Hey, gang.  I'm sorry about the lack of posty.  WordPress has eaten my last 2 posts, and instead of dropkicking my laptop through the window, I am moving my blog here.  There's not much there now, but I'll be adding more tonight.  If you're thinking about starting your own blog, I don't recommend wordpress.  They are very inconsistant.  I have a free Live Journal account, and it has never given me this much trouble, so I'm going to give Typepad a shot.  **crosses fingers**  Here's hoping they don't make my head explode in frustration.

We were in Sedona last year for Easter. I could totally do that again. Sunrise service combined with a view of the red rocks was spectacular. The church we wound up at had a giant wall of glass that you could look out over Sedona. That was pretty cool.

Easter kinda snuck up on me this year. I am not ready. Also, there is that pesky tax deadline which is crushing my spirit. Oy. I’m scheduled to make my annual appearance in church tomorrow morning, and I’m feeling kind of anxious about it. It’s not that I’m not a believer or anything. I just have this thing about organized religion. My thing is that I have no tolerance for it. Mommy no likey.

Adam is in Durango this morning. He has a job and then he’ll be buying Easter candy and such for the kiddo. I completely and utterly spaced it, even though I was in Durango twice in the last week, and in Pagosa on Thursday and could have picked up what was needed then. It didn’t even cross my mind! Lordy. I think that gives me -100 Mommy Points. I think the fact that I let Taylor do interpretive dance throughout dinner last night without once telling her to sit down and eat her food makes up for it. It was my fault for putting on music during the meal anyway. I was irritated at Adam and didn’t feel like talking, so we were jamming out.
Her: Take a bite of shrimp, get up and dance.

Me: Drink wine, giggle at silly child.

Her: Take a bite of salad, get up and dance.

Me: Marvel at silly child’s energy, and wish I could have a fraction of it.

So, +100 Mommy Points for me, and it all balances out. Plus, by the time dinner was over, Adam and I were speaking again. Bonus!

You know, Adam and I seldomly fight any more. It’s not that we don’t disagree. We do that all the time. I just don’t think we have the energy to expend on those grand knock-down-drag-out arguments any more. Take last night as an example:

Me: Dude, I have this concern.

Him: I hear you, and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah x infinity.

Me: You are irritating the hell out of me.

Him: Nevertheless, I persist.

Me: Go away now, so I can make dinner and have a glass of wine.

*time passes*

Me: Okay, I’m over it. xoxo

Him: Yay! xoxo

For two people with monumental tempers, I guess that’s what you call progress.

Oy. I have so much to do, and some of it is tax-related. So, here I am, procrastinating. Some things never change.

We went for a hike on Sunday. It was a gorgeous day, absolutely perfect, so we packed a picnic and drove to the entrance of Spring Creek where we parked amid several trucks with horse trailers and made our way on foot. I swear if I had horses, I'd never take them anywhere. What a pain, what with all the loading/unloading/saddling/unsaddling/etc. I guess I'm just not a horse person. Taylor was asking me for one some time back, and I gave her an unequivocal NEVER for her answer. As far as I'm concerned, horses are expensive, dangerous, far too much trouble and completely unworthy of our spare dollars. She hasn't bugged me about it again, thank God. Our neighbors, an older retired couple, are total horse people. They are always hauling their horses here and there for whatever reason. Everyone needs a hobby, I guess. When I am older and retired, my hobbies will include world travel and unsuitable men. Vive la difference!

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. Photos.

Adam and Taylor at Spring Creek. I swear, if I have to tell that child to stand up straight ONE MORE TIME… The grey fuzzy thing in front of Adam is our dog, Chloe. I foresee a haircut in her future.

We found a bee tree on top of a ridge. I've never found a bee tree before, so I was pretty excited about it. You can see a few bees in this photo, right at the entrance of their hive in the trunk of the tree. There were thousands of bees, though, and the hum was tremendous. They were very mellow bees, as we came right up to the trunk of the tree and tried to get photos. My camera is not adequate, though, and this was one of the best photos. I eventually got nervous, and had to walk away. I really didn't want to piss them off. After all, it's not like there's a pond or a stream anywhere to jump into or anything, and we were at least a mile from the car. I thought it was neat that we found bees in the forest. It's not like there's a hellluva lot around for them to pollinate. I wonder what yucca blossom honey tastes like?

