. I'm going to blame it on the baby. He's always a good fall guy. He's too cute to get into any trouble. And he always blames everything on his older brother. When this something happened, I assumed my draft to that point had been saved because it usually works that way. When I went back a couple of days ago to work on it some more, I couldn't fnd it. I'd added pictures and everything. And now I can't remember what I was writing about. The pitfalls of old age I guess. No, wait, I'm not old. I'm 29. Yeah. I'm 29. I keep forgetting. Part of getting old I suppose. No! I'm not getting old. Sheesh!

So, I guess I'll just start all over. I posed the question a few weeks ago on facebook..."Do you know what happens when you give a 2 year old a snack sized Oreo McFlurry in the car and tell him to be careful and not spill it?" Assuming this question was rhetorical, no one answered. I had posted a picture along with it though so there waw really no need for a response. You know what they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. That may well be true, but I don't make a living with pictures. Words are my bread and butter. Well, they're not really my bread and butter. Trains are my bread and butter. Words are my obsession, I guess you could say. In light of that, here is an illustrated list of what happens when you give a 2 year old an Oreo McFlurry and tell him to be careful and not spill it.

First of all, he laughs maniacally because he now has physical proof that his mother is a SUCKER.



Second, if the pictures are any indication, he takes 2 drinks then rubs the cookie-laced ice cream concoction all over his hands, face, and knees.

Third, he sticks his tongue out at his poor beleagured mother because he knows she's in for it when Daddy finds out. After all, Daddy had just spent the afternoon cleaning out her car. And when Mommy rats him out, which she most definitely will do, as she's know for her tendancy to throw absolutely anyone under the bus to save her own hide with very little incentive, he knew all he would have to do is tell Daddy, while looking at him with that now perfect smile, "I wuv ewe." He'd never see the first second in time out and we both knew it.

Fourth, he hangs his head in shame because Mommy has just lectured him about ruining a white shirt and shorts that both of his brothers had worn without destroying. He appears contrite but secretly he is proud that he did something neither of the older BKs was able to do. Even if it did make him Mommy scream like a banshee most of the 25 minute drive home.



Finally, he has the nerve, the unmitigated audacity, to tell his mommy that his hands are "icky". Since my son is working very hard to create his own, much more simplified language where "shosher" means shower, flip flop, and trailer, I understood that this meant his hands were sticky and he wanted to wash them. I suppose he was unconcerned with that his legs were sticky, his feet were sticky, his knees were sticky, and his face was sticky, not to mention the fact that the ice cream was in the buckle of his car seat and there was a good possibility that he would be stuck there. Of course, this really sent his mother over the edge.

One of these days there's going to be something really wrong at my house but no one is going to pay any attention because they're going to think I'm screaming at one of the kids again. Big BK now says I'm a yeller. I'm okay with that. I told him to keep it up and I'd be a yeller and a spanker. He wasn't scared. I'm not sure why.

The next morning, after I wrote this, I'm posting it. I went to my blog and couldn't find it. I clicked on drafts and there it was. Along with the last one I wrote and lost as well as like 6 others that I've started and haven't finished. So, here you go!

Yeah, I'm Going to Say It......Cupcakes

Well, I'm clearly slacking on this whole blogging thing seeing as how I haven't put a post up here in 3 weeks or better. I apologize for that. I certainly don't wish to disappoint you, my viewing and reading public. So, here goes.....

For those of you who don't know, I am currently a stay-at-home mom. I might have mentioned that in the last blog but I'm too lazy to go back and look. Anyway, I've been a stay-at-home mommy since the end of April. It's been great. And it's been the most horrible torture ever inflicted on a member of the human race. It just depends on which day of the week you're asking. With the hubs working the way he currently is and my father's health problems, and my desire to not have my mother be driven completely insane by the psychological terrorists that are her grandchildren, it was determined that I could now, for the first time since my Angel BK was 2 years old, stay home and take care of my children. Yeah, I know what you're thinking...SUCKER! And right now, I'd agree with you.

Apparently my Big BK, you know, that dude, the one in the cape eating cheesecake with what looks to be a shovel, is going through an emotional blackmail phase. He has told me twice today that he hates me. Occasionally he tells me that he hates his brother or the situation he's in, that he's never going to like whatever it is I'm making him do, like apologize. By occasionally I mean 261 times per day. Then he looks at me sometimes, once every 3 weeks or something like that, and says he's going to start being nice to his brother and he's not going to be mean anymore. And like a schmuck I believe him....well, kind of. There's always a part of me that thinks and says out loud, "Yeah, I'll believe it when I see it." He does it just enough though to keep a tiny little kernel of hope alive inside of me. Stupid hope.

He told me one day that he was going to be mean from now on. He was never going to be nice again. My response? I said, "God have mercy on all of us if this was you being good."

In other news, I'm on a cupcake kick, in case you haven't been made aware. If you're on my facebook, in my Sunday School class or a member of my immediate family, you've been made aware of this and been forced to consume all of the cupcakes I've made.

 

These are my made from scratch chocolate cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. I was trying different toppings and different icing tips here. Walnuts are a great garnish on these.

These are Cookies-n-Cream cupcakes, a favorite with the kiddies. These are dark chocolate cupcakes baked with an Oreo in the bottom then filled with a marshmallow cream and topped with buttercream or cream cheese frosting, depending on my mood. Obviously, they're garnished with Oreos. These particular pink ones were for my beautiful niece's birthday. She specially requested them after sampling some at Easter.

These are Strawberries-N-Cream cupcakes. These are white cupcakes filled with cream cheese and strawberry filling, topped with cream cheese frosting then garnished with a ripe strawberry. These were made for the Mother-Daughter Banquet at church. A banquet I did not attend. I did have my picture taken when I dropped off the cupcakes and a Tropical Trifle though.....

The other baby was asleep in the car and when that one is taking a nap nobody in their right mind wakes him up.

I like this one because of the hat. I think I'm going to borrow that hat and start wearing it everyday. Does it look like my boy is only humoring me and the photog, Paula. Nothing new under the sun there...he's always just humoring me, i.e., see above about the promise to not be mean.

These were from scratch dark chocolate cupcakes filled with white chocolate meringue buttercream and topped with green buttercream frosting. Because, you know, why not green? These were for Mommaw's birthday. The filling was actually supposed to be icing but it deflated on me and wasn't pipeable. They were supppppper rich. I used extra p's because they were that rich. Baby BK helped make this. Mommaw doesn't know it because I forgot to tell her, but the mixer was not turned on that Baby BK wasn't using it. He was there throughout the entire process, on his step-stool, getting in my way, demanding that his apron be put on then taken off then put back on. This was the turning point in my cupcake expedition. This was when the family in MC demanded that I stop bringing cupcakes up. I think there's an issue about fitting into clothes and teeth rotting out and hyperactive children, I don't know.

These are white cupcakes with chocolate cream cheese frosting. This is my 2nd attempt to find a good recipe for white scratch cupcakes. This one works out well. It was a moist cupcake but it was overwhelmed by the frosting so I think in the future it will get a plain buttercream or a seven minute frosting. When I learn to make a seven minute frosting, of course. I might turn this into a cookies-n-cream cupcake as well to cut down on the richness of that cake.

This is the white cupcake above with the absolute best buttercream frosting I've ever made or taken part in. They were fantastic. The icing was fantastic. When I topped them with chocolate-covered strawberries they were even more fantastic. Because there is never anything wrong with adding a chocolate-covered strawberry, am I right? Of course I am.  

