Tough Old Lazy Boy

Rah Rah and I have been saving, planning and dreaming about our upcoming European adventure for over a year. Rome, Sicily, Athens, Crete, and even a little stop in Turkey to set foot in Asia Minor. Eight more days and we will be off on our jet planes and sipping wine along side the Tiber River. I can hardly wait. Nothing could hold us back from this.

 Well, except for a little trip to the Urgent Care I suppose...

Call it fate.

After finishing a game of Trouble with the kids, I stood up quickly and turned to take the old game's box into the kitchen for a little tape repair. I miscalculated my steps and before I even knew what happened I walked right into Handy Man's old Lazy Boy. I am not talking about grazing it either. My right foot slammed into the chair and all I heard was a crack and soon I felt a wave of pain rush over me.

Catching my breath, containing a few choice words and trying not to cry like a baby, I did my best to shake off the throbbing pain.

I absolutely HATE stubbing my toes.

Aside from stepping on a Lego, it's probably the worst pain imaginable.

I sat out the rest of the night with a boo-boo bunny on my foot.

Around midnight, I awoke to the sound of Mr Blue Eyes wandering the house, in the dark. I got up to put him back to bed and the minute my feet hit the ground - shooting, knee weakening pain. I scooped Mr Blue Eyes up, gave him a little pep talk to return to his interrupted slumber and limped back to bed just in time before I passed out.

Yep, passed out. Not the exhausted kind but the light headed, clammy, knock out kind. I am super woman in an emergency, honorary veterinarian when it comes to the horses, but a complete emotional wreck when I am hurt. A wimp. Pansy. An embarrassment to those who know me.

I once passed out for slamming my finger in the door.

Total wimp.

In the morning was the same story. I started my shower and then had to turn the water off and lay on the cool bathroom floor for about ten minutes before I could muster the nerves to stand and take a shower.

Pathetic.

After thirty minutes laying back in bed with wet hair, and ice pack and Tylenol on board, I was finally woman enough to start my day.

I limped around the house trying to wrangle the kids and get them ready. The last thing on my to-do list every morning, before we leave the house to start our day, is to feed horses... I completely dreaded feeding horses. I cowgirl'd up and out the door in my flip flops I hobbled. I stopped short of the patio when I realized that Handy Man had already set the timer on our new sprinkler system we had just installed.
And they were on.
On, right between where I was standing, the gate, and the barn.
On...
I did not know how to turn them off.
I had zero patients today.

I threw all of my humility out the window as I hobbled towards the gate. I studied the sprinkler timing for a few seconds and then went for it... at a slow, limping pace. I was inevitably caught between two sprinklers at the same time. Soaking me from the waste down as I continued to hobble and limp to the gate. Muttering profanities under my breath.

After limping to push a wheelbarrow out to the horses - cue whip in hand to beat off ravenous beasts - I was forced to once again trudges at a molasses pace through the gauntlet of sprinklers. 

Today was a wonderful day!

A few hours later, I stared the doctor down as she told me I in fact had a hairline fracture to my little middle toe. After she left, a very young nurses aid came in and offered to buddy wrap my two toes and stabilize my foot so I could be on my way. As she began to describe the "walking boot" she was about to fit me with, I shut 'er down, shook my head and said, "NOPE! That is NOT going to work!" Taken back - perhaps I was a little too brash - she then offered me a post surgery shoe. I nodded in approval and ended up with this... 

Off I went to prop up the old middle toe with some ice.

The shoe is ridiculous to walk in.

The buddy tape job lacked any form of real support. I might have scared the poor girl and she was afraid to make it too tight. On my way home, I knew I would be re-wrapping my toes with the help of a little vet-wrap from my equine first aid kit.

I mean the gauze was hanging out everywhere... one little, dinky piece of tape (that probably cost me $85)come on?!?!

Once removed, I could see just how swollen and purple my little tootsie roll was getting.

So much for getting a pedicure before I leave on my cruise...

I guess will just have to spend the $35 on wine to take the edge off the pain I'll be in after walking all day in Rome.

I retrieved my supplies.

And a few seconds later...

...we were good to go.

A few pillows, a boo-boo bunny stuffed in the end of my sock and I was ready to kick back and relax.

It's going to be a long week paired up with my new orthopedic shoe.

But come hell or high water I will NOT let a little toe keep this girl down!

Italy!!! Here I come!

No Gas

You do it.
No, you do it.
Did you do it yet?
I thought you were going to do it.
I meant to do it.
Dang it, i didn't do it.

I'm on the losing end of the propane battle.

Meet Connely

My sitter was out of town last weekend which meant I had school duty for my Brown Eyed Girl. I had to remember to pack her lunch, prepare a water bottle, grab her backpack... all out of my normal routine. I have to be honest, I feel a little out of place when I have school duty. All of the mom's visit and chat about their kids while wearing gym pants and running shoes. I feel like I stick out like the elephant in the parade. 

Part of me might be a little jealous. 

Instead, I rush into school, sign my daughter in, kiss her goodbye and tell her to have a great day, and then rush right back out the door. No chatting, visiting, hanging around as the class starts.

When I picked her up from school that Thursday, the teacher presented me with my Brown Eyed Girls backpack and a canvas bag. My first thought was that my sitter's daughter had forgotten something earlier in the week and she was just sending it home with me. I asked.

I was wrong.

The teacher smiled and said, "This is Connely. It's your weekend." Still smiling as if I should know who Connely was.

I am pretty sure I had the most clueless expression on my face as I asked, "Connely???"

"Yep! Connely. He's a monkey. The class has had him for nine years. Take him home have an adventure and document it in his journal. See?" She sang with glee. 

