It may be time to downsize

I currently drive a Ford Expedition sporting the license plate seen above. At this point, I'm fortunate to be able to feed myself and this beast. I've driven an Expedition since 1999 (not the same one) and it is my vehicle of choice. It serves its purpose by having enough room to haul materials needed for various jobs, being high and heavy enough to traverse very off-road job sites, having a large enough engine to pull various smaller pieces of machinery if needed, and, most importantly, a dvd player to keep Silas occupied whilst being hauled around all day. Unfortunately, I can't keep it and it breaks my heart.

I'm not the type to name my vehicles and talk to them and anthropomorphize them like some do, but I do have some loyalty and feel like a traitor getting rid of it. The fact is, I just can't afford it. And that makes me angry. I've worked hard to get to the point where I should be able to afford anything I want, within reason.


My industry is fuel based. My machines can't move without diesel fuel in them. Diesel now is very close to $5 a gallon. Because of the economy, or everyones perception of what the economy is and is going to be, my customers will not tolerate any price increases. Operating costs are quickly approaching the levels of the money coming in. Amount of $$ coming in = amount of $$ going out = no $$ for me.


So in the interest of economy, I'm downsizing. To this:

And if I need to get around a muddy job? I always have these:

(No, I don't actually own these. I snagged the picture off of ebay. Where no one had purchased them yet. Go figure.)

Aaaaaannnd.....we're back!

Isn't if funny how the fates conspire to overtake our schedules? I had every intention of posting the second part of my wrathful vengeance story last week. Now? I'm glad I didn't. Do I really want you to know that I was shitful to a perfectly nice woman who asked me if I'd been saved? That I berated her for asking a question that I perceived to be too personal and none of her business? That because "I have a degree in philosophy and religion, I can debate the veracity of King James' version of the christian bible till next week"? No. No, I don't. So we'll be moving right along to other, more pleasant things.

I've decided that my cast of characters needs new monikers. Piglet and the husband just aren't doing it for me anymore. So, after three seconds hours of contemplation, we have a winner! Piglet will now be referred to by the name I wanted to give him at birth. The husband and I had a deal that he would name a boy and I would name a girl. I lobbied hard to name him Silas. I just love that name. Of course, he would have none of it. Suffice it to say that my son now walks through life with a dogs name. Literally. We have both had dogs in the past with the name that my son now has. It's a perfectly fine human name, it just works equally as well for dogs. So Silas it is, here in my computer, where everything is how I want it.

The Husband, in the interest of alliteration, is Sam. See? Shania, Silas, Sam? All esses. Even SweetieDarlin fits in. My work here is done.

Those who have incurred my wrath

Updated to add that I was unaware of Mrs. Flinger's Brutally Honest Monday's when I wrote this.

I need for you to be brutally honest with me today. I'm going to tell you of two interactions with people who raised my ire. You tell me if a) I was justified in my reactions; b) I am a complete and utter social moron who should never be allowed in public again; or c) somewhere in the middle. Tell it like it is now. I'll only cry for a bit and I can't count on anyone else to be true.

Interaction 1:

Because of the isolated area we live in, my husband is convinced that we will get robbed if we don't get another home security system (aka "a big dog"). I reluctantly concur that he may have a point. We are the only house in our subdivision that hasn't been broken into, largely due, we think, to Maximus . The husband had this in mind when he made an appointment to look at some puppies at a nearby farm.

We arrived and spent about half an hour playing with the puppies and checking out the parents. Chatting with the gentleman revealed him to a registered nurse, his wife an elementary school teacher. Near the end of the visit, said wife arrived with their adorable two year old daughter. She was pregnant with their second.

While we're chatting, the little one decides to take off her shoes to feel the grass on her feet. Her mother told her to put them back on. When she didn't, the mother explained that she could get something in her foot and that this was her warning. The little one ignored her, as little ones are wont to do. With no indication that anything was amiss, the mother snatched the little girl up hard enough to snap her head back, whipped her around and hit her bottom, HARD.

I was gobsmacked. I really didn't think the behavior warranted such a forceful punishment. I closed my mouth, turned around and offered the gentleman my hand. I thanked him for his time and told him that we wouldn't be giving him a deposit on a puppy today. As this was a complete change of heart from two seconds ago, he was understandably taken aback. In answer to his questions, I told him I wasn't interested in an animal that had probably been abused. He was offended that I insinuated that he'd mistreat his animals. I said, "Good grief, man! Your wife just hit a baby, I can only imagine how the animals are treated."

He rightly pointed out that it's none of my concern how he raises his kid. I agreed that of course it's not, but when it's indicative of how the animal that I'm about to bring into my home, around my kid, has been treated, it becomes my business.

I took my leave in a huff. My husband was lagging behind, most likely mortified. I yelled back "don't you dare apologize for me!" because I just know that's what he was doing. I don't feel I was out of line. I made no judgement on the mother. She may have been having a bad day, we all do. But the fact remains that if you're willing to hit a baby, you probably won't hesitate to kick the dog.

So now, poppets, tell me. Complete and inappropriate over reaction? Justified concern? Could you possibly care less?

Tomorrow....interaction #2!!

Through the garden

Dahlings, it's June!!! It's hot and steamy and everything's growing like a weed, including the weeds. I've been outside quite a bit, pruning, straightening up, trimming, cleaning, mowing, getting my hands dirty and generally being happier than a pig stuck in mud. (How's that for a lovely visual?)

I'm sharing some of my hard work for your viewing pleasure today, mostly because I'm trying the different settings out on my camera and didn't think I should have to suffer alone. I've also been inspired by Ree's garden post, which has some wonderful links on it that have given me some good ideas.




I've been using this to scare small children for years. He's much more effective when sitting on dirt or grass. It looks like he's coming up from underground.

These are some examples of the fine housing I provide for our feathered friends:





Instead of using these, they pick an old stand on the bottom porch and make their nest in the top drawer:
Fountains that work:



And don't:


Purple flowers with small dog:


And without:


Finally, my favorite, the wisteria, which is fading fast:



Hopefully, we'll have some roses and peonies for next time! Out of curiosity, how do you pronounce peony? I say "PEE uh nee", my friend says "pee OH nee", hubs granny says "PIE nee". What's your version?

Growing out the grey: Update

It's been a month so far.

This is not as painless as I anticipated. I have reverse candy corn head, and it ain't pretty. And don't be hatin cause I got such a rawkin robe (inside out, no less!)