Great Aunty Tranny

I don't think I'm still sick, but mannnn, I have a cough that just won't quit.

I sound like and 90 year old man with an 80 year smoking habit.

We have a new girl in the family!

My nephew and his wife made a girl baby and she comes in right on the heels of her girl cousin that my niece and her husband made!

I'm so excited, but I have to figure out what the new kids are going to call me.

Their parents call me (crazy) Aunty M, and Wendy's kid calls me Tranny because he refuses to say gra and will only say tra and now it's just a thing that will never change, and if anyone refers to me as Granny he defends my title as though someones trying to take down the queen.

Get it? 

Tranny? 

Queen? 

So funny :D

Okay, so, I'm thinking the new kids can call me (crazy) Tranny M?

Or maybe Tranty M?

Because that incorporates the reference to the third hierarchy once removed...?

I don't know, I'll have to give this some thought.

Anyway, welcome to the family Faela Rose and Charlotte Mae, we're so happy to have you!

I'm in a cooking slump.

I'd like to think it's because I've been sick, but I would be fooling myself because it's been going on for the better part of the summer.

I made a kick ass crockpot lasagna last week, and I've made a rack or two of  really good BBQ ribs, but that's about it, everything else has sucked.

I follow new recipes to the letter, I go old school and still, I find myself feeding more to Pearl (the pig) than to us. 

Gross.

Tonight I think we'll have bologna sandwiches and macaroni and cheese.

I'm getting my soap stock built up again.

So far I have some coffee bean and pumpkin curing and up next will be some baby (for the girls) and then some Christmas soaps.

Nothing fancy, and so far nothing on the curing rack is scented, but I think I may throw some scent in my Christmas bars.

I've made some car seat size baby afghans that I need to weave the ends on and get listed and then get busy on some baby beenies for the Etsy shelves.

Maybe some slippers too.

And some rugs.

No infinity scarves this year though, I'm totally over those.

The Plague

I guess I just have to admit I'm a crappy blogger... I swear each time that I'm going to keep up and each time I do keep up for a few days, or maybe even a week or so and every day I'm always thinking to myself, "ha ha ha ha, this would be funny to blog about", but then I don't and then I pick up a sock or take a breath and immediately forget what it was I was going to blog about.

To sum things up... A lot of funny stuff has happened, along with some not so funny stuff and a lot of really dumb stuff too.

Today; I am sick and I have been sick for two days now thanks to being locked in a car with my bubonic children for eight+ hours last week. I may be dying, I'm not sure yet. I suppose if you don't hear from me again sometime within the next year I didn't pull through.

Here's something interesting... While Googling what I can take for my plague that won't screw with all my heart medication I came across Guaifenesin (Mucinex). I don't have Fibromyalgia, but did you know that there have been many studies done that are showing that Guaifenesin could be some sort of wonder drug for those that do have it? I'll give you the short story and then you can Google it yourself, but the jist of it is this, Fibromyalgia may be caused by a build up on your joints and tendons and this Guaifenesin stuff gets rid of the build up just like it loosens the gunk from your lungs. There's many opposing opinions, and so much information and the more I read, the more overwhelmed I became. I have many friends with Fibro, and all I can say is this, I have a new found empathy for all the noise and garbage you have to sift through to learn what works and what's best for you. From diets, to medications, to supplements, creams, candles and oils, I had no idea what it's like out there for all of you who suffer from this. If I was in charge, my prescription would be to eat cake and take a nap.

I found a great new DIY crappy craft to do. You do it first and let me know how it turns out, but I think they're so cool and I want to try it. Sharpie glasses.

How great are those!!

Ok, I have to go hack out what's left of my lungs, watch some NCIS and take a nap.

Facebook Fall Out

Facebook has ended our relationship. It's probably for the best, I'll move on and be more productive, until I get the hang of Twitter and then I'll be back to numb thumbs again, but for now, all's quiet on the home front.
Facebook said that since my name was Marilyn Isnevergettingmarriedagain I had to prove it with a scanned ID and other proof of identity and I said no and they said ok bye. Just like that. After nine years they just kick me to the curb AND my pages too! So, if youre a follower of the Supervisor page youre going to have to wait and see if I can sneak in some side door to make a new page, but for now it's all Twitter all the time.

I have tons going on right now. New crafts, crochet, signs, mod podge etc and I wish I knew how to sew and was already good at it. I joined an old lady group on FACEBOOK just so I could ask someone local to teach me how and now I'm ixnaed so that won't work and I'm afraid if I go on Craigslist and ask I'll get some wierdo perv who just wants to smell my feet and breathe on my neck.
I need an old lady who knows legit short cuts and cool things about sewing and not all the BS stuff that you learn at one of the craft store classes that don't teach sewing anyway. So dumb.
I wonder if YouTube has sewing classes.

It's almost fall and even though I'm not a full on pumpkin spice latte kind of girl, I do love all things autumnal. Pumpkin bread, banana bread, molasses cookies, stew in the crockpot. You know, the season of elastic waistbands, and sensible shoes. I'll try and post a link to something cool on Pinterest (not facebook because they SUCK) with every post, so here's this...
This is from highheelsandgrills.com

That's all for today, see you on Twitter and Instagram!

Old Meat and Old Cars

Captain Underpants is here today and I don't have anything planned. I think I'll take him grocery shopping with me which is probably a big mistake or leave him here with Wyatt which sounds like a really good idea.

  I'll bribe Wyatt with a pizza. 

