In the Words of Turtle Man, "Live Action"

It has certainly been an interesting week over at Casa de Rambo and Honey Badger. Our backyard is becoming somewhat of a death trap for any animals that dare venture into our yard. So here's our latest family activity in a nutshell.

If you are a PETA supporter, I am sorry if this offends you. If you could ever believe me, I am actually a friend of animals. I have saved everything from cats to birds to lizards to turtles and much more. I cried so hard when my pet fish jumped to its death out of his bowl when I was in high school. I wore black for a week as I mourned my great loss. And,  of course, there was a proper, formal burial and beautiful words were spoken in memory of Prince Valliant. I just happend to marry someone that has an equivalent hunting passion to Ted Nugent. Opposites attract?

Anyway, as Rambo embarked on his evening tradition of shooting something, I happend to be in the kitchen putting up dinner while Gigi ate her leftovers she threw from her high chair on the floor. Everything was going great until I spot this precious little squirrel frolicking in the grass. As soon as I saw it, I knew we had trouble. He decided to go for that squirrel that he claimed was "eating his sprinkler"" (see picture). I decided it is bc he feel inadequacy as a predator with the coon failure. BUt, as soon as I saw that look Rambo gets in his eyes that meant "I am a man. I will kill", I knew that poor squirrel was doomed. He made Gigi and I stop moving as he slowly set up his phone to film the mutany. Once his video was up and going he grabbed his pellet gun and scoped in the squirrel. He misses. HAHAHAHAHA. The squirrel heads for the tree and I am cheering him on to freedom and a long life.  Well, it was short lived. Shot number two and that squirrel was like a pinball in a pinball machine going from branch to branch until it reached a silent fall on to the ground. RIP.

If you look behind the bush, towards the back of the pic, you can see the little furry friend trying to drink some water from the sprinkler.

 

Rambo in Action. Look at that smile of victory on his face.

 

RIP, little Squirrel

Well, the unfortunate (and fortunate) part of this expedition was he actually got a 4 min video of the live action. But, thankfully he erased it bc all you could really see was me chasing him outside with the spatula asking him "what the bleep was wrong with him" and him responding "I am a man" and I said, 'then after you're done being man in the yard, be a man and take out the bleepin trash for once." Along with some other few choice phrases and ridiculous commentraty where he calls him self Ted Nugent and says "This is America, I am American..." Blah blah blah. The usual.  I was on edge. It was only day 2 of the Jesus fast. I was in full honey badger mode. Cut me some slack.

So you may think that the story ended her. Well, it most certainly did not. Today, Gigi and I are driving and I see three hawks circling the neighborhood. One time a hawk attacked my sister's dog and it would not get out of its cage or like 2 weeks. Traumatized. They are vicious. I immediately feared for my precious tortoise but then remembered he has a shell and weighs like 10 pounds... HE would be okay in his bunker. After pulling over the side of the road and doing a few bird calls to get the hawks' attention to try and get a pic of one of them, the leader swoops into the neighbo'rs tree and goes for another darn squirrel.  Seriously. Squirrels do not stand a chance in Bel Meade. Some terrible noises started coming from the tree so we drove off. I am so excited to tell Matt that I finally saw 3 of the phantom hawks that he never sees. HE quickly rains on my parade and tells me that they were buzzards going for the dead squirrel he threw in grandma's yard. Ugh. I still maintain they were totally hawks.

Beware, friends, these birds are like predatorial maniacs.

Good news at the end of this somewhat of a rambling story is, I think it is illegal to shoot hawks (probably buzzards too) so we are safe there. As for coons, squirrels, grackels- you have been fairly warned. 107 W Brandon is a death trap.

I'm thinking of checking out ebay to see if I can buy some of these in bulk for my backyard.

Follow-Up

Well, my Jesus Fast is halfway over, which is a good thing b/c I almost went over the edge last night and had FROYO. My council members talked me down and I stayed true to my 7... sort of. I got grief for eating an ENTIRE bag of frozen edamame for dinner. Hello, it is a soy BEAN, people. Beans were on my list. Just because I am from San Antonio does not mean that I am limited to refried beans. Anyway, enough of that. I have been very testy since this whole deal started and drastic times call for drastic measures. That would include eating Gigi's apple sauce squeeze food.

So, now to the real question at hand... Ombre hair.

