Day 32

It's been a gradual ascent towards self love for me.  I didn't come out of the womb loving myself.  But I feel like I'm almost to the top- all thanks to these amazing women who lifted me up on Friday night like I had just scored the game winning goal.  I felt more loved and appreciated on this night than I've ever felt in my life.  40 years in the making.  I don't even know how to begin to say thank you for the song, the words, the joy, the slideshow, the strength you give me.  It's incredible.   I'll be talking about this evening for the rest of my life and I will cry every time.  Tears of joy.

Thanks you bitches.

Day 12

 41- the "girl" on the left.

She's the girl that does it all.  Works full time, trains for a half marathon, raises two kids under 3, skis practically every day, wins ski races, goes on dates with her husband.  Yeah, she actually GOES on dates with her husband.

We skinned up a mountain to celebrate her birthday.  Paul Bunyan bought me these monstrosities to share.  May be why I was last to make it to the top.  That or my skinny skins.  Or my, possibly, being the worst in shape, with the biggest...okay I'll stop.
 

At some point it can be considered miraculous what we women do.  

Most of us do the laundry.  We clean piss off the back of the toilets, especially if we have boys.

We generally do all the shopping and cooking and dishes.

 We clean vomit out from the spaces in between the wood floors at 11:45 p.m.

And by golly if we want to celebrate each other- we should.  And by golly if climbing up a mountain at sunset to ski down mashed potatoes is celebration- then good for us.  Let's do it again this Friday?

Day 11

Half Moon 2012 from The Homesteading Hussy on Vimeo.


Today I celebrate this tradition!

I have some cheese from my head for you.

Pig Pig didn't die on the first shot.  I didn't want to tell you that.  It's a sad thing and this is the season for happy happy things.  But there you go.  I said it.  And now we're eating him.  Because that's the way things go.  And he tastes really really good.  I have some head cheese here for you.  I've been holding on to it for your visit.  I'm also making some homemade mustard to spread on the homemade rye bread which will hold the head cheese while I serve it to you when you come.  Just give me a days notice.  

Well, since it's the time of year to say our thanks- I thank you Pig Pig.  You have been a nice addition to our breakfast and lunch and dinner table.  We've been frying you and baking you and grilling you and I even rendered down your back fat to make lard.

And then Paul Bunyan made donuts with the lard and fried them in your rendered down fat.

 And we all said "Thank you".

And then we ate one and we all said "Thank you" again.

And then the kids put Nutella on you and brown sugar and a maple glaze and we bowed down in honor of you.

And then Bee got a hold of one of your bones and puked it up at 4 a.m. on our bedroom floor.
Thank you Pig Pig.

No, in all seriousness, the "thank yous" are running rampant all over the internet, especially on Facebook where people are writing what they're thankful for EVERY day from now until, what? I don't know.  They're thankful for coffee, chocolate, etc. etc.  No one ever says that they're thankful for flush toilets or the fact that they can fly through the air while sitting in a padded seat while still able to breath.  But whatever. 

So we hosted our 27th annual friends thanksgiving this year, which is always fun.  We had some 20 hot bodies rolling around and I was sure grateful it was a nice day because the football was thrown and the kids played outside for most of the day.  I think Timmy was the only one who cried.  I stuffed a bird and served flat beer and everyone else brought a side dish and a pie.  E brought a bird too, which was juicier and much better than mine.  Turns out even though my special Convection Roast option on my oven cooks a 20 lb. bird in three hours, it dries the shit out of it.  So we're going low and slow in two years when I host again. 

I put up a branch in a bucket and told people to write what they're thankful for on a piece of paper and then I told them to hang them up.  We got lots of cute responses from the kids:

"My mom and dad."
"My dog and cat."
"plants"


Timmy wrote, "I'm thankful for water, shelter, food, oxygen, and family," which was much nicer than what his sister wrote which was, "EVERYTHING except: my brothers, germs, bad food, bad people, football, bad music, school, baseball, mosquitoes, flies, wasps, and boogers." 


