March 2009 – Page 3

3/4/09

I have shit to get done today, so I’m tossing up a meme and some pictures and calling it good enough! Stolen from Ms. Darkstar. Accent: I have none. Or I have a southern accent. Or I sound like I’m from the Midwest. Depends on who you ask! (Personally, I think I have none.) Breakfast … Continue reading “3/4/09”

I have shit to get done today, so I’m tossing up a meme and some pictures and calling it good enough!

Stolen from Ms. Darkstar.

Accent: I have none. Or I have a southern accent. Or I sound like I’m from the Midwest. Depends on who you ask! (Personally, I think I have none.)

Breakfast or no breakfast: Breakfast. Usually scrambled eggs and yogurt or scrambled eggs and whatever fruit’s around or scrambled eggs and toast. Are we sensing a theme here?

Chore I don’t care for: I’m not crazy about any of them, but I always put off dusting ’til someone’s about to come visit. I spent an hour and a half dusting yesterday, pulling everything off the shelves and wiping them down. This house is DUSTED.

Dog or Cat: Cats. But I do like my Georgie and my Gracie, though.

Essential Electronics: iPod (I have to have something to listen to when I’m in the kitchen or vacuuming or dusting). Cell phone, not that I use it all that much. My computer. My laptop

Favorite Perfume: I don’t really wear perfume these days, can’t remember the last time I did. My favorite smell these days is the scent of sun-dried clothes, does that count?

Gold or Silver: Silver or white gold. (I can’t really tell the difference between the two.)

Handbag I carry most often: It used to be the Ameribag (I have several different ones), but a few months ago I bought a Relic handbag at Kohl’s, and it’s working surprisingly well for me. (I’d link to it, but I don’t know the exact model, and I has no time for Googling. Did I mention I have shit to do?)

Insomnia: Never. I can’t remember the last time I couldn’t get to sleep.

Job Title: Head Jam-Maker and Egg-Packer at Cr00ked Acres.

Kids: One – the spud lives in Rhode Island with her father and stepmother. (She’s 20.) (The spud, that is, not the stepmother.)

Living Arrangements: One 80 year-old farm house, one 41 year-old husband, 10 cats of varying ages, two puppydogs, and too many chickens to count.

Most Admirable Trait: I DON’T KNOW. This makes me uncomfortable.

Naughtiest Childhood Behavior: Trying to get myself out of trouble by tattling on someone else about something completely unrelated so they’d get in trouble instead. (Never worked very well.)

Overnight hospital stays: Many. Tonsils, knee surgery, c-section, gastric bypass, lower body lift. Huh. I guess that’s not really that many, is it? (Y’all who’ve never had surgery are pale with horror at the idea that I consider that “not that many”, aren’t you?)

Phobias: I don’t know – I don’t think I have any, really. I used to be bug-phobic (specifically wasps and bees), but since we moved here have gotten pretty blase about killing them (bare-handed, if required) and tossing them out the door. Is being concerned that I’ll have to shoot someone who’s trying to break into the house and forgetting to disengage the safety a phobia? Oh no, I know – I don’t like to touch dead things, dead and cleaned chickens notwithstanding.

Quote: “Let. Me. TELL. You. A. Story.”

Reason to smile: Cats. Chickens. Dogs.

Siblings: Three; a sister and two brothers.

Time I wake up: Usually a little before 6, when Fred wakes me to say goodbye before he leaves for work. If left to my own devices, I’ll generally sleep ’til 7. (That gets earlier as the days get longer. Generally once the sun is up, I can’t get back to sleep.)

Unusual Talent or Skill: I can raise my left eyebrow, wiggle my ears, and roll my tongue. Fascinating, no?

Worst Habit: Chewing my fingernails, forgetting to put lotion on my hands with any kind of regularity, snapping at Fred when he overexplains.

X-rays: I don’t know; I don’t keep track of that shit.

Yummy Stuff: 88-Calorie brownies.

Zoo Animal I Like Most: Meerkats!

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Whoever said that they thought this bird (the one who nests in a hole in the pecan tree and pops his head out when I jiggle the branch) is a woodpecker was right – this is the first time I’ve seen the bit of red on his head (in the first picture). He appears to be a Downy Woodpecker.