Last time I went shopping it was just to pick up a few things, hamburger, cauliflower, bread and a head of lettuce. While I was getting the hamburger, my eye was drawn to the "Buy 1 Get TWO Free" sign and then there was this big display of pre-seasoned beef, chicken and pork, which as we all know is done to hide the oldness and funny smell, but I was going into this with my eyes open and prepared to take my selection directly home and into the freezer and tossed two chicken quarters and a twin pack of overly seasoned steak into my basket and headed for the register. Ok, so were, you paying attention up there? Cauliflower, bread, a head of lettuce and now a buy one get two deal. 

Forty four dollars and ninety five cents. Did you hear that? Forty four dollars and ninety five cents, that's $44.95. Are you kidding me? WTF? And that's what I said too because the last time I was in that store (Safeway) I bought mostly produce and was thinking about how high my total was on the way home and re-weighed all my items, and almost EVERY ONE WAS OFF! They had over weighted almost every item and I called the store out of my mind because how was I supposed to prove that! Well, they (Safeway) said they may have owed me five dollars and they would leave a gift card for me at the desk, but back to todays story... So the steal deal with the meat was, in tiny print, they all had to be the same, ie, three porks, three chickens, etc... I told her to forget it but then she couldn't do the refund for whatever reason, and I had to go to another line and have another girl, the lead checker do the refund and she refunded me twenty four dollars and something cents and I said thanks and apologized for not reading the sign and left and then as I was driving home, I was thinking to myself, forty something minus twenty something still leaves twenty something and all I have is cauliflower, a loaf of bread and a head of lettuce because I got the buy one get two and then didn't get that so I had no meat, not even the hamburger that I was originally going to buy, and how the eff does cauliflower, a loaf of bread and a head of lettuce cost twenty something dollars! That's when my eyes started bleeding. As soon as I got home I called the store (Safeway) and asked for the girl who refunded me nine minutes before and she wasn't quite sure who I was or what the return was or what I was talking about or eff squat about anything, because my best guess would be something that I shouldn't share with you. She said the accountant would have to call me back and did I have my receipt showing what I bought and I said NO YOU KEPT IT. The accountant returned my call quickly though and through my store (Safeway) card they were able to bring up my transaction and it turns out there was indeed a ten dollar discretion and now I have fifteen dollars in gift cards waiting for me at the store (Safeway) that I will use on gas because I'm never shopping there again.

Mrs. Shoes asked for an update on the hoe yesterday.

I wheeled into the park the same day of the store (Safeway) incident and no one was home, but the hoe was still there along with the front and back of a rusted out car and all it's guts. After I talked to the girl at the store (Safeway) I figured I was on a roll so I might as well just keep rolling and sent a text about the hoe and the "car" to the people in Lot #1 and said I hadn't realized they were starting a Sanford and Son operation and if I had, I would have offered them a respectable starter kit consisting of five or six boxes with as much junk as they could possibly fit in them from the barn. Luckily it went over well, because you know what they say, you can't hear tone in a text which at that time worked out best for both of us.

The hoe should be gone today or tomorrow.

Stay Classy

Get Your Sheep On

Do you keep your butter in the fridge?

I don't and sometimes it gets hot and melts and runs all over the dish and then I either have to pour it on to whatever needs butter or wait for it to harden back up on the plate over night and then the next day, even though it's still butter, it looks funny. I guess what I'm wondering here is, if butter is a dairy product, is that like leaving the milk on the counter all day in the heat and then after it's gone through some sort of funky transformation glopping it into a bowl of cereal...

We went to see Shaun the Sheep yesterday with Wendy and the child formerly known as the Kid in the Paper Pants. The movie was perfect and everything I hoped it would be. Chicken Run is my favorite movie ~ever~ which should tell you everything you already knew about me, so Shaun is an obvious favorite as well, and if you ever wondered rather you could love a movie without dialogue, now is the perfect time to find out. It held the attention of a three year old without any super hero special effects or robots from outer space, unless of course you consider rescuing an amnesiac farmer a heroic act, or a Trojan horse operated by ruminants robotic ingenuity, which I of course most certainly do.

Our old cinema has been completley redone and now has huge leather like recinling seats and a snack bar that resembles a fast food restaurant where you can order anything heated in a convection oven AND beer and wine! So you could seriously take a date to dinner and a movie for only twice what it used to cost and never have to deal with that awkward issue of speaking to one another.

After the movie, we all came back to the house and went straight to the craft and covered the kitchen table with craft chaos while Captain Underpants engaged in a battle of get the feather with Astro who is too fat to move, so that game got old fast so he moved on to paper and markers at the big table pretty quick. Wyatt started painting and Wendy printed off some fishing photos and mod podged them on canvas and then rubbed dirt on them.

SO cool!

I did what I usually do when we glue and glitter and made magnets, my favorite, magnets!

Don and Melanie, together again.

Last but not least. I made chicken for dinner, just regular old pan fried in oil no coating chicken sprinkled with some garlic salt, pepper and paprika and fried it until it was almost off the bone. I thought it would be good to just grab and eat how it was, when Wendy whipped up some Franks and ranch to dip it in and it went from good to OMG!

So easy right?

We're having it again tonight and I'll cook up extra to keep it in the fridge for snacks.

