A Myriad of Photos

It is only fitting that the world's longest day be followed by the world's longest photo post, no? I'll make this as brief as possible, but I've identified some shots from the field trip to Woolaroc that I just HAVE to show you!

First up, a better shot of the statue I showed you in the last post:

Second, this glorious stained glass wall on one of the buildings:




I want a stained glass wall like that on my house. Do you think that would be too pretentious? Would the neighbors talk? If they did, it would only be because they were jealous. That's right - I have an entire stained glass wall and YOU DON'T. So there. I do wish I'd seen it from the inside, though.





I am very sad to report that I have no photos of buffalo. It seems the buffalo no longer roam. They lounge. That's right. They lounge around in zoo-like enclosures, which you can only see from the car as you drive past. If I had known, I would have asked the lady driving to slow down so I could snap photos. Of the buffalo. Lying down. Behind their chain link fence. Next to the feed bins. Buffalo don't roam anymore, people. Stupid false advertising.


Instead, these were the types of animals available for photos. There was a baby buffalo in the petting barn, only one day old, but the pictures were awful. As were the ones of the baby burro and llama. These baby goats were cute, though! And guess what? My five boys zoomed through the petting barn fast enough to make one's head spin.

Not fast enough to make these heads spin, though. Have you ever seen chickens like these?
Aren't they the weirdest things ever? What the heck is on their heads? The world may never know.






Moving on ...







This is the front of the museum. All the buildings were contructed of beautiful rock. Maybe it's because we're in Frank Lloyd Wright country, but everything is also very colorful. Don't you just love the blue of the entryway?



Moving on ...



(When I say moving on? Sister, I mean MOVING ON. That's all we did the entire time we were there. I snapped pictures as an excuse to catch my breath without looking like a complete wuss in front of those boys).


From the front of the museum (oh no - we haven't gone in yet) we ran to the lake. Isn't it gorgeous? I wonder if I could get one of those for my house too? Talk about pretentious ... "Hunny, let's go down to the lake today. You know, the one we had put in last summer in the backyard."




Getting to the lake isn't as easy as you might think. Oh no. One has to climb down these:


I'm not much of a climber without a belaying buddy and a harness. Especially not when I'm hauling a camera, purse, everyone's lunch and multiple full water bottles. I am lucky to be alive. Pretty, yes. Easy, no.





Moving on ...



That's exactly what the boys were doing - moving on. With no regard for their supervisor. I'd be on the top yelling for them to wait up and they'd be on the bottom. About the time I'd get to the bottom, they'd be on the top - on the other side! I didn't sign up for Marco Polo, people. Who thinks up these field trips anyway?


And sometimes a boy would break away from the pack and pull a stunt like this one:



I just want to holler, "Get down from there! Your mother would kill you! Do you want to break every bone in your body?!" Then I remember that I'm not his mother. And it's all good. And I go back to snapping pictures. Remembering what's important always helps. Knowing that broken bones are good blog fodder helps, too.







Moving on ...







This was another favorite moment for the boys:

I heard them all hollering somewhere (believe me, it took awhile to find them in the boulder maze) and surprisingly enough, all five boys were still in one spot when I came huffing and puffing around a cliff face, hanging on for dear life, cradling my camera. Look what they'd found! One of the boys asked if I had any salt in my giant bag. How inconvenient that I'd forgotten to pack salt. Wait! If Fred and Bessie had been there we'd have been in great shape. Bummer.

The slug was the last straw for me. Time to go in. Inside is air conditioned. Safe. Easy terrain. Right? Look what met us at the door, just as we walked in. Okay, a lady with VERY flashy rings met us at the door. But we turned a corner and I thought I'd NEVER get the boys to leave. This is the very smallest section of the actual wall. An enormous gun collection. One of the boys wanted to know if they were for sale.


Which takes us to ...


You guessed it! The one place all the boys had been talking about since before we left school that morning. The gift shop! They wanted to touch and buy everything in it, including weaponry, but I was tricky. There was a wall o'rocks and I told them I'd buy them each a rock. They spent ten minutes deciding what kind of rocks they wanted - some got arrow heads, one got fools gold, another a weird, zebra striped rock.


Oh! Speaking of zebras! Did I mention, yesterday, that there were animal heads everywhere? There was a zebra in the gift shop! Check him out!






Moving on ...




I know the boys had been talking about the gift shop all day, but they'd also been discussing one particular display. The shrunken heads. They even went so far as to tell me how this was done, but I'll spare you the details. I think it's enough that I'm sharing the picture, don't you? Aren't they lovely? And yes, they're real people heads. Ew. As we stood and looked at the display, a woman was trying to guess which gender each was.