As I write this, thoughts are whirling through my head... this has been the biggest internal conflict on image since I decided to defy my parents and got my cartlidge pierced when I was 18. Man, I wanted it sooooo bad for years, but I knew how much my parents (MOM) hated it. What did I do? Went up to Boston and got it done the 2nd day I was there. But man, this one is even more serious, because I have reached the crossroads into adulthood and I have my own daughter that will probably get her cartlidge and belly button pierced much to my dismay one day (hopefully I will be unimpressed, although at this point I am not mature enough to admit that I will be...). We get to this defining moment. Jessica Biel, Kristen Wiig, Beautiful ombre hair. For those of you who know me well, you know my long love affair with tye dye. I mean I probably would marry it. I would wear it every day if I could. Well, here is the solution. "Tye dye" my hair. Then technically I could wear it every day. Now this conflict is 2-fold. A. Is it necessary to dye my hair ombre? and B. Is that where I should be spending my money. But, I REALLLLLLY want it.

So, I need your input. DO I do it, own it, and rock it like no other? Mary B- you know you are my inspiration after the RAD DIY job you did to your's last year. Annie O- You are my peer pressure and inspired me once again to reconsider.

Do I take the plunge? If so, who wants to do it to me? I do not think I can bring myself to paying like $150 bucks on my hair. I get my hair cut once a year. At Fantastic Sam's. I sit at red lights now and pull my grey hairs out instead of dying them so I think going to a salon is out for me. So in my 2-fold crisis, at least I am making one mature decision and not paying an arm and a leg for it? Right?

After much contemplation and soul searching, I received a text from my sister that read as this: "911- I will call you at lunch. I just googled ombre hair. Just don't do anything drastic before we talk."
She then proceeded to call me, but I did not have the strength to answer and argue my point b/c at that point in the day I had only eaten 2 hardboiled eggs and a toddler squeeze food.

So, I am defitely a no on the liquid leggings. That is one mature decision. As my Aunt and Mother put it, "you have to have bird legs to wear those things". Let's just say that one would maybe use another animal to describe my legs... Don't worry, I am completely confident with this fact. BUT, do I do the hair or not? And if so, who is willing to come on over and do a homemade job as I do not think I would like to fork over to a professional...

Opinions more than welcome.

Here is my inspiration:

 

I know, I have an uncanny resemblance to both of these girls. Crazy, right? Bahahahaha

To further plea for a litle intervention, if I did i my self, it would most likely turn out like this.

 

OR THIS.

So many issues, So little time.

Excuse me if this post is all over the place and rambling. My life has been an emotional rollercoaster that I can't seem to get to slow the heck down.

Reasons my life is an emotional roller coaster:

1. Rambo got a game cam after our last fish was "taken". And then there were none. I forsee many days of watching raccoon footage. Gross.

2. My high school dearies and I have become emotionally invested and fully committed to a new relationship. Except, we are not one of the participating parties. We have found this gem of a Cassanova on FB that we went to high school with and have been following his love affair with his girlfriend? I make this a question b/c he has LEFT US HANGING about their recent reunion in Chicago when he asked her to marry him. Are they engaged? I mean, we have been so much a part of this relationship and then he doesn't change his status to engaged? Rude. I am dying here. We have reached an emotional cliffhanger and I need an update ASAP.
***Here is a small preview of the beautiful poetry he has written for his love: "I only get so many minutes, don’t wanna spend em’ all on the clock, In the time that we spent talking how many kisses have I lost…? Time is love, gotta run, love to hang longer, but I got SOMEONE who waits…waits for ME and right now she’s where I NEED TO BE, time is LOVE"
*****Rambo- take note.

3.Gigi discovered how to take off her diaper- imagine all the fun possibilities with that... They have all happend. In the meantime until I can get her potty trained (or walking for that matter), I have found duck tape super helpful.

