Goodness, the hurricane pictures are incredible. What a terrible mess.
The apple cider vinegar is sick. I hate it. It is nauseating. I wonder if I contaminated it because I covered it with a towel that had been used to cover bread in the past. I've read that bread towels ruin cheese, and I bet they ruin vinegar as well.
We have no more goat babies. Sally and Hazel are bleating mournfully, and Traci is like, "More food for me!" I decided to sell Sophie because she was not warming up to us at all. Sally, as kookoopants as she is, at least has come to like me and seek affection, but Sophie is as standoffish as ever, and exudes irritation any time I touch her. So, they're off to the auction this morning. I wish them well. I wish for them a quick metamorphosis into white packages, rather than being lonely, neglected ditch eaters. Now I must learn how to draw their blood so I can have them tested for disease and then bred. Oh, the earthiness of my pretend farming. The other day we were talking about women who've had their babies in odd places, and how frightening it must have been for the people who had to help with the delivery, and I was thinking to myself, "I'd rock that so hard." As long as I had iodine, I could cut the cord with my purse knife and tie it off with the dental floss I also carry in my purse, then dip it in the iodine (note to self: put vial of iodine in purse). Just like a baby goat! I have a plan and just enough knowledge to make me dangerous.
I am making some sugar syrup for the bees this morning. Do you say "surup" or "seerup?" I hate "seerup." Is it regional?
Do any of you want a rabbit?
I think the window has closed on me being able to make a swamp thing costume for this year, but maybe I should get started anyway, for next year. I bet it's going to be pretty labor-intensive.
I spent a lot of money at Costco yesterday. I think I was internalizing the hurricane coverage and subconsciously hoarding for our own coming disaster, which will most likely be an earthquake followed by liquefaction of the Greater Salt Lake Metropolitan Area. I hope John is working from home that day.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Goodness, the hurricane pictures are incredible. What a terrible mess.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Whoever told me that rabbits from the same litter can't have babies was dead wrong. Upon reflection, though, I think what that person actually told me was that sibling rabbits won't fight, not that they won't have babies. But anyway, there were two dead baby rabbits in Karl, Sugar and Bubbles/Rainbow/Allie's cage on Saturday. Nuts. That means we need either another cage or to get rid of at least one rabbit, since I think we dare chance keeping two of the same gender in the same cage without fear of procreation. You never know, though. I hear rabbits are very prolific.
This morning I was brushing Willa's hair, and she was whining and carrying on like always, because there were little bits of dum-dum in it this time. THANKS, BISHOP. Have I told you of my passionate hatred for suckers? They are the worst candy, and they always, always end up in hair, on faces and hands, on walls and upholstery and carpet . . . HATE HATE HATE. Every exam room in our doctor's clinic has a drawer with a bin of suckers in it, and he always gives at least one to every one of my kids, usually two or three, and I just want to slap him. Maybe he should try brushing Willa's hair for a change and see if he still feels so generous with the suckers.
Just say what the product does:
1. Fat Boy
In closing, I would like to share with you the picture that my friend Jill sent me a minute ago. She may have heard once or twice about my otter fetish (not that kind of fetish).
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Last night I dreamed mostly about shoes, which was nice. I dreamed about a pair of dark pink high-heeled open-toe wedges, sort of crocheted. Trust me, they were cute. But then I had a dream about a zombie invasion and it was highly unsettling. It was the last dream sequence before my alarm went off, and I woke up with a pit in my stomach, which I feel dumb about. It's like, "Really, Layne? You realize how unlikely this scenario is, don't you?" But the heart knows no reason. Do you think bulletproof glass would work to keep zombies out, or do the windows need to be boarded up, old-school? I would think the bulletproof glass would be better because it can't be pried off, but if you have windows the zombies can see you, and maybe they'll just rip the windows right out. It would take a while, but zombies never get tired, so . . . I'm on the fence about bulletproof glass, I guess is what I'm saying.
I realized that I forgot to wish my sister a happy birthday two weeks ago while we were in Disneyland, so I'm making her a cake this morning. I'm doing the chocolate birthday cake and white mountain frosting from Bread/Butter (which is how I have decided to shorten that name). It's a study in contrasts, especially with my black cocoa powder, and I love it.
The vinegar project is weird and slightly gross. I think the pineapple vinegar is going to be fine, but the apple cider vinegar makes me suspicious. It's very thick and mucosal, and resembles a number of things both edible and not.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
There is a billboard on the way to my house that advertises high stakes bingo, and the lady on the billboard who is pretending to be surprised and delighted by her imagined bingo wins has way overtweezed her eyebrows. Ladies: stop doing this. It looks dang stupid.
How did you like the debate last night? I thought it was fine. Our kids like to point with their fists and imitate each candidate telling an imaginary moderator that what the other one is saying simply isn't true.
Are you so excited for Halloween? Are you dressing up or being boring? Grant wanted to be a viking, but that didn't work out, so he's going to be one of those guys that tries to sell you fake watches. I told him he has to wear long pants under the coat so he doesn't look like a flasher. Emmett is being a ghost, Ike is being a harbor seal, and Willa is being Rapunzel. I made a freaking AMAZING wig for her. Thanks to Jenny for the inspiration. Thanks to Jenny also for the inspiration for John and me--we're going as Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox. I think I'm going to make meat loaf in the shape of severed feet for dinner. It's a good time.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Well, I saw this in my in-laws' paper the other day, and I'm not sure how to feel. Notice the date--TWO DAYS after I posted my grand idea. Do I sue this "Chip Samson" person for kifing my intellectual property? Or do I slink away in humiliation that I share sensibilities with the author of "The Born Loser"? 'Tis a conundrum, to be sure.