I'll bet you can guess which gender these are:

Isn't this the prettiest, most pastoral setting? I love it. And the weather was gorgeous. Children frolicking everywhere. The Good Flea about to drop dead from exhaustion. This pond was our last stop.



No moving on. We stay here now. Because I said so. But I got no argument from my five boys.

See?



It just doesn't get any better than this. This is about the time I asked them what they had learned on their field trip and they responded, "Nothing." Ahhh! Life is good.

They've captured quite a few tadpoles here. Three water bottles between them, the challenge being to catch the tadpoles in their hands and transfer them to the bottles as quickly as possible. They were up to the challenge, believe you me. See?


I made them pour them all out before we left. And I had to make sure they stooped and poured from water level, so as not to kill the poor tadpoles. Mama frog don't lay their eggs in waterfalls for nothing, you know.

And that was the end of our day. We walked back to the buses, looking for a trash can for our water bottles and trash (I never did see any recycling bins - don't start!). A good time was had by all. And look! I'd better wrap this up if I want to post while it's still Friday!

Until I write again ...

Flea

The Longest Day Ever

What a long day! And I haven't been reading anyone's blogs! I promise to catch up on you all this weekend, okay?

Woolaroc rocks, you all. I took nearly 300 photos, and half of them were of little boys' backs. I had five boys, including Little Guy, and they ran everywhere, including up and down rocks. Until the last 20 minutes, when they allowed me to snap away while they caught tadpoles. For your viewing pleasures, photos of ten year old boys' backs:

Alright. They're not all of boys' backs. I love this sculpture.


Then there's this one:

Oop! That's boys' backs, isn't it? Sorry. My bad. Let's try this again, shall we? Here:

What? Yes, it's boys' backs, but they're catching tadpoles. Can't you tell?

Okay. Seriously. I'll catch y'all up tomorrow evening. I'm subbing in pre-k again tomorrow, for the same class as last Friday. I just know the little ones can't wait to see my bruise (Beth, I'm sparing you the photo this time), so I'm wearing capris just for them. And leaving my new cell phone in the pocket of my purse. And looking where I'm going at all times.

Speaking of looking where I'm going, do you know how difficult it is to climb up and down steep rocks while carrying a camera, camera case and a large bag full of everyone's stuff? Did I tell you it was a long day? If you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed.

Until I write again ...

Flea

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

Boy howdy did WE ever have our share of excitement last night! See this?

This is a weather radio. Specifically, this is OUR weather radio. Yes, it's a fuzzy weather radio. And it doesn't do a darn bit of good if it's not plugged in.

We had several lines of severe weather come our way yesterday, with the worst sweeping through last night right after 7PM. In fact, my mom called about 6:40 to let me know it was coming, since she knows I don't watch TV. Thank you, Mom! I was keeping an eye on the internet radar, but it's not the same as TV, since I had no idea how bad it was.

Just after seven, and just after the Hunny got home, it all hit. I have to tell y'all, the Hunny is the cutest thing when it comes to emergencies. He ran upstairs to the TV to see the radar, Oatmeal Head turned on the computer to track the radar, I said, to no one in particular, "Where's our weather radio?" It magically appeared. And then the tornado sirens went off.

Well that was when the Hunny kicked into emergency mode. Meaning he paced and panicked in the most adorable way. The kids and I cleared out the closet under the stairs - here it is all put back together (no, people, I'm not posting from a Starbucks somewhere, even thought that WOULD be pretty cool):


We cleared it all out and Little Guy hung out there with the dogs for awhile, talking to one of his friends on my cell phone (yes! it came! I'll show you in a minute), while the Hunny stood at the door listening to the sirens and shushing the rest of us. The sirens would stop and the Hunny would make to go upstairs. I'd call his butt right back down.

All of this was a truncated version of Hurricane Charlie, when we lived in Florida. It was the Hunny's first hurricane and he was about to burst. He'd get all nervous and worked up, then in the worst of it he was dragging the kids outside to watch the transformers blow around town while I'm yelling at him to get them back in. I gave up after awhile. I've since learned to give up much sooner.

The sirens wailed off and on for a good half hour, making us a little nervous at first. Then we were bored. The poor dogs were wild eyed the entire time. I sent Maybelline for the camera so I could photograph the insane wind and rain (and the terrified dogs in the closet), but the Hunny wouldn't let me and take pictures. For Pete's sake, I didn't hear any freight trains! We survived. There was a moment when I think the Hunny and I were both wishing the wind would rip off all the siding so the insurance company would take care of it. Alas. It was not to be. And the kids have long ago learned to be calm in an emergency situation. The most excitement that happens with them is Little Guy worrying about his cat. Otherwise it's all good.