And from the adults:

"The support of fabulous friends, family, and a ever optimistic wife."
"Healthy family and friends, abundance, amazing love all around."
"For snow, friends, family, and pumpkin pie."
"My red-headed children, grey haired husband, cat and dog."
"Snow and Dogs."


And from me, a little cheese from my head:

Thank you love of my life for the time and support I need to heal myself and for making Pig Pig donuts. 

GRR 2012

It's peaking right now.  I'm not sure who decides when it's peak foliage around here.  I'm not sure how he decides when it's peak foliage around here and where he sits to look at his watch to decide or how he doesn't know that maybe tomorrow might be the real peak, but I'm deciding right now that it's peak.  I wish you were sitting where I'm sitting and could see the blood orange color of the mini-mountain I call my own.  I wish you could.  I can't even capture it on film.  It doesn't do the blood orange justice.  I tried.  I wish I could photoshop the picture for you.  Brighten it up to match the real deal.  I wish I could.  I have stories stacking up- funny ones that I wanted to use a few photoshopping elements to enhance them.  But I can't cuz'  I'm in desperate need of Photoshop help.  Can you do it?  I'll organize your junk drawer for you.  I will.

Well, here are some SOC shots that could use a lot of editing help but then again so do I.  Two weekends ago my wombats and I forged the persistent rain and camped at this amazing spot for one short 19 hour period.  It takes a canoe, or two, or three to get there.  It's a short canoe ride, but a canoe ride none-the-less, with lots of ice-filled coolers and leaky blow up mattresses and Lafuma chairs:

for very important reclining and relaxing.  Being with my wombats is like going for a run in the rain, taking a hot shower, and reclining in bed to read a good book- with no kids around to interrupt.

 

Being with my wombats is like having a husband who knows you'll want hard boiled eggs for breakfast and cooks them for you ahead of time.  

Hanging with my wombats is like having all the laundry in the house washed and folded and put away.  It's like sun drying your sheets on the line and having your husband (same as the one above) make the bed for you to climb into at your leisure.

Hanging with my wombats is like having someone cook and clean up for you.  Often.

Being with my wombats is like sitting down at a table with my closest friends and fresh margaritas, salt on the rim, and a bowl of fresh made guacamole and home-made chips.  

 Chillaxin' with my wombats is like eating a whole bowl of this for breakfast, lunch, or dinner:

In a pot

     1/2 cup veg oil

     1/2 cup apple cider vinegar

     1/3 cup sugar

     1/2 tsp salt

     1/4 tsp pepper

bring to a quick boil to blend and dissolve sugar.  Take off heat to start to cool

In a bowl

   1 can black beans (predrained and rinsed)

   1 can pinto beans (predrained and rinsed)

   1 cup frozen corn

   pour marinade on top mix gently

add to bowl

  1 can diced green clilies

  1 medium chopped onion

  2 stalks celery chopped

  1 each red yellow green pepper chopped

Mix gently and put in fridge overnight

devour the next day and don't regret it for one bit.

Circling up around a fire with my wombats is like laughing so hard you piss your pants or at least have stomach muscle pain the next day.

 

 Being with the wombats is like hunkering down in front of the fire on a snowy day.

We've come a long way since 2005.  And yet in some ways we haven't.   We still love floating around the still dark waters of the reservoir shooting the shit, commiserating about our husbands, children, situation; celebrating our husbands, children, situation.  Maybe we drink too much.

We often eat too much.  We wonder if Cath will make it across the pond.  We read smutty magazines.  We privately celebrate our literal and figurative nakedness.  We sit around the fire; we retell stories and play the same old games.  We soak up and toast each other's ways.  We sometimes skinny dip in the cold morning fog and giggle at our sagging breasts.  And then we paddle that short way back to the parking lot and go our separate ways.

