Potato Cannon.....or Happy New Year!

Happy New Year!!!!
Last X-mas, my brother-in-law, gave my "little boy" a book called Backyard Ballistics. OY!
This summer he built the POTATO CANNON, invited a friend over to blast it in the back 40, and the video speaks for itself! There was mention at X-mas-time of setting it off on New Year's Eve, which will take place here in less than 2 hours. So far, he's not mentioned it. One can only wish he's forgotten....hopefully it'll just be banging on pots and pans, and a toast of sparkling cider to the New Year. So, watch the little flick and have a Happy New Year!

MORE Look of the Day?!?!

Well, it's officially Winter in the UP Country!
And that is my only defense against this craziness!
To my dismay, my daughter seems to be taking after my relative cousin of Jackie O! Without prior knowledge of the previous Murder Hour Post, my daughter arrived downstairs this a.m. in this get up!
I'm fit to be tied. Winter time, or does It run in the family? Either way, I'm bound to suffer this outrageous fortune!
SCARY!!!!!!!!!

Look of the Day!

Ok, ok! Sick of looking at BAMBI, eh? How 'bout the look of the day?
This is a photo of a relative, you might even say a "cousin
of Jackie O"! Gray Gardens, anyone?
I don't think I'll be hearing any more complaints about the blog pic anytime too soon....eh?
PS : I got a million of 'em!

Getchah Deah?

So, I go outside my son's school the other day, and MUCH to my surprise (shock & horror!), I walked right upon this scene! Now, talk about The Murder Hour! WOE! Very strange, indeed! For as long as I have lived here, in the Northeast, it's been a joke of my family's to ask one another during hunting season (which is upon us), "Didjah getchah deah?", in our best New England speak. Hunters, and there's no shortage, will seriously ask one another if they "got their deer". Well, someone did. And it's a trophy worth putting in the trunk and driving around town with, eh? I don't get it. I also don't get hanging them up in trees in front of your house to let them drain, couldn't this be done in the privacy of your barn or other outbuilding?
Why in the dooryard? I suppose it's the same reason one would trunk it, and drive it far and wide! "See! I got my deah!" Face it, it's gross! And with VERY few exceptions, WE don't want to see the bloody carcasses displayed in the trunks of cars, hanging in the trees, or lying about willynilly on a parking lot! Stop it.
Enough said?

...and the Hookah Smoking Caterpillar has given you the Call..

This is a photo that I have chased down for years! I have stopped at this smoke shop several times over the last 2 years trying to take a decent photo of this 10 foot Hookah Smoking Caterpillar and the photos have never worked out, so again I stopped last weekend and finally got a pic I could live with.
This particular statue is a good hour drive away and I don't think about it until I'm in the neighboring town and then I usually only have my camera phone, and the natural lighting is never working in my favor! My family is sick of hearing about the damn thing, as I said we have stopped on several occasions, sometimes twice in one trip. Of course my kids don't get the reference but my husband and I sing the song, and "go ask Alice, when she's ten feet tall"!
So, now my quest is done, and there will be no more stops to take a picture, but-just to piss off the kids- we'll still be singing the song!

Better than Trogdor... (or Strange Days, Indeed!)

This is what happens when I give my children watermelon...(also known as vatermelo to the Koenigs). Yep, it's tasty good, but the fun doesn't stop there! This creature was named, "Better Than Trogdor". Some of you may know the reference, and that is all I have to say about that.
This week school is finally in full swing, and each of my kids have said things that have made me have to "Post it-or Lose it"
My son, getting ready for his first day got up at 5am (no kidding!), took a shower, made us both lunch, and then spent another hour honing "THE LOOK". While preening, I reached over to fix his collar, and he says, "Hey- don't _uck up the get up!" A laughing fit ensued. Later that day, while looking at where his hair was parted, he said, "What do you think about this part? Too Ronald Reaganish?" Yet another fit of laughter!
Now for my daughter. She was doing a bit of Family Tree homework , and after finishing the first page (which consisted of her own sibling, parents, and grandparents) she turned to the second page which was now asking for FULL names and date of birth for Aunts & Uncles. (SIGH) It was then she realized what that would mean for her and her hand(which was already going into writer's spasms)!
"You have too many siblings, mom! You're family is driving me CRAZY!"
My reply? , "Oh they're good at that! Just look at me!".
Insightfully funny, that child!
She finally finished writing all the information down on my 7 siblings, and hopes never again to have to think about it! (me, too!) HAR!

That time of year

Ok, it's September. This photo was taken last year while waiting for the bus.
I am feeling nostalgic, as my son has moved onto high school, and my daughter will wait for the bus with her best friend. No more quarreling over who gets what seat on Stump Henge (see previous post).
No more vivid descriptions (with voice) of the bus driver du jour.
I think this is the year that my kids will grow apart (not having a day to day shared experience), and I am sorry for that. On the other hand, I won't miss the bickering.
And, who knows, this may make them talk to each other on a different level.(one can only hope!)
I will also miss the opportunity to get photos like this. Can't make this stuff up!