Okay, so this new phone of mine? SLEEK MOTO F-3? LOVE IT!!! Check it out:


I know - it's kinda fuzzy too. But isn't it pretty? The Hunny, who loves his games and features, took one look and had phone lust. I suspect he'd be bored with it inside of two minutes, but it is pretty and sleek - almost nothing to it. And I found an online manual for it in English (the one I received was in Spanish - no habla Espanol).

The screen is way cool! I can read it no matter the angle or lighting. I can text if I want to, but since that costs money, it ain't happenin'. The ring tones are SO MUCH FUN!!! I squishy heart the ring tones - all seven of them. And the menu is very small. BUT! I can set alarms on it if I need to. Yay! So it has everything I need, nothing more, nothing less. And it was 30 bucks plus shipping. How awesome is that? Awesome!

I'll be on a field trip with fourth graders today, visiting Woolaroc. Loving it! It's where the buffalo roam. And I'll probably wave in Mayberry's general direction in passing. Hello Magpie! And wave in the Pioneer Woman's general direction in passing. Hello Ree! And I'll take scads of pictures just to torture you all with! You knew I'd do that, though. The camera's already in the car.

Until I write again ...

Flea

A Little Photo Manipulation

I've been playing at that cheezeberger place again, with old Fred and Bessie pictures (I miss them so!). They aren't coming home, you know. It seems they've requested Dlyn help them on their way to Connecticut to visit a friend who's opened her home. I don't think I have much say in this, sadly. Maybe they'll come home someday.

So to make myself feel better, I've doctored some of their old photos. If y'all haven't read about their adventures at school a month or so ago, it was much fun. You can go here, and here and here. Here's a photo, for all of you who are in the middle of finals, from their day at school:



moar funny pictures

And have I already posted this one?



moar funny pictures

About the interview - the lady I spoke with for an hour or so will be checking to make sure I play well with others (references), and to see if I am an evil degenerate (criminal background check). Then she'd like to start me as soon as possible. Thanks for all your thoughts and prayers. :) And I will not be able to talk about my job here. Sorry.

So if you're out and about in New England and you see my cows, say hi? And if you're taking finals, take a tip from Bessie. Laugh at them!

Until I write again ...

Flea

Your Favorite Tunes

A friend sent me a Tim Hawkins video last night, so I thought I'd post one for you all. This is my children's favorite:



And that's all I've got today. Wait! No. There's more! I have a job interview at eleven CST. It's a part time job, just two nights a week on weekends, for a psych hospital. Sounds like fun, no? I haven't been on a real job interview in years. I'll let you know how things go. If they don't try locking me up. Maybe I should take my laptop in case I can't get home. Dang it! I don't have me new phone yet. Pray for me!

Until I write again ...

Flea

Mystery Meal

Sorry to deviate yesterday. And I had several people ask for the ending to the story. I gave you the ending as far as Greg was concerned, and I don't really care what happens to Scot and Amanda. They're self-centered and co-dependent. Let them self-destruct!

No, this isn't a cooking blog. Never will be. There are only a couple of things I enjoy making in the kitchen, and one of them I made this morning, so I thought I'd show you. But you have to promise that if you have a recipe for it that your family loves, you'll send it to me at fleabyte at gmail dot com. Okay? Please?

I browned up three pounds of ground beef this morning. Yes beef, people. I'm not a huge red meat fan, but I've tried ground turkey for this and it's icky. Only beef will do. See it?






Oh, and I tossed in a chopped sweet onion. Loves me the onion, all translucent in the beef, trading flavors and enhancing everything. Mmmm. Onions are goooood. You don't have to agree. Just go with it, 'k?

So have you guessed yet what I'm making for dinner? No scrolling! You have to guess. It's yummy, and I serve it with Fritos. Probably gave too much away right there. Oh well.

Now you'll guess it for sure. Look at my crock pot and what's in it. Yucky looking, isn't it? I'll show you the cans o'stuff which are floating around in there. I can't wait till I can harvest some of this fresh from my garden!

Okay, it looks icky because I've just been tossing the canned goods in while browning the ground beef and I hadn't stirred it yet. And I added a can of water to the mix. I love my crock pot! Anyone out there give me an amen? And our weather right now is cool and rainy - perfect for this dish! Have you guessed it yet?

Here are the canned goods, and I'm missing one of them (forgot to add it till the last minute):





Appetizing eh?












And here's the finished product. Well, as finished as it's gonna be till dinner time. It's sitting on my counter right now, covered and cooking. I wander in between roofers and gas company service people and stir it some.