Here is my foot, full of those little evil cactus heads that break off at the slightest provocation. I think they're little tiny versions of the giant Jumping Cholla you see around Tucson. This was taken right after I had squatted down to take a photo of a different cactus, and poked myself in the ass. You don't even know they're there until you get jabbed. I think we removed a couple of dozen from our shoes and pants and Chloe.

Heading back to the car, post picnic. We had beer and chips, a camera and a gun, sandwiches, chocolate milk, mints and chocolate-covered espresso beans all jammed into our fanny packs, plus lots of bottled water. It's amazing how handy those little packs are, and how incredibly much they can hold.

I have a groovy table cloth that I found at Dietz Market last year. I could not resist the retro goodness, as I am completely unable to resist any vintage table cloth, even if it is stained and really better used as a dust rag. I have a trunk full of vintage table cloths…and I don't really know why. Mental illness? I'm not sure. Anyway, behold:

I figured it would also double as a geography lesson…until I looked a little closer.

It's Flordia, the 51st state.  Perhaps it's the fact that the alligator (or is it crocodile?) looks like it pooped out the word, "Flordia" that really bothers me.  

Okay!  I've promised a couple of you my recipe for chocolate martinis…get ready for some bliss.

1 shot espresso vodka

1 shot choco vodka

1 shot choco liqueur

1 shot coffee liqueur

1 splash vanilla extract
1 shot half and half or heavy cream.  Milk just doesn't cut it.

 Add everything to a shaker full of ice and shake well.  Pour into a large martini glass that you've decorated with chocolate syrup.  Enjoy.

Taylor is on a poetry kick right now. She wanted to submit some poetry to PBS Kids online, so we looked at some basic styles of poetry, and several examples of poems. Nevertheless, she was completely intimidated, and worried that her poems would not stack up. This, of course, irritated the hell out of me, because after nine years of trying to impress upon her that it is not our job to worry about what other people think of us, here she was worrying about how other people would view her poetry. So, in a spurt of impatience, I told her to stop worrying about the form that her poems took and to simply write for the joy of it. I told her that rules were stupid and made to be broken.

Well!  Aren't I the Smarty?  Apparently these were the magic words…rules are stupid and made to be broken. Wow. Taylor loved that idea. She started writing poems like there was no tomorrow, and we submitted half a dozen or so to the PBS Kids website before the day was out. I'm glad that what I said made sense to her, and helped to free her to express herself. That's great and I'm happy, but I am also worried that my words of wisdom seemed to make such a great impression on her. I really don't want to hear them parroted back to me when she is sixteen and sneaking out of the house to meet her beau, who will be dressed in black leather and a mohawk, ready to elope on the back of a Harley Davidson. So, I guess I should temper my enthusiasm, and remind myself that I don't want to be a grandmother before I am forty. See? This is the kind of thing that keeps me up at night. Gah.

I haven't been posty this week. Chalk it up to personal difficulties. From time to time, for various reasons, my brain reaches critical mass, and I shut down. I don't talk to anyone, including those closest to me, until I feel like I can be a decent human being once more, and not prone to grunts and finger-pointing and the occasional snarl. I am never unkind to my child or my cats, however. The worst I can ever get is, "What the hell do you think you're doing…oh, come here, let me kiss you. You're so cute, did you know that? Would you like a treat? Here, let me get you a treat. Give me a hug, this very instant, you darling thing!!" I amaze myself with this soft-heartedness. I like to think that this is because I am not Truly Evil like I had previously supposed, and qualify as merely Quasi-Evil.  (The Diet Coke of Evil!)   My husband, though, well, that's another story. He receives the brunt of my moods. Fortunately, though, Adam is tough, and after 20 years together, completely unswayed by my occasional forays into The Dark Side. Hell, I could shave my head and tattoo a swastika on my scalp and it wouldn't phase him. He would figure out a way to be supportive of me. Color me blessed, y'all, because I am.

