Cookie Monster!

My kitchen is exhausted, my oven is revolting against me, my baking pans are staging a protest, and my KitchenAid mixer is boycotting.  That's right, December = Almost Christmas = Cookie Exchange time at work! 

I'd asked around a bit and learned there weren't too many people signed up to bring chocolate-type stuff.  I wasn't about to let you-know-what freeze over, so I did a little Google searching.  I stumbled upon a Paula Dean recipe (yes, we are definitely going for healthy here people, bahaha!), was lacking a few ingredients here and there, so I improvised a wee bit.  Give it a shot!

Here's what you're gonna need.

Beat the first four ingredients until creamy.

Add the egg.  

You may or may not notice there's two eggs in this shot.  That's cause I doubled this for the Cookie Exchange.  6 dozen baby!!

Next, add baking mix (which is just a glorified term for homemade Bisquic--2 c. flour, 1 Tbs. baking powder, 1 tsp. salt, 1/2 c. shortening) stir until just blended.

Next, stir in you're chopped up nuts and chocolate chips.  

Spoon the tasty lil boogers onto a greased baking sheet and flatten 'em out.  (It helps to make an indent in the middle of each cookie w/ your thumb...you'll thank me later!)

Bake these at 350 for 10-12 minutes.  

While they're in the oven, combine the vanilla extract and caramel chips and nuke 'em in the microwave (start at 30 seconds and go from there) until nice and melty.

Once the turtle goodness is out of the oven, let 'em cool for about a minute-ish, then spoon the caramel deliciousness over top of the turtle cookies.  Hence the whole thumb indent thing.  I skipped that part on my first batch...caramel was EVERYWHERE!

 

At this point, I'm pretty sure most every surface in my kitchen was covered in cookie.  I'd told myself I was gonna be good, not do a whole lot of "quality assurance" testing (if you know what I mean!) so I warmed up a cup of coffee in the middle of the afternoon (yes, like an old lady), and loaded it down with creamer, sugar, the works.  The intent was to drink the coffee, and not do so much "quality assurance" testing.  Anyway, by the time we got to the cookie covering every surface stage, I'd pretty much chucked the coffee out the window and was thoroughly making sure everything was up to code (bahaha!).

While you're waiting for everything to continue cooling/caramel to harden a bit, melt some chocolate chips and milk in the microwave and when it's all nice and liquidy, drizzle this over the top of the turtles.  It's delicious.  You'll be smacking that devilishly handsome man you married's hand with a spoon the moment he walks in the door! 

Enjoy! : )

 Here's the breakdown:
1/2 c. softened butter
1/2 c. sugar
1/2 c. brown sugar
2/3 c. peanut butter
1 egg
2 c. baking mix
2/3 c. chopped pecans/nut of choice
2/3 c. chocolate chips
10 oz. caramel chips
1/2 tsp. vanilla
2/3 c. additional chocolate chips.

Beat together the first four ingredients until creamy, add egg baking mix, beat until just combined.  Stir in chopped pecans and chocolate chips.  Spoon the mixture onto a greased baking sheet, flatten with a spoon, and create an indent with your thumb.  Bake at 350 for 10-12 minutes.  Melt the caramel chips (with a little bit of milk) and vanilla and spoon over cookies.  Melt additional chocolate chips and drizzle over cookies. 

 

Turtle Menace

This is Tucker.

This is a turtle.

 

This is what happens when Tucker finds a turtle.

Please note the alert ears and very concerned demeanor.  There was much barking and worrying involved here.  You can't see the turtle from this angle, but that little bugger was in there, I'm sure of it!

Turtles are actually quite threatening...bahaha!  (Actually they're not, my dog is just a weirdo)

 

You could cut the tension here with a knife! 

"Begone, turtle menace!"

 The bravery is overwhelming.

 

Your bed. On procrastination.

The other day, my girlfriends and I were talking about laundry.  Yes, that's right, laundry.  Our conversation went a little like this: "How do you separate yours?  How do you get your husband to do a load?  What is your favorite way to procrastinate the folding process?  How in the world do you get the cow poop stains out of a pair of blue jeans?"  We could seriously go on and on.  No judging please!    

