Archive for August, 2013


August 28th, 2013 at 11:46 pm » Comments (3)

I’m kinda fantastically busy with a NEW JOB. I’ll tell you about it soon.

Until then, I’m just grateful for this life I have. there was yelling scary insanity on the front lawn today, and…?  it was NOT me. What an improvement!  Maybe one day that’ll stop entirely!

Life is good.


One of a Kind, Three of a Kind

August 21st, 2013 at 10:52 am » Comments (5)

I’ve been kinda busy.  School started. Football started. (caden-9yr) and then there is all this bizarre legal stuff.  Claude hasn’t been paying for the house in which he resides and it’s his assertion that this is my fault for not sending ENOUGH certified letters. Because he had NO idea all those payments he was mailing to the mortgage company…? WHAT? They didn’t GET THERE? Why didn’t you TELL me? Are you SERIOUS?



Um….? I’m not your wife. I will not baby you into successfully paying for your home each month. If you do, great. If you don’t, there are consequences. This is real life for everyone. This is how it works.

Moving on. Really. Good grief.

I’ve been rattled. I admit it. HIGHLY.

i went to work on a day I wasn’t supposed to be there.  Oops.

Last night I was trying to settle down the boys for devotional for the fifteenth time and Seth-7yr said something about “if we were girls” and i LOST IT.


That got their attention. I thought.

And then they started looking at each other and exchanging glances and then cracking up and one of them said, “Uh? Mom. You actually ARE a guhl.”


Another kid said, “Well. You just yelled that we are not guhls. And that was really like, kind of insulting to yourself.”

“RIGHT” said another brother. “That ‘s what I was thinking. INSULTING. Like, she’s saying she’s not a very GOOD guhl.”

“Mom, you really ARE a good guhl. It’s the rest of us who are NOT guhls. WE are boys.” Complete with helpful hand pointy gestures to further point out the differences among us.

They all sat in silence and waited to hear how I’d react to this little three brother analysis. I knew they were right, and it was sweet and weird, but I was too rattled to talk yet. I just looked at them.

Then Ethan-13yr said, “But wow that was funny when she was like shouting, “WE ARE NOT GUHLS” and all of us were like, UM…… YEAH YOU ARE, but we didn’t want to say it… because she was all…. WILD looking and kinda irritated. HA!”

And then the brothers joined in and reenacted it all as well, and it was another giggly 5 minutes before we got to he healing nature of the presence of God.  But. We got there. Three boys and me.

The good guhl.

When you Hear Tim McGraw…. I hope you think of my bathroom

August 12th, 2013 at 11:21 am » Comments (7)

It’s the last week of summer break here.

The kids are at that phase where they’re tired of seeing each other’s gorgeous faces all day every day and it affects their levels of kindness. There are more underwear fights. Less patience. More of (my personal favorite) arguments that end up with my saying, in ALL seriousness, “He HAS to walk through your bedroom to get to the bathroom. IT IS NOT PERSONAL. HE CAN”T HELP IT.”

The plumbing in this house is really made for one person. Even though it’s a four bedroom house. The plumbing is really suited for maybe 1 small person who likes vegetables. So this summer has been a challenge for it. The plumbing is ready for school to resume.

In my bathroom, there is a tub and a sink that had seen better days. They almost scared me away from this house, initially. My father has claimed the sink alone is so frightening it could inspire a Stephen King novel entitled The Lavatory. Horrendous scratches, dents, chips, stains, rust, and disgustingness of all kinds which are impervious to all chemicals and scrubbing attempts. I think they’re ceramic. Enamel. I don’t know. It actually doesn’t matter.

I’d had enough.  Finally.

I researched how to refinish your sink and tub. And then I did it. When the kids were gone, because DANG those are some harsh fumes, watch out if you try this at home, ladies.

I think what you are supposed to do is:

open windows.

take before pictures.

scrub with highly abrasive Trisodium Phosphate, per instructions that tell you to dissolve it in warm water.

wipe with paint thinner to break down any soap, grease, shampoo residue.

tape off areas you don’t want to get painted.

use spray epoxy in thin coats, waiting thirty minutes in between.

take after pictures.

leave area.

Let cure for 3 days before use.


What I did instead because NO i can’t follow directions or recipes or anything like that ever:

look at window and think, “eh. probably won’t open anyway.”

scrub everything with bleach.

scrub everything with highly abrasive Trisodium Phosphate, per instructions that say to dissolve in warm water.

scrub everything with highly abrasive Trisodium Phosphate, in powder form, because PLEASE, but that stuff in water did nothing, those are the Sissy Directions.

SAND the sink and the tub using coarse and medium sanding blocks, orbital sander, AND belt sander, because really? This is serious stuff. I’m sure the original instructions were not written for the Stephen King sink. I needed to modify. (and a lot of those rust stains came off at this point! YAY! So did the skin on my right hand, just a little bit, but HEY, no big deal.)

scrub everything with paint thinner.

tape off edges.

fill in low points with white epoxy – the kind you mix and let sit for 30 minutes.

Spray epoxy in thin coats.

Do not leave area.

Stay in bathroom in a white epoxy cloud and not realize how this is affecting me until I found myself discussing the physical attributes of Tim McGraw, OUT LOUD, in an empty house.

