"It's (still not) my birthday" month

This entire month, I've been planning (and not planning) things, using my birthday as the excuse. It's gotten to the point where I don't think it will ever arrive, it's taking so long.

It kind of reminds me of a friend, who will remain nameless, that literally told me of the conception of her child the day after said event occurred. It felt like she was carrying that kid for years. Who knows, maybe she did, because he came out as big as a three year old, I swear.

Speaking of which, is it possible to give birth to an 8-yr old? That's what I would like to do once the C & R family starts growing. I love that age.

But anyway, back to me. (oh Lord, am I now stealing the spotlight back from the twinkle of a twinkle in my eye?) My birthday. I've been using it as an excuse for everything.



Like when I forced some friends on a pontoon boat. It's my birthday.

Or when I reached for that second brownie. It's my birthday.



Or when tagging along while my bro-in-law was buying his bday gift, I bought the same thing for mine. It's been a month and I still haven't worn them. N, on the other hand, wore them out the door and into Starbucks where everyone asked him where he uses them. This is literally an hour after the purchase, so we had the pleasure of watching him lie to the general public on "the best" places to wear them. "Well, I normally use them canoeing, but they're also very comfortable to work out in as well." Oh, it was priceless... and it was also my birthday, you know.

Or when unable to find the remote to watch a movie, asked R to please press play because if he hadn't heard already... it's my birthday.



Or indulging myself with a 50 cent pair of salt/pepper shakers because they are reminiscent of R and me. It's MY BIRTHDAY.

Or sleeping in that extra 15 minutes and forgoing the Shaving of the Legs. Leave me alone, it's my birthday.



Or going to a scotch-tasting with a co-worker and realizing that I really can't fake making a face when drinking it. I tried to cover it up by smiling extra hard when the guy came by, but it only resulted in him thinking I actually liked it and thus giving me a little bit more the next round. The irony here is that as each round increased in liquid amount, so did my liking of it. My head the next day did not. However, it was my birthday, so I let it slide.



And lastly, having a Wuthering Heights experience on the shoreline of Rhode Island.

Thank you for the birthday surprise trip, R.

And still, it is not my birthday yet. Even I'm annoyed.  I hope we do nothing, because, you guessed it... It's my birthday (tomorrow).

Sunny Days

We've rearranged the bedroom so the desk is facing a window.

Big mistake. I can't get anything done.



We have company coming in today. J & T are spending the night as they drive on to New Orleans. They were the couple who made fun of our cheap craigslist bikes all the way to our first place finish in the Urban Adventure Race nearby. Here's a recap of that eventful day.

Good times.

Have a lazy Sunday!

Beware of Freckles.

We were supposed to go to this a month ago. But it didn't happen.

It was a Dutch Oven Workshop at a nearby state park. We woke up early on a saturday morning, actually put on work-out clothes and did a workout (as opposed to putting on work-out clothes and then heading to a breakfast joint for bacon and white gravy), boiled up some hot coffee for our thermos, and hit the road.

Literally 2.5 miles into the drive, R asked me to hand over the thermos for a quick drink. I laughingly said, "Maybe you should watch the road. Remember what happened the other night?" and then, feeling guilty, I gave in and gave him the lid for sip. He took his eyes off the two lane country road and..

BALUMP.

The tire popped.

I sat there sitting in the nearest driveway telling myself to schedule a massage asap or there was going to be a warrant out for little miss carolyn.



You see, a few nights prior we had visited some friends for dessert and on the way to their house another incident happened. A "I'm glad no children were riding their bikes along the sidewalk" type of one.

A right-hand turn into their neighborhood caused R's head to slightly face me. In doing so, the freckles on my legs caught his attention. And if any of you know R, you are quick to realize that he cannot do more than two things at once. So why not test this theory while driving a one ton piece of machinery, shall we?

He saw the freckles and proceeded to lean over to point out each of them with this right index finger. He repeated "freckle, freckle, freckle, freckle".



And I looked up at the same instant our car hit the curb, and then hit the grass next to the curb, and then the sidewalk next to the grass next to the curb.

R was still pointing out freckles. It wasn't until I screamed that he jerked the car back onto the road.

Now our already dirty, no-muffler-because-it-still-runs-fine-and-we-don't-like-spending-that-extra-money-on-that-car car makes a weird scraping sound anytime we make a left hand turn. Great.

Thank you melanin.



So our flat tire happened on the way to the first class and they offered to move us to the second one the following month.

And here we are. Only two other couples attended: one from South Africa, the other from Texas. We slipped into the back and I spied the menu on the board.



Ahhhhh yeaaaaah. (Side note: Does anyone else remember the show were two guys would rub their bums in chocolate pudding while saying Ahhhh yeaaaaah? Or am I the only one who gets that visual every time.)

