Two things happened this weekend which did not add anything to my well – being.

On Saturday Paul and Neve were outside while he moved cars around to work on the truck.  Pippa went wild barking at one point and when I looked out the window I saw Paul and Neve in the driveway making way for a probably 8 foot long blacksnake that was slithering across in front of them.  I ran for the camera, but he was so fast (really really freakin’ fast) he was already headed into the woods.  Apparently Mr. Snakey had been layin’ low under one of our cars.  Eeeewww!  (but at least he kept any mice from crawling into the engine bays)

On Sunday morning I got out of bed and went downstairs to make coffee.  Paul came down with Oona so I made 2 cups of coffee and grabbed 2 chocolate croissants and went over to the couch.  Oona got fussy so I grabbed her from Paul and sat her on my lap.  After a moment I went to grab my coffee on the table in front of me when Paul screamed “Don’t Move!!!” at me and took his napkin and smashed it hard on my shoulder.  He had witnessed a big garden spider CLIMB OUT FROM INSIDE MY  SHIRT and onto my shoulder.  I am still traumatized.

Oh yeah, and thanks to Maddie for promptly reminding me that the average person unknowingly EATS 8 spiders in their lifetime.  (usually in their sleep)

I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again.

Seriously.  It’s been a dream of mine to own an orchard (with a big old farmhouse) for quite awhile.  I usually keep this one to myself because most people, when told that I want to live on a farm, shake their heads and tell me it’s too much work, or farm animals are “yucky”, or they just think I am abnormal somehow.  Well, now word’s out.  (Hey, just because most days I’d rather lounge on the couch in my jammies doesn’t mean I can’t do real work…….it just means I don’t WANT to)

Thing is, I know how hard it is just to care for the inside of my house right now with all these little kids around, nevermind actual agriculture.  So I’ve been slowly and painfully learning to compromise and start small.  Right now I have a struggling herb garden and some flowering bushes.  We’ll put in a few raised beds and I’ll grow some tomatoes and basil.  Easy stuff.  Maybe next year when Oona’s less of a barnacle (you know, completely stuck to my side) I’ll clear out some land in the back for a pumpkin patch.  An apple orchard is in no way feasible, but a decent sized pumpkin patch is.

And I’d also like…..chickens. Now don’t look at me like that!  Why must everyone assume I must be off my rocker because I want a few chickens out there running around, eating ticks and fertilizing the grass?  And don’t tell me chickens are a lot of work, because they’re not.  I’ve done my research.  They actually make decent pets if you get the right breed.  And the added bonus: fresh eggs.

When my cousin Libby and I were small we would argue over who got to carry the egg basket out to the chicken coop every morning (she lived on a horse farm, and her parents had chickens, geese, ducks and rabbits).  We even chased the poor critters around trying to dress them in doll clothes.  We loved them.  The geese were another story.  You couldn’t turn your back on those meanies or they’d run you down and try to bite you.

Point is, I’m looking into getting some chicks at some point in the not too distant future.  But don’t worry….I won’t give in to my desire to get sheep to supply my ever increasing desire for wool.  Yet.

So the kiddies got to hang with my in laws over the weekend and I am well on my way to being done with the Vincenzo socks as a result.  It was a pretty relaxing time…..perhaps due to my consumption of too much of this:

Vino, courtesy of an uncle who owns the vineyard from whence it came.  And while I was getting good and full of wine, Neve was getting good and full of sugar:

A WHOLE BOWL OF SUGAR.  It’s that Fun Dip or whatever it’s called.  A late Easter gift from the extended family.  But, it turned out ok.  She was put to work in the kitchen.

Neve and Emily helped learned from grandpa how to make Hamantaschen cookies.  Yeah, they didn’t last very long.  Good thing I recorded them for posterity before they all disappeared into our bellies.

SO after all the cookie eating and wine drenching I figured it would be best to get out of the house and walk a bit this week.  Wednesdays are our day for going to the Children’s Museum on our pedestrian mall downtown, and we thought a picnic lunch at the park afterward was just the ticket to enjoy the weather and prevent permanent hermitude from setting in.

It was fun – we had a big group, as always, and the playground was a hit (fortunately for Neve, not literally).  My little daredevil continued to make me cringe while she climbed all over the various play equipment.

The lurky dog guy was there (a local who lets his do run free contrary to our leash law.  Last time his dog caused a bi problem for a woman with a toddler, an infant and her dog, which was leashed.  I grabbed the loose dog before the poor woman got knocked down, and the lurky guy couldn’t seem to understand why I would do that).  There were tons of kids and parents of both genders, which I found refreshing – it’s nice to see dads out with kids on a weekday.  Normally it’s just us over-stereotyped SAHM’s being told our large groups of wild children and SUV sized strollers are too much for their boutiquey stores (true story!  And it was a children’s clothing store!!!!!)  Wow, I digress.

Anyway, the big hit was this:

A push – button operated waterfall!  It turned out to be overly chlorinated and bleached some shirts, but the kids LOVED it.

SO we decided next week we’d bring their bathing suits so getting totally wet would be okay.  I was feeling all happy and excited for our kids until Paul had to ruin it by telling me that “drunks and hobos probably use that thing for a urinal”.

