Happy Anniversary to the old married couples in our lives!
Nancy and Mike
Amber and Ben
I’m taking a week off from the internet in order to finish this book.
I really need to finish this book.
Remember this?
Banjo Man and I have a road trip coming up, but we can’t head west until I finish the book.
I am not even looking at maps, just so I don’t get distracted. I’m not packing yet, just so I don’t get distracted.
Banjo Man is hiding in the basement, just so I don’t get distracted.
I wear headphones all of the time, just so I don’t get distracted.
Yes, we are very strange. But we’ll be on the road soon and then we’ll act as if we’re perfectly normal.
Really.
This is how I’ll feel after the book is done, like I’ve just crawled out of a great big fish.
My friend Bob called the other night to tell me not to miss this particular television show: Super Man Eater Killer Crocodile. Or something like that. You get the idea. He had told me about it months ago and I’d looked for it, but never found it on tv.
Here’s Bob:
Here’s a link to an excerpt from the animal planet show. This waterlogged town in the Phillipines has a man-eating crocodile in their midst, so they hire two guys to catch it. One of them is the most famous croc hunter in the Phillipines, but when he can’t trap the giant croc he gets so stressed that he has a heart attack and dies in his sleep. So the mayor takes over and they build a bigger trap, with a bigger loop, with chains and rooster parts. Well, be careful what you wish for, because they catch the croc and he isn’t a happy camper. They tie him up and then all the villagers haul him for HOURs, all through the night, in the DARK, on some little cart they borrow from the only guy in town with wheels on his cart. Here’s what happens when the 18-foot crocodile gets his second wind and realizes he’s tied up and being rolled across a marsh to live in a game preserve.
http://www.bing.com/videos/watch/video/giant-croc-captured/p9gwdkq
p.s. this particular crocodile turns out to be about 18 feet long, but he is not the killer. The hunt goes on for a 30-foot crocodile who has been spotted in the same area.
p.p.s. I was really glad Bob called so I didn’t miss the show.
p.s. again: I’m really glad I don’t live in the Phillipines.
If you have a two-year old (or three or four?) grandchild who loves–and I mean LOVES–trucks, then this is the dvd you have to own. Real trucks, real dirt, real construction workers.
My grandson has two copies of this dvd, just in case one breaks. Because without “I Want To Be a Heavy Equipment Operator” (one of four shows on the dvd) life would be one long temper tantrum.
Check it out HERE.
Banjo Man planned to sneak out to Kohl’s, a 25-minute drive from our house, to shop.
But I saw his “to do” list for the weekend. Weeding, bank, post office, something about the lawn mower bag, the dump, Kohl’s…
Me: Kohl’s??? You’re going to Kohl’s without me???
Banjo Man: I didn’t want to make you feel bad that you had to work and couldn’t go.
Me: Huh.
Banjo Man, shoving a sale flyer toward me: ”I need pants. There’s a sale. What does this coupon thing on the front mean?”
I peeled off the sticker. We get 30% off everything.
Banjo Man: That’s a good deal, right? I need pants.
Me, thinking, adding, subtracting pages and hours: If we don’t go until after 5, and if I can get 16 pages written and still have time to shower, at 4:30, then I can go. Eight hours, two pages an hour…
Banjo Man: Uh, I really need pants.
Me: Do not talk to me until 5. I’m busy.
Banjo Man needs a shirt, too.
Edited Saturday morning: if you receive the email version of the blog, you may have trouble seeing this video. If you can’t play it, click
Sarge emailed a link this morning. It’s a facebook page for his platoon. Great pictures!
Check it out: https://www.facebook.com/3rdPlatoon84thEscAbn
Love,
Army Mom
Last night I had a date with Sam.
Sam the Man, photo by his daddy
He’s eight weeks old and very, very handsome. He wore a striped sleeper with a red crab on his bottom.
Spiffy.
Oh, he wasn’t as excited about our date as I was. In fact, he was sound asleep on his daddy’s chest when I arrived. And then he snuggled with his mommy and had dinner.