Well, anyway, if pudding had been on the menu, I probably would've had to reenact that skit for the class, so let us all bow our heads in thanksgiving that it was not.



Each couple paired off to do a dish. R was stuck with me even though when asked if we all wanted to stay with our spouses, he responded without glancing "Is she watching me as I answer? Then, fine."

'Preciatecha, R.

(Remember? That was the first Arkansas slang I heard when we moved down here. 'Preciatecha. Another since moving to a smaller town: "So-and-so is a mess." I've discovered this can be used as an insult or affectionately. With the wide range of uses, you can imagine how often it's thrown out there and for some reason it takes all that I have to swallow a low guttural growl each time it's said. I know what you're thinking..... I'm a mess.)



R and I tackled the Charley Bread which was a basic corn bread recipe with a can of creamed corn added.

Hello!

Mama hasn't been fed this good in a looong time! And by long, I mean since about 8 that morning. Each meal seems like eons since the last...and my mouth was beginning to water, especially every time they opened the peach cobbler lid to check on it.



R checked on our bread and it was coming along nicely. We used the stacking method of heating the dutch oven which threw the time to cook it off. So it ended coming out around the same time as dessert.  No one complained.



And then we all sat down for our picnic in the woods. R and I chatted it up with the park ranger, because he graduated from K-State too! What a small world.

It was a good class, I'd take another one. We ending up buying a dutch oven from them and we're so excited to put it to use.

If anyone has any tips or recipes, I'd love to have them!

(Fill in the blank)light

Most everything ending in light just hits the spot. Maybe not blacklight, though. It shows all the fuzz on my shirt and highlights my not-quite-white teeth.

My parents came into town this weekend and we took in a lot of them. Lights, that is.



Candlelight at the Shack.



Then sunlight brought an arts festival and neighborhood garage sales at which we girls found some real gems (more on that later)! We came back to mom & dad's RV and drank some cold  Budlights, along with individually packaged frozen margarita pouches. On the back of them it was boasted "Great for while you're on the go!". Hmmm....



Later that evening, we sat around firelight and played trivia pursuit. I got about 1 out of 300 questions correct, and it was because someone else thought it was their turn and answered on accident.

Then we stared through the moonlight at constellations, helped by the app on my brother's phone.

All in all, a good time. The only light thing that didn't take place was my waistline. Chocolate icing and graham crackers, I love you.

Wilbur?

Or maybe Boomer? We don't know, just that the owner across the street yells "Buuubuh" anytime Wilbur comes close to us. Maybe Bubba? Whatever his name is, Mr. Unfriendly, who refuses to return our waves doesn't like it. I don't think he likes Shack Dwellers.

My friend is going through a similar experience, except they don't live in a shack so I don't know their neighbors' excuse. What's up, unfriendly neighbors of America. Is it some sort of club? The UNA club. Is his child receiving a scholarship for being part of the club? For gawd's sake, Wave.

We've had a good laugh, though, watching how hard they avoid making eye contact with us. One guy actually twisted his body in such an awkward way while getting out of the car to avoid facing us. And then side-shuffled along the side of the vehicle to the front door. Oh, how that made us giggle!

Oh, people.



Anyway, sometimes we walk out the door and there's Wilbur/Bubba/Boomer. Like he's waiting for us to hug him.



So we do. Apparently he likes giving kisses to pirates.

It doesn't help that N carries dog treats in his car for random "leeedull dowggies" in the town. Seriously, without even owning a dog. He's like that weird guy getting a little to close for comfort to kids on the playground, only it's dogs.



I get up to go, and Wilbur asks me not to just yet. Please rub behind my ears some more. I don't care if you live in a Shack.

But I have to get dinner started, Wilbur. We'll play another time. Promise.



And as I was prepping my food, I watched him slowly make his way back home across the street. He'd walk a little bit, then lay down and stare at The Shack, walk, lay down a bit, stare.. walk, lay down  a bit, stare, all the way home.

Oh, Wilbur. How you make up for your owners.

Compost Pile

Hope everyone had a good Labor Day. I spent the weekend with friends while wind blew in our faces. It was nice and my sunburnt nose agrees. As fun as it is to leave town, though, it's such a breath of relief to finally arrive home after a 8 hour trip which normally takes 5.5 hours, but you decided to stop in every stinking town on the way home "to break it up" which actually just made it seem more unbearable than it really would have been to begin with.

And breathe one-two-three-four. Again two-three-four.

R and I did get some good talkin' in, though. And I needed that after he had been working late for most of the past few weeks.



Plus, we missed our livestock... which is what we're calling our rabbits since, well, you know what we're gonna have to do.

Next to them is the compost pile that we've been adding to over the past month. We positioned it close so that the transfer of, ahem, poop is quick and easy. They tend to "read the paper" in the same spot, so we put some buckets underneath to catch it all.

