Friday, December 17, 2010

Cross-contamination

reposted from www.bakingandtaxidermy.blogspot.com


Liberal Interpretation

If the Unibunny didn't already give it away, this one will.

I am, by any form of measurement, short of stature. Sure, I can give my height in inches (60.5) or centimeters (153.67) to kind of boost the perception of me. But what it comes down to is I am 5 feet tall. It took some time (like, 20 years) for me to recognize that extra half inch does not really matter. At this stage in my life, it is going to disappear soon anyway. The least I can do is start to mentally prepare for it.

There are some advantages to being short. No one asks me to help with tall jobs. Time to arrange canned goods on high shelves? I'm not your gal. Tinsel on the tree? Only if you want the top 1/3 naked. Also, I am a handy tool for estimating. How far away is that rock? About 3 Alphas. Some quick mental math and you know that rock is 15 feet away.

Have you ever been driving down the road and thought the minivan in front of you was driving itself? That was me. The top of my head does not clear the top of the seat. My kids like to pretend they are being chauffeured around by ChittyChitty Bang Bang or that car from Flubber. They have even nicknamed the minivan "Herbie Jr.".

But not today! Today we were running late and I pulled my coat on over my pajamas, went with the slippers, and grabbed one of my kids' hats and we rolled out of the cul-du-sac. Maybe about 1584 Alphas into the trip the 7 year old behind me started laughing.

"Mama, you know how no one behind us can see you driving? Today it looks like the DOG is driving the car!"



Yep. The only parts of the Yeti poking above my headrest were the ears and the furry bit between them.

And the 10 year old offers: "Um...it's like there's a Husky driving us to school!"

Well, at least he got that part right!

Keep Your Options Open

You all know by now how much I adore my friend Lorraine. Well...we are collaborating on a project which you can find here.

Yes, yes, I know it's a little heavy on the taxidermy right now and quite light on the recipes (now you're going to have to click to see what the flup I'm talking about...see what I did there?) but I have a planned segue from the world of stuffed animals to the world of stuffing. Wait for it!

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Fox in Sox with Locks on Box

I was just wondering why women put on nice underpinning to go to the OB/GYN. No one is going to see them anyway. When we fold our clothes to put them on the chair we tuck the smaller bits into our pants pockets or purse anyway. Because, ew, what if they fell on the floor?

If you want to make a good impression, put on nice socks.

Make an Impact

Looking at other fun gadgets to entertain you while you visit. Take your pick. The top three are:

Teeth Whitening Tips: I think the guy updates it regularly. But if there were really that many different ways to brighten your smile England wouldn't be the butt of so many oral hygiene jokes. SO I think this one's kind of bunk, but I'll add it if you'd like.

Pictures of Campfires: It might be nice this time of year. Kind of cozy. I could add the MP3 thingy too and play Ella Fitzgerald's Holiday Album all day. Then you could pretend you are sitting in my living room because that is kind of what this cold weather has reduced me to. I stay in my pajamas all day in front of the fire place surrounded by 3 dogs and a laptop playing Pandora to warm me. (Truth: I sleep in warm clothes, so it isn't as bad as it sounds.)

Flash Pinball: I was afraid to click on this one. World Wide Web + the word FLASH = nothing good.


Dear Santa,

For Christmas this year, Little C wants 48 crayons, clothing, and a back scratcher.

Having some trouble deciphering this list. It either means his basic needs are not being met...or he has all he needs and simple things bring him pleasure.

Since he did not ask for any non-perishable food items, I'm going with the latter.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Xtrafun

I have been wasting my afternoon on Xtranormal.

If you are in need of some Friendly Advice you should clink the link and check it out. If you have no interest in almost 5 minutes of oddity and inside jokes I made for Lorraine then I do not recommend clicking. But if you like baking and taxidermy it might be worth your while.



Interesting fact for the day

I am feeling mildly amused that Mistletoe is both parasitic and poisonous...


Friday, December 10, 2010

Horror! (a retelling of a tale presented by Miss M)

Little C wanted me to read to him from my Science textbook. So I picked a spot and started reading. Then he just wanted to look at the pictures so I let him. But THEN, he screamed and ran out of my room. I looked at the page and it was full of pictures of diseased livers and kidneys.

I went to find him and he was hiding under a blanket. "Little C, it's ok. Those are just pictures of what happens to you when you drink alcohol and smoke."

"Bbbut...are those a kind of KID?! Did that happen to a KID from doing those things?!" he cried.

"NO! Those are KIDneys. You have them inside of you," I explained. "Right here and here."

"Inside of ME?! Aaahhhh!" More crying ensued.

"Little C," I hugged him, "it's ok. Yours are all pink and cute. Just don't ever drink and smoke, ok?"

"Ok," he promised meekly.


(Some days, I can flip my parenting on cruise control and just let Miss M handle things!)

Away in a manger...

Driving by holiday light displays is one of my favorite things to do this time of year. I don't go looking for them or anything. I prefer to let providence be my navigator. Which might explain why I get lost all the time. Anyway...