My loads of separation consist of darks, colors, whites, and of course, cow poop.  When you marry a country boy, you are pretty much guaranteed to have at least one load/week that consists of cow poop, hay particles, mud, and/or other miscellaneous animal fluids.  Again, no judging please.

However, don't be like me.  Do NOT procrastinate this much.  Procrastination to this extent shouldn't be legal.

This is your bed.

This is your bed on crack procrastination.

The sad part is that I'd already removed/folded two baskets out of this mess...and it was still covered.  Like I said, don't be like me ;)

Have a great week and remember; laundry folding goes much faster with a glass of merlot!  

What Are You Thankful For?

The other day, I was down in the dumps.  I'd just gotten off the phone with that devilishly handsome man I married, we were talking about how we're tired of busting ass to 'get there' in life.  We're just ready to 'be there' dang it!  We were brainstorming ideas on how to 'get there' and kept hitting dead ends.  I stopped at a gas station to fuel up, kinda down in the dumps, wrapped up in my own thoughts, etc.  I was walking inside to pay when all of the sudden, an older gentlemen in a Dodge Dakota hollers out his window at me, "Hey ma'am!" I do a mental roll of the eyes and turn around to see who's talking to me.  "Are you alright?" the older gentlemen asks. 

I wish I could've seen what my facial expression looked like...how did this guy know how I was feeling?!  Cue the Twilight Zone music!  I said to the older gentlemen, "Yes, I'm fine, thanks."

With a bit of a smile he replied, "Well, I can tell you're not alright, ya know why?" 

"Why's that?" I asked, catching on to the fact that he's trying to be funny.

"Well, you've got a left hand and a right hand, dontcha?  You can't ever be alright!"  He says with a chuckle.  "You have yourself a wonderful Thanksgiving ma'am."

And just like that, my whole day turned right around.  Today, I'm thankful for the little things in life that remind us not to sweat the small stuff.  What are you thankful for?   

Noses!

As I sit here sipping on some red wine and watching some Duck Dynasty, I'm feeling the need to share something with you all:  Horse Noses. 

Oh yes, if you've experienced the warm, fuzzy, rubbery-ish, sweet-smelling-ness, you know exactly what I'm talking about. 

I could take pictures of these suckers all day long.  And during a photography class in college, that's pretty much what I did.  Almost every assignment I turned in consisted of something that looked like this.

Or this...

Phone pic courtesy of a friend interning at the Miner Institute

Or this...

Made ya look!

Needless to say, the instructor wasn't super impressed with my, um, 'lack of content.'  Oh well, 'C' for credit!!  

Tis' the Season...

To channel your inner Katniss kids!  Well, technically bow season was a couple of weeks ago.  Now we're in full-fledged, population controlling, deer harvesting, rifle season baby!  Translation: many of us haven't seen our husbands for several days.  They only come back to the house to occasionally eat, use the John (if the occasion calls for it), and sometimes shower (if we're lucky).

They'll generally come back to the house to consume baked goods as well (insert festive sugar cookies here).

I'd be lying if I told you I hadn't been bitten by the hunting bug.  Up until this year, I'd always kind of grudgingly woken up at the crack of dawn, dressed in layer upon layer of winter clothes (please, please, please envision the kid from 'A Christmas Story,' it makes me smile), and stumbled my way to "the spot" with hubby.  I think it's because I absolutely suck at sitting still for long any amount of time.  This year, that devilishly handsome man I married has been pretty busy with work, meaning wifey's on her own if she wants to go deer hunting.  I may or may not be scared of the dark, so I may or may not have some issues with the whole walking in the woods in near complete darkness thing, but I'm coping.  Slowly coping.  There's something legitimately empowering about walking through the entire process on your own.      