We harvested our honey today, which means we opened up our hive and saw that the bees have almost no honey, not even enough to get themselves through the winter, and they stopped building comb right about the time that I added all those new bars so they would have enough space to build on because they were going so gangbusters. Freaking bees, what is their problem? So now I'm going to have to supplement them all winter with sugar water, or maybe I'll buy some honey and feed them that. I'd feel better about it. Brian gave me one of their combs--a double bar the bees had glued together and filled with honeycomb. We smashed it and put it in a jar, and right now it is dripping down through the plastic mesh in the nifty jar connecter Brian invented. We took a bunch of pictures that I'll show you sometime when it's not after ten o'clock at night and the camera is not all the way in the kitchen and I'm in my bed with my hair brushed and lotion already on my feet. Some other day!
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Oh my gosh listen to my great idea, listen to it right now: from now on, every time somebody wants to buy ad time for a political candidate they have to match it with an equal payment on the national debt.
That way we're not messing with the political process, because the richest/most popular/best connected guy still gets to be president like always, but the swift, sure growth of the national debt will be slightly impeded!
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
If you can tolerate prodigious swearing, including the F-word, I would like you to read this article. I liked it and it made me smile.
I read and think swear words a lot, and this is why when I am an old senile lady in the nursing home I am going to melt everybody's ears with my foul language.
I intend to make some apple cider vinegar one of these days. I've been collecting apple cores and uneaten slices for a week. They'll probably be hard cider all on their own if I don't get cracking, so I guess I'll sacrifice some whole apples to the cause. Why am I making cider vinegar? I don't know. It's not necessary, and it will probably be disgusting. I do a bunch of stupid stuff.
For example: I need to make some soap. "Need" meaning there's this expectation that we have soap in the house, I have become accustomed to a certain level of quality, and to buy that quality is rather expensive, so homemade it is. How lame is a person who is a soap connoisseur? That's as bad as having a favorite bath mat. But the fancy stuff smells so good! I have a bar of peony and poppy scented soap that is running out and I'm so sad about it. Do any of you know someone who refuses to use soap? I do. Supposedly it washes away your important body oils and keeps you from absorbing Vitamin D, and there are probably other weird reasons that people use. As a culture we are probably too obsessed with sanitation, but I'm a fan of soap. I guess I'll keep using it. I had a coworker who was worried that deodorant causes breast cancer, and I thought she was so insane. Eh, she's probably right. But until Tom's of Maine figures out a formula that actually keeps me smelling fresh and clean instead of like a gas station men's bathroom, I'm going to take my chances with the mainstream stuff. You do realize that we're all going to have cancer eventually, right? I can almost guarantee it.
We're going to a corn maze tonight for mutual (weekly church activity with the youth 12-18). I can barely do mazes from above, so I don't have any idea how people do them from inside. John and I did one when we went to Leeds Castle, and I basically just followed him around. The maze for the Tri-Wizard Cup? The Labyrinth (David Bowie version or Original Recipe)? I cannot even imagine.
John watched "The Help" last weekend, and this morning he said, "You're probably never going to watch that movie, are you?" Sadly, no. I'll probably read the book eventually. People seemed to like it. But my movie tastes lean toward the anxiety-inducing, action-packed, nonsensical, or comedic. I am not artistic. I like a good romp or a good scare. No thinking! Books are for thinking. Movies are for escaping and eating popcorn doused in delicious liquid carcinogens (that's where my cancer is going to come from, if you're wondering).
I just read that the moderator for tonight's debate plans to ask follow-up questions if necessary, rules be damned. Zounds! What next, answering the question that was asked, instead of the question you want to answer?
If I read one more breathless article about a CEO or similar who gave up their high-powered, fast-paced life in the fashion/technology/political world and bought a farm in upstate New York/Massachusetts/Sonoma Valley where they raise alpacas/heritage pigs/heirloom tomatoes I am going to barf. There is no virtue inherent in swanning in on clouds of money and buying some estate, most likely from the family who went bankrupt trying to farm without the clouds of money. Shut up, all of you. Stop turning our farmland into Park Slope. Hipster farmers are just the worst. That is not farming. What I do is not farming. It is a hobby.
Friday, October 12, 2012
Grant: "Can I have a thigh?"
Me: "No, I'M going to eat it."
Grant: "But you already ate one thigh! Why do you get two thighs?"
Me: "Because I need it."
Grant: "So do I!"
Me: "Do you shed copious amounts of blood every month? Does your uterine lining slough off once a month? Because if not, then you don't need it as much as I do."
Grant: "Do you think that's a good subject for the dinner table?"
Me: "Menstruation trumps Growing Boy."
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Hi, everybody. Long time no see.
While we were gone to California my one remaining grandpa passed away. He got quite sick the week before we left, and the day he passed away they got the test results back confirming that he had West Nile virus. He was a character, and I hate driving past his house and not seeing him sitting out on the driveway, but it is a blessing that he can be with my grandma again. He was so lonely without her. Oh, he was such a funny, funny man. In addition to being a rancher he drove a school bus for many years, and carried a paddle with him inscribed with the words "Board of Education." Ha, that is funny in light of our recent discussion about paddling. But in his defense, there are eighty-plus students on a school bus, and you can't see what they're doing most of the time. He took no crap. And he was beloved all the same, because he was just as generous with affection as he was with discipline. Every time I smell Old Spice I'll think of him. Darnit, this is a sad stage of life.
On a happier note, we had a wonderful vacation. We saw tide pools teeming with critters, spent much time in Disneyland (some highlights: Emmett threw up on the pavement between Star Tours and Buzz; Jenny and I ate Monte Cristo sandwiches and did not regret it for a second; we went on the infamous, terrifying Mickey's Dumb Wheel) and arrived home safely at three o'clock Sunday morning. I wouldn't want to go to Disneyland every year, but every four years or so is just right.