And here, my dear readers, is what started it all. These are cupcakes from Baby BK's birthday, way back in October of 2010. On the left you see strawberry cupcakes filled with marshmallow cream and topped with buttercream frosting. In the right you see chocolate cupcakes filled with chocolate fudge ganache and topped with buttercream frosting. The buttercream on these was exceptionally delicious as well but it was a total fluke and I couldn't recreate it if I tried although I do believe it involved the addition of a stick of butter.

So, that is the end of my cupcake tour. Should you be interested in trying some of my cupcakes, let me know. I'll put you on my guinea pig list so long as you promise to be honest about taste, texture, overall flavor and quality. Just not too honest. I can take constructive criticism.....to a point, then I just start to get mad.

If you would be interested in purchasing cupcakes for a special occassion, let me know. Plain, delicious cupcakes in your choice of flavor with your choice of frosting, topped with sprinkles or sugars if you so desire, are $12.00 per dozen. Filled cupcakes will cost anywhere from $15 to $18 dollars per dozen depending on type of filling and type of garnish, i.e., chocolate filled with fudge and topped with buttercream or cream cheese frosting will cost $15 per dozen; Cookies-N-Cream or Strawberries-n-Cream, as described above, or chocolate cupcakes filled with peanut butter cream and topped with peanut butter frosting and garnished with mini peanut butter cups will be priced higher. All cupcakes are made from scratch and baked fresh, never frozen, and delivered. 

How'd you like that little sales pitch? Pretty awesome, huh? I thought so too. And just to bring a smile to your face......... 

Because you can't look at this three-quarters naked boy fake smiling as he drips chocolate from a strawberry all over my counter and not smile.

100 Posts

This marks my 100th post. Bells and whistles, bells and whistles. That's what you'd be hearing right now if I knew how to add sound to my blog. 100 posts! Yay!

In honor of this auspicious occasion..........

I came home last week to find the hubby growling at the boys and the boys completely insane. They'd been stuck at the house due to snow since Tuesday. This was Thursday. Yeah, 2 days. They'd been stuck in the house 2 days. 2 days and rabid cabin fever had set in. So, I took the boys upstairs to play. Hubs had some time during which he could look at AutoTrader, his favorite thing in the world to do.

While upstairs with my psychotic children, I had a brilliant idea. I know the hubs has at times felt unappreciated. He has been a stay at home dad and I believe they suffer with that feeling regularly. He was so grouchy that I, being the wonderfully thoughtful wife that I am, thought I would do something to cheer him up. A surprise-yeah, that was it. I love surprises, more so when I'm the one being surprised but I figured it could work in reverse just as well.

So, while hubby was asleep on the couch, I put one baby to bed and began making my plans. I begged, pleaded and cajoled my baby sister into helping me. Her assistance would be integral to my plan. She agreed to come to the house the following day and pick the turkeys up and keep them for the night. I thought that the boys could stay with her or Mommaw even though I'd never gained Mommaw's agreement. It was assumed that she would agree. I don't think she can resist the boys, especially when she hasn't seen them for a while.

With the main hurdle having been eliminated, I worked on furthering my plan. I gave a great deal of thought to taking him to Lexington but dismissed the idea based on the 2 1/2 hour drive. We had a lot of things to get done Saturday that would be much more difficult to accomplish with that span of time allotted to driving. I wanted to take him to a nice hotel and we'd been talking about going to Hibachi so I googled Huntington. And my plan came together.

I left work an hour early Friday on the premise that I was taking my husband of 10 years out for a romantic night away. We deserved it after all. We've had a somewhat difficult year and previous years that were much more difficult. We needed to take sometime to concentrate on our marriage. It's something we do. We think it's important.

I got home an hour early and told him the plan. The boys were going to Aunt Boss's house. We were going the opposite direction, something I've dreamed of doing on an intermittent basis since they gained the ability to speak and fight. I'd booked us a room at the Pullman Plaza Hotel and made reservations at Hibachi. We checked into the hotel and went straight to the restaurant. And spent an entire hour having supper and barely saying a word. Sigh. It was wonderful. Sometimes it's nice to just not talk. It's especially nice to be comfortable enough with each other to not have to talk. We shared a table with some other people, none of whom we were acquainted with prior to our dinner, one of whom I was well acquainted with by the time we left. I don't think the chic stopped talking the entire time we were there and she wasn't a demure, soft spoken creature either.

It was 8 pm by the time we finished dinner. Our bed time is 9 pm so we wanted to be at the hotel by that time. I'm serious when I say that's our bedtime. Our house is abed by 9 pm. I love it. It seems to work for us because part of the household is so young they need their rest to ensure their health and growth. The other half is too old to keep their eyes open beyond that point. So, what did we do with our time, you might be asking. I did say this was a romantic night, right?

It just so happened, which was a great influence on my plans, that the Big Sandy Arena was hosting a...are your ready....it's really romantic......I'm not sure you're ready for this.......it might be too saccharine (sweet for the hubby when he reads this and asks why I keep using words like that).........I did say romantic and you all know what a sweet personality I have.........

We went to the annual Boat and RV show. Yes, you heard me right. The BOAT and RV show. Because, you know, I'm all about water sports and camping out. I love nothing so much as I do the great outdoors. (Was that believable at all?) We looked at boats and, of course, RVs. Think back through all of the blog posts that you have read, all 99 prior to this. Have you ever read anything that would give you the impression that I would enjoy a boat and rv show? I did do the post once about riding on a boat with the fam. I'll admit I enjoyed that. But camping? I have tried it. A couple of times in a couple of different circumstances. Knowing what you know about me, do you think I'd enjoy that? It's very hard to camp in high heels-I'm just sayin', you know how I like my high heels. That's how much I care for my husband-I would took him to a boat and RV show during our romantic evening because I knew he'd like it.

We looked at boats. We looked at RVs. I did it all in 4 inch stiletto heels because that's just how I roll. We finally had to leave when, upon climbing an elevated platform to look at some pontoons, which I really liked but desperately can't afford, my heel kept slipping between the wooden floor boards. I thought I was going to get to add to my list of places I've fallen though nothing so dramatic as when I traumatized the neighbors. I didn't though. The hubs, always a gentleman, held onto my arm so that I wouldn't. That's just how he rolls.

We had a wonderful time. It was nice to get away but it was nice to get back to the boys too. We always miss them when their away though I'm pretty sure they didn't give us a second thought. Big BK got to stay up late and watch the Upside Down Show, which, according to him, is the funniest show on earth. I completely and overwhelmingly disagree with that and am glad that it only comes on at 11 pm. Baby BK got to see his Mommaw which is his favorite thing in the world to do second only to jack slapping his brother. I dont' think they missed us at all which was only reinforced by their reluctance in coming home.

It was a good weekend though. If you ever find yourself at a loss when it comes to ideas for romance, just let me know. I can hook you up. It's what I do. :)

Congratulations to me on the 100 Blog Posts. I rock!

Just a Quick Post

Day before yesterday I drove the hubby's Explorer to work because the weather stunk. I went out for lunch. When I have lunch I purchase my food then sit in the car and eat and read. It's my 2 favorite things, eating and reading. :) I went to Taco Bell and ordered a Chicken Ranch taco salad because I thought, why not. I haven't had any lettuce in a while. If you know anything about Taco Bell taco salads, they are 95 percent lettuce, 3 percent rice, 1 percent beans, and 1 percent meat. (I have never conducted a scientific study on this topic, or any other topic for that matter, but I'm pretty sure that's how it breaks down.)