But after dinner? He was mine, all mine. While his parents cleaned up the dishes, Sam and I looked out the windows. We talked about rocks and monkeys and fog. We watched the first one-on-one date of “The Bachelorette”. I learned that Sam doesn’t like wet diapers. He doesn’t mind burping, spitting up, having his nose wiped or sneezing.
He’s a laid back kind of guy. Just my type.
Harley Chick, getting ready for Sturgis, South Dakota, 2013!!
Harley Chick sent me an email last week:
I can’t believe I just fell for this. Okay so I thought I would play along by using the pod a second time since the Kahlua pods were piling up. My thought was to open two pods and pour and fluff the grounds into the special container. Of course that meant grounds in the coffee. So I had to pour the coffee through a paper towel filter and clean up all the wayward grounds. T he coffee still tastes lousy.
I’ll back up a bit.
Harley Chick and I love our Keurig coffee makers. We talk about them a lot. We also love our grandchildren, fancy cowboy boots, quilting fabric and country western music. We love cookbooks. Road trips. Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. Chocolate. We love our husbands. Heated car seats. Our GPS systems.
But our Keurigs are special. They make COFFEE. Really good COFFEE. Several times a day. No muss, no fuss. Harley Chick loves flavored coffee and tends to hoard the seasonal pods, hiding them in the basement to be used on special occasions. This I understand, even though I operate under a “if you have it, use it” philosophy. But I do understand wanting to make sure the Pumpkin Spice lasts until next October.
Hot Rod Russ (aka Hot Rod Lincoln) has retired. Banjo Man told him about using the Keurig pods more than once. You know, to save the enormous amount of twenty-five cents or so. Last summer Banjo Man and his brother GL held competitions to see who could use a Keurig coffee pod the most times. They kept track on a paper plate next to the coffee maker. They drank coffee that looked like dishwater.
They were proud. Banjo Man still saves his coffee pods to use them three times before throwing them out. Sigh.
I gave up trying to explain that the idea was to drink really good coffee, without dropping coffee grounds on the floor (which I did a lot) or spilling water (which I did a lot) or having to wash coffee pots (which I did a lot). The Keurig was a quality-of-life purchase. Banjo Man doesn’t get it. Last fall he shared his pod-saving techniques with Hot Rod Russ.
Last week Hot Rod Russ explained to Banjo Man that he had adopted the new saving-money system with the coffee pods. Harley Chick and I fled the room while this discussion was going on. We admired each other’s new boots and talked about our grandchildren.
And then? This email: I can’t believe I just fell for this. Okay so I thought I would play along by using the pod a second time since the Kahlua pods were piling up. My thought was to open two pods and pour and fluff the grounds into the special container. Of course that meant grounds in the coffee. So I had to pour the coffee through a paper towel filter and clean up all the wayward grounds. The coffee still tastes lousy.
She sent pictures, too.
Two used Kahlua pods.
The K-cup make your own coffee pod.
Used-once coffee grounds. Huh??????
Just want you want to do at 6 AM before going to work: strain old coffee into a paper towel.
Stop, Harley Chick!! Stop it right now! You have a right to expensive Kahlua coffee!!!!
Do you see what Harley Chick went through???? She even photographed it to prove what a mess it was!!!!!
These are the kinds of things that happen when your husband is around the house all day. Being conned into weird ways to save money becomes a way of life and a reason to self-medicate.
(Banjo Man rips the paper towels in half. God forbid he should splurge and use a whole piece. In order to avoid paper towel halves littering my counter, I bought the rolls that are already perforated in half slices. So now Banjo Man rips those in half and I have what looks like toilet paper squares on the counter. I throw them out. I tell him I throw them out. He still rips them in half.)
I’m sorry, Harley Chick. Stick to your principles. Drink your pricey Kahlua coffee without guilt!!!! And keep Hot Rod Russ away from the paper towels.