I get excited over rabbit poop. What have I become.



But I do.

Along with free wood pallets from Lowes. The manager shot me down the first time, but I've learned from past experience that you just need to find the right person. So I asked again, and they hooked me up.

N sawed off part of the front pallet and we were in business. Poop business.



And also quickly-rotting-food-from-Walmart business too. Man, it has been a race to eat all of our bananas in time. So I've been making mucho banana bread, because it's not working. The racing, that is.

But guess what, it all mostly goes into the compost! And since we don't have a garbage disposal, this is a win-win. Not that I normally put banana peels down the drain, but you get my drift.



In a couple months, we'll have to leave this compost alone and so I've begun my search to find some more pallets for a second bin. While this one rests and decomposes until spring, we can start adding to the second one.

Who knew The Shack could produce such goodness!

Sushi

Last week we went over to some friends' house to learn how to make.....

SUSHI!

I was ecstatic. R was hungry.



I met L through her friend S. I tutored S in english grammar, U.S. history, etc. I use the word 'tutor' loosely because she was very advanced in learning the language.

S was also the one that suggested going to King Sauna in Dallas, but neglected to mention that I'd spend half the night naked amongst other women. You can click to read about that... here.

L's husband laughed when I mentioned that little nugget of info and agreed that that might probably be the most important aspect to have told someone.

I think S was playing one on me.



So L laid out the ingredients, sliced for each roll's individual flavor:

• cream cheese


• cucumbers


• sprouts


• avocados


• spicy tuna


• crab meat

And then she cut the seaweed wraps. My mouth was starting to water at this point.

I was close, so close!



After watching L make a a couple rolls, I gave it a shot. Her daughters were not impressed.

I got a little wild with the sprouts. It was like my hands could. not. stop. putting. on. sprouts. Everyone made a mental note which roll was mine.



And then I made R make one too. He gets kinda stressed out in the kitchen, so I figured it would be safer if he was in front of company while learning. If it were just him and me, he'd be huffing and puffing until I "put him down." Or at least that's what my sister called it when she put her kids to sleep.



We had a good conversation with L & K. L is also being tutored in esl and to hear her struggles with the language made me feel closer to her as I was going through a similar experience re-learning Spanish.

She is an extremely outgoing person, and to not be able to express herself easily, makes her sad. It's almost like losing a limb, the inability to communicate well.

From the time I first met her until now, I have so much improvement in her conversational skills. I'm so excited to get to know her better and force her to be my friend. Her major in Korea was Pottery which means she's a creative spirit and hopefully won't find my oddities, well, odd.

But above all, we have a new item on the menu, now! (And it all comes back to food anyway, doesn't it.)

Dinner Al Fresco

Did anyone else walk outside today and immediately start skipping to the car?

After finally admitting to myself that my favorite season is Spring, the feeling of Fall in the air downright filled me with happiness. The heat wave over the past couple months had just sucked every ounce of energy out of me.



But tonight. Yes. Tonight the roommates and I were able to eat our spaghetti dinner outside The Shack with cold drinks and warm sunshine on our faces.

Without sweating.

Glorious, glorious, glorious.

I think I may just turn into a Fall person, after all. That is, until Winter hits.

Can I have that piece of my ear back?

This is literally what we do almost every night during the week. Don't be jealous.



N sits on one couch, I sit on the other... and we watch R try to beat Mike Tyson in Nintendo's Punch-Out. It has become a very sad event to witness, R coming so close and then getting knocked out every time. He turns into Million Dollar Baby and won't move until time for bed, he becomes so distraught.

Was that an inappropriate joke?

Anyway, N & I want him to beat Tyson just so he'll quit obsessing over it and *we* can play some games. Like Dr. Mario or Goal.

You will know when R wins.  You'll be able to hear him he'll yell so loudly.

And, yes, we've finally hung those pictures leaning against the wall. The Shack is coming along.

Eggrolls

This was a crowd pleaser with the roommates. I thought they were a bit too greasy, which is odd since for the longest time I had convinced myself that grease was an ancient magical substance passed down from one tribal medicine man to another. And then finally one medicine man went to college and shared it with everyone suffering from headaches early one saturday morning. And then the world calmed thyself.

[let's all have a moment of silence for that wonderful substance]



But anyway, I still felt like these could've been dabbed a while longer with a paper towel. It was quite an easy recipe. Cabbage, meat, other veggies that i can't think of right now, some oyster sauce and voila: the inside is complete.

I even saved some of the cabbage for our livestock outside. And then later read that cabbage gives them gas.

Well, suck it up and join the club, I say.



We don't have a fry-daddy, so I just dipped them in some olive oil.



And presto! Here they are. I probably made 20 or so and they were gobbled up fast.

If you think about it, it's basically kind of like a one pot meal. Just add a side of grease for dipping sauce, and you're done!