No Day at the Beach

It was my son's 14th birthday. He invited a couple of friends out on his boat to celebrate(his dad, sister & I followed on another boat, lest we have bedlam).
Things were going along at a great pace, when it was time to go aground for the picnic lunch.
I don't know if it was hunger induced, or what, but as soon as we tied up and carried the stuff to shore, one of my son's friends harpooned him!
I had the camera in hand and quickly snapped off this shot right after the offense! It was brutal. Completely unprovoked! And worst of all - who would drive this creep home, now? He had speared the captain of the vessel!
Ok, that's not at all what this picture is about, but you can see the possibilities,eh?
My (floating) son? Goggles on, and checking out the bottom of the boat. His friend? Checking out the mooring hook.
No, things aren't always as they appear. Even photographs can be misleading.
Remember, people...boating, like life, can be dangerous!
Neither is REALLY a Day at the Beach!

The Nose

Ok, no sooner had I posted the last entry, when I had a request to see the afore mentioned nose.
So, I get out the camera , line up the shot, take it, download it, put it on this page (pant!) and it is only then that I realize that the Hulk hand is in the shot, too!
Before I get another request to explain THAT, I will qualify the Hulk hand only by saying, "Don't ask"!
Enough said......really!
And the nose? Well, it's not as plain as the one on your face, but it's there. Something smells Hulky!

The Trees Have Eyes

Every time I stand at my kitchen sink, this is the view that stares back at me.
My sister sent me this tree face (which originally had a nose and mouth complete with stuck out tongue) for Christmas. She sent it to my neighbor, had my husband pick it up, and stealthily attach it to the tree right out side my kitchen window on X-mas eve.
Christmas morning the horror was evident, as I screamed upon seeing it.
As the months have passed the nose has made itself a home on a stray nail next to the front door (which is a picture in itself!)and the mouth/tongue are floating around the house somewhere...
All that is left are the eyes! The EYES! Staring me down every time I take to the sink! Even the tree has retaliated by oozing sap from the left eye. It's appearance, that of crying, mocking me. The "eye lids" are amazingly detailed to look like the bark of the tree, so much so, that one might believe they just grew there.
Here, I need to thank my sister for her thoughtfulness. And I do! But, damn, if you were trying to give me a complex, then success is yours!
CREEEPY!!!!!!!!

The Water Feature

On a visit to the Middle West this spring, I had the pleasure of hanging out with a cousin I had not seen in years. We talked about being home owners and all that that brings to your life (bills, back-breaking work, fun ideas).
I told her about the "LOVELY" drain system that the previous home-owner had rigged up, and although it was efficient, it truly lacked any creativity. My cousin (being a self-proclaimed HGTV fanatic) said I ought to put a fish on the end of the pipe, so that it would drain from it's mouth. I could see that, but where to find the fish?
When I got back home I did find the perfect fish at my local RENY'S store . It was a copper watering can in the shape of a fish (and oh- so reasonably priced!). I brought it home and half an hour later, the WATER FEATURE was up and running!
I hope the pictures do it justice.
Thanks Kathleen!

It is done...

Finally, and with MUCH ado, my son doth graduate!
Someone asked if he was ready to go to High School; his reply," I'm ready to have a summer!"
He is very insightful!
Now, if I could just get him out of bed in the a.m. I'm sure he'd have a great summer.
Here's to you, A !

Tooth : Hurty!

OUUCH!

I am in pain...as you can see from the size of those roots!
The dentist told me to bring this home to frighten the kids into brushing.
I think that being a Dentist requires a sadistic gene, of sorts. At the very least a mild pleasure at the discomfort of others.
I sat in the chair yesterday shaking violently from start to finish, and when the hygenist told me to take the cup and rinse I spilled it all over the place. Shake -Shake -Shake.
I'm surprised the Dentist was able to get those pliers on the correct tooth!
Yes, I said pliers.
I saw them coming, and I tried to remember what my daughter said,
"Just don't think about it". And instead I thought about my daughter's day, which included a school field trip and going to her best friend's house after school.
"You're going to feel some pressure" , the Dentist said.
YANK! CRACK! The first root was out.
"How we doin'?"
"IINE" , I lied. SHAKE-SHAKE.
"You're going to hear a crack. I just have to lean on it a bit more".
(WHY must I get a play by play? Just do it already!)
CRACK!!!!! He was right.
"One more and we're done. Still doin' fine?"
"AHUH"( I'm delerious at this point, are you talking to me?)
"Ok....A-N-D- (Yoink, pull, twist, pull some more!) Take a breath (Y-O-I-N-K)!"
No room for a breath, what with the water sprayer, suction hose, cotton batting, 2 pairs of (gloved) hands, and...don't forget the pliers!
And with a last twist and another yoink, I was now the owner of one gaping hole in my gum!
(Did I mention this was a cautionary tale?)
So, there. All of the worry is over, and I can avoid the dentist for another 5 years!

HELP!