One of my favorite things to do is to write the story that goes along with the particular arrangement of lit figures. Like this:

Herod's Tin Soldiers were steadily advancing on the small stable. Mary could do nothing but watch, listen to the clockwork ticking, and swaddle the baby again and again.

"Stop it Mary, you're making me nervous! Just put the baby in the manger!" said Joseph.

"I'm sorry," she replied. "You know how anxious I get." She set the sleeping babe aside and started biting her cuticles instead.

Joseph was about to charge the field when a band of guerrilla carolers came out of the candy cane forest! "Don't worry, we've got 'em covered, Joe."

Joseph fell to his knees in thanks, bowed his head, and offered them his only weapon, a shepherd's staff. "I pulled this off the last guy who tried to get in here. Take it!"

The carolers, with their music books of death, held the hilly ground around the stable. All they had to do was bide their time and to wait for the ticking to stop. "They have to unwind sooner or later," the leader yelled as he tore another page from the hymnal. Deftly, he folded it into a wedge, cut a few notches, shook it lose, and lobbed another snowflake at the soldiers.

"Do you smell gingerbread?" Mary asked Joseph.

"Not right now Mary. We're in the middle of a battle field here, I don't have time to play along with your neuroses!"

"No! Honestly, I smell it for real. It's getting stronger now..."

Joseph lifted his nose to the air just seconds before the carolers did. They all turned and saw the biggest, glowing gingerbread man they could have imagined! No one was quite sure what to do. Was he friend or foe? For that minute that felt like hours the giant walked steadily over the hill, coming to a stop next to the stable. He placed himself against the corner for stability and turned to face down the tin soldiers. Shouts of relief and renewed energy sprang up from the guerrilla carolers and the couple in the stable. Perhaps this would all work out after all. And just in time, too, as the advancing troops gave no sign that their springs would ever uncoil.

But just as the defenders redoubled their efforts, invigorated by the arrival of that sweet, spicy reinforcement, a new sound jingled down from above. What was that? Everyone stopped and looked up.

Something was falling from the sky...

It landed just feet from the carolers! When the snow settled they could see it was a present, wrapped in glittery paper and tied up with a bow. "Go Go Go!" shouted one of the carolers and they all dove for cover under the slanted roof of the dilapidated stable.

The clouds broke and down from the moonlight sky came the worst thing they could have imagined. A man. A very large man. Dressed all in red, riding in a sleigh pulled by nine demonic reindeer with razor sharp antlers. The one in the lead had a glowing red face as if to just drive the point home. The bearded and bundled man tossed another large gift at the small band huddled together. It hit square on the roof, shaking the flimsy structure.

"Ho Ho Ho!" he laughed as he followed up that direct hit with a series of smaller boxes. Some of them made it through the cracks and openings. A camel was hit. And always, always the tick-tock sound coming closer and closer.

It wouldn't be long now...






Thursday, December 9, 2010

Here's a secret...

The real reason I ask Moose to go shopping with me after dinner while the cygnets stay home:

Anyone want to guess?

(Go ahead. Take a guess. I'll give you the answer in 24 hours. But I am wondering if you all can figure me out!)

Screw Calgon...

Lysol, take me away!


(60% of the household has a stomach bug. And by bug I don't mean parasite. I mean viral or bacterial in nature. The kind the produces 18 hours of vomiting and diarrhea every hour on the hour. You know me well, right? The anxiety level is through the ROOF and down the PIPES.)

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Why it sucks to be me with insomnia:

It's late and I'm in the mood to confess:

I don't know the numbers for any TV channels. Not even one. Really. If it is not in the DVR, I can't watch it unless I surf past it accidentally. To make matters worse, our remote has a damaged button and can only surf down, not up. Poking in random numbers does not help because half the numbers I enter are not even channels. Why the hell are they in my TV then?

And do you even know how many channels there are??! Apparently, just a few shy of putting me to sleep.


Wednesday, December 1, 2010

So Much Depends...

A few weeks ago, just before the snow, a glossy, red chicken was hit and killed on the road by school. Over the next couple of days cars swerved, willing to risk an accident just to avoid hitting it. Me? I recited William Carlos Williams as I drove around it four times a day (having changed it to white wheelbarrow and red chicken, my apologies Mr. Williams) without pause in one breath. But if I actually saw its eye I had to do it again. If I messed up the words I had to do it again. I am willing to bet that's a compulsion you haven't heard before!

Maybe it was the oddity of farmstead roadkill in an environment that is more used to squirrels and opossum. But I've seen cars on that road not even flash a brake light when they send cracked turtles spinning across the lanes.

Not so with the chicken. We all were avoiding that bad mojo.

And then the snow came.

And the reprieve from looking at the bird in the road. See, the snowplow took care of that for us. Scooted it on over to the side, buried it under a mound of snow, and let us all take our kids to school without thinking about our food chain.

And then the snow melted a bit.

Just enough to allow those yellow, gnarly feet to poke through. Which is just enough to keep me from eating chicken until we get another few inches of snow.

so much depends
upon

a few inches
of snow

covering
the legs

of a squashed red
chicken