eight and a half acre farm

So I start my friday out like any other friday. I dragged myself out of bed, heard my body crack and creak to let me know that it is getting old. (Notice I said "it" My body may be ferfeheph in age but my brain is much, much younger.) After I am all ready for the day, Jakob and Kadence wake up and I get them dressed and downstairs to get breakfast. The only odd thing on this friday morning is that Krischan isn't here. He has been with his Grandparents since Wednesday morning and I feel the emptiness that hangs around. It makes me wonder if that emptiness will move in when he grows up and moves out rather than it just visiting. So on our way we go to zoo class, I get there and it is spring break, no zoo class. I think to myself that I can't go home, I have to meet with our CPA at 1:00 so I am not going to drive home just to turn around and come back. The kids need shoes so I take them to get their shoes. Easy enough, that takes up a good bit of time and it is now 11:...

Three kids, lots of hair, many opinions. Krischan, my eight year old. Doesn't want to get his hair cut. This is the look I get when it is mentioned: Jakob loves getting his curly cute head of hair cut. He laughs and says "cut my hair." Then he looks in the mirror and says "I look good." Then Kadence, she is a girl, I haven't had her hair cut yet. I might have trimmed a few unruly strands here and there, but other than that, she just wakes up with beadhead.

So, it has been a wild ride. Notice I haven't been posting every day? ok, maybe not, really, I know I am not THAT important to your daily reading. So I got the tile grouted in the kids bathroom. Looks great, but thought we were going to have to haul Jakob to the hospital. See, now I have to tell the story because I mentioned it. So... I come out from grouting, go into my office and notice white glue on my carpet, a small pail filled with glue along with an empty glue bottle. An unwatched kid will get into anything. "JAKOB!!, GET UP HERE!" I soon after that scream, hear Rick with him and I bee-line downstairs. I find them both in the bathroom, Rick on his knees in front of him and looking in his mouth. I go around to see what he is looking at I see nothing but red flowing out of his mouth. A little bit of a high screech comes out of my mouth and the question flows with it "Did you get a hold of my scissors?" It was the only thing I could think of since it w...

Wow! This weekend just went so fast my head is spinning! But unfortunately my fun is over and I am here today to tell of a tragic tale, a sad story, an unhappy ending... The story is about a bolt, a short one, but sturdy, sitting in a bin at a store with many other bolts. The day came and that little bolt was picked up and purchased, taken to someones home to eventually hold together something big. So proud that bolt was, wondering of all the wonders it will behold in just a short drives time...Alas, the happiness would not last. For the bolt was made with not a hexagonal head, but a round one instead. Now it will sit there, for there is no way to place it where it was supposed to go, no tool that could tighten it as tight as it could hold. So sad, but true, now to lay somewhere sad and blue never to be what it thought it was truly meant to become.

I sit here at my desk in my red slippers, black yoga pants and white v-neck t-shirt. I have black chalkboard paint all over my hands and a black wall behind me that is just so black it is luscious. I want to lick it. Ok, not really, but it is the blackest black you have ever seen! And yes, this means a project is done. The box says that I have to wait 3 days before I can "condition" it or write on it. Why 3 days? I can hardly keep myself from marking it up right now. Will the chalkboard police come out of the wall and take it away if I draw on it right now, or will I ruin it? Does it take 3 days to cure? Well...it only takes 30 minutes to dry. This is like holding a sucker out to a 2 year old and telling them they can't eat it until after dinner and it is first thing in the morning. I wonder if I will make it...would that 2 year old make it?

My husband and I have not learned the most important message of "finish one project before you begin another." I have mentioned before that our house was not built the best, or even to code. So when we take on a project, we actually end up doubling the normal time it would take because we are fixing everything that we noticed wrong that needs redone. I don't know why we can't finish a project, I do know that Rick and I are easily distracted, or torn from something we are working on quit frequently...they come in three's. Let me take you on a little tour: This is our pantry door. The door was replaced, but the trim hasn't made it back up around the door. It has been like this for about 3 years. (notice the holes in the wall? the huge one was from Krischan hanging on the coat hook that was there and ripping it out of the wall. The other holes are from me removing the other coat hooks in wanting to move them to another wall, which has not been done as of yet....

I was flipping through my new Martha Everyday Food magazine and got in the mood for some bruschetta. Feeling a little martha-ee, I quickly packed up the two little ones and ran to the store after Krischan got on the bus. What an awesome idea for a lunch item. I first cut up some tomatoes. (Amazingly enough there were some good ones at the store.) Diced some basil and crushed some garlic, then mixed it all together. I bought French Bread since I wanted it to be small, and really that is all I could see that didn't require you to bake it. You could use whatever bread you can find. I like to slice mine thin though, about a quarter of an inch in thickness. You could probably use whole wheat bread also, make a country version of brew-ski-tia.(wanted to sound like a country woman when I said that, did it work?) So after I cut the bread, I put some olive oil in a pan and toasted it. You could simply brush the toast with the olive oil, but hey, olive oil is good so why not just pour...