4. But, the primary reason life is so tumultuous is that I am doing a Jesus Fast. That's right. A Jesus fast. Except, I am not fasting, BUT I can only eat 7 things for 7 days to rid my life of excess and materialism to get closer to God's Kindgom and not the "American Dream" version. Awesome in theory. Not so awesome in practice. I am STARVING here. ONLY Beans, rice, eggs, spinach, apples, peanut butter, chicken for the next 7 days and I feel like I am doing his huge fast. I am weak. I only been "fasting" for 36 hours and I am starting to see fuzzy and get headaches. Pathetic. Seriously. Hopefully, my body (mind, and spirit) will get used to it and I will stop going in and out of consciousness and dreaming of chocolate teddy grams dipped in whipped cream. The whole idea came from the book my bible study by Jen Hatmaker, "7", who did it for a whole entire month. She ROCKS. I am doing a measly week. Like, she is amazing. I don't want to get into to the whole concept of the book, but check out this summary. Pretty ingenious idea, and if it works and I turn out more like Mother Teresa after the whole thing, I am going to go straight up to Austin and kiss her. Hopefully, after the week, I will feel enlightened and more full. Seriously, how DID Jesus do it for 40 days? And Gandhi, didn't he fast for like years at a time? Man, that is awesome. In all seriousness, though, I am super excited about it and do feel pretty rad when I am not drooling as I daydream of frozen yogurt with 20 toppings on it (which I get like every other night). I am the PRIME candidate for this project.

5. Last, but most certainly not least, I am reaching another coming of age crossroads. This one involving ombre hair. I am too hungry to go into the depth, attention, and time that is needed for this decision right now, though, so more on that later. Again, prime candidate for this fast and learning about the UN-necessities being rid from your life.

I did not plan on getting on my soap box for so long, but like I said, I am delirious from lack of my daily afternoon snack of a pound of goldfish (the whole grain ones- so they are better for you). I apologize.

PS- I just gave Gigi a pack of Craisins and my hand started shaking. I even want Craisins. Sick.

An Affair to Remember

First of all, this post seems completely irrelevant now that the RNC has been over for like a week, but bare with me. Gigi was ill last week and was distracted by her barking grown male seal cough and making sure she was still breathing. She's all good now, though, so I am back to serious, important business (like this blog).

Okay, here goes:
I promised to never discuss anything of substance on this blog but I am going to talk politics on this. I know, already breaking my promise. But, don't worry, this is nothing that will make you think too much.

Well, we spent last week's nights watching the RNC. Let me get one thing clear, I am pretty much about as well educated on policy as Gigi. But, I think Mitt Romney is a hoot and Paul Ryan kind of looks like those little plastic animal dolls with the big droopy eyes that looks at you like, "please cuddle with me or give me some meow mix". Cute and creepy at the same time. Again, the majority of Matt and I's political convos are over things like the "scope of executive power" and if Bush decided to grow a mustache, could any one stop him? True story. Matthew asked me that a few years ago. I told him he was an idiot. But like my recent coming of age life changing decisions, like retiring certain articles of clothing, I figured it is time for me to become informed... So we watched.

Unfortunately, it quickly became difficult to listen to the substance as soon as Condie Rice came on and started talking. Matthew was spellbound. It was like love at first sight. He listened to her and maybe even shed a tear. In fact, he claims that he started crying twice because he was so proud of her. He kept saying with those sappy, puppy love eyes like Paul Ryan's, "she is just the most amazing person in the world".  He then proceeded to start running around the house chanting, USA... and went to the front yard and saluted the flag. I thought he was going to turn on "Proud to be an American" and make us all go out there and salute while the ENTIRE song played like he did when we first got the flag and made us salute every time we left the house or came home. I was frightened. Gigi joined in and clapped some, although she seemed way more into Santorum. After seeing this epic display of patriotism, I came to the conclusion that Matthew was going to leave me for Condie. Like seriously. He is in love. And, you know, I could never measure up to that amazing woman. I think I have a crush on her too. I think she speaks like 20 languages and plays the piano like as well as Mozart or something. She rocks. I know that. But, at this point in time, I am really hoping she never comes to SAtown to give a speech b/c my husband would totally rush the stage screaming "Condie, I love you" and get tackled to the ground by Secret Service.

So, if you ever hear that she is coming into town, please let me know so I can make sure we are out of town.

PS- Don't worry. I am watching the DNC too. As a mature adult, I am listening to both sides. Problem is, they all kind of just talk and I am not really sure what anyone of them really want to do or WILL do.  Anyone else think they all sound good and smart and wished they would just gather around the campfire and sing "Kumbaya" with rainbows and unicorns in the background (while toasting smores) and figure it out together?

Coon Update: The Lone Survivor

Well, I don't even know where to begin with the sequence of events that took place in our latest encounter. This household was in mass chaos mode at 3:30 am. This actually happend 2 nights ago, buf it took me awhile to really internalize the events and process it all. Coon hunting really reached another level and INTENSITY on Wednesday night/Thursday morning.