I was sitting in the Explorer, putting the ranch dressing on my salad when I moved funny or something and then entire thing flipped out on to the console, seat, and floor. A large portions spilled. Well, a large portion of lettuce and chicken spilled as the rice and beans were attached to the bottom of the bowl. Hubby hasn't mentioned it but I know the Explorer smells like Ranch. I only had 3 napkins to clean it up and it required way more than 3 napkins. I scraped the larges part off of the hard and soft surfaces with my fingers to conserve the napkins. Which leads me to another thing that you may or may not know about BKCMom.......

I will eat Taco Bell Chicken Ranch Taco Salad off the floor of an automobile that isn't too dirty.I paid a good portion of my semi-hard earned income for this salad and it only had a bout 4 pieces of chicken in it to start with. I couldn't afford to lose any. Well, actually, I guess in an effort to preserve the integrity of this blog, I have to be honest and say that BKCMom will eat just about anything off of any floor that looks like it's been cleaned relatively recently. You had no idea I was so disgusting, did you. Well, I guess if you've ever lived with me you do.

In other news regarding my other favorite things.......

I came home from work last week and heard the boys in the family room playing. Hubby was in the living room working on a fire. The boys were in the family room playing....for those of you with somewhat weak constitutions and absolutely no faith in my or hubby's ability to parent well, you might want to stop reading this. The cushions were off of the couch because hubby had vacuumed under them. He said he had to empty the vacuum cleaner twice during the cleaning because it was so dirty. That may or may not be an exaggeration, it's hard to tell with him sometimes and the couch really was dirty. I'd seen it. Then I pushed the cushions back and pretended that I hadn't seen it. In the immortal words of my aunt, you could've sewed lettuce under them. Like I said, the cushions were on the floor. The bar stools were pulled away from the floor, out in the middle of the floor, away from the bar. BabyBK has only recently learned how to climb on the bar stools, a skill that he most definitely needed to be a well-rounded 2 year old. My children, and this is where our parenting is going to be questioned, were climbing on top of the bar stools and jumping onto cushions. Oh, and one of them missed once.

I will respond only to comments and emails that don't threaten to call social services. I will refer all others to my lawyer....:)

More Things You Might Not Know About BKC Mom

• I can't parallel park. No, seriously, I can't. Physically, intellectually, I can't do it. I can't seem to make the car do what I know it needs to do. Something gets crossed somewhere between my brain and my hands, signals get all confounded and muddled. It doesn't work. I don't think I would have ever gotten my license if the guy giving the test hadn't actually told me what to do.
• I've never had a broken bone. In 34 years, I've never broken a bone. I'm going for a world record.
• I've never had stitches. Impossible you say, since you know full well I've had 3 babies ripped from my body. Nope, they used clips to close that up. On the outside. On the inside I'm sure they used stitches but I don't count that because I never actually saw them............

No, wait a second. I have had stitches. 4 as a matter of fact. It just completely slipped my mind, what, with not being able to see them. They were placed on the back of my headl, covered by lots of hair, because that's where I nearly split my skull open when I fell down the basement stairs!! (Yep, there it is, what you've been expecting. Y'all knew it was only a matter of time.)

THE DAY I RIPPED MY NEW TIGHTS

(also known as The Day the Basement Stairs Nearly Took Me Out)

Sunday started out just like any other Sunday. I drug myself out of bed, got in the shower, got dressed, fought with the boys, got them dressed, fought with them while I got them dressed, fought with them while we got them into the car, went to Sunday School, fought with them at Sunday School, sat through church, and fought with them at church just the same as every other Sabbath. This particular Sunday though was going to be special because we had the neighbors coming over for supper and bringing the boys Christmas presents. We were so excited. We don't get company much, especially for supper, so we get excited when it happens. "J", "I", "M" and "C" (again, we at Country Girls blog use only initials or nicknames to protect the innocent), were coming over at 2:30 for steaks, mashed potatoes, glazed carrots, and coconut cream pie, none of which had been started prior to church.

So, when church and the following baptism were over, we rushed home and I immediately started preparing supper. I didn't even have time to run upstairs to change like I usually do. I put on my best apron, which, coincidentally matched my outfit, and got to work. By 2:30 supper was not done but it was pretty close. Everyone except me was in the living room. The boys initially wouldn't participate but they got warmed up and started showing off. They opened their gifts and were happy to have them. The last thing that I had cooking on the stove was just about done, my carrots were glazing away, when I decided to go downstairs to the basement to get the boys' little table and chairs. No big deal. I thought about yelling for the hubby but didn't want to take him away from the company and leave them to entertain themselves, so I did it. It's not anything I haven't done at least a thousand, possibly a million times before. If this is exaggerated it is only mildly so. You know, put one foot on the step, put the other on the step. Put one foot on the next step, put the other foot on the next step. Put one foot on the step, put the other foot on the step.

Now, this is where things got complicated. I put my foot on the third step. I put my other foot on the third step. I moved my foot to put it on the fourth step. Easy enough, right. You'd certainly think so. I'm mean, I've been walking for slightly more than 2 dozen years (it's my blog, I can pretend), I should have mastered it by now. Practice makes perfect and all that. When I moved my left foot to the 4th step, my foot went, my leg went, my entire body went, my tights did not. It should be said that, at this time my carrots were still on the stove, glazing away. It should also be said that I'd only opened these tights and worn them once before. And I paid 5 dollars for them.

There was a nail on the step sticking up just a bit. I knew it. I stepped on it on a regular basis. Up until this point it had been uncomfortable but not a threat to life or limb. This time, my tights got caught on it. You might be wondering why I was walking down in an only mildly clean and extremely dusty basement with no shoes on. I'll thank you to mind your own business and continue with my narrative. When your tights get caught on a nail on the third step of a stairway, your body's momentum and gravity act in a way that send you hurdling down the stairs. It's physics, look it up. I knew I was going and I knew there wasn't a blessed thing I could do to stop it. I think that was the smartest thought that went through my head the entire day because I think it kept me from stiffening up. I hit the stairs hard on the right side of my body then went, as I'm fond of saying, head over teakettle down the steps. I hit every singles step I think, except maybe the 4th one which I'm pretty sure I sailed over. If you know anything about basements, you know they're not usually floored with thick gymnastics-style mats. Ours is no exception, so, when I finally came to a stop it was on a cold, hard, concrete floor. Again with the physics, what happens when an stationary object meets a moving object, they take on the characteristics of each other meaning the immovable object will absorb the force of the moving object and move a bit. The moving object will absorb the force of the stationary object and slow down. Let's just say that I didn't feel the floor move. What does that mean? SPLAT!

BigBK heard the entire ordeal as I'd left the basement door open and he'd been standing or playing nearby. He yelled, "Mommy, are you alright?" I don't think I answered him other than to moan and groan because, with complete sincerity, that was all I could do. I was hurting more than I'd ever hurt before. I couldn't move. I tried. You know, walk it off. I tried to get up. I couldn't make so much as one part of my body move. I heard "I" upstairs tell the hubby that I'd fallen. I'm pretty sure his response was, "Huh?" because that's his response to everything. That's where my baby gets it from. Eventually they came for me. Hubby rushed down the stairs to where I laid, sprawled on the concrete. I remember him asking me if I was alright. I'm not sure I answered because I didn't have breath in my lungs to form a response. And I was hurting. Badly.