I am having oral surgery today.
It will be in office, without good drugs. Novacaine only, and I am driving myself.
To say that I'm scared only touches the surface. I would rather give birth than go to the dentist. I have had too many bad experiences.
My daughter told me to "just not think about it",

words of wisdom from a child who loves her dentist (whose name is ironically Dr. Slaughter!) (THE DENTIST! Not the child!)

When I was a kid, my sister swore that the doddering old fool who pretended to be our dentist once looked in her ear and said, "OOH,
that doesn't look good!". I remember that he smelled, and gave novacaine as an after thought. All the fillings he put in have long since been either root canalled, pulled, or root cannalled unsuccessfully and then pulled.
I'm scared!
So, if you're reading this before 2:30 (tooth:hurty!) CST.(appointment is @ 1:30 EST.), please hold a good thought in your head for me, as I will be in pain and tears and the pulling of teeth!

Farewell to Cinnamon

This is Cinnamon. My 9 yr. old daughter's hamster. She (? - we called her a "she" at my daughter's request - who knew?) came to live with us back in December. A wonderful Christmas surprise, until she started biting (the hamster! not the daughter!)!
In the last few months, March and April, she bit my girl no less than 4 times and drew blood on 1/2 of those occassions. Nasty little bugger!
My son started referring to Cinnamon as "the evil, blood sucking, rodent", which was not far off the mark. Cinnamon was a whole lot less fun and considerably more toothy. So much so, that she chewed the clasp off her cage that kept it shut and a hole through the bottom of her food cup. Wouldn't touch the nice pieces of cherry wood that we put in the cage for her to nibble. No, I believe Cinnamon had turned the corner. She knew she was on her way out. So she gnashed anything she could (People included!) get her teeth on, as her way of saying, "Screw this, I'm dying here, anything is fair game!"
We had tears, and "remember when?" stories, and finally a ceremony to bury Cinnamon (kind of a Cinnabury-sorry I just couldn't help myself!). We buried her right in our own pet cemetary in the yard (hey, we live in Stephen King country, would you expect any less?) where Paco, Benny, and several goldfish (most named Goldie) rest. At the end of it all my daughter said she wanted a hamster break. No more, for now.
Ah, Cinnamon we hardly knew ye!
And you?
Well, ye heartily chewed me!

Welcome to the Manhouse...

This is a photo of yet another unfinished project we have sitting on the property. I refer to it as the Manhouse. To be fair, this picture was taken some months ago, and there is now a wall across the front. My son loves this picture and refers to it as "the lifesize Diarama. Complete with life-like (emphasis on LIKE) person".
I started calling it the Manhouse, much to the chagrin of my husband. When we went to visit his family at X-mas there was much talk about the Manhouse and I even had them referring to it as such! But the coup came when my husband gave in and said, "I am putting a small woodstove in the Manhouse"! Up until that point he tried to call it a shed. HAR (as in, har-d- har, har)!!!
I see the Manhouse as an escape. A little house of his own, for my husband. Originally he said it was his tool shed, but with the addition of the hopeless slack-ass chair (one step up from the Lazy Boy), the woodstove, insulation, and cold beer, he's built himself a true 4 season Manhouse!
Now if I could just get him to find a way for it to bring in some cash, you know, rent it out as a retreat. It works for him!
So, contact him. Rents are reasonable. There's even a skylight.
Book early and often! Welcome to the Manhouse!

Man, I'm Beat....

This is a photo of one of my relatives. I have no idea what year this was, but it was QUITE some time ago. She and I share the same name, but I was told at age 11 (when I asked to have guitar lessons) that "Girls don't play guitar!", and that was the end of that. At age 11 I did not know about this distant relative, or this photo , or I certainly would have stuck it in my father's face and said, "EH, what?"
At about the same time my musical endeavors were SQAUSHED, I asked the priest in religion class why girls could not be "servers" on the altar at mass. He encouraged me to write a letter to Rome and ask the Pope. I penned that letter and after having all the other girls in the class sign their names next to mine, and having the priest read it , we sent it off to Rome (of course the priest supplied the address) we awaited the most holy answer.
About a month later, I find myself and all my girl classmates in a room awaiting the WRATH of the pricipal (and she - fiesty little nun- is NOT your PAL!). I get called up to explain myself, and told that I should never question the Pope, and who did I think I was and how I had embarrassed the school, the town, the state, America in general, and... that my penmanship was atrocious! Where was that priest that had been all supportive? No where to be seen, and when I finally did see him and questioned why he wasn't there to stand up for me...he simply laughed in my face.
I didn't know at the time that priests were molesting altar boys, and the answer to why girls weren't allowed had a whole lot less to do with church dogma and more to do with preists BEING dogs.
I am sad that I don't know how to play a musical instrument, and I try to channel this distant relative to perhaps give me some of what she had. Guts, freedom to choose, individualism!
All the things the catholic church tried to stamp out of me. When people say that they are recovering Catholics, I have to laugh. There is no recovery. Only time and the wisdom that comes with that to understand things differently.
Hey, girls do play guitars.............................