So Rambo, with his bionic hearing, here's a stir at 3:30 am. He immediately goes into death con five/ full-on predator mode scaling the walls around the house to the gun  in purpose to not scare the coon away. At this point I am still half asleep and foggy after have taken some extra melatonin to ensure a good night sleep. First mistake. Att this point, I have already completely disregarded my directives that we had so seriously practiced last weekend. Melatonin plus coon hunting equals huge disaster.

There were battle cries... Think braveheart. Coon, human. Screaming, screeching. I did not even know coons could make the kind of noises it did. It was like a terodactyl. The coon was totally ticked that Rambo was getting in his business. It was On. Rambo was literally raiding the coon like the SEALS in Operation Neptune Spear. Although, I am pretty sure they were not in their fudgies and they were raiding the worlds most wanted man. The next sequence of events go ugly. Apparently, I did not follow proper protocol. My only job was to turn off the alarm at the exact time he was going to open the door. Mistake #2. I did not follow behind him or listen to his count close enough and totally botched the operation. Then I proceeded to not find a flashlight fast enough so Rambo is running around like a rabid animal screaming about the damn flashlight. At this point the honey badger has come out in me and I am not having it. I started to sound like a terodactyl myself.  Why was I even a part of this? Coon climbs the tree and is staring at Rambo totally taunting him. Still no flashlight. Epic failure.

He debriefed me after and came to the conclusion that it was my fault that we did not get the coon. I think his exact words wer,. "Katherine, we went through this. You knew what you were supposed to do. He got away bc you did not do your one job."

Then there were several "if this was the apocolypto, we would be dead's". No lie.
Needless to say, I reminded him in a honey badger type of manner that this was not 'Nam, we were not fighting the commies. It was one mammoth coon who had an affinity for gold fish and cat food. About 10 minutes after the Gigi has a nightmare (shocking, right). She gets to sleep wih Rambo. I move to the couch.

Epic failure. Big daddy of them all eats another fish and gets away once again.

Rambo- 0 coon- infinity

Sweet Dreams, Rambo...

Liquid Leggings: A Coming of Age story

Sometimes I look in the mirror, in my goodwill wrangler cutoffs I bought in high school and my "Make Toms not Bombs" shirt and remember that I am 28. I am married. I have a child. I have stretch marks. I have grey hair. It's a funny thing being in this period of my life. I still feel like a teenager, but have the responsibilities of an adult. It's like a see-saw- youth one side, adulthoon on the other, a roller coaster of emotions. Am I really almost 30 and have like an adult life? Sick, right?
In comes my latest internal conflict.

Liquid leggings.

So I am perusing the internet the other day and see a picture of these fabulous leggings that look like they are leather. I soon find out they are called liquid leggings. In fact, I saw them on the Olson Twins, which should have been my first indication and warning that they are most likely not for me Then, as if to make me feel like any more of a frumpy loser, I googled them and found them on the Guess website. Wow. When is the last time I went to Guess? I then asked my way younger, way hipper, way skinnier and way more rational sister what she thinks of liquid leggings. Her response was "I think I like them...". Red flag number THREE.

Well, who would have thought that her response would cause so much self reflection?

Now to really understand why this was such a mature breakthrough of really thinking about the purchase and not just impulsively buying... You have to know the back story...You could say I always dressed a little inappropriately. My mom's very large, dangled earrings at 7, glitter gluestick streaks in my hair in middle school, Birkenstocks with Nanette Lepore skirts in high school, 14 necklaces at one time in college along with Wicka black hair on Easter, then bright red/purple hair at 25... You get the picture. Some questionable choices.

Here's the deal, though. I really like the liquid leggings. No lie. Maybe it is the angst ridden, Avril Lavigne loving, rebel without a cause teenager still left in me.

BUT, I feel I have reached a crossroads: do I embrace my "just off" fashion reputation and own the liquid leggings, muffin top and all? Do I continue with black nail polish, momentary lapses in hair color judgement and, most importantly, still rock the high school goodwill cutoffs? Or, is it time to really grow up and retire my "colorful", borderline choices.

So what do you think? Be honest. Even though I may be 28, I still succumb to peer pressure once in awhile so your opinion really does matter.

P.S.-A little inspiration to get you through the day. My heroes.