Doesn't it look scrumptious? You know what it is now, don't you? Chili! All that fiber and oxy-something or other. Toss a handful of corn chips in a bowl, a couple of scoops of chili, top it with shredded cheddar and a dollop of sour cream - nothing better on a rainy day! And I added chili seasoning, for those of you who get all particular about my leaving things out. :)

Now don't forget - if you have a favorite chili recipe, please send it to me? I'm always in the market for better chili!

Y'all want one last shot of my bruise, right? I'm going to drop it down a bit for the squeamish, so you can stop reading right here if you have trouble looking at this kind of thing. I mean it. Right here. Stop. Now. No scrolling if you have a weak stomach!

*******************************

*******************************

*******************************

*******************************

*******************************


It's fuzzy, I know. Sorry. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to photograph the top of one's own shin? And it's not very colorful anymore, so I'm guessing this will be the last picture. And it's about time!


Until I write again ...

Flea

Allergic to Weddings

The following is an entry to the May Write Away contest at Scribbit. My thanks to Daisy, at Compost Happens, for the heads up on the contest.

“What do you mean you’re allergic to weddings?” Scot asked best friend, Greg. “You can’t be allergic to weddings! There’s no such thing as a wedding allergy. What’s going on, dude?”

“What do I wear on my feet?” asked Greg.

“Well that’s a stupid question. Relevance?”

Greg looked Scot straight in the eyes while kicking him in the leg. “What do I wear on my feet, moron?”

Scot looked down, still puzzled, at Greg’s bare feet. He thought for a moment. No shoes today. But they were in Greg’s dorm room. Greg never wore shoes in the dorm room. Or socks. What DID Greg wear on his feet? He gave it another moment before remembering that this conversation was not about feet. “Greg, I don’t give a rat’s butt what you wear on your feet. I want you to be my best man and the wedding’s in three months …”

“I know that, dude.”

“… I want you to be my best man. Amanda’s breathing down my neck about getting the wedding party together and getting her names …” Scot took a breath. It felt rehearsed.

“Amanda’s always on you about everything, man.”

“… ANYWAY – will you be my best man? You’re my best friend and I don’t want anyone else standing next to me on the big day.” Exhaling, Scot glared at Greg.

“Dude, what do I wear on my feet already? Answer me that before I say yes or no.” Greg wasn’t backing down on this. Scot nearly turned to leave, angry, frustrated, ready to find a new best friend.

“Greg, I have no idea what you wear on your feet. I’ve only seen you barefoot. How about if I check your closet? Would you like that? Or under your bed?” Scot could feel the sarcasm dripping from his lips. Not the way to talk a friend into something. “I mean, I could probably tell you what moles you have and how many hairs are on your big toes, but I don't remember seeing a single pair of shoes on your … ooohhhhh.” Understanding dawned in Scot’s eyes, shadowed by sadness. Then his voice hardened. “Do you mean to tell me that you won’t be in my wedding? That we’ve been best friends all the way through college and you won’t be in my wedding because of SHOES?!? You’re crazy!”

Still toe to toe with Scot, Greg smiled slowly, waiting for Scot to calm down. It had been clear from the beginning of Scot's relationship with Amanda that Greg didn’t like her, didn’t like the short leash she kept. Counting slowly backward from 20, Greg stared and waited before speaking.

“I am allergic to shoes. Really. Can’t wear ‘em. Why do you think I live in freakin’ Miami? I’m a redhead and I burn, never go in the sun, hate getting sand where the sun DON’T shine. It’s so I can go barefoot year round.”

“I always thought …”

“Dude, you never asked,” Greg continued. “Is this whole thing set up already? Tell Amanda that you’re getting married at the beach and everyone will be barefoot. Chicks dig that whole barefoot beach wedding thing.”

There it was. The reaction Greg was waiting for. Confusion, then understanding, then excitement, then ... then fear.

“Amanda will never go for that. This is the wedding she’s waited her whole life for. She has it planned to the letter. If I suggest that now, she’ll take my head off.” Scot was actually shaking now.

“Then find a new best man. If she really loves you, she’ll do this for you. It’s your wedding too.” Greg was done. What he wouldn't give to be a fly on Scot's wall tonight. There’d be fireworks for sure.

Scot, looking whipped and frustrated, turned to leave. “Allergic to weddings, huh?” he asked over his shoulder. “I’ll let her know you said that. She told me you’d say no. I’ll get back to ya about the beach. Thanks for being straight up with me.”

Watching Scot go, Greg chuckled to himself, got out his Nike’s and prepared to for his afternoon run.