Realize, OH MY GOSH, maybe I shoulda tried to open that window after all, and go out in the backyard and feel all relieved that I did this when the kids were with Claude and they didn’t breathe that or see that or HEAR that, good GRIEF. And also? I think that man needs slightly bigger clothing.

Take pictures of sink and tub. Compare to my ‘before’ pictures.

Text them to everyone, because it is UNREAL how the Stephen King sink looks like a brand new white sink now, and so does the tub, WOW, shoulda done this when I first moved in???!!!

Let cure for 3 days.

Later today I  get to use the sink and the tub for the first time, and I’m pretty excited. Not scared in the LEAST anymore.


total cost: less than $60. (and a few brain cells.)






Yurt, Sweet Yurt

August 4th, 2013 at 11:55 pm » Comments (3)

I’m listening to Paul Simon sing “allergies.” No idea why I like that song so much. It’s… weird.


I’m painting everything different shades of purple. Periwinkle on the walls,  deep purple on a table… “the one that got away” on my toes… Always purple, lately. Speaks to me, now, that color.


I took the kids camping. Sorta. I don’t camp. Well. maybe I do.

We went to the Abilene State Park and we stayed in a yurt. It looks like a tepee, sorta. It has beds and a refrigerator and a microwave, but really it’s a step up from a tent and a step down from a cabin. FANTASTIC. This went really well.


No one else was there for some reason. Just us. In the state park. With a bunch of deer and bobcats.

We were pulling up to the yurt the first day and from the backseat I hear Caden-9yr say, “What was the name of the hotel we stayed in last month…? With Dad…? The Four….? WHAT? The… OH! yes. The Four Seasons.”

I put my head on the steering wheel. Counted to 5.

“Babe. This is NOT the Four Seasons. This is a yurt. And it might be awful. But we are here in the name of adventure and love and family, and I want to have a great time.”

“Oh! I KNOW! Cool, Mom.”

And we did.

I wanted to build a fire. I brought lighter fluid, but I wanted desperately not to use it. I wanted to conquer firebuilding and cooking raw meat over a flame, just me and my boys. Just firebuilding techniques and a cheap gas station lighter.

We did.

Deer came up to us and ate right out of our hands. Chicken. Why are deer in Abilene eating chicken, anyway? That makes no sense. But we enjoyed it. So did they.

Ethan-13yr was frantically warning all of us to avoid the armadillos, as they are carriers of leprosy. Everyone pretty much ignored him. We were busy snuggling the deer.

At one point, Ethan-13yr was SO frustrated that he yelled, “IF ANYONE GETS LEPROSY, IT IS NOT! MY! FART!”

And then we all just died laughing, because he was horrified he’d yelled that, and hadn’t meant to, and that wasn’t what he meant at all, and he got really tired of me whispering that to him over the next few days every time we smelled something nasty. “Hey… it’s not my fart!”

The first night in the yurt, Caden-9yr and I had go to the bathroom. At 1:30am. We were unaware until RIGHT THEN that there were bobcats everywhere between us and the bathroom way far away, and neither one of us really knew much about bobcats or how dangerous the situation was, but we DID know we needed to twinkle. So off we went. Holding hands. Scared to pieces.

We got back to the yurt, having avoided two large bobcats, and were on a huge adrenaline rush. We googled bobcats on my phone. We discussed how we should have awakened Etahn-13yr, our family animal expert. We stared at the yurt ceiling, unable to sleep for hours. And then we’d relive the experience and crack up. And then one of us would drift off, and the other would get the giggles.

The next day we went to the zoo. Caden-9yr and I were amazed at how tiny their bobcats were. Ours had been much larger. And scarier.

We fished. Sorta.

It was important to fish, just the four of us. So we did. Fish jumped everywhere on a completely empty and abandoned lake. We couldn’t catch any of them though, so we just had fun with our rods and worms and mud and I soaked up the sun and avoided touching gross stuff.

The second night in the yurt, we had neighbors. A group of girls moved in behind us. Caden-9yr said something very sexist about how we’d know if they saw the bobcats when we heard them scream. I ignored him. But it bothered me. After all, the previous night, HE had been so afraid of the bobcats, he’d insisted on coming into the women’s restroom with me instead of separating briefly and going alone to the men’s room. SO. Big talk, my precious boy child.

We were almost asleep when Seth-7yr tearfully admitted he really needed to twinkle and he really really did not want to. We all went. Flashlights in hand. Seth-7yr glued to my side.

And the two large bobcats from the first night were not around. But five to seven smaller ones WERE.  We held hands and on the way back there was one in between us and our yurt. Ethan-13yr scared me to PIECES when he decided he should hiss loudly at it.

I didn’t know who hissed. Silly me, I assumed it was the BOBCAT that was hissing, not the HUMAN.  Perhaps a little strategy talk would have been in order there. But he hissed really dramatically, and the bobcat circled us and then followed us all the way back until we were running the last little bit. I’d suggest not hissing, should there be a next time.

We got inside and the boys went to sleep pretty quickly. And then…. there was a bloodcurdling group girly scream.

I smiled.

I couldn’t help it.

Then silence.

Then a car, leaving, in a hurry. And they were gone.

THAT was what I wanted. A fun sort of adventure with those three precious boys, where we plan what we want to do and then go do it and accomplish new stuff together.

It truly happened that way. How nice. I mean, The Four Seasons it was NOT.

But I liked it. And we’d SO do it again.