Stay Classy

No Hoes Allowed

There's a storm brewing in the park and it's with the guy who gives me the most grief and I hate having any confrontation with him because he's such an a-hole, and what makes me so so mad is that I really like his wife, and they totally use that against me. If I have a problem with, we'll call him "Bob" (because that's his name) his wife turns on me too, so then I have to deal with an a-hole and a nasty wife which totally sucks. "Bob" (his real name) has brought in a backhoe and is cutting up cars and dragging them all over his lot. Right? Are you effing kidding me? Who the F does that? I haven't made my move yet, mainly because I don't know what my move is going to be, but in a perfect world, the move would be made by "Bob" (his real name) by moving out of the park. I'm going to give the situation until tomorrow, and if his trashy p.o.s backhoe is still there, I'm gonna write him him up.

I've come to the conclusion that I like Netflix more than I like men, because when I'm done with a series on Netflix, I miss it and don't want to burn it's house down and destroy everything it's ever loved. I've started so many series on Netflix, some out of sheer desperation, they were to short, or too weird but I ended up loving them, maybe not everything about them, but enough to stick around to see how things end, and sometimes I'll even recommend them to friends when I'm finished, and  I haven't had one single husband that I would pass on to anyone I cared about. And the other thing about Netflix, is that it's all about me. If I have a busy day, I don't have to check in or explain anything, and it's always happy to see me when I'm ready. I can even switch things up to Hulu and Netflix doesn't say a word, no guilt trip, like "Oh really, Hulu again?" because I'd be all like "Yeah, Hulu can give me things you can't, like Fallon and Stewart and Schumer" but I never have to defend myself. And, Netflix is always improving to keep things interesting, and it doesn't even cost 20.00 a month, which is a drop in the ocean compared to what my last two three if you insist on counting the one I married twice husbands have cost me, and that's with added discs, so I can have Netflix three ways... DVD, streaming or iPhone. I think what I love most about Netflix though, is it's always there for me and my family, even the kid in the paper pants loves Netflix.

By the way, this is not an endorsement for Netflix, just something I was thinking about while I'm having my morning coffee with Netflix because this is the unexplainable way my brains work.

I have to go to school now, and just so you know, I am loving the classes on Treehouse and Codecadamy!

Stay Classy

Driving Miss Crazy

I told you we moved all the craft crap back from the little falling down house and I'm glad we did because now I have my mojo back. With everything in the same house again I am better able to start the two rugs I need to make and I made a batch of soap day before yesterday, the first one all summer. It's just so much easier when I can start something and then go about doing something else and pick up my project again ten minutes later instead of having to walk between houses or sit over there away from all the action here (wifi). The Etsy shop has been out of soap for a looooong time, so I'll be making a bunch of it to restock the shelves. This is the first one up, Lot #1 Tie Dye Tutti Frutti...

It's not an all fruit fusion, mostly just summer melons and it's super lightly scented. I figured the color was bold enough for a light scent. How do you like your soap and lotions, really scenty or a little scenty? I usually end up going light on all of my soaps, but then I smell other soaps that are really strong and love them. I'm conflicted.

I have two rugs I need to start, and I have them both already built in my brain, I just need to put them together, and with the rugs, starting is always the hardest part. I don't like the cutting because I'm afraid of the blade on the rotary cutter so I got a pair of those sword fighter gloves so I won't lose a finger, but the gloves are a size too big so my hands are sloppy when I'm cutting, but cutting goes so much faster than ripping, and ripping leaves strings allll overrrrr everyyyyything.

This is one I've already sold.

I know, you're probably thinking to yourself right now, "wow, if that's all this woman has to worry about she's got it made", but that's not true, I do have big problems. For one, I'm fat and have to deal with constant breast sweat and pokey underwires and two, I think I have a piano stealing vagrant living in the barn. Yes, you heard that right. A piano stealing vagrant living in the barn.

Yesterday Wyatt went to the barn to get some milk crates for his clothes, because I guess keeping your underwear in a dresser drawer is too mainstream and while he was up looking in one of the storage rooms, he realized he was standing in a big clean spot where one of those 1970's electric basement organs used to be. It didn't work and I've even tried to sell them (Yes, we have more than one. Many more than one. My Grampy was what some people may refer to as an "extreme" hoarder) on Craigslist, but seriously, who wants a circa 1970's electric organ like your Aunt Edith used to play at Christmas and family reunions. But that's not the point, the point is, how did someone back up to our barn and load up an organ and drive away un-noticed? So as I was texting Eric, the Assistant Park Supervisor to come down and walk through the barn with me, I pulled up last months power bill for the barn and it was almost TRIPPLE what it normally is. Right? So crazy! We went up and posted No Trespassing signs all over the barn, but couldn't find any evidence of anyone being there other than raccoons, possum, and skunks, and they can't read so it won't keep them out, but I have everyone in the park on high alert for any suspicious characters hauling pianos or any other goods and furniture out of the barn. I'll keep you posted of any developing situations.

Today is Wyatt's final drive to get his license. He has done so well during this entire course, that he has actually really screwed up his "poor student" standing, because, I have learned that if he likes, and is interested in something, he passes with flying colors. That's ok though, now I'll have driving privileges to suspend him from for poor grades. Sucks to be him in an Algebra class this year. 

Wendy and I are going to the Upper Left Corner of the Unites States of America to get my Mothers Volkswagen for me to use as a second car while she's in the nursing home (Another story for another day) so I don't have to drive the farm truck as a second when Wyatt is driving my car. I would look like a mountain woman coming into town for supplies if I had to drive that truck all the time, it's thirty+ years old with four different shades of peeling paint, moss growing in the cracks and bailing twine wrapped around the bumpers. My rubber boots, ill fitting clothes and bad hair do enough harm to my image, I don't need a shitty whip too.