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The baby chicks are now almost three weeks old!

I’m pretty sure this is the baby of one of the Featherheads. She’s got a little mohawk going on.

I love the little mohawk – she’s the Rock Star’s baby, crossed with one of the roosters (I don’t know which). I think she’s going to be as gorgeous as her mother.

I feel like I’m imposing. They’re all “What do YOU want?”

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I recently finished these cross-stitch pictures. They’re simple and quick (well, would have been if I’d worked on them every night instead of noodling around on the laptop) and I’ve had the patterns forever. I have some Kats by Kelly patterns I want to cross-stitch, but I’m forcing myself to do some of the stuff I’ve had for years before I’ll do the ones I really want to.

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Hail Stinky,
Full of Hate,
The Tom is with thee.
Hateful art thou among kittehs,
and frightened is the brunt
of thy doom, Joe Bob.

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Previously
2008: The pigs reported that he tasted “Too humany.”
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: Dumbass things I did yesterday.
2004: I think I need to go back to high school.
2003: “Well, good luck to Daddy on that,” I said.
2002: (You just shut up)
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

3/3/09

Buff rooster, eating with his wimmins. Suddenly, an idea occurs to him… “Oh lord,” squawks wise Oscar the Hen, who has seen bright ideas come to roosters far too often in her two years of life. “Don’t make eye contact with him, girls! Pretend he’s not there!” Buff rooster begins to flap his impressive (at … Continue reading “3/3/09”

Buff rooster, eating with his wimmins.

Suddenly, an idea occurs to him…

“Oh lord,” squawks wise Oscar the Hen, who has seen bright ideas come to roosters far too often in her two years of life. “Don’t make eye contact with him, girls! Pretend he’s not there!”

Buff rooster begins to flap his impressive (at least, in his eyes) wings. He flaps and flaps and flaps, and then he crows “WHO WANTS SOME LOVIN’?!”

As the hens wisely avoid eye contact with Buff rooster, he flaps and flaps and flaps.

“LAYDEES,” he crows. “I SAY! CAN I GET SOME LOVIN’?”

As it turned out, no. Buff rooster was not able to get some lovin’ that fine sunny afternoon. Poor Buff(oon) rooster.

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Puppies, keeping a watchful eye on their flock.

The threat.

The response.

Threat = gone. No match for SuperPuppies!

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“You has a snack for me?” Of course I do – I know better than to go out there without a snack for the pigs. They get PEEVED if you show up without an offering.

The striped one is the rootin’est pig I’ve ever seen. He’s always got his nose in the mud.

Pretty pig.

Check out that muddy nose.

Pig in motion.

“Snack? Snack? Snack?”

“Hellew.”

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Bad bad Joe Bob Brown, the baddest-ass cat in the whole damn town.

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2008: That, my friends, is a powerful stench. And it wasn’t a pleasant one.
2007: No entry.
2006: “MmmHMMM, I KNEW that was going to happen, the dumb bitch was lifting shit long before she was supposed to!”
2005: By the way, Erika: who watches your kids while you’re busy reading PEOPLE and firing off those indignant letters?
2004: Have I mentioned that I adore my DVR?
2003: Ah, you poor damn AOL users.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: See? I always say “Thank you” to the freaking servers at fast food places. Yet all I get in return is rudeness.

3-2-09

New month, new logo! This was made for me by the wonderful Aly, who also designed my banner over at Crooked Acres. Thanks, Aly – you rock!!! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Speaking of Crooked Acres, I’m pleased … Continue reading “3-2-09”

New month, new logo! This was made for me by the wonderful Aly, who also designed my banner over at Crooked Acres.

Thanks, Aly – you rock!!!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Speaking of Crooked Acres, I’m pleased to announce that the last four jars of habanero jam sold over the weekend, making it – as I told Fred – a successful jam season. Now I’ll rest up from the jam and hot sauce-making, which will resume mid-summer or so, depending on when the habaneros come in again.