Now, Hubby is not really that great in an emergency. He'lll admit that. It would be a waste of his time to deny it. He was trying to get me off of the floor. He asked if I could get up. I think I told him finally that I couldn't move. I told him that my tights had gotten caught and I thought I'd torn them. I was upset about that. I also told him to turn the stove off. Like I said, my carrots were still glazing. I didn't want them to burn. The message went up the stairs along with the message to call 911. That decision was made when I finally managed to lift my upper body up on my hands and hubby discovered that there was blood pouring from somewhere in the vicinity of my skull. That pretty much did him in. Seriously. "I" went to fetch a pillow and a blanket as well as a towel. The towel was to staunch the bleeding. The pillow and the blanket were to make me comfortable on the cold floor while we awaited the ambulance. By the time she'd gotten downstairs Hubby had already had me off the floor and walked to the couch in the basement. Probably not a good decision considering I'd just went SPLAT on a concrete floor, but like I said, he's not so good in an emergency.

When I'd gotten off the floor and onto the couch, I'd discovered that about 12 inches of the left leg of my tights were hanging beyond my toes. I made hubby pull it up because it looked ridiculous. He did it when I sat on the couch. Still, I was in an inordinate amount of pain. My middle right finger hurt so badly I was worried that it was broken. There was a pain just under my left breast that kept me from taking a deep breath. The blood didn't worry me too bad as I know scalp injuries bleed alot but this pain did. I was afraid I'd broken a rib or punctured my lung. It was only a couple of minutes after I laid down on the couch that I heard a siren. As if the fact that I fell down the stairs was not embarrassing enough, now the entire hollow was going to know about it. I think I said something to that effect. A lady came downstairs. She was examining me for broken bones. She said once EMS arrives...something, something, something. I wasn't concentrating on her words beyond that first part. I thought, if EMS isn't here, then who are you? But I didn't ask that. I assumed she was a volunteer firefighter from the Fallsburg Department. She was very nice. She told me that she didn't think my sweater was ruined by the blood on my sleeve when I suggested that it was. You know me, I'm nothing if not concerned with my attire.  

At some points during this ordeal, two things happened. I'm not sure at what points because I was almost delirious with pain but, sometime I realized that I didn't have my glasses. They were procured for me. At some other point, "I" told Hubby that he should retrieve my shoes. I told him they were in the utility room. He brought me a pair of loafers that's I'd worn while I trimmed back the shrubs the day before. They were covered with mud. I thought about telling him to get me the others from the utility room but he was so upset I didn't think it would be appropriate. EMS eventually arrived. They asked me if I was having any pain anywhere other than my left breast. I told them that I might be but that particular pain was so sever that it was all I could concentrate on. They put a C-Collar around my neck, which was incredibly uncomfortable then duct taped me to a backboard, which was more uncomfortable. Yes, I said duct taped me to a back board. They used duct tape. Of course I never saw it, what with the paralyzing pain and the C-Collar making it impossible to move my head. But I have it on good authority from everyone involved that they'd used duct tape. As they carried me out of the house, I said, "I guess this is one way to meet people from Fallsburg." That's just how I am, hilarious in the face of the worst trauma. Awesome, huh.

"I" strong-armed the EMTs into taking me to Ashland to the hospital rather than Louisa. I continued to badger them when they got me into the ambulance. I don't have good relationship with one particular ER doc at Three Rivers. I might explain that at another time, but, suffice it to say that it has colored my entire view of that organization. They called some person and got permission to do so as all of my lung sounds were fine and my blood pressure was 130/70. So, we made the trip to Ashland with me duct taped to a backboard.

This story will be continued at a later date, possibly this evening when I can get to it with no interruptions. You know the way it ends. I survive. Obviously. I want to add pictures but Hubby refuses to take a picture of my scalp or my bruises and the pool of blood at the bottom of the stairs is already gone.

Funny Stories

I've recently received some wonderful feedback about the blog. People think it is HILARIOUS! By extension, they think I am HILARIOUS! Finally, evidence to back up the claim that I've made to my husband every single day for the last 10 and a half years. I told him this. He rolled his eyes, grunted, "Yeah," and walked out of the room. He remains unconvinced.

So, I'm sitting here, thinking about what I can write about next for your entertainment. It has to be funny. As I'm thinking, I'm tapping my finger thoughtfully against my chin. It makes me look like I'm concentrating. I like to look like that sometimes. I know...Hubby, do not read beyond this if you think I've made you look like a fool thus far. You are not going to like what follows. Trust me on this. I know I've said that to you before but I mean it this time, trust me. You are not going to like this.

Please allow me to tell you about something that happened at our house a long time ago. This story does not involve either of my two favorite subjects, food or my children. It doesn't contain a combination of those two things. It does contain my absolute least favorite things in the whole world.........

Yes......MICE....or a mouse, anyway.

This story takes place a long time ago, I'm thinking about 8 or 9 years. Hubby and I had been married a year or two. I was still in school at Morehead State. He was working nights at Miller Brothers Coal. We'd exited the newlywed phase of our relationship as will be demonstrated later in this tale. We lived in a single wide mobile home in the High Bottom section of Louisa.

At the time we were experiencing a rabid infestation of the above mentioned rodent. I despise mice. Really, I do. They creep me out beyond anything else in this world. I have nightmares about mice. They are disgusting to the millionth degree and I hate them. I know I shouldn't hate another one of God's creatures but I can't help myself. I've tried to explain to Hubby that it is not something I have control over, this dramatic reaction I have when I see one of the evil creatures. I scream and run away. There's nothing else I can do. It's beyond my control to do anything else. It is an immediate and instantaneous reaction and I can not curb it. Unless I'm in church. If you were in church with me the night we had a mouse running through the sanctuary, you know that I did not give in to this impulse. You would remember it if I had. It took every ounce of self control I had not to jump from my pew and run out of the building. It was the most stressful and uncomfortable church service I've ever endured. You try sitting in a crowded pew with your legs up the entire service wearing patent leather knee boots. It ain't easy.

I digress, again. Anyway, this story takes place a long time ago. As I said, we were experiencing an infestation of biblical proportions. Well maybe not that bad but it seemed bad at the time. I nearly gave hubby a stroke and mortified him beyond his wildest nightmares when I came barrelling out of the house one afternoon screaming. That was when I opened my sink cabinet and saw the gross little bald tail of one as it scurried under or through the cabinet along my drain pipe. If I recall correctly, and I always do, Hubby told me to be quiet before the neighbors heard. He took a look and didn't see anything. He may or may not have thought I was insane. He never really said. He placed a piece of tin cut from a disposable pie pan over the hole and went about his business. I spent the rest of the day afraid to open a door for fear of being attacked by the little beast and his brethren.

Because I hate mice and all they stand for, I immediately endeavoured to place traps all over the trailer. Now, while I hate mice, I hate the idea of cleaning up their brains or guts more so I did not go with the traditional Tom and Jerry style traps. I bought glue traps. At the time, no price would have been too high. Some retailer could have made a fortune off of me. I would've paid whatever they'd asked. As it was, I didn't have to pay much and I bought dozens. Actually it was probably only a couple but I could have bought dozens, that was my state of mind.