"Uh...o...okay. Sure. Connely. Okay." I tried to smile. No doubt fear in my eye overruled.

OMG! Our first homework assignment. 

Let the good times begin.

I made a mental note for the weekend - don't forget the darn monkey. I got this. This will be great!

Meet Connely.

Unfortunately Fortunately, we had a busy week planned since the sitter was out of town. Lots to do. Lots of potential for documenting.

Connely, we live on a small farm. Get ready for a cowboy adventure weekend! Starting with getting hay tomorrow morning. Hope you are ready.

In the morning, we drove to Plattville for hay. The kids and Connely sat in the car while I loaded 84 really heavy bales of Alfalfa on the flatbed trailer. Once we were done, we headed home and posed with some pictures with Connely.

Mr Blue Eyes had to be in every shot. 

We were off to a great start. Perfect material for the journal!

...and then Saturday slipped away. Out of sight. Out of mind.

Sunday Morning, my Brown Eyed Girl drug Connely out of her room when she woke.

Ahhhh the monkey! Shoot. 

Impromptu blueberry muffins for breakfast. Connely, grab a bowl.  

Documentation complete.

Excited again about Connely, my Brown Eyed Girl asked if we could take Connely out to ride PC. Good idea!

Jackets and rain boots on over jammies and out to the barn we went to feed the horses.

Connely got to meet Miss Kitty.

And Skip.

And the rest of the horses.

My Brown Eyed Girl was most excited to introduce Connely to her favorite horse, PC.

Connely was so excite to meet PC that when we asked him if he wanted to ride her he smiled big and jumped right on.

He even rode side saddle.

But his favorite horse was actually Henry - the burro. 

I felt really good about our home work assignment.

Then Monday slipped away.

God bless a snow storm on Tuesday because I completely forgot to get the pictures printed and document our adventure in Connely's Journal.

Then Tuesday slipped away.

Then Wednesday came and at 3:30 pm I freaked out at the office and realized I STILL had not printed the pictures out for the journal. I went online for an SOS option and jumped for joy when I found out you could email Walgreens photos and have them ready in an hour.

I picked up the kids, picked up our photos and headed home to complete our homework assignment.

A glass of wine and an hour later...

Ahhh nothing like a little procrastination!

Working On Green

There is a laundry list of DIY home improvement projects that Handy Man and I are just itching to complete in our new house. Mother Nature is teasing us a little with all of these warm days we have been having (well will the exception of the last two days where the temperature hasn't risen above 30'.) Spring is here!

We now have a beautiful yard with many trees.

 

 

Unfortunately, the previous owners made it 22 years with out a sprinkler system. Handy Man and I have no idea how they did it. 

Last Friday night, I knew I was in trouble when I came home and saw this...

Dashes of orange paint all over my lawn. 

This could only mean one thing... Handy Man had an itch and the sprinkler system was just around the corner. He probably got home from work and barely laid his stuff on the counter before he ran outside like a kid in a candy shop laying out his master plan. 

Everywhere I looked... more dashed orange lines.

 

Handy Man is anal retentive a perfectionist when it comes to his "little projects" - even though by the dashes across my lawn, I am guessing this is no small undertaking.

A perfectionist...

Hmmm... I am not sure what his master plan is here.

Or here...

I wonder if he got lost?
Or sneezed...

And what exactly is this going to be?

24 hours later...

 Handy Man had rented a trencher and was destroying my yard.

This soon became...

this.

He was completely in heaven.

 

I wonder how long my yard will look like this?

First Signs of Spring

The sun is shining. The birds are chirping. The days are growing longer. Warmer weather is moving in. Spring is just around the corner.

When we lived at our little house on the prairie, the first signs of Spring were the daffodils. As soon as I saw those beautiful little yellow buds I knew Spring was here. Unfortunately, our new house lacks spring flowers. I am going to change that!

For this year, I will settle on my other most reliable source of Spring thanks to my equine family.

A horse woman knows it is Spring when shedding season arrives. It's about the only time I have to worry about being trampled when holding a curry comb or shedding blade. The horses see a brush of any sort in my hand and they come running, begging me to relieve them of their itching winter coats. 

My sweet old girl, PC, amazes me every year. This mare never grew a very good winter coat when she was younger. But as the years pass by, she impresses me every winter with the increased thickness and length of her winter coat.

PC was first in line when she spotted the shedding comb. I had my work cut out for me. Nothing like a good arm workout.

Within seconds all of the horses started lining up around me waiting for their turns. Jack unfortunately picked a spot down wind. 

I am pretty sure I could build a whole new horse out of this first shedding day. Amazing! Calling all birdies. Perfect nesting liner free for the taking.

Fix-it Craftmanship

We have finally been feeling a touch of spring this week after what seemed like back to back snow spells. (I am not complaining, we need the moisture desperately.) The longer days and warmer weather is a blessing in more ways than one. When we get home in the evenings, the kids would rather stay outside playing with Miss Kitty, soaking up every last drop of sunlight before coming inside.

The other day, Mr Blue Eyed drug the rescued big wheel out of the garage to take it for a spin. Out of the corner of my eye I watched him struggle with the bike and a feeling of nostalgia washed over me. 

It was the sight of a daddy's fix-it craftmanship.

It was the sight of jet black, electrical tape.

My wonderful Handy Man had cut two small pieces of 2x4's and taped them to the pedals of the rescued big wheel.

My heart melted as I remembered all of the things Grandpop had fixed for me as a child by way of shiny, smooth, jet black electrical tape.

It must be a sex-linked chromosome thing.

I used to think it was just an Eveleth thing.

Maybe it's too many episodes of Macgyver.

God bless daddies and black electrical tape!