It never seems long enough.  Ever.

Easter (@$%^&*) Brunch

I'm a week late.

NO NO NO- I'm not pregnant. That would be an act from the god I don't believe in if that happened! I'm a week behind in posts. But I wanted to share a little Easter love with you...if that's what you call it, even if it's a week late.

Well, (MOM) please don't read this if you're offended by general un-Christian-like comments and/or the F-word. STOP READING NOW.

This is how the behind the scenes commentary went between a few of the wombats as we tried to organize ourselves around this holiday none of us officially religiously (only spiritually) celebrate.

Katy:
Is anyone interested in an epic Easter egg hunt and brunch next Sunday? I have great memories of such events as a kid. John isn't up for hosting, but I'm game for hiding eggs/candy, providing egg strata and bloody mary makings. Anyone interested?

-Da 40 year old slut

Me:
I'll host!!

JB:
Great! I'll bring an egg casserole thingamajig and maybe some Easter bread. Let us know what time. We'll be going to Camp S later in the day.

Mud:
What is the attire??? Fluffy dresses and big hats??

I'll bring something edible and vodka for the bloody mary's since we have some.

I will help hide eggs since that is one of my favorite things to do. Should I bring stuff for the kids to decorate eggs too??

Me:
Please (!!) no coloring of eggs here. I have to admit that's my LEAST favorite thing about Easter. Fucking mess. I know, I'm a beeatch.

Let's do 11-2.

I don't have any plastic eggs, what does one hide- real eggs? We always do a jelly bean hunt inside so I have no idea. I've never given my kids the privilege of this tradition.

I'm a fuckin' non-Christian crumudgin. So let's just eat and drink. No dresses. Hats are up to you.

PMSing,
mg

JB:

Excuse me, but if I want honor the reawakening of the Lamb of God, who hath taken away the sins of the world, by wearing my Sunday best dress to accompany my Easter hat, while I hide eggs--plastic or real--by God I will.

Hail Mary, full of grace.
Our Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou among women,
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb,
Jesus.

Mud:

A-fuckin'-men!!

Me:
I hope my dog jumps on your fucking Easter best and gets alpaca shit all over it and then I hope your dog steps in my dog's shit and then he steps on your fucking Easter hat. And if the Lord was with me and blessed the fruit of my womb he would take all the fucking Easter candy and fake green grass and yellow Peeps made out of something from a horse's hoof and he would throw all that shit OUT! And then he would send down word from the heavens above that there is NO FUCKING EASTER BUNNY that comes INTO your HOUSE to leave you shit that makes your teeth rot.

I'm making eggs Benedict. And maybe an asparagus pie. AND I'm going to drink like a fish and puke in your hat.

So fuck off.

Katy:

Your kids are going to fucking love me when I fill your yard with horse hoof products and plastic!

But really, if this is going to mess with your non tradition I can respect that (and lock your kids in a closet or something while the other kids hunt).

I can't wait to see the white hat, white shoes, and white tights jen wears!

JB:
Katy! You ruined the surprise element of my outfit. What if we hide colored hard-boiled eggs only--no plastic jobbies. Then, they trade in their eggs for a nice chocolate bunny, or a little Easter basket with treats in it. That way they all get the same amount of stuff, there's less junk, and still a fun egg hunt with treats. I'd be willing to pick up the baskets and stuff after work one day. Feel free to veto me...

Katy:

Okay, fine, I'll give up my reminiscing about fantastic egg hunts I was treated to as a kid. It probably turned me into the competitive shit that I am now........and my little redheads aren't likely to be able to fight seven and ten year olds for horse hooves and whatnot, anyway. So, seeing that Mary hates dying eggs, those of us who like eating/dying them should do so before the gathering and hide them while kids are eating brunch or something. A few chocolate goodies hidden here or there wouldn't hurt.

