Another Hen. A Red Hen.

After The SM had finished building our Gypsy Wagon or Taj Mahal of Poop or what ever we want to call it...... I felt that the space above the door needed something. I knew exactly what it needed.

I emailed my good friend Korrie and asked her for one of her signs. As you can see, she quickly obliged me.

Korrie and I grew up together. In separate towns, so growing up together as best as two girls can with that sort of distance. She lived across the street from my grandmother. No sweeter family could live across the street and care and watch over my grandmother than Korrie's. It just so happens...... my brother made the best and smartest decision in his life when he married Korrie's older sister, who is now my sister too. Our family adores my brother's wife. He couldn't have chosen better.

Korrie is a very talented, artistic, and brilliant lady. She refinishes furniture and when you see her work, it just amazes you! Her blog is called: Red Hen Home. Click on "Red Hen Home" and go and see for yourself. Brilliant I tell ya. Just brilliant.

I Heard it Through the Tomato Vine.........

So, I was rollin' along whistlin' a tune the other day. It was a beautiful day. The sun was out, I was gettin'  sun ripened by the blazing sun... Mindin' my own business naturally.......

Next thing I know! I come across a sight. A spectacular sight that took my breath away and made my heart go to a thumpin'....

It's a baby cupcake hat.  You knew that already right????

It was love at first sight. Couldn't be helped...

Pattern for cupcake hat can be found here.

Rumor has it through the tomato vine that the Mrs. has some time on her hands these days and has got the notion in her head of makin' more baby hats and the likes, and leg warmers, and matchin' sweaters, and is gonna try and sell em.

I hear she's a titch crazy.............

An Opinion. Mine.

I love to dance. Because of where I grew up, the only dancing I did was around the kitchen and out in the fields to my own beat and style. I remember at one point kicking my leg up and next thing I knew I was howling in pain as my ankle bone came into harsh contact with the edge of the kitchen counter. 

Taking part in formal dance instruction wasn't an option living out in the boonies so I twirled my way around the fields for years. When it came time to pick my career for college I knew what I wanted to major in. Dance. Period.

Life and circumstances being what they were, that didn't happen so I still continue to dance around my kitchen and yard to my own beat and style occasionally bouncing off of cabinets and such as I lose my balance and make a fool of myself.  I said I love to dance.  I never mentioned I was graceful.

The SM knows my love of dance so he looks for opportunities to take me on dates to different dance productions.

A few weekends ago, he took me on one such date. When he told me where we were going, I was excited. The talent would be superb. Dancers from the area who have moved onto bigger and much in the lime light careers were coming back to put on a performance. Many of these dancers dance for big name shows and have won page long lists of awards.

One of the great things about the location of this production was that it was in an outdoor theater and we could come an hour before the main show, sit and eat our dinner picnic style, and watch a pre-show of young local dancers.

We found our spot up front and cozied up with our food and each other. Enjoying conversation around mouthfuls of food our attention was brought to the stage as the pre-show began. What beautiful costumes! I couldn't wait to see what such young talent would display for us. Food forgotten, I sat ready, as the dancers found their spots and struck their pose before the music began.

The music began and my stomach immediately wanted to reject what I'd just put in it. I sat and watched beautiful young girls move their bodies in such a fashion that I wondered when they were going to bring out poles for the girls to dance around. The music, inappropriate talked about things these girls ought not to be thinking of at their age, an age where boys still have cooties for heaven's sake! As the girls danced, the audience whistled and shouted out to the girls. Shouting out encouragement.

When the dance was over, I was dumbfounded. There is no way on this earth that I would allow my daughter to participate in such a production.

The next group came on and I looked at The SM and wondered what on earth the parents and the production company were thinking! No older than five years of age. Most younger I would guess, came trouncing onto the stage in a get up that had me stunned. Little girls dressed up to appear like ladies of the night, bloomers that gave the appearance of garters on their thighs, and a dance fit to go with the costume. Little girls!! Innocent little girls pumping their hips and bodies in ways that should have made the audience blush and be uncomfortable.  Instead their was loud whistling, calling out, and clapping. 

Here is where I give my opinion. After the pre-show was over and the real show began, which was tasteful by the way, The SM made the comment, how sad it was that the young girls in the pre-show got louder applause than the main show itself. I sat looking around at the parents of these young girls and wondered how in the world, they thought this was so darling and cute..... and we wonder why our society is crumbling morally. 

The End.  Literally.

The Gypsy Wagon

Several of you have asked about the coop. The gypsy wagon which houses our ladies. Which by the way....... I need your help. I need to come up with a name for our coop. Somehow having a coop that looks like a gypsy wagon for our ladies requires a name.



Original plans for this coop were bought from this site.


I can remember the horrendous job and mess it was cleaning out the chicken coop growing up. I am a lazy person by nature. If I can figure out a way to accomplish a task with as few steps as possible, I'll do it. So, the meaning behind the madness. I want the fertilizer in my gardens. The experiment. Can we make a portable chicken coop that will fit inside my square foot gardens.... Why yes! We can. We built these gardens at the beginning of the summer and had grandiose ideas that they'd be filled with rich dirt and full of abundant plants this fall. Well, the garden boxes were built and then other things took precedence. It's a work/experiment in progress.