I put glue traps where they ran. We'd figured out that they ran along the bottom of my range, across the kitchen staying close to the cabinets until they could duck behind or beneath the refrigerator. Sometimes they would go through my bedroom, which was right off of the kitchen, along the wall into my bathroom. So, I laboured to place a glue trap in places where they could not be avoided. I put one beside of the stove and one in the corner of my bedroom. Why not in front of the stove? Because I knew that when Hubby came in at 4 am he was in the habit of turning the light on in the hood over the stove so that he could see to make himself a snack before going to bed. I'm always thinking about him, you know. It's always been that way.

The following morning, after I'd strategically placed the trap in the kitchen, I was woken by a noise, a loud thumping sound. It caught my attention but unless it was a mouse the likes of which I'd never seen and had no desire to encounter, it didn't concern me so I went back to sleep. I found out the next day what had happened. And oh boy did I laugh. I laughed and I laughed and I laughed.

Hubby had come in from work just like always. He'd gone to the stove and turned on the light just like always. When he'd placed his foot on the floor, he'd stepped on something, a lump of something that made a squealing sound under the pressure of his foot. He quickly saw that he'd stepped in my sticky trap which had worked quite effectively at its intended purpose as he'd also stepped on a mouse that had stepped on the sticky trap. The loud thumping sounds I'd heard was him hopping on one foot trying to sling the trap and the mouse off and hitting my lower cabinets in the process. It didn't work. It was a good sticky trap.

So, how did we, or rather, he resolve this issue? He took his sock off and threw then entire mess onto my front porch. He was so upset by the entire ordeal that he planned to leave the mouse there, so I could see it when I left for school. That would teach me a lesson! How dare I leave a mouse trap out and catch a mouse without telling him about it! He showered and what not then had a change of heart. He knew how terrified I was of mice so he retrieved the thing, pulled his sock free and disposed of it in a way that would not require me to see it. He could have gotten away with the whole thing. I would have never known about his encounter other than to know that he'd disposed of a trapped mouse had he not told me.

I know what you're thinking, "So why did he tell you? That's a little embarrassing. I would've kept it to myself."  I agree completely. It was completely embarrassing for him. But my Hubby was Green when Green wasn't cool, to paraphrase a country song. He told me because he wanted to know if his sock could be saved. He wasn't about tossing out a perfectly good sock just because it had some industrial strength rodent-catching glue and disgusting, vomit-inducing mouse cooties on it. And I'll freely admit that I tried to remove some of the glue from the sock. Alas, it could not be saved and it was disposed of.

But that is not the end of this infestation. One day, after returning from the dollar store where I'd purchased items like toilet paper that belonged in my master bathroom, I walked through the bedroom to deposit them in said bathroom. I looked over to the glue trap in the corner and met the eyes of another one. I screamed, threw my bags hither and yon and ran, not just out of the room but out of the house. I left, went to Martin County and fully intended to spend the entire day there. Hubby was working and wouldn't get home until 10 pm, it was a Saturday so he got off earlier. I couldn't stay there all night though so I went to do some grocery shopping. Smart, right? No. When I got home I had to put all of the groceries away. I turned on all of the lights and turned the TV up really loud, hoping the noise would convince the little beasts that it was not a good idea to come out. I stomped through the kitchen like my feed were embedded in concrete. After the groceries were put away, I parked myself on the recliner with the foot rest and my feet up and didn't move for some time.

I couldn't live like that though. I couldn't stand the stress. That was a long time ago, back before I had responsibilities and some idea what real stress actually was. It was before my hair turned gray. I decided that I would cover the mouse up with a grocery bag so that I knew it was hidden from view and that would lighten my burden a little. When I ventured back into my bedroom, I was horrified to find that the mouse was no longer on the trap. It had escaped and all that was left was little bits of fur. So, these traps could hold a 170 lb human male but not a 6 oz mouse when confronted my a screaming virago that likely scared the bejesus out of it. Of course, I returned to my perch on the recliner and didn't move until hubby came home.

We've had numerous encounters with rodents since then. I've handled them no better. I don't expect to handle it any better in the future. Trust me on this. If you see me scream and run from the room, you know what's up as it is the only thing that gets a reaction like that from me.

Christmas

Oh, Christmas. I love the holiday. I really do. I love the fact that Jesus was born to save his people and now we celebrate his birth on December 25. I really do love it. I really do. And here it is, what always follows when I make that big of a deal of anything................

But, I do not like the stress, the pressure to buy gifts and give presents to people you sometimes really don't even care about. I don't like having to spend countless hours wrapping presents then having to run out at the last minute to pick up a gift for some random person that might show up somewhere and it would be embarrassing not to have anything. That is what I don't like about Christmas. And that is why I say that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. You get to spend time with all of the people you care about, just like Christmas, without any of that ridiculous pressure.

Christmas for our family has been a little less stressful the last couple of years though. Since hubby lost his job, we've cut back drastically on the amount of money we spend so Christmas has been a little leaner. That goes all the way around, with the kids and with other family members. Fewer gift issues = less stress = more enjoyment for myself. My shopping this year was extra easy though because I cranked it out online in about 90 minutes. Seriously. All of the purchases that I needed to make were made in one afternoon, thank you JCPenney and Walmart.

My gift wrapping is cut down tremendously since I don't buy anywhere near as many gifts as I use too and I don't wrap any of the gifts for the boys. So that's great. You'll never hear me complain about not having to wrap gifts. Ask some of the nieces and nephews. I'm pretty sure someone has receive a gift at some point in a grocery bag. I'm not ashamed. It's something I had to do. I will not explain myself to you.

It's not that I hate wrapping gifts. I really don't. I actually like doing it. It's just that I really like for my gifts to look a particular way, meaning lots of ribbon and curling ribbon and straight edges and such. It's easier now that gift wrap is coming with lines on the underside. All of the lines are straight and my boxes are centered. I spend large amounts of time curling ribbon. I told everyone that I spend so much time wrapping my gifts that they'll look great and distract from the low quality of the gift inside.

The boys had a great time. They got a lot of gifts that they wanted but have completely ignored since they got them. They have fought over each other's gifts. They got to see Santa and their cousins and best friends as Big BK would say. Hubby woke Big BK and me up at about 7 am on Christmas morning to announce that Santa had come. He'd eaten all of the cookies and drunk all of the milk. Big BK didn't hop out of the bed as he's not that kind of guy, even on Christmas morning. He did go down stairs and was thrilled to see his gifts. He got everything he asked for except the Craftsman farm. He didn't get that because I had no idea what he was talking about. Baby BK got plenty of stuff that he doesn't care about despite the fact that his brother sold him out to Santa the evening before. No, seriously, Big BK threw the baby under the bus, or the sleigh, as the case may be. He ratted him out, pretty as you please. For no reason as far as I could tell other than to get more gifts for himself. It didn't work.