So, okay. I'm over the rough patch, and I have plenty of photos to share, so I shall commence with the posty goodness forthwith.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

Yesterday was one of those perfect days that occur oh, maybe half a dozen times a year. It was gorgeous and warm and not windy, which is rare for this time of year. The weather was just right for piddling around outdoors, admiring the dandelions and enjoying my little family.

We started the day late, because I was up until 4am, due to my own bizarre biology. I was exhausted when I got home around midnight, and then got my second wind. I finally had to force myself to go to bed, because I could have stayed up all night. I wound up sleeping until about 10am, and then we had coffee and played Xbox for a bit. Tay went outside to play, and when I noticed her coloring on the sidewalk, I couldn't help but join in. We had a lovely time painting and drawing on the sidewalk, which improved the sidewalk's appearance a great deal. We also spent a couple of hours coloring paper doll clothing. I guess we were craving some color after the long winter.  Spring is here, baby, and I'm so very ready for it.  Longer, warmer days?  Oh, yeah.  I can handle that.

Sorry for the lack of updates.  It's been one of those weeks, and anything meaningful I have to say is way too private for this public medium.  So, with that in mind, I will just ramble a bit.  I do that sometimes.

I was walking to get the mail a couple of evenings ago, and it was kind of sprinkling and grey.  Totally my kind of afternoon, meant for doing nothing and watching the sky change.  I walked across our property and onto the neighbors place, where our mailbox is located.  Our neighbors were kind enough to allow us to place our mailbox on their property so we would not have to cross the highway to get our mail, thereby decreasing our chances of becoming roadkill.  You know how it is…one minute you're ogling the Victoria's Secret catalog, the next you've been run down by the UPS truck.  

It was a Bad Mail Day:  no Netflix, many bills.  I shut the box and turned around to head back to my house, and then I noticed I was being watched.   There were 14 deer in our pasture, watching me.  I thought, damn, I'm glad they aren't Ninja Killer Deer or something, because I had no idea they were there.  So, I said, "hi, deer!"  They started getting nervous, and started cautiously retreating, backing away from the crazy (me) and towards the safety of the trees.  I felt that I needed to reassure them, so I said, "don't worry, I'm not crazy!"  They didn't believe me and left anyway.  And then I noticed my 90-odd year old neighbor, the Man Who Burns Ditches, watching me.  I didn't wave because I was embarassed.  

I'm pretty sure the neigbors think we're a bit off.  We talk to our cats.  We homeschool.  We don't go to church.  We listen to heavy metal when there's work to be done.  We occasionally throw gigantic parties.  We don't give a damn about yardwork, and it shows.  (I think lawns are a silly invention, meant to trap you into eternal servitude.  Our neighbors are the Yardwork Champions of the Universe.)  Our place needs a lot of work, as it was unoccupied for several years prior to our purchasing it, and it is a bit run-down.  We have piles of stuff meant to go to the dump, piles to burn, and then there's the pasture that desperately needs burning, but I'm afraid to burn it because we're so close to other people and I don't want to become the Neighborhood Arsonist.  I guess we are kind of the trashy family on the block, but I like to think that we have our priorities in order.  There are so many fun things to do, and life is short.  That's really the bottom line, isn't it?  Yeah, I thought so, too.

  Happy Birthday, Mom!  

Hope you have a kickass year! 

 ************************************

We had a busy and productive weekend.  We hired a book-keeper, which is a good thing, as we're so incredibly confused about everything.  That takes a load off of Adam, who won't have to spend his evenings and mornings trying to make Quickbooks his friend.  Also, we met with a friend of Adam's who will be joining our business soon.  He should begin training next week.  Progress is good.

In other random news, people keep calling our business line and asking for Elvis.  I swear I'm not making this up.   

On the home front:  housework is dangerous.  I managed to sprain two toes while cleaning house the other day, because I am clever like that.   I actually missed a step and wiped out onto our slate floor, which is possibly one of the most unforgiving surfaces to wipe out onto.   I experienced a broad range of emotions, starting with rage, pausing a minute at self-pity, and ending with gratitude that no one actually witnessed my fall, and I didn't have to see their expressions of horror at me sprawled out on the slate, or have to watch their horror turn to mirth and see them turn their faces away and snicker, because that's exactly what I would have done if I was in their shoes.