There's supposed to be paving stones down in between the boxes and around them too. In a few weeks those will hopefully be put into place.

Where else can you see chicken poo up close and personal?  You're welcome.

This is the first class penthouse apartment where the ladies spend their evenings and hopefully will be laying their precious eggs. That's if they figure out the golf ball I put in there is supposed to trick them into thinking it is an egg and they'll figure out that is where they are supposed to lay........ that's what my reading on the Internet tells me anyhow... we've yet to see an egg...... and the golf ball...... is missing......

So back to the original question, if there was one..... The ladies and I need to know what to call their transportable five star hotel! I'll pick a winner. Who ever wins, will get their fortune told by these ladies. For free!!

They've been telling me mine all week and so far, they've been cluck and cackle on.

Dissolving

Yesterday was INSANE!  No time to miss The Native's.

Today......... 

You Can Take A Girl Out of the Country.......

But.............  You can't take the country out of the girl. 

First day of school for all of The Native's.  It's NUTS!  I get up a half hour before The Native's so I can have some hot water to shower with.  Half hour is up and it is time to start to make the rounds getting them all up for family prayer and then the ragged/rugged race begins.

First Native out the door at 6:45 AM to catch his bus.  Second out the door at 7:30.  Levi catches his bus at 7:35ish.  Next two Native's leave with The SM at 7:40.  Last two I walk to school at 8:30 unless it is the first day of school and Levi's bus is a half hour late and we are sitting outside trying to placate a very  upset child who doesn't do well with A) change and B) late buses!  Since this happened, I ended up taking the little Native's to school quite, as one of their teachers put it, fashionably late!  Like a good ten minutes late!  Carrying Mr. J the last little way because his legs were hurting from having to run/walk so fast so far.

All of The Natives tucked into their schools, it is time for me to run to the high school and then the junior high because somehow, for some reason, I've still not paid for their lunches.  Not before however, I remember that the chickens don't have any water.  So I clean their water hangy thingy drinking thing-a-ma-bob and jump into the truck and whiz off to the schools to pay for lunches.

Lunches paid for, it is time for the 'Marts.  A few last minute school supplies and gifts for upcoming birthdays.  Guess what else the 'Marts has to offer?  Pedicures.  Yeah.  You heard me right.  After my freak-a-zoid morning, I plopped myself down into a chair and told the gal there to give me the works.  Then, and only then, would I think about shopping............. after my toes were all gussied up.

I sat there chatting with another lady about Vegas and culture and......... did I just say Vegas and culture in the same sentence?  She'd taken her grand kids to see "Phantom" in Vegas.  That's where the culture comes in..... don'cha know.

My toes all purdy and my feet feeling all sandpapered and chiseled off from a summer of going barefoot I was ready to put on my shoes and get some shopping done.  The gal doing my toes reached down and picked up one of my flip flops and...............  Yeah.  That would be chicken crap on the side of my shoe. She didn't even bat an eye. She acted like it was an everyday occurrence. People coming in with chicken poo on their shoes.

Turning all sorts of red shades of embarrassment I slapped my shoes on and giggling ran out of that part of the 'Marts dialing my baby sis on the phone......... yet again............  only me.............  No matter how hard I try, I'll always be the one with my skirt tucked up in my panty hose or toilet paper stuck to the bottom of my shoe....

There was a huge chunk of chicken poo on the side of my shoe.  When I got home, it had fallen off which means only one thing.  Somewhere in Wal-Mart there is a big chunk of dried chicken poo probably in the cookie aisle where I spent most of my time wandering up and down trying to decide what kind of cookies I wanted to buy, I mean, Henny Penny wanted for her birthday tomorrow.

The End!

I'm a Freak!

On Monday the realization hit. Some of The Native's start school next week. I have been freaking out ever since. I sat The Native's down and declared this Rubow vacation week. We may not look like we are on vacation but we are. Our house would be our hotel, our kitchen our restaurant, and so forth. I then grabbed a piece of paper, wrote on it, and placed it on our front door.

I am freaking out because this is the last year I have all of The Native's home. This is Mr. B's Senior year. Next year, he will go on a mission for our church and be gone for two years. His brother Mr. T will follow suit a year and a half later and so on. It will be YEARS before we're all together again.

So I freaked out and told The Native's I get them all to myself this week.

We've been busy spending time together. We've spent hours playing board games around the kitchen table.

We spent the day at this place and this is one of the things that we did. I say 'we' loosely. I sat and took photos.

This will be the first time in almost 18 years that I will be home alone during the day.

I should be celebrating and thinking of all the things I'll do with my time.

I'm not celebrating. I'm freaking out.

So if I come across a little snappy and selfish with my time with The Native's over the next year.......

I should apologize but I'm not going to.

I'm a desperate freak of a mother who's chicks are leaving the nest...

and I've got my tail feathers in a real bind.....

I'm having a bad hair year.

The End.