As for the menu:

• Mary is making eggs benedict
• I'm making an egg strata (unless Jen would rather), an easter rabbit shaped cake (with lots of refined sugar), bloody mary's (mud, we've got plenty of booze to bring-- after my husband picked up the purchased alcohol that was supposed to be at High Meadow) and I'll bring coffee (am I correct that you don't drink coffee mary?).
• We need juice and fruit and maybe muffins/donuts

Weather looks like it'll be beautiful-- 62 degrees and sunny (as of right now)

Me:
We've got a good old fashioned party forming! E and Rebecca are joining us and I felt obligated to put the invite out to everyone. I'm going to change my eggs benedict (too much work for too many people) and make a sausage/egg bake and maybe some scones.

Bring chairs!

But what transpired was pure (wholly) fun!


Because




what



it




really




comes




down




to




is




Easter





is




about






them and





them





and



them and



us.




And then when all of us get together with the spawn we created



it doesn't matter who died on what cross for what sins or was or was not resurrected. What matters is that we have each other to fill in the love and support and faith that a church community provides. And then we add a little fun with expletives and jesting. And then we put really good food and a little alcohol and mix all that in with a bunch of really fucking cute kids, add a kick-ball game and a walk in the woods, and you've got a perfect perfect day.

Song Writer?

So besides deli owner, writer, beer maker, farrier, I'm now considering a career in song writing. Mud and Jen, I had soooo much fun writing this with you.

Happy Happy and Many Many to you Katy- you only turn 40 once.

The Bread and Cheese Strke Again

The Charlie Brown Christmas tree went up with only a few fist fights this year. Paul Bunyan likes colored lights. I like white lights. He would have sat here for another hour trying to fix the string of colored lights but the kids had to get to bed and I won the ro sham bo.



They wait semi-patiently until they can rip into the boxes of ornaments. And then there is:

"You can't put that many on one branch doofus."
"You can't put two of the same kind on one branch bird brain."
"You can't put those too low numbskull."
"You can't put that one up it's too fragile."


And then there is me and you know my history of loving this tradition:

"Turn the music down."
"Stop ripping open the boxes."
"Timmy, I told you three times that Bee will eat those if you put them too low."
"Claire, those get tied on last."
"Don't play with the star it's broken."
"Auggie, did you hear me? I just told you not to play with the star; it's broken."
"Auggie, I've told you three times now NOT TO PLAY with the star."
"TURN DOWN THE CHRISTMAS MUSIC."
"The Grinch is in the house."




Despite his superior listening skills, Auggie got to put the broken star on top this year.




And there she be. All ready for the Wombat's arrival last night.

It was time for fondue.

Things can get pretty hairy when you mix cheese, bread, wine, and a bunch of vaginas together. Every time the ladies leave and I'm left with the caked on cheese to scrape up- I'm in such disbelief about what just transpired. It baffles me that we can have so much fun.




This year we included a fun twist. Everyone had to bring a picture of themselves at their senior prom. And IF you had it, you had to wear your dress.




We had a few shiny ones.

So, the fondue recipes stay the same every year, but the rules of the game are always changing. We usually have a pow wow before anyone starts picking out gifts. This year we decided that if you got your gift stolen you could steal someone else's (usually you just had to take a new one from under the tree). And so this added for more stealing, and more "tricks". The tricks, generally speaking, involve showing some body part usually (but may not be limited to) the breasts. And one may or may not have to hold something (possibly, but may not be limited to, a wine bottle) up with that said body part. I made that very vague for anyone who might be offended. It's very hard to make it through the night without either peeing yourself or laughing so hard you shoot out a tampon.

It's my very favorite night. Three hours of utter delight. And as far as I'm concerned the Christmas tree can come down now because I'm ready to tell the kids there is no Santa. Do you hear that kids? There is no Santa. Santa doesn't bring I-Pod touches. Santa doesn't bring I-Pads. Santa brings homemade wooden toys with pull strings on them.

You did hear me say the Grinch is in the house. Didn't you?