On a more serious note, there are some pretty cool things that happen as a result of deer season here in Missouri.  The state's Department of Conservation sponsors a 'Share the Harvest' program that allows hunters to donate their harvested meat to hungry families throughout the state.  Deer meat is an excellent source of very lean protein for those in need.  Departmental statistics show that hunters donated 317,882 pounds of meat to this program during the 2011 hunting season.  Thanks so much to all who participated!!  You rock!  And thanks so much to all the wives who put up with their husbands participation in this yearly pilgrimage/manhood/macho thing.  You all rock as well.

Good luck out there, hunters! 

Wardrobe Malfunction

Raise your hand if you remember this historical wardrobe malfunction that occurred during the half-time show of Superbowl XXXVIII!  (Bonus points are involved if you can tell me what number XXXVIII is...I've absolutely no idea.)

Cute, sassy dress

A couple of weekends ago, I was involved in my very own derrierre wardrobe malfunction.  It involved a cute, sassy dress (purchased from Plato's Closet, because I'm a tight-ass) with a back zipper that decided to revolt right when I needed it most.  Maybe not as epic as Janet Jackson and Justin Timberlake's um...situation...but at the time the badonk malfunction happened, the only thing I wanted to do was crawl in a hole and not come out until either 1) my malfunction was fixed, or 2) copious amounts of wine had been consumed.  #2 ended up being the winner.

I was attending a wedding of two very good friends, with a bunch of other very good friends (aka. college reunion, aka. see #2 above).  The devilishly handsome man I married had to work this particular weekend, which turned out to be a blessing.  If he would've had to suffer through the badonk malfunction, I would've died of embarrassment even more than I already did...is that even possible?!

Anyway, back to the back zipper horridness.  I'd just met up with my brother who was filling in as my +1 for the evening since hubby could't make it.  Bro-ha is a college student in the town where the wedding took place; I figured he'd enjoy a free meal during the reception, being a poor college kid and all.  Little did he know, a full moon was on the menu!  We had just walked allllll the way across the reception hall (read: in front of EVERYONE) to reach our seats when my good friend Mer tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Hey Jen, your dress is gapping in the back."  I was all "Oh, ok.  I'll fix it here in a bit."  That's when I felt the breeze.  That's when I felt the huge gaping hole.  That's when I felt the bare skin of the upper portion of my derrierre showing off it's glowing self to THE ENTIRE ROOM.  That's also when I wanted to crawl in that previously mentioned hole.

Franken-dress

My poor, poor, potentially traumatized brother was such a sweetie; volunteering to get me a plate of food and a glass of wine.  My girlfriends jumped into action, pinning where they could, boosting
 my tattered self-esteem, oh yeah, and more wine was involved.  In the end (bahahaha!) one of the gal's at a neighboring table switched sweaters with me (mine was one of those short, cropped types; hers was long and flow-ey).

Not even Instagram could make this prettier!

What in the world would we do without sweet, fabulous, kick-ass girlfriends??  Have a LOT worse wardrobe malfunctions, that's for sure! ;)

Don't Worry, We Lived

Ever heard of the Craigslist Killer?  Well, just the other day, I was about 110% convinced that the devilishly handsome man I married and I where about to come face-to-face with the Missouri version of this not-so-urban legend.

One of hubby's favorite things to do is hunt for good deals on Craigslist.  "Why," you ask?  Great question.  I think it must have something to do with the fact that he was raised with 5 sisters and has a better eye than I do when it comes to bargain hunting.  The man can out-shop me any day of any week...unless kitchen supplies are involved.  When shopping for kitchen supplies, I am like a woman on fire.  I don't think there's a kitchen large enough to hold all the gadgets I desire... 

Anyway, a couple of weekends ago, hubby stumbled across a pretty good Craigslist deal on some saddles and tack for sale.  He's never been one to beat around the bush, so hubby calls up the guy fixin' to get rid of this stuff, and learns this individual is pretty unaware of the market value for gently used saddles/equipment, and calls himself "At the mercy of the buyer."  Aka--will sell this stuff for cheapo.

My initial reaction: "AWESOME!  We may be about to purchase stolen items from the Craigslist Killer."