Stay Classy~

That Smell

It's Monday, garbage day, thank God. Usually that isn't such a big deal, but three days ago I started to gag and die notice an odd smell every time I went to the fridge (which is often) and ended up spending a better part of the morning hosing down cleaning and disinfecting it. Even though this effort left me with a large sense of pride and personal satisfaction, as well as leaving Pearl the Pig with a full belly, the smell remained. My mind went immediately to the mice and snakes that the cat has brought in the house throughout the summer as offerings, and could we possibly have dead vermin under one of the appliances. I decided I needed some time to work out a plan, and that I would sit awhile with a hot cup of coffee while looking at Pinterest for a few hours minutes. When I reached for the powdered creamer the dish felt a little light so I went to the back corner cupboard to get the giant Costco container to refill it and it was then... that I smelled... The foulest stench... To have ever been stenched by any living thing on the face of this earth. Potatoes, rotting potatoes, they were the cause of the smell that had then been released by the opening of the cupboard door, the smell that could have very well caused bodily and spiritual harm, rotting, molding, liquefied, potatoes that had spilled out of the bag and run all o v e r the cupboard. I looked over at Wyatt who had fallen to the floor, writhing and covering his face and burning eyes with a towel and very calmly told him to put a few things that mattered to him in a sack and go stand in the driveway while I poured the gas and lit the match to burn the place to the ground. Then I had to stop and mentally go over the insurance value of the barn house and decided that wasn't a viable option. I briefly considered moving, but decided that I would have to clean the cupboard to sell the place anyway, and then clean everything else and pack boxes, and then move all of our shit in and out of cars and trucks and then unpack somewhere else, and then, the probabilities of something like this happening again, e.g the hard boiled egg in Wyatt's dresser incident of '07, were high. That left me with only one option, clean the corner cupboard of the liquefied potato waste.

The rest of the story is really too horrible to repeat, and I would for sure have to put an NC 17 rating on this post due to language, so let me just wrap it up by saying it will be a while before we consume anything potato based in this house again and an even longer time before purchasing and storing excessive amounts of potatoes.

So now you are probably wondering why the excitement of garbage day, when we obviously don't have the stench in the house anymore. Right, we don't, but, we were faced with a new problem yesterday when Wyatt went in to the utility room to start a load of wash. He came running out into the living room with the same towel over the face routine, and I looked at him and shook my head and told him he was definitely over playing whatever it was that was causing this display of over reaction. He said we had another smell so horrible he couldn't even breathe due to his melting nose hairs and the burning in his lungs. I almost threw a shoe at him, but thought better (CPS, jail time and court fees) of it and decided to go have a look. Let me just tell you, whatever the smell in the cupboard, it was a day at Disneyland compared to the vile smell in the utility room. With bleeding eyeballs, and failing lungs we set to work of finding the source. We started going through every single thing in that room, one at a time, item by item, taking things out arm full by arm full. At one point, I emptied a little trash can into a bigger trash can and sent Wyatt out to empty it, and that's when it happened. Remember when you used to watch cartoons and an anvil would fall out a ten story window onto someones head and the scream that would follow?

Yeah. That was Wyatt. So. I guess I may have tossed a salmon skin from dinner two nights before straight into the trash without wrapping it or putting it in a sealed bag, and I guess I may have put it in the outside garbage so it wouldn't stink up the inside garbage. That's what the smell was, the rotten potato met the stinking salmon and what followed was a heinous stew of decomposing, 100+ degree swill that was wafting in through the open windows of the utility room.

We sealed the garbage can and moved it into the yard far away from the house and may God help the garbage man when he picks it up in the morning.

That's why I'm glad it's Monday. How was your weekend?

Too Hot To Be Cool

Seriously, this weather is kicking my ass. Today will be the third day in a row of it being over 100 degrees and I know that some of you may be saying, "so", but for Oregon, this is end times. I think if I was tall and thin and blond and in a bikini laying on a rock at the river my outlook would be completely different, but short, fat, on the very south side of forty, on a trailer park farm in a tie died mumu and Birkenstocks, it totally sucks. The ONLY thing about this weather that I love is the line dried clothes, especially sheets and blankets. Towels are a close second mostly because I live to hear the howls from the bathroom when Wyatt gets out of the shower and rubs his skin off with a fresh towel. It's the only way I can think of to get him to use a towel more than once. It's only the first time that hurts. This is way off topic and probably a story for another day, but honest to God when I was a kid, we lived in a tent and then a house without electric heat (only wood), a regular stove or oven (only wood) and NO dryer. We had to hang dry all of our clothes next to the wood stove and you don't know how effing ridiculous until you have to put on line dried underpants and jeans so stiff they stand alone. I know you think I'm making this up so I'll give you all the stupid details later. Remind me though, because I'll probably forget.

What was I talking about? The heat. Whatever, I'm over it. David Olsen.

Here's a picture of my linens on the line. How dumb is it that I have a snowflake flannel sheet hanging... I use it as a blanket.

