The Living Without Series

This is a series of posts that I wrote back in 2006 on living with less stuff. Check them out: liv011Living #2liv031liv04

Coal Creek Farm on Facebook

The Chicken Doctor


The Architect


P-Dub Love

Dear Pioneer Woman,

Today I’d like to dedicate my blog entry to you and all your lovely fans that have sifted their way over here from your sight, to Rechelle’s sight and then quite amazingly, to my humble abode.  I am seriously gobsmacked.  

You know how you call yourself P-Dub? Well, I think from now on I’ll shorten April Showers to A-Yus. Only thing is, that my little nickname sounds a bit like a proper southern lady yelling at her husband after he’s traipsed mud on her beautiful Oriental rug.  But, that’s okay.  Because…because….Oh…I want to be just like you when I grow up!  I do!   So, A-Yus it is.
Now, I took some photos the other day that I thought you could relate to.  You see I have a very special relationship with the bovine creatures in my backyard.  I know, so do you!  See?  Seriously, we could be BFF’s now and forever!  P-Dub and A-Yus BFF!!
Okay, so here’s what I did.  I used my cow whisperin’ skilz and asked the ladies if they could express some love for you.  Remember P-Dub, these girls are what we live for.  They are the reason we get out of bed in the morning.  You get up just a wee bit earlier than me, but still, I gotta see me some cows everyday or I just don’t feel right.
First, I had the girls gather in a circle and say a prayer for your safe return to the ranch.  I mean goodness, what would we do without you?  And who else would show us those yummy pictures of cowboys in chaps?   ….wait!   I meant yummy pictures of FOOD, yeah, that’s what I meant, yummy FOOD.  Amen.
Next, this little gal meekly walked through the crowd to speak to me.  Her Mooma taught her to control her emotions and never ever loose control of herself in public.  Let’s face it, she was homeschooled.  But, she just couldn’t resist sending you a teeny tiny black tongue kiss.  Next to Oprah, YOU are her favorite celebrity.  Shhh, don’t tell.   If you do, she’ll have to go back to wearing her denim jumper to the swimmin’ hole.
Ah, yes.  Then the redhead came up.  She laughed really loud, said something about her makeup, the heat and how much she sweats, needing to renovate the pasture, wanting black high heels, feeling that she would be better off in California if only she would have stayed with the crazy bull she had dated back in college…blah, blah, blah.  I tell ya Ree, oops, I mean P-Dub, I didn’t think she was ever gonna shut-up.  Then she complained about the food and wouldn’t it be nice to have raw fish once in awhile?  She said you’d understand.  Whew, I hope so, cuz I was about to poke her in that big eyeball! 

This chick came over and sang a few Ethel Merman songs just for you.  It was fabulous!  But, then she came closer to the camera and blew out a mind numbing belch the likes I’ve never heard.  Oh, I’m sorry Re…P-Dub, it’s hard to get quality bovines these days.
And that leaves me to close this post.  P-Dub, I am gobsmacked.  Seriously.  I have lost my chin over the number of folks that have dribbled over here because of you.  It’s a shame that I’ll live the remainder of my life with my chin stuck to the back of my throat, but it’s a burden I’m willing to carry.
This is, what it feels like to be gobsmacked.
Love and Slobbery Kisses,

My Parents in a NUTSHELL!

Oh, no. What have I done?

I was trying to find a photo of me that would describe to you all how humbled I am that so many of you have wandered over here to say a few words to me. But, then…..well, I got sidetracked. Kinda like when you start cleaning out your storage room and you start finding all kinds of wonderful treasures that you forgot you had.

I found these two videos of Mom and Dad. They’re reading my Christmas letter. Their reaction is a perfect, spot-on description of their personalities.

Guess who I take after?

Teeny Tiny Eggs

*Update on Miss Pastey Hiney* 

I know you all have been praying and loosing sleep over our Buff Orpington with the prolapsed pooper shooter. I think you should know that I stuck my fingers up that chicken THREE times before she got better. The third day she prolapsed I decided I had to take a different approach than the honey on the hiney. I used sugar instead of honey, genius I know. I also slathered her with vegetable oil and poured oil and 1/8th of an Ibuprofen in her food. I guess you could say she had her oil changed and a lube job to boot. Today when I checked on her she had laid TWO eggs and had managed to keep her crapolotic inside her poopmoreola. So there ya go, I can heal a chicken. Rechelle and I have discussed renaming my blog to “One Sick Chicken”, but that doesn’t apply anymore, so there.

This is our first dozen eggs.  They are very cute and tiny.

See?  I can fit all of them in one hand.  Uh, do I need to mention that I do sorta have large-ish hands, but still.
I also dropped one on the wood floor right after I took this photo.  You know what?  It didn’t break!!!  That my friend is the sign of a good egg, it should have a nice hard shell.  I ate a big bowl of scrambled eggs this morning.  My daughter ate some too and after a couple bites she said, “Mom, you want these?”

No. Aren’t you hungry?
“Yeah, I’m hungry, but scrambled eggs give me a headache.”  
What?  Do fried eggs give you headache?
Nope, just scrambled.”
Is it me or is my daughter a bit weird?