Saturday evening, Christmas Day, we went to my OLDER sister's house for what we told the children would be a Christmas Party. (I stated it that way because she would prefer it if everyone thought I was older, especially since she's no bigger than a minute and I'm overset by gray hair.) Her children, my beautiful nieces and handsome nephew have a Wii and on that Wii, they have Rock Band-the greatest game ever created. To say that I love Rock Band would be like saying that I enjoy buying shoes or like to eat chocolate. It would be an extreme understatement. I LOVE Rock Band. It plays into all of my deepest fantasies. I get to pretend I'm a rock star and that I've got talent. When I'm playing it's very clear that I absolutely do not have any talent. But I'm just goofy enough and self-deprecating enough that it's fun for others to make fun of me. That makes me laugh and them and that is another one of the things I like to do. I, the two younger sisters, and the brother-in-law have decided to start a Rock Band rock band. We're going to perform only songs available on Rock Band with the accompaniment of the game. We'll travel and become famous, making fans everywhere we go and raking in tens of dollars. Well, as soon as we find baby sitters for the boys. If I'm travelling as part of a Rock Band rock band, I ain't changing diapers. And I've previously described potty training the little punk so you know that won't be an option for at least the next 1-16 years.

Just as a PS....

My baby now makes me look at him, he turns my face with his hands and says, and this is a direct quote...
"Ho, ho, ho."

It's Been A While

Clearly, it's been a while since I've added an enthralling, edge-of-your-seat blog post. My last post was 10 days ago so it's been at least 10 days. No, wait, that one was just a random thought about bacon fat so it doesn't really count. I guess it's been more than 10 days.

So what's been happening on Horseford Road? Not much. Not much can happen with all of the snow and ice. Today is the 25th. I didn't have to work the 24th or the 23rd. I did work 20th through 22nd because I had to because I didn't work the 17th, 16th, or the 13th. I'm counting backwards in my head as I write this so excuse the descending order of my dates. The 13th was Monday. It snowed a lot. I was not even willing to try to get out. If you don't know, I drive a Dodge Charger. It's a lovely car and I've enjoyed having it for 2 years now. It's cool but it's 4 door for the kiddies. It's fast enough though my husband says it's not as fast as I think it is. I love it. Unfortunately, it does not go very well in the snow. More unfortunately, it will not climb a hill in the snow. Also for those of you who do not know, we've got about 1/2-1 mile of hill to climb to get to our house. This might not be such an issue if the first 100 yards or so was not almost straight up. My car doesn't do well in that so, on days when the weather is extremely bad, I can't get home if I do manage to get out. So, Monday was out. We spent the entire day at home.

Spending the day with the boys was actually pretty nice. I got a lot of housework done. I mean a lot. They fought a lot too so it evened out the day. We had fun and watched tv, made snacks and cookies and slept late.

Tuesday, the hubby called early to say that I could get out if I wanted too. The roads weren't bad at all. Words that will live in infamy. I believed him because I'm perhaps the most gullible person on the face of the earth. We left the house at 8 am. First, I almost didn't get out of my driveway. Second, I slid off of our gravel road onto the blacktop. Third, I couldn't even get the boys to mom's. Fourth, it took me an hour and a half to make what should have been an hour trip, tops. I was ready to kill my husband, seriously. My day started bad and really didn't get much better......

I actually tried to get my car home rather than beg, steal, or borrow someones AWD or 4WD. We made the blacktop part of the trip easily enough. After the third try at getting up the steep part of the gravel road and sliding back down, I wound up in a ditch. Fortunately, the next door neighbor, J, was driving by and actually used his body to push the back of my car out of the ditch. That was pretty awesome. After the 4th try, hitting it hard and hitting it fast, I was able to get to my house. I thought I would kill the hubby when he walked in. I restrained myself though because I love him and I'm a good Christian girl and don't go around killing people. Also, I don't know who would raise my kids if I go to prison.

Wednesday was not so bad. I got down the hill without too much incident and it warmed up enough that I could get back up with no problem. Then a couple of inches of snow and ice were dumped up on the top of the hill. Actually, I think it was dumped everywhere. I didn't leave the house Thursday or Friday. We had a great time at home. Except that we ran out of diapers by 11 am on Thursday. No problem, I said. This will be a  good opportunity for potty training. 5 pairs of wet underwear and puddles of pee on my hardwood, and countless hours of seeing a toddler's naked but, and I had to revise my thought. He is not ready for potty training. He is quite happy to pee on  himself and whatever gets in the way. He has also become very accomplished at removing his underwear. It was a trying day and we were both thrilled when Daddy got home with the diapers.

So, with the inclement weather, I was forced to use vacation time to stay at home. This resulted in my having no vacation time left, forcing me to go back to work. To do this, I had to borrow a vehicle. We borrowed the father-in-law's Oldsmobile Bravada. It got me where I needed to go, even though I'm convinced that our gravel road is covered with 6 inches of solid ice. But, most importantly, I've learned a valuable lesson. I really like having a warm caboose. That vehicle has seat warmers. I am officially in love with seat warmers. It's absolute paradise having my seat warmed even when the rest of the vehicle is cold. I drove it all week for that reason alone.

And now, since we've gotten an extra couple of inches snow on top of our compacted ice, we're going back to get the Bravada so I can get to work Monday. Ahhh, a warm bottom.  Hehe.

Time for a Blog

I guess it's time for me to do another post, as I haven't done one for a while. It's late. One boy has been in bed since 6:30 because that was as long as I could stand him. He did not have a nap today. We stayed home because of the weather and he was wound for sound the entire day. I absolutely stood him as long as I could, I swear to you I did. The other is sitting on the couch watching Phineas and Ferb which we watch all day, if we're not watching Spongebob Squarepants. I prefer P&F. They're much more clever than Spongebob, who is slapstick at best. We're still up because I'm taking a vacation day tomorrow as well. I haven't tried but I fully suspect that I won't be able to get out tomorrow, what with the 4 inches of snow we've gotten in the last 24 hours. I think I'll fry some chicken tomorrow. I know that's kind of random but it's what I've been thinking about. I like fried chicken. I really do.

So, here's how we've spent our time since I last posted a blog.

The hubby has gone to work. No, not with CSX. We're still waiting for them to call and don't expect to hear from them any earlier than after the new year. With his unemployment benefits up in the air, he's decided that he needs to do something to make some money. You will notice that I do not disagree with him. Since we go to church with wonderful people, one of them hooked him up with a job. He's doing something, I don't know what, and he's making double what he brought home in UI. That's pretty much all I care about. I went to Walmart the other day and didn't have to worry about what I spent. I'm not extravagant by any means, but I've not had that luxury in a long time. It was fantastic. Hubby says it's not easy, going back to work. He's getting up earlier than me now. I really do feel bad for him. Really I do. That's been the biggest thing that has happened.

Otherwise, we've just done little things. I've decorated the house for Christmas. That takes at least a few days as we put up 3 trees as well as other decorations. If you would care to see what they look like, check out the pictures on facebook. 

And of course, I've gone to work. Every day.

This weekend was the first that my husband has worked in a long time. Friday evening, we had Chinese food. I believe I ate about 15 pot stickers. I love pot stickers. Saturday, the boys and I went to get haircuts. This is never a pleasant situation as the baby screams like he's being stabbed in the eye with a chopstick. (Big BK brought home 8 pairs of chopsticks to use for his work. I'm sure it's only a matter of time until someone gets stabbed with one.) This time, the screaming was more sporadic rather than consistent. This made it a bit better. After the haircut adventure, we went to walmart to do the shopping. I love shopping with the boys. (^Insert sarcasm here.)
Sunday, between church services, the boys and I made some Outrageous Chocolate Cookies. I plan on making all of the family gift boxes full of cookies and candy as Christmas presents and I wanted to try out this recipe. It's a good thing I did because I learned the hard way to make allowances for the convection oven. Ben helped me. Thursday evening we'd made cut-out sugar cookies. He'd loved it and they were quite good-we don't ice our sugar cookies, hubby likes 'em plain. He wasn't as thrilled with the others as they were drop and bake cookies and he didn't get to cut anything out.