As I was out getting the laundry this morning Buddy, the blackishbrown and white dog laid down to chew a stick in front of our little house. That was the house that I came home to when I was born and then for the following forty or so years it was used as a rental, but the last few years has been hard on that little house, and it's started falling apart. The chimney side wall is falling off, the floors are falling in, the widows don't fit any more and birds fly in and the blackberries have taken over. Wendy and Jesay even lived there right after they got their kid, and I loved it when they were my neighbors, but I guess I'm glad if it had to come to an end, that it ended with them. Kind of a full circle in my heart.

I was going to use it as my craft house and hauled all my junk over there, but it's too far gone even for that. So we hauled all my junk back to the barn and now that all my stuff is back in the utility room. I think I'll make some soap today, the Etsy store has been out for a long time.

Here's the falling down house with the resident coyote control officer.

Next. 

I'm having a problem. My dad had stainless steel teapots on his boat and I of course inherited them. For years I never used them because they just didn't really go with anything, but then I decided to use them anyway and because I used them they sat on my stove and got all my cooking junk on them and even though I would wipe them down and wash them they still got gunky and now I have two gunked up stainless steel teapots that I have been forever trying to clean (before I put them away again). I have tried the green Scotch Bright pads and Barkeepers Friend and even Melaleuca Tub and Tile because hand to Jesus that stuff will clean the spots off a hog, but nothing is working. The big flat areas look great but the cracks won't budge. Any ideas?

Surf & Turf

She's here!!!

Faela Rose, July 28, 6lb 13oz.

Congratulations to both families, a blessing indeed!

I have so much to talk about, I'm not sure where to begin.

It's hot.

Like hot as in really hot.

Hot as in really hot as in boob sweat, back of the knee sweat, can't breath, too fat to be this hot, hot.

104 today.

Our house is an old barn, so in the winter we freeze because the barn house doesn't have much in the way of insulation, and huge almost floor to ceiling single pane windows. We have a pellet stove for heat in the ballroom size living room and kitchen and then we close everything else off and have the plug in radiator heaters on wheels to heat the bedrooms and a plug in heater for the bathroom. If we didn't do it that way our heating expenses would be equivalent to the national debt. In the summer it's a whole other problem. With all of the giganto windows, most of them south facing and no central air and no windows to put an AC unit into, we shut the place down like a cave, only opening blinds and doors after the sun passes to try and get a cross breeze. The only room that has a window AC is my bedroom, so Wyatt and I have recliners and a tv in there and have even discussed a mini fridge. That room is huge too though so it's even hard to keep it cool. I know, I know, first world problems, but hear me out, because of my rotten heart, being that hot is a total downer for me and being on all the ridiculous medication that slows me down to snail speed, the added heat really sucks.

We have chicks!

So far I have two hens that have cracked eight chicks and one hen still setting in the garage. The two

"normal" hens hatched their brood in the hen house, but not Miss Priss, she's too good for the coop and has to have the luxury of a private room indoors. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with her and her offspring when they hatch because they need to have the protection of the coop. We have so many hawks and crows, things could get ugly fast.

There is also the major problem of coyotes that has devastated so much of our menagerie. I have lost geese, sheep, peacoks, guinea hens and most recently our black angus cat. That was a real heart breaker. They all are, but to lose our cat was very, very sad. So, I learned to shoot. Jesse, my Granny Baby Daddy came out and dusted off the .22 from the closet, loaded it up and taught me how to hit a target, and believe it or not, I didn't suck. As a matter of fact, I like to fancy myself as a bit of a Tranny Oakly even. In case you're new here, I'm a tranny because my granny child talks funny and can't say a hard "G" so I'm "tranny" instead of "granny". Imagine the looks in Walmart. Now, you would think since I'm loaded and ready for bear, I would be making short work of those mothereffing coyotes, but you'd be wrong. I haven't seen one in two weeks, so obviously the little bastards are smarter than I thought and have sent out some sort or pack wide alert that I'm not just standing on the porch yelling "BANG" anymore. And that's ok, because I'm ready for them whenever they decide to show their blood thirsty little faces around here again and please don't go all Peta on me because I am a just a trailer park farmer protecting my livestock.

Dinner.

I have been swimming in fish lately. Maybe because it's been so hot, maybe because I just dig fish, but for whatever reason, I love it and so should you. Tonight I'm making salmon and I'm going to share with you the best way to prepare it taught by generations of fisherman from the Island where I grew up. I don't have a photo of my own so I found this one by lovintheoven.com that will give you the basic idea...

Doesn't that look great! 

Ok, that's an awesome start, now add some onion slices under the lemon and some brown sugar on top of the butter.

 

Wrap it up tight in the foil and toss in a 350 degree oven or a hot barbecue for about twenty minutes and boom! You have the best salmon you've ever laid a fork on!

Do you notice how I even put sugar on my fish...

I want to talk about some crochet projects I have going and my soap room redo, but I think I've said enough for today and I can tell your getting bored so I'll talk about that stuff later.

Ode to Wyatt

Wyatt has been gone for three days. Three long days. That's three days that I have had to feed and water the dogs and cats which is his job but I always end up doing anyway so the only difference is there's no one to yell at for having to do it myself. There is no one else going to the kitchen so I can't say "while you're up" to anyone, I have to get everything myself. I have to check out all the weird smells and noises myself, switch the laundry myself, watch whatever I want to watch on Netflix myself so there's no one else to blame for a crappy viewing choice, I have to talk to myself or the dogs which means everyone agrees with everything I say which in turn can lead to an extremely inflated sense of self, but worst of all is there's no one to make fun of or laugh with. I really miss him and it's giving me a glimpse into my future when he turns fortyish and decides to leave home or move into the attic and I will of course be too fat and immobile to make it up all those stairs thirty years from now so I'll have to bang on the ceiling with sticks and ring bells and text him to come down which I know good and well he won't.