The next thing I learn, we're meeting this individual at a truck-stop so we can follow him out of town/away from civilization to his house so we can check out these saddles.  Oh yeah, the absolute best part?!  This guy drives a white service-looking van with KC lights on the back!  Hello potential criminal, we'll just follow you right out to your place so you can conveniently chop us up and chuck the pieces in the back of your Astro van...no big deal. 

I even snapped a shot of his plates with my phone camera, so I could shoot out an emergency S.O.S text message if it turned into a situation.  I had the message already drafted and everything, dad always taught me to be prepared!

Luckily, our potential Craigslist kill turned out to be a nice, most likely lonely older guy with a shed full of junk.  We ended up walking out of there with a legit saddle, four saddle blankets, brand-new rope halter.

Moral of the story: when you find that amazing deal on Craigslist, take your partner-in-crime/husband/large dog/whatever makes you feel secure before taking on this adventure. 

The end.  Happy Hunting.

Boots

The other evening, I stopped at our local grocery store on my way home from All Saints' Day Mass.  I was driving the hubby's pick-up, had just hopped out of the cab and was slowly making my way across the parking lot.

I was still half-way across the lot and attempting to text my good friend Katlyn and walk at the same time (aka asking for trouble), when I briefly glimpsed a tall, dark, boot-wearing individual strolling out of the grocery store doors.  Seeing as how I'm happily married to a wonderful man, I didn't pause to get a good look at this boot-wearing dude, and wasn't really paying attention, so I vaguely filed this individual as "Hm, cutie, whatev" in my head while sidestepping a random cart in the parking lot.  

Next thing I half-notice is a hassled looking lady toting an over-full cart and a toddler across the parking lot.  A bag fell out of the hassled lady's cart without her knowing it and the next, next thing I notice is  tall, dark, boot-wearing cutie picking up the hassled lady's bag, "Excuse me ma'am, I think you dropped this," he said, handing the bag back to her.  Still not really paying attention, I think "Oh look, he's nice too."  Then I do a double take.  Then I do a triple take.  I know those boots...I know that voice...I know that cutie-ness...Hey that's my husband!!!  He'd stopped at the grocery store after work to bring home some dinner.  

So nice to know I married such a tall, dark, handsome, boot-wearing, kind-hearted, wonderful man.  He's the bomb :)

Vewwy Scawwwy!

Since yesterday was Halloween and I was waaay too busy passing out candy to cute lil trick-or-treaters watching terrifying movies, folding laundry, and drinking wine (basically a typical evening, minus the terrifying movie part) to write a blog post, I'll share my creepy story with you today.  I'll also share this 'boo' pizza with you.  It was delicious, scary, and no bueno for the ol' calorie count.

**Side note--I honestly wish we did get trick-or-treaters at our house...definitely one downfall of living on a gravel road.

So I snapped these photos while running the Rock 'n' Roll half-marathon in St. Louis the other weekend.  Why they turned out weird like this, I have absolutely no idea.  I use a setting on my camera phone that makes pics a bit more clear (and also saves copies of the photos on the phone, for some odd reason).  These are the copies that turned out weird!!

Seeing double at Busch Stadium...

And my personal favorite...man with detached legs!!

Happy belated Halloween, everyone!  I hope you ate way too much candy last nigh, then went out to Wal-Mart and bought up all the left-overs for 50% off...cause that's definitely what I did. ;)

Have you had your half today?

Friends and neighbors, I've got a new addiction.  At least I think it's an addiction anyway.  Unlike most, it's actually pretty good for you besides the fact that your bones and muscles will likely hate you for days afterward.  My new addiction is the half-marathon.  The 13.1 mileage says "I'm more bad-ass than a 5K, yet way too sensible to run 26 flippin' miles."

Last weekend in St. Louis, one of my fabulous aunts and I tackled (and dominated!) our first ever half-marathon.  The Rock 'N' Roll Marathon Series was so much fun!  There where live bands every mile or so, and awesome people everywhere!  There where some pretty hilariously costumed teams (we're talking tutu's, firefighter garb, I Love the 70's, you name it!), and super encouraging people along the way.