Watering Hole

On down the road from The Shack we noticed cars parked on the side. As we passed, we craned our necks to see what was down there but only caught a glimpse of this dirt road.

So one day we decided to find out what was going on...



Bathing suits - check.

Towels - check.

Leaving Carolyn in the dust while the roommates get caught up in conversation - check, check, and check.



We turned the corner at the bottom and was immediately greeted with a nice mural.



R practiced his best whud-up stance in case the muralists decided to get unfriendly. You know, because doesn't every gang hang out by creeks in rural Arkansas?



But guess what - No gangs! Only a wonderfully cold watering hole with rope swing included. People had their chairs, their drinkie-poos, and picnics packed. What a nice surprise, especially during this heat wave we've had.

Yes, we really are doing this.

Meet our newest family members. And, well, I guess I shouldn't call them family because after this post you'll think we're the Donner party or something.

We've been trying to just jump into things, not necessarily without thinking, but without over-analyzing. Because, you know, R has analysis paralysis. He will read 1000 books before deciding to take the first baby step in doing things. I'm pretty much the opposite and so we came to a compromise in reading and then doing.

So. We're starting to raise rabbits for meat.



I know. It sounds appalling and cruel to kill the Easter Bunny. But from what we've read, rabbit meat is the leanest meat out there. In fact, have you heard of rabbit starvation? Say you were out in the wilderness and all you could find was rabbit to eat, you could still starve to death. The meat does not have enough fat and calories to make up for all the energy your exerting to stay alive. Isn't that crazy?

And yes, I do go into that whole schpeal every time I tell someone.



So we picked up the cages and two rabbits (a doe and a buck) from a girl my age who has been doing it for the past 3 years.

I loved her! She had a baby on one hip, flicked a huge wolf spider off the cage, and went into detail about [side whisper] the killing part of raising rabbits. I wanted to force her into being my friend if only to be my spider security guard. But alas, she is moving to another state... hence the need to sell her meat producers.

And with a big wave, she sent us off on our mini-mini-farm adventure.



When we got back to The Shack, we put the cages in its proper place and have spent the past couple of weeks just making sure we can keep them alive through this heat wave.

N has already placed a bet that I will have the future babies named and house-broken before they're a week old. I must look at these guys as a food source. I must, I must, I must.

There's also some other things happening to The Shack that I will share. Things that I, for one, am excited about. Learning through experience, that's what we're doing.

Wild Wild West

Have I mentioned how much I love our library's bookstore? We've had to take out a second mortgage on The Shack to keep up with my addiction, but it's been worth it.

And if my future kids don't just curl up in a corner and daydream about the wild wild west after reading these, I don't know.. I'll throw a fit.



I mean, look at those embossed front covers!



And the wonderful colored pictures that just beckon you to step right through them to another century of lassos and Native Americans and ghost towns...



You just cannot put a price on these two-page photo spreads either. The books are full of them! ...And for a buck a piece, I think I got a steal.

Happiness.

Stairway to Hell

Up yours, Led Zeppelin. I know you really didn't climb those stairs, because if you had, you would've found out that there is no euphoric state of bliss at the top. No Willy Wonka wonderland, with gummy bear trees... no. Only a heart that is two seconds away from failure and eyes bulging to the edge of their lids.

I have been to Dante's Inferno and lived, my friends.  And at this moment, I am in heaven...sitting on my couch, watching Predator, and eating popcorn. No stairs involved.



Our friends had mentioned a place on the university's campus where people go to run stairs. "It hurts" was what they said.

Okay. I understand not wanting to hype up a movie to your friends before they see it, or rave about a meal you're about to serve, lest the letdown is so huge that it ruins your friendship.

But please. Please give extra emphasis if you're leading me into a near death experience.

We walked up to this hidden stairway amongst jungle-like leaves, wondering if at the top would be some ancient mayan ruin.



I was the first to lead and made it to, oh, about right where you see me before I wanted to call it quits. Call it quits and just head straight to the first buffet we saw. That's how defeated I was.

But I finally made it past the first barrier that I'm sure was in place for the people who climbed to the top and having no energy to walk back down, just heaved themselves down the steps.

No. I will make it.

No ancient mayan ruins. No gummy bear trees.

Just dormroom windows and a large sign "California." For a second, I really thought I had climbed to California and so decided to just lay on the ground until someone made me a casket.  I was born there, so no need to change the headstone. Just put in my epitaph "She died doing what she loved: cursing and fantasizing about chinese food."



In the end, we only managed to do six reps, but in our defense it was 103 degrees out. Ryan thought he had had a stroke and spent most of the time in walmart staring at puzzles in the game dept and swaying from side to side. My legs shook for a good half hour afterwards.

However, I'm ready to do it again.

Bring it, stairway. I will conquer you.