August is a big birthday month around Loafkeeper Farm. (Can we still call it a “farm” when there are only two chickens and not much of anything planty growing besides weeds?) I think August is the best month for birthdays. Anya sure messed up.

For my birthday, I requested Andy make me a rainbow cake. Andy has never liked making birthday cakes, and every year I have to do lots of whining to convince him the horror of cake making is less than that of my whining. So, I’d sent him the link to the rainbow cake, and he’d purchased the pack of fancy-schmancy food coloring, and he decided to get started one hot August day when Anya and I were taking a nap. He was doing okay, when out in the kitchen I heard such a clatter that I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Well, no, I really didn’t because I knew what the matter was: Andy was making a birthday cake. There was banging and cursing and the sound of things being tossed about. It was really quite impressive.

After nap time, Anya and I emerged and I went to go find my cake. Poor little cake. It was so sad and mangled looking. The top layer was held together by frosting and a prayer, and there was no frosting on the outside of the cake…just between the layers. Andy later told me he’d run out of frosting. I wanted to take a photo of it, but Andy wouldn’t let me. He did, however, allow a slice of cake to be photographed. I think the colors are fabulous…and it tasted fantastic. (Even better after it’d been frozen.)

Kenny’s birthday is also in August. I made him a card, and I liked it so much I wanted to keep it and play with it, but I couldn’t find a charger for it.

Andy’s birthday is next (at least in the family), but he doesn’t like cake or small, hand-held video game devices. Whatever will I do?

Today I learned how to crochet, how to light a BBQ grill, and how to fill a squirt gun with a turkey baster.

A month or so ago, I read an article online about some strange shower gadgets that had been designed to let folks know when they’d been in the shower too long and used too much water. One was a shower curtain that starts to inflate and slowly suffocate you. Another was a wall of inflatable cones that will eventually stick out perpendicular to the wall and stab you. Here at Loafkeeper, we had our own version of the eco-friendly shower: one with a hideous whine. It’s hard to dawdle in a shower that goes “eeeeeeeeeeeeeee……………eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee……………eeeeeeeeeeeeeee.” At first we were able to get rid of the whine by wiggling the shower/tub toggle. After a while, that didn’t work. Then whines became more and more frequent. They were at 20 second intervals. Then 14. Then 8. Pretty soon it was like showering inside an ambulance.

Eventually the water pressure throughout the house began to go wonky, and Andy did his research and found out that our well reservoir tank was probably having bladder control issues. I suggested we get it some Depends, but Andy called the reservoir tank dude instead. TankDude came out and made some serious faces and poked the tank and nodded and then replaced the tank with Big Blue.

This morning I almost fell asleep in the shower. Maybe I should get some of those inflatable cones.

I have a confession to make: Last week I bought my daughter a Cinderella barbie for her birthday. (SHHHHHHH! Don’t tell her.)

Anya likes princesses. I’m not sure when it happened, probably during the millionth or so viewing of Snow White or Cinderella. I’m not too keen on the whole craze…especially all the Disney princess stuff. I don’t mind her watching the movies, but I don’t really like all the merchandise. A little is okay, but there is SO MUCH of it. You need something…shoes, towel, toothpaste, crayons, bananas, pick ax…you can probably find it with a Disney princess plastered on it. I especially despise that darn princess book they have at Home Depot. (Someone, please tell me why I can’t even be safe in a hardwarey store? Why, oh why do they have to carry glittery pink princess books and keep them at kid height and drive me nuts?)

So, last week Anya and I were out shopping together, and she made me go down every toy aisle, and she started grabbing all the dolls and oo’ing and ah’ing at them. Then, silly me, I show her the Cinderella doll and she was all YAHOOOOOOOOOOOOEIEIEIEIEIE OH YEAH WEHEEEHEHEHAHAHAHAH! Then she casually walked over to the cart, dropped the doll in, and kept walking. I think she thought that if she didn’t make a big deal about putting the doll in that I wouldn’t notice. It sort of worked because I didn’t have the heart to remove it, and I ended up buying the doll. I think she’s forgotten about it and hope she’ll be pleased to see it again in a few weeks.

Today we were back at the Depot. Or maybe it was Lowes. We go to both pretty much every weekend. I’m surprised Anya’s favorite colors aren’t orange and blue. I’d left Andy and Anya looking at riding lawnmowers (another of Anya’s favorite things, that and car magazines, which she likes to look at while on the potty…go figure) and was heading to the powder room. Coming towards me were two little girls with their parents. The girls were probably 5 or 6 and had on fake princessy jewelry and were carrying tiny stuffed dogs in tiny furry dog carriers. I thought how glad I was that Anya wasn’t there to see them because I was pretty sure she’d want both the jewelry and the dog stuff, and I had no desire to buy her either. Then I saw an end cap display with a bunch of Disney wall decals, and sure enough there was a huge Cinderella one. I hesitated for a moment, saw the $15 price tag, and kept walking. Then I felt bad. I knew Anya would love it…at least for a while, and $15 isn’t really that much, and what kind of meanie was I to not get it or plastic jewelry or fake froofroo dogs for her? Much deep thinking ensued.