P.S.- If you are really lucky and I decide to purchase them, may even post a little selfie of me posing like this. BAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Recurring Daydream: Shoot for the Stars

So, if anyone reading this does not know me personally (who am I kidding, it is probably just my family and friends), but just in case,  I wanted to give an anecdotal example to who I am and a little insight into my life. So hopefully after reading this you will feel like you know me a bit better.

Okay, so, I love to "run". I place the verb in parentheses because most would not classify it as running, but more of a flail since I lack coordination, have absolutely NO muscle tone anywhere on my body, and sweat like nobody's business. But, man, for some reason I love it.

Anyway, I have this reoccuring daydream/vision when I am "running". It has been especially prevalent since the Olympics for some reason. I can imagine it sooo vividly. I am wearing my fanny pack with water bottles, jamming to Kelly Clarkson mixed with the Rocky theme song, and sprinting towards the finish line of a probably half, not full marathon. Gigi and Matthew are at the finish line with my family cheering me on. I am not even tired, the adrenaline has me going and I am not even in last place. Definitely not first, but somewhere in the middle-ish. Everyone is cheering for me. I feel so good and I finish.

Now, here comes the realist in me.

A. I am FIERCELY UN-competitive. In fact, I really could care less.
B. I run at a snails pace and breathe REALLY heavily and grunt so my finish line picture would look (and sound) very different than the eloquent competitor.
C. I can barely jog like 3 miles. Once I hit 3, I start getting the chills and my body literally goes into anti-phalactic shock or something.
D. I turn the color of a cherry tomato after about 1/3 of a mile.
E. And below is the biggest reason as to why my running daydream is ridiculously unrealistic.

In my head, I look like this:

But, in all reality, I look like this:

This is my life. Take it or leave it. But, man, if I ever do that half-marathon. I am wearing a go pro and making a documentary of it. And putting it on you tube. My heart is kind of beating fast right now as I write this. No lie. If you ever see me running down Eldon, I may look like I am dying, but I probably am not. Please do not stop and please do not tell me or anyone else that you saw me. In fact, just pretend it was a bad dream or a mirage or something.

Coon Saga: They are Back

 

And by "they are back", I mean:

 

 Him

 

 And Him.

 

 

 

When I heard my husband just yell "omg" from outside, I thought theft for sure...

I was way wrong.

They're back. Goldfish-gone. Water plants-gone. Cat food-attempted. Cat-disappeared.

We will be spending our Sunday memorializing our goldies and getting new ones.

Rambo just proclaimed "it was definitely the posse leader, the king kong of the clan. If he thinks he can come here and get free food, he is strongly mistaken. All he is going to get is a free bullet."

It's once again on like donkey kong and this time Rambo means war and will not accept defeat.

This morning I will be praying for my sanity at church. And swift resolution.

 

 

Rambo swears he saw it and it was equivalent to this in size...

 

 

Coon Saga: New Interests...

Well, I know the updates stopped abruptly and I am sorry to have left such a "cliff hanger" in this saga. The truth is, the coons are gone. We do not know what the heck happend to them. They have been MIA for about 2 weeks now. I have a sneaking suspicion that the sardines in mustard sauce that Rambo thought would entice them had them running for the hills, literally, after they were left in the baking sun for about 5 days. My sleep has returned, but my sanity has not. That is because of Rambo's latest endeavor, he has found a new sport. In fact, he would totally win gold if you could partake in this in the Olympics. That is not something to be proud of, though. It is not an Olympic sport for good reason. It is because It happens to be: Grackel Shooting/Target Practice. You will see in the uploaded pictures what exactly I mean... This is not just a few grackels here and there. He has made our lawn into a giant feeder by sprinkling dog food in the grass. Our backyard looks like Gettysburg for Grackels every weekend b/c Rambo thinks that the dead ones are good decoys to lure in the live ones. His favorite time to do it is Sunday morning while Gigi eats her waffles.

The truth is, I would prefer to have the coons back. At least then, I would not have to look at a mass gravesite in my backyard of black rats with wings while enjoying my coffee on the Lord's day. And they smell. Good news is, we have been invited to a birthday party for Davy Crockett's 226th, so Rambo is motivated to get back to business and one-up everyone by making his own homemade coonskin hat.

 

What keeps him going with his eye on the prize... although, in this picture they would all be dead.