Oh my gawd, what am I going to do...

Remember that movie Misery with Kathy Bates?

Did you watch American Horror Story Coven with Kathy Bates? She was awesome, and I loved that Stevie Nicks was in it too. That really was a PERFECT part for her. So scary. Yeah, Wyatt and I watched that together. Maybe he'll come home tomorrow. I know he's having so much fun with his friends (that aren't me, even though I am SUPER fun) and has been going downtown and doing all kinds of super fun sixteen year old stuff even though I used to be sixteen and knew all the super fun cool things to do and places to go but not really because I was married and had Wendy on my sixteenth birthday, but I am SO fun now, I can't imagine why he would want to leave home for threelonnnnngdays! Whatever. His loss, there will be tons of crocheting and documentary watching and water bowl filling, food dish washing fun going on here without him. W That my friends is a big W for winning because hear me when I say this, in the over seventy crowd they hate me cuz they aint me!

I aint missing you at all Wyatt!

W

Inquisitive Me

The kid in the paper pants is here today. I totally forgot he was coming so while I was quietly enjoying a cup of coffee watching The Daily Show in my underwear the mouth of South Clackamas County ran in at full volume. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad he's here I just hadn't mentally prepared myself for WWE in the front room and conversations based solely around the question "why" all day. Do you know how long I've already been writing this post? You would cry if I told you. Why? Because you would. Why? You just would. Why? Because every forty six seconds HC throws something at the back of my head and THEN yells "catch!" and then he asks me why I didn't catch it and then he yells at the dog to give back whatever it was that he threw at me that the dog caught and then the dog runs towards the door to go play outside and then the chickens start to cackle and then he asks me why chickens can't have words and why do chicken babies live in eggs and he's pretty sure he didn't live in an egg his mom pooped him out and it probably stunk and I didn't poop his mom out because I'm not his moms mom I'm tranny and he loves Wyatt and Aunt Juee where is Aunt Juee oh she's with her kid who's having a baby is she going to poop a baby or is it coming in an egg and where's the picture book of me swimming can you get it can you get it pweeeeeeeese pweeeeeese pweeeeeeese can you get it right now can I watch Spickle Me (Despicable Me) can you put it on for me what the heck it's on a DVD how does it work look I made this guy.

Please excuse the picture quality, it was an action shot.

And now, he is quietly (for the minute) watching Spickle Me in the bedroom. Dear God he must be exhausted, I know I am.

Wendy and I went to the Apple Store yesterday. For five hours. To get a phone replaced on Warranty. Did you know that you need to make an appointment at the Apple Store? We didn't either. So we waited. And waited and waited and then we walked around the mall which was really an experience if you haven't been to the mall since 2002ish. Wow. I think the most shocking part about the mall was that it was beautiful but empty. There were some sections that didn't even have any stores, just empty store fronts for lease, and I was also surprised at how many people were there and if all those people were there, why are there so many empty stores. Why?

I looked at all the shiny new iMacs and even some Macbooks at the Apple Store and decided that until I actually start earning money from my new career choice I am going to go with a PC for a fraction of the price. Kind of like training wheels. Also, with a PC I can do customer service work from home which you can't do with a Mac. I wonder why that is? Well anyway it is, so I will learn the art of Windows and get to it. Any suggestions on laptop, all-in-one's or monitor/tower? I've never bought a PC before, so all input is welcome.

Bad Apple

I have an iMac circa 2007 that is now considered "vintage". Are you F'ing kidding me? No. It is so slow it may as well be a paperweight and I have done everything possible to speed it up, but it's a no go. But what makes me so mad is that it still looks brand new, all silverey and flat and shiny with it's big glossy screen and I think it's so dumb. Not only do I have this doorstop, but I also have three laptops and another iMac in my attic that I can't seem to part with because even though they don't work anymore they still have my life in them. I even still have Old Blue the see through bubble Mac with a built in handle that was passed down to me by my sister so it has all the music on it from her life and then everything from my life thrown on top of it and I swear to Jesus I'm not a hoarder but I cannot get rid of these stupid things.

I am learning web design and this "vintage" Mac is just not going to cut it and I have to go to the Apple store with Wendy today because her phone decided to take a dirt nap but luckily it's still under warranty so she's getting a new one and I know as soon as my dirty Birkenstocks set foot in that store and I smell that new Mac smell and see all those flat flashy screens I'm going to be tempted. I've even looked into their finance programs and even though there's no option for trading in first borns, there is a program I could manage and I've already done all the mental back and forth about not even being able to begin any kind of design on my old Mac it's still a very big decision that makes me want to eat a pint of gelato.

I have to put on pants and go now, wish me luck. I'll update when I get home.

Waiting For A Baby

Now that I'm not just a farm blog, but an anything blog I have this new sense of freedom to talk about anything and everything which in turn leads me to the need to blog about everything all the time, to the point that I've even had to start a list of things that I want to talk about since there are so many and they come and go so fast in my brain that they'll fall out if I don't write them down somewhere, so I have a notes section on my phone where I keep track.