Killjoy.

So my mother brought me 3 bags of cinnamon sourdough bread starter and some instructions last week.  For those of you that have never heard of such a thing, it’s basically a chain letter/pyramid scheme type of thing.  Seriously.  For every ONE bag of starter, you yield TWO loaves of sweet yummy bread plus FOUR more bags of starter.  This pretty much forces you to either bake like mad ALL the time, waste a ton of food stuffs, or foist a ridiculous amount of starter off on your friends and family.

This is what I started off with:

Looks innocent enough, right?  You’re supposed to mush the bag every day for 6 days, and on the 6th day, you add a bunch more sugar, flour and milk.  The bags puff up a lot with the fermenting going on, so you have to let the air out every so often.

After 10 days you get to dump out the bag into a bowl and add yet more stuff:

This is where you take out 4 cups of the batter and put them into 4 separate ziploc bags with which to terrorize everyone you know.  The rest goes into 2 loaf pans along with a generous amount of cinnamon and sugar:

And then you bake it.  I have to say, the house ends up smelling pretty yummy at this point.

And it tastes pretty yummy, too.  The first batch I made with no nuts; the second I added some chopped pecans, too, and it was even better.  But that’s a lot of baking to do , people!  Those 3 bas made 6 loaves (good thing for the big freezer!!!) and, horrifyingly, twelve bags of starter.  TWELVE!!!

And if you’re counting, each of those 12 bags will make 2 loaves, plus 4 more bags of starter.  See?  Pyramid scheme!!!!!  Work – intense chain letter!!!  And though it is very yummy, I have way more than I need.  So I forcibly nicely sent a few bags home with the in laws.  And all of you that live close by??  You’re next.

Make sure everyone eats breakfast and gets dressed

Clean up kitchen

Battle teething baby for a moment’s peace in which to take a shower

Inspect dog poop every couple of hours for partially digested toy

Start laundry

Make lunch, change baby

Spend 2 hours preparing craft project for kid’s afternoon “busy time”

Get bitched at by husband for not doing enough

Battle baby to make phone calls to endodontists and insurance company

Decide insurance company is worst in the world

Make appointment at a provider 2.5 hours away

Curse repeatedly

Do online search for Dunkin Donuts in that area – find one 3 miles from Endodontist’s office

Rejoice

See this poorly framed picture?

This, my friends, is a tall, cold, frothy glass of Guinness Stout.  It is my reward for not going batshit crazy today.  And it is the best cold Stout you’ve ever tasted.

What?  You ask why my day has been so trying?  Well, let me just tell you.

1.  Oona was up all night being fussy and unhappy.  I got very little sleep.  Then she was up and wide awake bright and early.  I nearly fell over from exhaustion trying to get to the coffee maker.

2.  While holding the baby and the coffee in my grogginess I misjudged her ability to inflict damage with her new teeth.  I now have a giant angry bloody red gash between my thumbnail and knuckle.  And it hurts.

3.  While I had the baby on my lap she made one little grunt and shot poop out the side of her diaper, into my lap, all down my leg, all over the couch and onto the carpet.  And it stained.

4.  She screamed the whole time I cleaned her up and the whole time I showered.

5.  The vet let me know I’ll have to dissect and carefully inspect all of the dog’s poops until she passes whatever she swallowed.  And it cost $350 to find that out.

6.  Fussy baby won’t sit still, nap, or let me put her down.

7.  On the way home from the vet, the dog did a huge pee on the van’s backseat.  A huge, 10 gallon stinky pee.  We had to smell it all the way home……along with the fresh poo in Oona’s diaper.

8.  I had to thoroughly steam clean said van.  Stupid crappy cloth seats.

And at the end of it all, Maddie had sage advice for me:

“At least you have a story for the blog”.

Pippa the Dog, a 2 year old golden retriever / Llewellyn setter mix is awaiting treatment after consuming what appears to be a stuffed animal.  Three underage witnesses described the object as “vaguely sock – like”,  “chunky barf with a flower mixed in”, and “gross”.  The offender apparently ate the as yet unidentified object in secrecy at some point in the last few days and regurgitated the item under the dining room table.  Before authorities arrived on the scene the object was re-consumed.  Pippa was taken to a local vet where she was monitored overnight for signs of bowel obstruction.  No word yet on whether she will “pass” the blockage or require surgery.

Meanwhile a 4 year old is under heavy suspicion of providing the contraband.  She responded “I didn’t do it” during questioning, but may still be liable under the highly controversial “Mama’s Law”, which states that leaving one’s possessions in areas in which they do not belong is tantamount to negligence.  Those charged under “Mama’s Law” may incur time-outs, early bedtimes and loss of various privileges.   The author of “Mama’s Law” maintains its justness, explaining “I’m the one that’s going to have to collect and pick through the dog’s sh*t until this thing’s out.  Would the kids rather do that?”

The children had no comment.

Please stay tuned for updates to this breaking story.

It’s never good when you go to Starbucks and ask for your usual triple grande black & white mocha and the barista says “How do you make that????”

Note to self: Don’t go to a Starbucks in a grocery store.  

Well, crap. I’m hooked.

Go here:

Flight of the Hamsters.

Thanks a lot, Harlot.