 

 

Coon Saga: The Stalemate

Update this morning: Coon 4, Rambo: still 0

 

As you can see from attached picture, our afternoon consisted of target practice. Apparently since none of Rambo's other tactics have deemed successful, it was necessary to buy a super scope today to ensure coon sabotage. He sighted in his ...

gun perfectly by shooting a dove that is now dead on our roof and a few squirrels and claims there is no way he can miss. I am surprised that snipers in training at Fort Sam did not come over to disarm the crazy redneck that lives a few blocks over and was shooting flying bullets through the air like Ted Nugent. Curtains are perfectly in place, alarm is not going on, and boobie traps are set. I swear if these damn coons are not dead by morning, I am to lose it. Wish us luck, as
Rambo just walked into our room and told me "you just relax. I got this."

 

 

This was after the first, I would say, 3.25 minutes, after he perfectly sighted his super scope.

 

 

After baiting his prey with Purina Smart Blend and left over Ego Waffles, getting ready for battle... Gigi was very interested in the activity.

 

 

Coon Saga: The Great Debate

Just spent the last 20 minutes in a presidential equivalent debate over healthcare with Rambo, only this was all things coon.

Topic 1: Do coons like sardines canned in mustard or tomato sauce. I said tomato, Rambo says mustard. We will see...

tonight...
Topic 2: Will it take more than 1 coon each to make hats with heads on them for Rambo and Gigi? I say more than one each. Gigi's head is off the charts, literally, at the pediatricians office, and let's just say her big head does not come from me.
Topic 3: Why can't we just go to the Alamo and buy a Davy Crockett hat? I argue it would be much easier. Rambo claims that Gigi will gain more street cred if she can tell people that her dad caught the coon, killed it, skinned it, and made the hat himself. My rebuttal- No. She will just be the weird girl wearing a raccoon on her head.

Rambo's parting inspiration for tonight...

Wish us luck.

 

 

Coon Saga: Game Changer and another non-coon victim

Last night was very interesting in our quest to catch the varment. We realized that the reason we have not caught the beast yet is b/c there is not just one of them. THERE ARE 3. We found that out by the high screeching noise...

s, growls, and thuds into our bedroom window at 2 am last night when they decided to go WWF on eachother over cat food. They did team up at one point, however, to tip over the have-a-heart and and get the food out, but after they conquered that, it was every coon for itself. I also got in trouble by Rambo for apparently whispering too loud and scaring them away from 10 feet when I asked if they were attacking Precious Prince Harry, our white rescue cat. I am glad he was not an innocent bystandard as I am certain that Rambo would have sacrificed him and so would have the Axis of Evil of the coon world.

Good news is they did not break the trap. Evidence in picture. We just trapped our tortoise. He likes to eat cat food too. Poor thing is gonna be in there awhile. Don't know how to fix back the have-a-heart trap. Clearly, I am dumber than a pack of coons.

 

Poor Ringo...

This is what it sounded like... BUT WORSE.

Coon Saga: Our First Trapee

After a weekend away, I was quite nervous as to what we were going to find since we left all traps, including the boobie trap, set. Matt was like a little kid on Christmas when we walked in hoping that coonzilla was caught in the goldfish foot trap. I was not so excited as I was worried that the foot trap attached to the iron chair, and possibly raccoon, had done a number in the courtyard with total mass destruction. Fortunately (and unfortunately), our mcgyver coon once again houdinied himself out of the traps. We did not completely strike out, though, as witnessed from the attached picture. This dude was totally ticked when we got home. Who knows how long he was in there...

 

Coon Saga: Third Installment

Update: Rambo Gainey, coon hunter, was completely unsuccessful last night. While on night watch, there was no sign of the raccoon whatsoever and the various traps, that looked more like an obstacle course in our courtyard, remain untouched. Apparently, our setup was not enticing enough. I'm voting for putting our leftover popeyes in the traps tonight. To be continued...

Christen Wommack: thank you for the ingenious idea this morning of having Matt build a coon blind outside and spend the night in it to hunt the coon. After this inspirational idea, I did my own scoping out and did not have to travel far to come up with a pretty ingenious idea myself... PLAYSCAPE BLIND. We have a swingset connected to a treehouse fort that has never been utilized. It is in the perfect location to get the coon with a gun, bow, slingshot, spear, taser, whatever strikes Matt's fancy this evening. I am off to camouflage it and make a nice little pallet for Matt to sleep on out there. Don't worry, I will make sure he washes himself with scentblocker and is in full camo to protect himself from the beast. If you want to drop him off supplies, feel free to go through grandma's gate by the poolhouse. He loves whisky and sour patch kids. I will be locking our doors promptly at 9 pm to try and get a decent night's sleep for the first time since the mamoth varment started terrorizing our home.