I'm pretty sure the baby liked them though........at least in dough form. :) Cute huh? You've probably seen this on my facebook already but I had to put it on here too. I couldn't resist.

And here's another cute one that I have to put on here. Hubby isn't going to like it but after ten years of marriage, I'm use to him not liking me.

This weekend we also had some guests at our house. My sister dropped her boys off while she went to finish Christmas shopping. This is the first or second time in 1-2 years that she's had any significant time away from the 3 of them. I'm not sure what's kept her from losing her mind because I've spent one day with mine and thought someone was going to be killed during that time. Anyway, she dropped the 1 year old, 5 year old and 6 year old off about mid afternoon. Yes, that's right... I had at my home a 1 year old, a 2 year old, a 4 year old, a 5 year old, and a 6 year old. I don't think my downstairs Christmas tree will ever be the same. I was exhausted by the time they left just a few years-hours, I mean hours, later. The entire experience made me glad that it's physically impossible for me to have anymore children.

You'd think with a toddler and one barely not a toddler, that my house would be fairly baby proof, right? If you think that then you would be wrong. It's not baby proof. Apparently, it's nowhere near baby proof. And that, my dear readers, explains a whole lot about the kinds of things that happen around my house even with mildly diligent adult supervision.

This is my boys at the train station during our "vacation". Cutie-patooties, huh?

Here's the recipe for the cookies I made. Do not overcook them They still taste good and would be perfectly fine if you wanted to have some with a glass of milk but they will be dry otherwise. They're meant to be chewy. The flavor is fantastic.

Outrageous Chocolate Cookies

8 ounces semisweet chocolate, roughly chopped

4 tablespoons unsalted butter
2/3 cup all-purpose flour, spooned and leveled
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 large eggs
3/4 cup packed light-brown sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 package (12 ounces) semisweet chocolate chunks

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Heat chopped chocolate and butter in a microwave-safe bowl in 20-second increments, stirring in between, until almost melted; do not overheat. In another bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, and salt.

2. In a mixing bowl, beat eggs, brown sugar, and vanilla on high speed until light and fluffy. Reduce speed to low; beat in melted chocolate. Mix in flour mixture until just combined. Stir in chocolate chunks.

3. Drop heaping tablespoons of dough 2 to 3 inches apart onto baking sheets. Bake, rotating sheets halfway through, until cookies are shiny and crackly yet soft in centers, 12 to 15 minutes. Cool on sheets 10 minutes; with a thin metal spatula, transfer to racks to cool completely.

My Husband

The hubby and I have been married for approximately 10-27 1/2 years, depending on who you ask. If you ask either one of us, it feels like 25. If you ask people who can actually count and tell the truth, it's 10. He has stated on different occasions that I make him look foolish on my blog. I disagreed. I told him that I don't make the news, I only report it, meaning that I only state the facts as they occur. If he appears foolish that is of his own doing. I also say that the entire point of this blog is to make people laugh and give them a little peak into our lives so that they can appreciate how normal they actually are. I certainly don't set out to make anyone look or feel foolish, except myself of course, as I will do absolutely anything for a laugh. That being said......I have to say the following about my husband so that my loyal readers will have a complete picture of him.

My husband is a good man and I love him tremendously. That is a fact. He is a good man. He loves God, his children and myself, in that order and I wouldn't have it any other way. I would also use the following words to describe him: (Have you noticed that I appear to have a fondness for bulleted lists? I have no idea where that comes from, but...oh well.)

(A lady at church said one day that he is in fact the better half of our marriage, not me. I'm sure most of my family would agree.) My better half is :

• Honest
• Loyal
• Sweet
• Kind
• Compassionate
• Sensitive (well, most of the time.)
• Intelligent
• A good provider
• Strong
• Handsome
• Trustworthy
• Devoted
• Well-spoken
• Funny (the most important quality, in my opinion)
• Silly
• Playful
• Energetic
• Hard-Working
• Understanding
• Neat
• Sentimental
• Appreciative
• Loving
• Affectionate
• Sympathetic
• Empathetic
• Handsome
• A wonderful father

He also is impatient and has a terrible temper but those are not necessarily good qualities. This is not an all-encompassing list as I don't have all day to sit a list his good attributes. Any quality that appears on the list more than once did so because I thought it bears repeating. He is also a good role model, dedicated to all members of his family, not just his wife and children, willing to do anything in the world for someone he cares about and in possession of a heart as big as all outdoors. I'm the cynical one in the family and I'm the smart mouth. He's not the same. He's funny but never mean. He makes me laugh alot and I think that is one of the best parts of our marriage.

All that being said..................

Please peruse these pictures of my husband changing the oil in my car. He has ramps on which he can pull an automobile to do these kinds of things. In fact, there are very few tools that my husband does not possess. At this time, his old work car was not functioning and was parked on the ramps so that he could work on it. He did not have access to the ramps to change my oil. This is how he solved that problem.

You're eyes are not deceiving you. That is a piece of wood nailed to another piece of wood. I can not vouch for the strength of that apparatus. It may or may not have been held together with one nail or 5. I can not say as I went to the garage, saw that he had some 4-wheeler ramps resting on this and my car parked on them, turned, and went back inside. Thinking of you, my viewing public, I immediately retrieved my camera and took pictures. 

I told him, in no uncertain terms, how I felt about this. I told him that I am not the kind of woman who would get an adrenalin rush and be able to lift a car off of him. Anyone who has ever watched me do anything physical knows that this is true. I also moved my baby away from the potential scene of the accident. (Please pay no attention to the green Pringles can that by baby is elbow deep into. It was one of those days.)



He did manage to change the oil in the car without killing himself. I did not walk outside to find his legs sticking out from beneath my car like when the house fell on the witch in The Wizard of Oz. He probably isn't liking this blog. He probably isn't liking it at all, hehe. But, like I said, I don't create the news, I only report it. (My baby is now trying to drink the chips in the pringles can.)

Our Vacation

I had Thursday off for Veteran's Day. I decided to take Friday off too just because I wanted to. I rarely get to take a day off just because I want to. Usually it's because someone is sick or I've got to go buy a SUV or something like that. This time it was just because I wanted to. It was really kind of naive on my part to think that it would be a vacation. As if I would ever be allowed to sit around the house and not do anything. I guess I'm still naive despite my advanced age because that's exactly what I thought I'd do. Needless to say, it didn't happen. This post is two weeks later. I'd started it much earlier and got busy and couldn't finish it. Now, 2 weeks later, I don't remember what I did that Thursday. I only remember that I was busy. I think I might have spent part of the day updating catering info. That Friday, I spent the morning getting caught up on laundry and putting clothes away. 2 weeks later, I'm behind again. Anyway, after laundry, the boys and I went to clean the church. The boys are always such a great help. We did that, then rushed home to get ready for our "vacation".