This is definitely the before picture...no way in heck we where taking an after pic!!  

It was an absolutely gorgeous morning. 

The announcers called it "No excuses weather."  Luckily, my excuse was that I've never ran one of these things before.  The course wound through downtown St. Louis.  It may or may not have been the day after a Cardinals game, therefore the majority of town may or may not have been covered in red!  

Hello Busch Stadium!

While this was definitely one heck of a fun experience, I would be lying if I didn't say that one of my favorite parts was the end.  Talk about butt-kicking!  Every eligible runner was provided with complimentary Michelob Ultra at the finish line...my Busch Light taste buds didn't know what to do!  I definitely meant to take a pic of said beer, however my ass was too pooped to do anything other than park in front of this conveniently-located mobile bar and recover while waiting for my aunt to finish.  We are definitely related, cause she made a bee-line right for the same refreshing beverage station once she crossed the finish line!    

So the moral of the story is, even if you're intimidated or unsure of yourself, even if you know you don't want to run the whole thing, even if you know for sure you're going to walk the whole time...just try it.  You'll love the energy and enthusiasm (and free beer) at these half marathons and who knows, maybe you'll find yourself a new addiction too!

     

Plug in Your Crockpots!

So, today I learned that crockpots work much better when they're plugged in, it's usually good to double check the date/details of that half-marathon you're supposidly running tomorrow, and it's basically impossible to simultaneously blog and watch a scary movie at the same time.

All day today, I told that devilishly handsome man I married "get excited honey, supper's gonna be delish tonight!"  I'd prepped everything the night before over a glass of wine (pay attention, wine is important here, haha!); we where gonna have  ribs...every man loves him some ribs.  Anyway, I opened this new bottle of vino with my fancy schmancy electric bottle opener, the kind you plug in to charge every once in a while (I had to plug it in last night cause I haven't charged it since ummm, May).  We'd gotten it as a wedding present and yes, I'm just now learning how to use this thing...I fear change.  Opening wine bottles the old fashioned way is an artform friends.  Needless to say, I unplugged the crockpot to plug in the bottle opener.   This morning when I turned on the crockpot and left for work, I ended up crockpotting absolutely nothing. 

Oh yeah,  that half marathon that I was supposidly gonna run tomorrow?  Turns out it's important to read all those emails they send ya after you register...there's some good info there.        

Anyway, thank goodness for aunts who inform you of pre-race details in a timely fashion, and husbands who take you out to eat and watch these scary-ass movies with you.  

Failing at Wednesday

Last Wednesday, I failed.  'At what?' you may be asking.  At Wednesday; I just straight-up failed at Wednesday.

Here's a little background:
We'd been searching for a new/additional freezer for quite a while.  We've got a quarter of a beef coming + whatever deer meat gets harvested this season + half a hog from a show-prospect that didn't quite turn out.  Basically, my home will soon be full of meat (heehee), which is something I won't ever be complaining about!

That devilishly handsome man I married also happens to be one heck of a bargain shopper, so he located an ideal freezer candidate early last week (which happened to be located in the town I work in--aka 45 miles away from our home).  No biggie, I'm a big girl, and felt I could easily handle this whole freezer situation.  He called up the nice lady and had everything all arranged so that I could pick up the freezer on Wednesday after work. The sooner the better, they were looking to get rid of it as soon as possible.   

Wednesday dawned bright and chilly, and I was actually kicking that morning right in the badonkadonk!  (Translation: got out of bed, accomplished a little mornin' working out, stuck dinner in the crockpot so it'd be ready that evening, AND DID MY HAIR!  The hair part basically never happens.)

Anyway, there I was, kicking Wednesday in the butt!  I turned on my lil car to get her all pre-heated and toasty, grabbed my lunch and giant purse, and ran out the door.  Fast forward nearly half an hour and damn near 25 miles.  I'm halfway to work in my car when the phone starts ringing.  Immediately I get that feeling, "What in the WORLD am I forgetting?"