Coon Saga: Second Installment

Coon Update:

Well, the mammoth coon is still on the loose. He managed to pull our GIANT cat food container about 7 feet, but could not manage to get it over the fence, after LOTS of trying at 1 am. We know this b/c Matthew made us commando crawl from our bed and scope him out while laying on the floor behind the curtains for about 15 minutes last night. He also outsmarted the fountain trap while...

doing breast stroke I would imagine, which Matt created with orange electrical tape and a foot trap to resemble a goldfish.

Coon: 2 Matt and his traps: 0

Although, I just received this text from Matt so his days may be numbered...
"its time to go mortal combat on the coon. tonight im running three traps and bringing in fire power"

Wish Rambo Gainey, Raccoon Hunter, Good Luck.

This

 + This

 + This

Pretty Much = This.

Coon Saga: First Installment

We have a problem. More like a few problems...

Well, Matt just made a pledge to me that "he hereby solemnly swears that he will catch a raccoon tonight and Gigi will have a coon skin hat (including the face) by the end of the month." With 2 have a heart (or don't) traps, a foot trap, and booby trap within a 7 foot radius, we may experience some serious raccoon rage tonight. I am picturing a similar scene to the gopher destruction scene in caddy shack...

In the words of
Si Robertson, "it's on like donky kong."

Wish us good luck.

PS- And he just turned on a you tube video of "how to skin a raccoon". His reaction was that it was so easy and if that guy can do it in 3 minutes, he can do it in 10. Things are getting pretty interesting...


I'm guessing he looks like this:

Welcome!

 Here goes nothin'...

 (Gigi's expression is a perfect glimpse into how I feel about this whole transition from facebook to blog world...)

Well, after the entire Chick-fil-A debocle and the use of Facebook as a political and cultural opinion forum my brain hurt and I made a life-changing decision. I was going to deactivate my facebook account. After all, I really only used it to look at cute babies and pretty weddings so  when it became a platform to voice intelligent, societal views on complicated issues, I decided I needed to pull the plug. No more was the time of just shallow picture-looking. BUT, then... I got cold feet. How would I be able to stock the random people that I had not seen in years and look at their children, animals, vacations, weddings, etc? I may have not spoken to you in like 10 years, but man, I love looking at pictures of your dogs dressed up as humans and you and your husband/wife drinking Mai Tais on your honeymoon. Call it creepy, I just call it "entertainment".

But, then came the turning point FOR REAL. The facebook "man" pulled a Watergate and broke into my account and put me on timeline. WAY too sophisticated for me. So adios facebook, hello blog. Since the coon crew is back, I wanted to make sure that everyone could stay updated on how it was going.  

So, before you get too invested in this little experiment, I want to give you a few disclosures/warnings. First of all, I rarely finish things I start. This blog may be one of those things... just sayin'. I love Jesus, I love doing good things and helping others. I (sometimes) think profound things, but rarely do I have earth-shattering revelations that will enlighten and inspire the world. I love arts and crafts and DIY projects as much as the next girl. Healthy food, green living, and organic recipes are great. BUT, Sometimes all of the greatness in the world that is highlighted on the internet: super moms who grow their own cabbage and make wonderful meals out of it that their kids and husband will eat, those who can take cheesecloth and zip ties and make a designer dress, others that only feed their kids items that are 100% “natural”, Beautiful scriptures that inspire one to change the world, making a maserful piece of art with recycled coffee grinds... all those things just make me want to take a nap and eat cheese wiz and go to Walmart. 

Don’t get me wrong. This stuff is awesome and I commend and look up to these amazing women, but let's just face it, not all entirely realistic for everyone; and, that is okay. In fact, I have this great characteristic of pretty much being mediocre at everything. I can do a lot of things, but most are down on an average level. I feel pretty good about it, though.

I accept it and I have come to terms with the fact that this blog is probably not going to change anyones life. I do hope it makes you smile. AND,  if by some miraculous reason, you do, be sure to credit me. This is my attempt at documenting random musings and experiences that I hope others will appreciate and helppeople to realize that you really can put the FUN in dysfunctional.  This is my life. Take it or leave it. Although, I hope you take it.