Today

My older sister's oldest daughter F is expecting her first baby ANY day now and I am DYING I am so excited! My sister J is in Colorado with F doing the countdown and F is still climbing mountains and carrying on like a super woman and I'm here crocheting and baking and eating and sleeping like I'm the one expecting. In my family, being the last one out of the womb definitely left me with a more lackadaisical outlook on life. My sisters take life very seriously and I'm more of a baloney (bologna?) sandwich kind of gal and that applies to everything from hair color to husbands, when I'm over it, I'm over it. On the other hand, they are both starters and finishers, one of them even more so than the other if that's even possible. If it's broke they fix it, if it's good they make it better and if it's great they stick with it and keep it going. So, it's no surprise that their children have followed in those footsteps and will no doubt raise children of their own like that. For instance, from the looks of things, I would estimate that F has gained somewhere around twelve ounces of body fat during her pregnancy and will probably jog home from the hospital to lose the baby weight. I, on the other hand gained the weight equal to that of a 1973 Volkswagen Beetle and am still fighting the good fight to work it off sixteen years later. I wore maternity underpants until Wyatt was three.

I think F's baby will probably learn sign language (In three languages) and be potty trained by twelve months, whereas Wyatt spoke Teletubby until he was four and then, once he had somewhat mastered the english language, began potty training by peeing off the porch. Don't get me wrong, my children are amazing people, they just caught a different bus. On the bright side though, I have some great stories to tell about them that will have you on the edge of your seat, some real nail biters.

Back to F. This will be my first grandniecechild and maybe what I'm most excited about, other than the whole "new life, new love" part is the part where my sister is going to be a grandmother. From now on she will wear the badge of age. Grammy, or whatever they call her, will be seated at the old lady table with me and even though she will for sure be the hot one and the one who doesn't look like a granny, she will still have to sit at that table with me, and how we got from the new mother chair to the grandma table SO fast is beyond me. I think we were pushed. Even though we have kids in their thirties, we still both have kids in their teens, so will someone please explain to me how that happens when you're not a Duggar.

But this is about F and now my eyes are getting soggy and I can't see very well so I'm going to say this quick. You are an amazing, smart, beautiful, fun and loving woman. I am so proud of you, and while I still have the chance to tell you as my first little niece with the giant head and shiny shoes, I want to say that I love you to the stars and moon, and then I want to be the first to tell you as a new mother how lucky this baby will always be to have you as a mother and your husband as a father. Enjoy every new moment and smell your baby's head a lot and then remember that smell every time you get angry because they broke your favorite whatever or ate cat poop at the beach. Those are all little things and love is a big thing and so long as you remember that you can handle almost anything. You'll still cry in the corner drinking gin every now and again, and that's ok too.

And now, I have to go, because the little bundle of love who calls me Tranny just left from his second sleepover this week and I have to pick Legos and noodles out of the rug while remembering the smell of his head.

New Blog!

Well Everyone, The Fat Bottom Farm has run it's course. I don't have enough to post about since I don't have much of a farm left anymore. Since my heart attack and rotten arterial issues that have followed I have had to considerably downsize the "operation". Because of this I haven't been blogging because I haven't felt like I've had anything relevant to say.
But, since I do have a love for blogging and talking and sharing I have decided to start another blog about our life past and present. Stories about the kids and family, chickens and sheep, dogs and cats, soap and crochet, and funny stories about how we got to where we are today.
I hope you'll take a minute to read the post or two I have up on the new sight and see if you'd like to make the switch.
The Park Supervisor
Hope to see you there!

Brownies and Gin

I'm fat.

Like soft squishy grandma (or in my case Tranny) fat, except the problem is, grandmas don't look like me anymore. Now they all look like Kris Kardashian or Beverly Hills Housewives or even just Old Navy Gap grandmas and I don't know how this happened or even who gave the ok for it to happen. I blame it on Obama and the Internet. Because I don't know who else to blame. Facebook. Maybe Facebook too because everyone is always flaunting their perfect beer and gluten free dinner, hiking to the top of the world after forty pictures.

It really pisses me off Man, because I was ready for this job. I cook, I bake, I crochet, I have a great reading out loud voice, I go to bed early and I have a rotten heart condition so I get the grips and have to rest a lot. Doesn't all that fall into the grandmother job description? Not anymore. Listen, I want to be wearing elastic waistbands and shopping at the dollar store. I want to watch my stories in the afternoon and not be hassled about it. I have served my time with six husbands, two kids and multiple love interests and now I get the word that I still have to touch up my roots, trim my nethers (which I never knew was a thing until a year or so ago) and wax my facial hair and I don't want to. And on top of all this, it turns out that I need to do all of these things just because I'm a self respecting adult under ninety, not even because I'm trying to find a man, which, I most certainly am not.

Two days ago I was watching a movie with the Very Bad Baby (Who is not very bad nor is he a baby anymore but the name stuck) and as I reached for something he gasped in horror and said "TRANNY! Your armpits are falling out!!!" I'm not even kidding you, he thought my under arm flab was my armpit falling out. I think the child has been damaged for life, although when I explained to him that I just have old lazy arms he told me that his Papa had old lazy legs which immediately made me feel better.

So here's the rub. I have two great niecechildren being born in the next few months and a niece wedding to attend next summer and I would like to be down a size or two, but weight loss seems to constantly elude me and weight gain is consistently falling in my lap. And hips, and ass, and thighs...

All of these events will ultimately lead to photos with me in them at some time and I don't want to be the sweaty aunt with fallen armpits in the photos, or herded away from the horsdoeurves table, because right now, I swear to Jesus, this would be me. I even have the same outfit.