This year, Fred is growing Bhut Jolokia (Ghost) Peppers in addition to the habaneros. For those of you who (like me) know nothin’ ’bout no Ghost Peppers, Fred says that Habaneros have a Scoville rating of between 100,000 – 150,000 heat units. The Jolokia is over one million.

Why such a horrific thing needs to exist, I have no idea.

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So that I can finally throw away the piece of paper that’s been sitting on my desk for the past few months, I’d like to inform y’all that from the 40 pounds of pecans Fred picked up in the yard this Fall, we ended up with 16 pounds, 9 ounces of shelled pecans. I bagged them up in 2-cup bags, and currently have over 60 cups of pecan halves in the freezer.

Have I mentioned that toasted pecans are particularly tasty?

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March came in like a lion yesterday. I woke up to a snowstorm and actual standing snow on the ground. It was cold and gray and dreary out, and I said “I am NOT even going out in that shit. I’m staying in my pajamas all day!” After I took a shower, I put my pink fleece reindeer pants on, and my pink oversized Big Dogs sweatshirt on, and that’s what I wore all day.

The snow stopped by 8, and had melted off by noon, and it was sunny and pretty out, but still way too cold for me, so I never did get dressed. I did go out in the evening to see the dogs and assist Fred in the job of feeding cookies to the pigs, but I didn’t stay out long, because it was COLD.

8:00 AM.

4:00 PM.

There’s nothing like bright white snow to make your white dogs look dingy and dirty.

Since I usually go get groceries on Sunday and didn’t want to leave the house, I had to decide what to make for dinner, and after some deliberation, I decided to make hamburgers. We hadn’t had hamburgers in a while, and I’d seen that Suzanne McMinn posted a recipe for homemade hamburger and hotdog buns, so I thought I’d give that a try.

I’m pretty sure I’ve never made a loaf of bread by hand (what’s a bread machine for, after all?), so I was worried that I’d screw up the hamburger buns. When I started making the buns and I got to the point where I was supposed to slowly add flour until the dough was too hard to stir by hand, and I added all the flour the recipe called for and more, and the dough still looked like cake batter, I was worried.

By the time the dough was kneaded (Fred took over and did that part, since he’s actually made bread before), I’m pretty sure we ended up using close to twice what the recipe called for. I was worried.

When an hour later, there’d been very little rising (the dough was supposed to double) and I wondered if I’d screwed up entirely, Fred turned the oven on warm and put the bowl inside, then cracked the door open so it wouldn’t get too hot, then turned the oven off and told me to leave it for a while. I was worried.

After about another hour, the dough had pretty much doubled, so I sprinkled flour on it and began kneading, and then I added more flour because it was still sticky and then I added MORE flour and then I howled “HOW MUCH FLOUR DO YOU NEED, DAMNIT?!”, and then Fred came in and we made hamburger bun-sized buns, and put them on the cookie sheets and I put them in the warmish oven and let them rise for another half hour. I was pretty sure these were not going to be tasty, tasty hamburger buns, that I’d screwed it up completely and we’d end up feeding them to the pigs.

Half an hour later, they’d clearly risen, so I heated the oven and popped the buns inside to cook, and twenty minutes later, what came out of the oven looked a lot like hamburger buns

(Fred made that super-size bun on the end)

Fred came in from doing something outside and said the buns smelled good and that we should split one. I was up for that, so I cut one in half. And I have to say – it was really pretty good. BUT it was pretty dense and heavy and I tend to think of hamburger buns as being not quite so heavy. I ate my hamburger on one of the buns and it was really pretty good, but more filling than I would have liked.

So, bread bakers out there, any words of wisdom on what I could do differently next time?

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“Here, let me get that for you… ::SLURRRRP::”

“Wha…? What just happened? Did she lick that food off my paw? I WAS SAVIN’ THAT FOR LATER! Give it back!”

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Not fond of this cold-ass white stuff.

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Previously
2008: No entry.
2007: “Yes, they’re AWFUL. They taste like my grandmother’s attic*!”
2006: I call him Bob.
2005: Bouncing like that just can’t be a good thing.
2004: “DAMN it’s cold in here, give me some ass!”
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: Let’s just hope she wasn’t preparing him for the slaughter.
2000: No entry.