Turns out it's hubby, "Hey babe, do you have money for the freezer this afternoon?"
Me: "Yep, I grabbed your checkbook this morning (being married is the best, heehee!!), but ya know what I didn't grab?"
Hubby: "What's that?"
Me: "The flippin' pick-up!  I'm halfway to town in my car, looks like I'll be turning around at the next exit.  Oh p.s. any chance your truck has fuel in it?"
Hubby:  "Welllllll, I was almost home when i drove it last, figured I'd just fill it up next time I had to take it outt..."  Aka. the truck was basically on empty.  It'd be a miracle if I could make it to the nearest gas station.  This is why men frequently run out of fuel on the side of the road. 

Anyway, I arrived back at the homestead, sent a quick email to work explaning my ridiculousness, switched vehichles, got fuel, and made it to town by 8:30...not too shabby for a rough startin' Wednesday!  Hang in there kids, it's finally Friday.  

Mattresses, Wine, & Owls

You may or may not be wondering what in the world these three things have to do with each other...just be patient, we'll get there together, I promise.

Waaay back when we first got married (aka, like four months ago, haha!), that devilishly handsome man and I went furniture shopping for our very first house together.  Sears now owns my life.  So does Denver Mattress.  Which brings me to my first point: mattresses.

It is muey importante to NOT cut corners when it comes to the ol' beddy-bye.  After all, that's where you and your sugar are going to rest your little heads at night for years to come (i.e. if you skimp on your mattress, it's highly likely you will be pissed in the long run, and end up with a not-so-comfy bed for a long ass time).  Anyway, there we where newly married, holding hands, shoppin' for mattresses.  We stumbled across a fabulous deal towards the end of the day; it was one of those tempur pedic-type things where you can set your wine glass on one end of the bed, jump up and down on the other end, and have absolutely no spillage!!  (I have never had a problem with this, my wine glass is and always will be nice and empty before I go to bed, heehee.)

This particular mattress was the last one in stock, (and consequently hellaciously on sale) and was the kind that is split right down the middle; half firm, the other half soft.

"Oh honey, you can take the soft side," I said.  "This firm side will be great for my old lady back!"

And so we went about our lives for a couple of weeks, I enjoyed the firm side, while the hubster nestled in the softer side.  Everything suddenly changed one Saturday when he had to get up early and head to work.  I sleepily rolled into his warm spot, and was instantaneously the most comfy I'd ever been...like EVER!  I usually try and get up semi-ish early on Saturdays (those are my long run days), but on that particular Saturday, my phone got chucked across the room and I enjoyed that soft side as long as I was able. 

Now flash forward several months to this past weekend.  I'm a lady of my word, and let hubby keep his side (while snuggling as close as I can to get some of the soft-ness, heehee).  They've been super busy at work lately, so the hubby has been getting up early.. attempting to not sleep as late.. fighting like hell to extract himself from the soft side in order to get to work at first light.  On Friday night he said to me, "Babe, you can have the soft side, I've gotta start getting up earlier."  After celebrating like the Chiefs had just won the Superbowl (bahaha!), I planted a smooch on the BEST HUSBAND EVER! and snuggled down into the soft side of the mattress for a fabulous night of sleep.

I should probably mentioned that the soft side is closer to our bedroom window than the firm side.  Because it's been so nice lately, we've been leaving the window open at night to enjoy the fresh air, etc.  I don't know if it's because I was closer to the window or what, but during that first night of sleeping on the soft side I heard a sound that made me sit bolt upright in bed: OWLS!  A couple of 'em, hooting around and doing who-knows-what outside our window waaaay too late at night.  I've posted about OWLS here before...pony-tail grabbing, blind as a bat, early morning runner startling OWLS!

Needless to say, our window is now closed at night.  And I still get to sleep on the soft side, woohoo!!  Now go drink some wine, enjoy your mattress, and don't have weird dreams about owls.

'Night!       
      

Jerky!

Every now and again, your husband may decide to make beef jerky with his fancy dehydrator thing.

The dehydrator.  It lives in the mudroom.  Takes up too much counter space!

 Every now and again, he might salt the heck out of said jerky.   Aka prepare to drink a boat load of water!