I'd researched and decided that Stearns, KY looked like a good place to vacation. Stearns, KY? Where is that? You might be asking yourself that question. Well, from where we're at, you turn toward Prestonsburg and drive, turn to get on Route 80 then continue to drive. All in all, you drive about 4 hours. Yes, 4 hours in a a car with hubby and 2 boys. We didn't make it the full 4 hours. By the time we got to London (KY, not England) we were ready to stop at a hotel with a pool. That was our only requirement apparently and I pulled into the first hotel that had a sign boasting a pool. We could barely keep the kiddies calmed down enough to have supper. They were all about the swimming pool. Well, the big one was all about the swimming pool. The baby was all about walking around the swimming pool while never actually getting anywhere close enough to get wet. He doesn't like swimming pools. I don't know why. He loves bath tubs and showers. He pretends he's swimming when he's in the tub. He just doesn't actually like pools so we never have to worry about packing his trunks.

Anyway, my big one stayed in the pool while his brother went back to the room and spent the rest of the evening pushing the wheeled suitcase around. He loved that part of the trip. I think I'm just going to leave the suitcase in the downstairs hallway and tell him to knock himself out. He had a blast. Big BK remained at the pool for about 20 minutes, managing to get every part of his body wet except his hair. He told me during that time that I was a good person. He's not a good person though because he's a little mean-his words, not mine.

The next morning, after a bad continental breakfast and a disturbing bathroom incident in which my potty-trained son's pants became soaked with pee and sent Hubby into a rage, we were on our way. On our way to where, you're no doubt thinking. We were headed toward Stearns, KY with a little detour to Cumberland Falls, KY. The hubby had never been and I thought that since it was just about 45 minutes away from our final destination, it would be a good side trip. It was. It was beautiful. Cumberland Falls in one of only 2 water falls in the world that boasts a moon bow. We were there at 9 am so we didn't actually see the moon bow although it was so cold I could see my breath. The other water fall is Victoria Falls in Africa but, if I'm not mistaken (and I'm not googling this to verify my info so you may feel free to), Victoria Falls collapsed some time during the 1990s and no longer holds that distinction.

We tromped around the falls for an hour or better. It was chilly and it was lovely. The boys had a ball. They went in caves and walked through a very sandy beach. I tried to come up with a way that I could smuggle some silver drift wood off of the beach, to my car and then to my house. I was unable to formulate a plan but I'm certain that, had I put the task to my Big BK, I'd have a giant silver tree branch in my yard right now. We stopped in the gift shop to pick up a souvenir, which we didn't get. We did walk out with a box of chocolate covered pretzels, a bottle of super sour apple tongue spray which my son had to have then refused to actually allow me to spray on his tongue because it might be sour, and a piece of grape super bubble gum that my clepto of a baby tried to sneak out of the store in his mouth but was foiled by a wrapper he couldn't chew through. We paid the 1 penny for the gum. I don't think the baby learned a lesson by us bailing him out because he tried to grab a package of hubba bubba from a shelf on his way out. I worry about that one.

Finally, we got to Stearns, KY in time for lunch. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Stearns, KY, their main claim to fame is the fact that they are a refurbished coal and lumber town with their own private scenic railway. The town itself is part of Whitley City but it is super cute. All of the buildings are original to the early 20th century, refurbished and lovely. There were restaurants and an original company house full of offices and professional spaces. The train depot itself hosted a gift shop and a restaurant that called itself Suzanne's Fine Dining. Apparently in Stearns, KY fine dining means frozen catfish, frozen chicken strips, frozen fries and frozen fried pickles--all fried to order. That's all I'm going to say about that.

After lunch, we boarded the Big South Fork Scenic Railway for a 1 hour m/l trip through the wilds of southern Ky. The boys were so excited. Well, Big BK was excited. Baby BK really had no idea what was going on. We rode in an open train car because it was a beautiful afternoon. Almost before the trip had begun, Baby BK was asleep in his mommy's arms. About 1/3 of the way into the trip, Big BK was asleep in his daddy's arms. So, needless to say, the train ride was quiet. It was nice. Sigh.

The absolute cutest part of the entire trip was, when we were waiting to board the train, walking around outside, seeing the sites, Baby BK made me let go of his hand. He went over to his big brother and took his hand. He and Big BK walked along the train depot holding hands. Baby BK was so happy and proud that he was with his big brother who he alternately idolizes and tries to murder. Seriously, the cutest thing you ever in your entire life saw. I'm sure that, shortly thereafter, someone hit someone else and there was a big row but it was lovely while it lasted.

To round out the weekend, Big BK threw a hissy fit Saturday night followed by a doozie of one Sunday morning because Mommy asked that he put his socks on so we could go to Sunday School. He was grounded from swimming in the in-door pool during his cousin's birthday party that night. His response was, "If I can't swim, then I'm not going." So, he didn't go. He went to church instead. That was probably where he needed to be.

Judgement House

Saturday we along with a few members of our church went to view something called Judgement House at Unity Baptist Church in Ashland. If you've never been, you should go, for sure. We were joined by our very close friends. I don't need to name them because they're the only couple friends we have. But for those of you who don't know who our only friends are, they are J and K as well as their boys, A and L. L is exactly nine weeks younger than my big BK. They're pretty tight. Big BK was thrilled that he was going to get to see his friends A and L. (I only ever use initials on my blog to protect the identity of the innocent. I can't afford an invasion of privacy lawsuit.)

Anyway, we went to UBC to view Judgement House. Judgement house is a play, sort of an interactive show set into stations. We've seen it before. This year it was the story of a brother and sister, both Christians. The sister is older and is not happy about "being forced" to attend church. The brother is devout in his faith. They attend separate events, one church related one not. There is an accident, the brother is killed when he saves a fellow youth group member from being hit by a drunk driver, his sister's boyfriend. His sister is a passenger in the car as well. All three are killed. We watch scenes enacted from prior to the accident, during, after, during judgement, and their subsequent eternities. I skipped the bad eternity because there was no way  my boy was going into that dark room. His words, not mine. That was okay, I'm working really hard to avoid that place myself. We did get to see Heaven though. It was the same as last time we were there. A white room full of angels. Jesus was played by a short-haired man who performed wonderfully. He individually welcomed each of us to Heaven. I started crying when he got to the person beside of me. When he got to me I couldn't even look at him. It was fantastic.

I'll say it again. If you haven't seen it, call Unity Baptist Church in Ashland and make arrangements to see it. I think it's going on next weekend as well.

Sunday evening, we went to the lake. My sister and brother-in-law bought a pontoon. He hasn't realized yet that he doesn't have a job. My hubby is in a similar situation. I'm sure the reality of their unemployed status will eventually sink in. I don't know about b-i-l but hubby is reminded daily that he doesn't actually work anymore. Anyway, I digress.....again. We spent a couple of hours on the lake with our boys and theirs. I think the entire thing would have been more enjoyable if we'd left the kids with Mommaw but she was there too so there was no one to babysit. Big BK loved it.... right up until the sun started going down. He kept worrying about the boat sinking. I don't know why. He just kept saying he didn't want to go under the water. It was pitiful but very annoying.

The little baby's wore life vest/neck collars that kept them from being able to turn their heads. They didn't like that. They didn't like that at all.

On the way home, hubby asked big BK which he would rather have, a boat or a swimming pool. Big BK first said a swimming pool. He changed his mind though and said that he wanted a boat he could float in his swimming pool. I told him it didn't matter because neither he nor his daddy have a job. It was suggested at some point that mommy should get a second job to help finance the lifestyle to which they wish to become accustomed. I am not making that up, I'm just not divulging which of them said it.