I know if I give Anya a Snow White bedspread or a Sleeping Beauty nightie or a book with all the Disney princesses in it, she’ll squeal with joy and carry the stuff around and grin like a maniac. I also know that if I don’t give her those things, she’s still going to squeal with joy and grin like a maniac…she’ll just be carrying around a handful of freshly mown grass or a dandelion puff or a pile of ribbons instead. Her not having a ton of the former probably helps her have more fun with the later.

This may not seem like an epiphany to you, and in some ways it wasn’t to me, either. I knew this before. Just somehow it finally clicked: because I know something will make Anya happy and I can afford it doesn’t mean I need to give it to her or that I’m an evil grumpinator if I don’t.

A friend of mine is a huge crafter type, mostly scrapbook stuff and card stuff and stamping stuff. She invited me to join her and another coworker at a scrap book retreat (coming up this weekend). I decided to go because I’d like to make Anya’s 1 year scrap book before she’s 10, and I’m running out of time. I signed up for this retreat a couple of months ago, and suddenly it’s now only two days away and I’m scrambling to get ready. What is so retreatful about this, I wonder? I’ve been spending all this time preparing…finding photos, making sure I know what month they are from, compiling entries from this blog to write on the pages. I still need to send a bunch of photos to walmart to get printed. This is work!

I’m a little nervous about the retreat. There will be about two dozen folks there, and I can pretty much guarantee that all of them will be craftier than I am. I’m okay with that, but I’m still a little concerned about the looks I’m going to get when I show up with my plastic grocery bag full of scrap book tools from 1993 (the last time I did any scrap book stuff). Have you seen all the STUFF you can buy to make scrap books? Holy canoli. I’m trying to keep it simple (and cheap) by sticking with a few basic stamps, one pack of colored paper, and (yes) my stuff from 15 years ago.

What is a scrap book retreat, you may ask? Most of these folks will show up at the retreat place Thursday and stay until Sunday and sleep there and eat there and bathe (I hope!) there. They will spend hours and days and eons sitting in metal folding chairs, pouring over (probably) meticulously organized photos and doodads and thingamabobs to make a billionity million scrap book pages. It sounds kinda cool, like a giant sleep over, but I won’t be diving in all the way. My friends and I will only be there Friday and Saturday, and I’ll be at the mercy of Andy’s driving services.

Oh, I have to make a snack to share. Does bringing the popcorn popper and kernels count ya think?

I cleaned out the car this weekend. I should have known better. I think all those cheerios and hay bits were forming a protective layer because when they were all gone the car began to stink. Like garbage stink. Like someone left a potato-to-rot-under-the-seat stink. We’ve checked pretty much everything. Under the seats (no potato), under the hood (no cat), in the glove compartment and the spare tire area (no mice). Nothing.

This morning when we went to get into the car, the smell was even worse than yesterday. We rolled down the windows and went on our way because what else was there to do, really. After a few miles we got used to the smell, and it wasn’t so bad anymore.

Then Andy drove over a very freshly-dead skunk.

Anyone know a car wash place that uses tomato juice instead of soap?

To make things even worse, the skunk smell snuck into the car and saturated us with its rottenness all the way into work. Luckily we have some air freshener in the office, and after running through a few bursts of it, I am somewhat linen fresh.

I don’t think I’ve ever posted a link to another blog that wasn’t a place we’ve bought sheep, but this is one of my favorites, Margaret and Helen. It’s a political blog written by two ladies who totally rock.

“Mr. President, I ask you this: If they don’t even believe you are an American citizen, why the hell do you care if they think you are going to kill their grandmother?”

For those of you who know us (and I can’t imagine anyone who doesn’t reading this), you will be shocked to know what we (Andy and I) did tonight.

We hung some curtains in the living room.

Then we sat on the couch and stared at the curtains.

I know, I know. Pretty crazy. I think the last time we had curtains was in the bathroom of the AA house several years ago (red curtains with pea pods my Mom made me for my dorm window in college). We just aren’t curtain people. Curtains are expensive and get dirty and cats like to hang from them and who needs curtains when you live in the boonies anyhow. So what changed?

We found a really cool curtain rod on clearance at BB&B. Regularly $50 and we go it for $8.

You get a curtain rod, you gotta get curtains. Problem is, we only found the one rod and there are two windows in the living room. I guess we’ll keep our eyes open for another rod. See what we started? Now we’re gonna have to curtainize every window. Where will this stop??

So now that you know what Andy and I do for fun, here’s a look at Anya’s idea of a good time.

Wheat flour is very, very good in blueberry pancakes with maple syrup on top.

Wheat flour is a bit dry in peach pie crust.
—–

I went and picked blueberries this weekend with some friends at the farm of a co-worker. The peaches are from our CSA fruit share from Good Food, Good People.

After several months of incredibly scientific research, I have come to the conclusion that all raisins are twiggy. I’ve tried cheap raisins and expensive raisins, and they all have twigs. Some batches are worse than others; it’s all about the luck of the draw. I’m rather disappointed that with all our technological whizbangery, noone is able to create a way to improve the twiglessness of raisins.

Speaking of twigs, do not use shredded rhododendron as mulch around your new viburnum.