I can't get out and run a mile and I can barley hold back my own weight when fighting over a chicken leg. I've tried the juice diet, the low carb diet, the gluten free diet, the no sugar diet and none of it works... Long term. I am in the process of eating less meat and more real food like fruits and vegetables, but I'm telling you STRAIGHT up NONE of it tastes as good as Ben & Jerry's or warm brownies. And so, I'm at a loss. Not of weight, but ideas and hope of ever being hot again. Do I give in to my dream of the sweet life of elastic and polyester or do I keep up the fight? For now I guess I'll go eat some grapes and have a glass of water. Mainly because I don't have any Ben and Jerry's or brownies and gin.

Monkey Bread

One of my favorite short cut trailer park Sunday snacks has got to be monkey bread. Do you know what monkey bread is? It's not bread made with monkey parts and I think it's just called monkey bread because you can pull it apart. Like a monkey. I've made monkey bread off and on for years, but my favorite monkey bread memory is when I used to get the bread dough from the Schwanny Man who would come through the park I lived in every Wednesday evening.

Wyatt (who was four or five at the time) had a big window in his room that opened onto the driveway so when Doug the Schwanny Man would come through he would stop and we would all run to the window and Wyatt would usually get an ice cream and I would get whatever overpriced frozen goods I needed for the week.

After a month or so of Doug being on our route, he got to know the ice cream we liked, my favorite frozen snacks, pizzas, burritos, etc, and of course the frozen white bread dough that I would get every other time or so. As time went on Doug had become curious what I did with all the bread I was making from the frozen bread dough and so I told him I didn't make just any bread, I made monkey bread.  He had no idea what I was talking about. Doug, The Schwanny Man, peddler of frozen goods, didn't know what monkey bread was. So, since Doug was not only handsome, but also well connected in convenient and quick to prepare food circles, I decided to make my move. I invited The Schwanny Man over for monkey bread on Sunday morning and not only did he take the bait, he ran with the line, and my fishing pun is intentional because he said that he would come over after fishing the river early Sunday morning. I seriously thought I had scored a winner at this point, he was so manly, a fisherman, (Which is another story for another day...) handsome, employed and was interested my monkey bread.

Sunday rolled around and I was ready. I had balled up, dipped, sugared and baked a perfect batch of bread, the trailer was clean, the coffee was fresh and Wyatt was being quiet watching the Power Puff Girls in the back bedroom. In other words, my man trap was set, all I needed was the man, and as if on que, he rolled in the park ready for romance.

He smelled of the river and his feet were wet, so he sat back in my big comfortable chair, rolled up his pants, unlaced his boots, took off his wet socks and pulled the recline bar. I brought him a hot cup of coffee just the way he asked for it and handed him the remote. It was really like a dream, here was this handsome man, with a job, sitting in my living room, drinking my coffee, eating my monkey bread, reclined in my chair and watching football. I was in heaven. I was already planning a future with him in my mind, thinking what an amazing reception we could have with the amazing discount we would have on frozen finger foods, and I couldn't wait to tell the girls at work on Monday, because as EVERYBODY knows, there's nothing better than a story about a new love at the nail shop, and the best part about it is you get to tell it over and over all day long.

Doug stayed for an hour or so and then said he had to be going because he had a busy day ahead, but asked he asked if it would be ok if he came over again the next Sunday. I didn't even have to think about it, I responded with a resounding YES, and told him I would have more monkey bread and fresh coffee ready.

The week drug out forever, but we did get a break when we got to see him on his regular drive through on Wednesday. He passed an extra half gallon of cherry ice cream, my favorite, through the window for half price and I think maybe even a free box of damaged ice cream sandwiches for Howie. My heart raced every time our eyes met and my hands were sweaty and shaky.

As he got in his big yellow truck to drive away, he leaned out, winked, and told me he'd see me Sunday

It was either Thursday or Friday, I can't quite remember now, when Jill came in for her after five appointment. All after five appointments included a few pulls from the box of wine we kept chilled in the back and were highly coveted and reserved for only the top tier clients.

It was Jill who would break my heart that early spring evening, when she told me, that Doug, The Schwanny Man, potentially my #6, the love of my life, was married to one of her best friends.

Are you kidding me?

Doug showed up after fishing on Sunday morning for more of my monkey bread and fresh coffee and I told him to fuck off.

It wasn't long after that we had a new Schwanny Man, but I never learned his name. I started shopping the frozen food aisle at the grocery store and actually ended up saving quite a bit.

Monkey Bread

Ingredients

1/2

cup granulated sugar

1

teaspoon cinnamon

2

cans (16.3 oz each) Pillsbury™ Grands!™ Flaky Layers refrigerated biscuits

1/2

cup chopped walnuts, if desired

1/2

cup raisins, if desired

1

cup firmly packed brown sugar

3/4

cup butter or margarine, melted

• 1Heat oven to 350°F. Lightly grease 12-cup fluted tube pan with shortening or cooking spray. In large -storage plastic food bag, mix granulated sugar and cinnamon.
• 2Separate dough into 16 biscuits; cut each into quarters. Shake in bag to coat. Arrange in pan, adding walnuts and raisins among the biscuit pieces.
• 3In small bowl, mix brown sugar and butter; pour over biscuit pieces.
• 4Bake 28 to 32 minutes or until golden brown and no longer doughy in center. Cool in pan 10 minutes. Turn upside down onto serving plate; pull apart to serve. Serve warm.
  
  
  Pillsbury