But it's all good, someday I'll use that dehydrator to do something really cool...like make dried fruit or something.  In my free time.  HA!  (ie. I will probably never make dried fruit.  But I'd like to.  Kinda like that moment when you realize you'll never complete even 1/100th of the cool things you've pinned on Pinterest.  Life goes on.)

Anyway, when you're making jerky in a dehydrator, you've gotta rotate the trays every four hours (so every layer can be dried evenly).  It's not that it's a time comsuming activity, just something to think about/is on your conscious radar throughout the day. 

Rotate your dang trays!

Here is a sign your husband may be thinking entirely way too much about rotating his jerky trays:

Scene: Early morning, both sound asleep, sun is still down.
Hubs:  Thrashes wildly, sound of water spilling.
Me: Rolls over,  "Huuhhh?..."
Hubs: "It's ok honey, I just knocked over a glass of water."
Me: "Why?.."
Hubs: "Well, I dreamed I was changing the jerky trays and was surrounded by a pack of wolves.  They where trying to get my jerky and I had to keep swatting 'em away!  So I guess I swatted this glass of water instead."
Me: "Bahaha!  I'm just glad I didn't get unconsciously swatted by accident!"

Think of me next time you enjoy some tasty jerky. (And keep me in mind if you run across a recipe that uses less salt!)

Yum?

Ode to the Crockpot

Hey there ladies!

Who out there loves being domestic??  Bueller?  Bueller?  Ferris Buelllller?  Any takers?

I would absolutely LOVE to be domestic (bahahaha!) except for the fact that I wish daily that laundry was a-sexual like a sponge (so it would do itself) and that the nearby woodland creatures would come inside and make my house spotless (how did Snow White, Cinderella, and all the other Disney princesses pull that one off?!).

Maybe a better question would be--How do women these days actually have time to be domestic?  How in the world are you supposed to keep up with the house, the laundry, the dishes, the laundry, the bills, the cooking, your kids (don't actually have any of these yet, I'm expecting the laundry load to double), your husband, oh, and the laundry?  Not to mention your full time job, part time grad school attendance, and hellacious daily commute?

I will tell you!  The secrete to modern day domestication is...drum roll please...THE CROCKPOT.  Borderline one of the wedding gifts I've used the most.  Found out this week that you can make mashed potatoes in the crockpot.  Life=changed.  I also Pinned (but haven't tried yet) a recipe for french toast in the crockpot.  I've chucked frozen chicken breasts in the crockpot along with a can of beer, some BBQ sauce, and some seasonings, and ended up with a legit meal eight hours later.  One of my all-time favorite meals is a crockpot roast with potatoes and carrots.  I wish I could meet the individual who decided it'd be a good idea to combine a ceramic bowl, heating element, and glass lid together to form this masterpiece and give them a GIANT hug!!

Thanks to this person, I may have a sink full of dishes that need washed and a heaping pile of clothes that need folded, but I'll always have a delicious, ridiculously handsome man-pleasing meal ready at the end of the day.        

The End!

How to Show a Cow

So you want to show a cow, eh??

Welp, seeing how I've been to a grand total of oh, not that many cattle shows, this may or may not be a relatively concise lesson!  Ready?  Here we go:

1)  Wash 'em.  A lot.  Cause they poop.  A lot.  Gotta have a clean cow to start with. 

Squeaky clean!  For about 5 minutes...until someone poops again.  It's never ending.

2) Line 'em all up like this!  You don't really have to, it  just looks cool.  Good morning girls!

3) Pretend you're in beauty school.  I'm serious.  This part consists of clipping, spraying, blow-drying, tail teasing.  Then you clip, spray, blow, and tease.  After you're done doing that, it's important to clip a little more, blow, spray, and tease that tail again.  Then, when you're done, you need to clip some more...(are you sensing a trend?  Ok, good).

Basically, the idea is to get each animal to embody certain desirable characteristics.  For example, you would want a heifer (young female cow, hasn't had babies yet) to look feminine and dainty, yet able to produce an able-bodied calf.  Say the heifer has a blemish you are wanting to hide, say     This whole process is called fitting, 

The cow stands in a temporary chute like this one above, so the guys don't get stepped on while they're making her look like a moooovie star (I'm sorry!).

Here's Ryan, demonstrating a little blow-drying technique on this cute lil chunky way prego heifer.  Get 'er done kiddo!

Here he is again, fluffing up her leg hair to enhance the appearance of a clean, straight leg. 

Such intensity!! 

Ok, now we're walking up to the show ring.  I wish I could've snapped a photo of what I'm about to describe, but I was occupied by importantly (haha) carrying towels, hair spray, brushes, etc.  Anyway, the hilarious part:  when someone stops to poop while walking up to the show ring (the animal, not the boys! ha.) this whole wagon train comes to a screeching halt so the deed can take place without getting poo all over the clean, clipped, purty cow.  Then, the LUCKIEST (i.e. whoever happens to be standing behind when this happens) member of the wagon train gets to wipe the poo off of the cow backside so the procession to the show ring can start back up again.  Once you've seen it done a couple of times, it's not quite as amusing, but there's is just something about watching a grown man wiping poop off a cow's butt! 

Once in the show ring, it's up to the exhibitor to display the animal to it's full potential while making sure the judge sees it's best side!  All while avoiding running into other cows/people, grimacing every time you hear the 'splat splat splat' of you-know-what hitting the ground, and hoping like heck your cow behaves. 

Easier said than done, you win some you lose some, but don't worry, there will always be cow poop!

The end.

T.G.I.T

T.G.I.T.  Wait, what?

That's right: Thanks Goodness It's Thursday.   Aka almost Friday.  It's about time this week was over.  Here's today in a nutshell:

1) Oversleep
2) No time to make coffee (see #1 above, and feel hell freezing over)
3) Forget your lunch as you're running out of the house (see #1 above)
4) Forget your parking pass as you're running out of the house (see #1...ok, you get the picture)
5) Thank the good Lord that you actually decided to blow dry your hair after showering last night, because there was absolutely no time to pretend to do anything with it this morning.
6) Use up all the spare change in your car (including that invaluable Aldi's cart quarter) to feed the parking meeter in an attempt to avoid getting a parking ticket.
7) Get two parking tickets because of #'s 1 and 4 above.
8) Have a Snicker's bar for lunch (ok, that really isn't that bad) because you've a)forgotten your lunch at home, and b) don't want to move your car again for fear of getting another parking ticket. 
9) Come home to find your fur child has dug up your basil plants

Such a turd-nugget

10) Have a healthy sized margarita with you husband, and call it a day.

The end!!

Gone Fishin'

A couple of weeks ago, that devilishly handsome man I married went to Kentucky for Angus Junior Nationals in Louisville.  Don't say it like I do "Louey-ville" you'll get made fun of.  Gotta say it like this: "Lullvull."  Got it?  Ok, good.

Anyway, he was in "Lullvull" at Angus Jr. National's and I was home alone with my fearless companion, the fur child.

Yep, he's fearless alright.  Ha.

We wanted to go fishing.  And by "we" I mean "I."  So we loaded up the pick-up and drove down to the pond.  Could definitely have walked, but didn't want get covered in ticks.  (I feel the same way about ticks as I do fleas, barf!)

So, yeah, back to fishing.  I LOVE fishing!  Except for the taking off the hook part.  And the putting on the worm part.  And the cleaning the fish part. (Luckily I married a man who is skilled and proficient in all these areas, it's a win-win).  Now, you may be wondering how I plan to take a fish off of said hook when/if I actually catch anything.  Not to worry!  I brought some light gloves.  And by light gloves, I basically mean heavy winter mittens.  Fish are kind of gross.  Especially when they flop!   

Anyway,  there we where, me and the fur-child, taking in the great outdoors.  All of the sudden.....

 TA-DA!!  He's such a monster.  Ha.

 I had to run all the way back to the truck to grab my fishing glove, but I got that little heifer off the hook!

  Muah!  

The End.