Chorin'

When I got married I received a few books on "handy household hints." I kid you not. What did people think I was? Some tom boy who wouldn't have the first clue about keeping house?

*insert crickets chirping*

Ahem.

I fancy looking through these books, nonetheless.I have one that is from the 1950's and I love reading about having company and throwing a proper party back in the day. Gelatin salads and color schemed crepe paper decorations? Why, yes pu-lease! Sometimes I think it would so nice to send a note in the mail and have 'weekend' company booked weeks in advance. Alas, reality for us is phoning the neighbours last minute and seeing if they want to whip over and share some slop. We'll toss the toys off the supper (no such thing as dinner around here) table and pitch another potato in the pot. Our company best are children with semi-clean faces and a momma who has her best ponytail holder in.

Didn't you know that a ponytail is the new shower for a mom?

Even when my house has been harassed by two untamed tigers, I love to have a sink that is clean and counters that are wiped down. Oh, there can be chaos from here to Timbuktu, but a shiny sink tricks me into feeling like my house is orderly. Isn't child rearing and housekeeping about trickery and deceit anyway?

All kidding aside, one of my favorite cleaning tips came from my auntie, which was passed down from her momma. A sprinkle of laundry detergent in the sink before you wash your dishes wipes out the crud, sparkles things up and keeps your dishrag smelling pretty as a spring rain. Just dump a teensy bit in, scrub it out good with your holy dishrag and rinse the sink out well before you do your dishes. Voila! You can send your thanks to Auntie Linda. The woman deserves a medal.

Laundry detergent in an old pail, with a china teacup makes it all the prettier to look at. Now if it would only magically do the laundry and clean the sink out itself.

2012

I love this photo. The sun is shining so bright that she can't open up her eyes.

You southerners thought lawn chairs were for basking in the sun?

I think that's what trying new things out should look like, squinting into the excitement of what's going on around you. Whatever new venture you set out on 2012, be enthusiastic as a two year old skating on a wide open dam for the first time. I  hope you step out into the excitement of something unfamiliar and scrunch up your baby blues looking into the sun.

I know as the fiery ball sets, tomorrow will be much of the same as today. As months flip on the calendar little hands will get bigger and I realize these routine days are growing wee girls. Even though my unchanging days of regular housework continue, I want each day to be a remarkable one. I try to slow down my moments by loving each and every one I'm in. Being ever grateful for the hand prints on the windows and crumbs under the high chair are what changes my day from being mundane to one where I have to squeeze my eyes together when I look into the future.

Although, might not every moment of my day be post worthy, I know that it's heart worthy and things I want to store in the recesses of my being. Memories I want to be etched into the core of who my children are.

So, here is to 2012; if you're not travelling the world to try new things, let each minute in your home be one that has the awe of newness.

Sip a Little

The days are getting shorter and the weather is brisk! It's time to curl up with a tasty, warm drink and relax by the fire.

Who am I kidding? It's time to wipe that snotty nose off your toddler (wipe the snot off, that is, not the nose off...), reach for the screaming baby, and pray for the sun to peak out just a tad so that you might remember you are not living in the far north. If you can find that warm drink that you made an hour ago, you can bet your bottom dollar it will be lukewarm. However, I have learned to appreciate lukewarm drinks now that I have two little one's to chase after; taking slow sips of cocoa doesn't have the same appeal when you have spit-up running down your arm, and your toddler is glancing at your paints and the family pet with a gleam in her eye. When your two year old's precocious nature is leading her to experiment with fur and paint, lukewarm drinks are definitely better, they go down quicker and don't keep you tied up for long.

Just don't fret, my pet, all us mother's here on the prairies need to unite. Remember that these winter months are fleeting. *insert awkward laughter* Soon enough the calves will be laying on the ground and the crocuses will be popping up. For now, try and embrace the living room forts,  play dough you hope won't get eaten, and the Dr. Seuss marathon that will ensue. Cozy on up with your babes and cuddle their warm little bodies. Stare into their big, trusting eyes, and laugh at their antics. Know in your heart of hearts, that these are the good years. It might be chilly outside, but the sticky fingers on your clean windows, pointing at the snowflakes in wonder, are what will haul you through these long, Old Man Winter months.

If you are struggling with little sunlight, cyclical housework, and summer's opposite-remember we're all in this together. Find a neighbour mom to chat things over with or join a mom's group in town.  You can always do what I do, lay back in that fort, and stare up at the stars on that crazy quilt's back and let your heart swell with the knowledge that you are exactly where you should be in life.

Now, wipe off your counter, make that warm drink and recollect the fact that there are only five or six months until we might see a break in the weather. That ain't nothin'...

Cavities in a cup

Hot Almond 'n' Cream Drink-please, be prepared to rot your teeth out.

1c butter or margarine
1c sugar
1c packed brown sugar
2c vanilla ice cream, softened
2tsp vanilla extract
Ground nutmeg

In a saucepan over low heat, cook & stir, butter and sugars for 10-12 minutes or until butter is melted. Pour into a mixing bowl; add ice cream and extract. Beat on medium speed for 1-2 minutes or until smooth, scraping the bowl often.

To make one serving: spoon 1/4c mixture into mug and 3/4c boiling water and stir well. Sprinkle with nutmeg.

Mix can be stored in a covered container in the fridge for up to one week.

Home Again

When I ask my mom about round up in days gone by from when she was young, she covers her eyes and shakes her head. Shows like Heartland might give you a romantic idea of what a round up in the mountains might look like; mercy, I tell ya, there are too many stories in the family that aren't suitable to immortalize on my blog.

The cows are home now and I'm happy my husband is back in cell reception. Things were quiet this year and went without a hitch. It was snowy and cold, that wet cold that get's down into your bones.  When we popped in to see the neighbours, the girl that was riding with them out there had a mysteriously bright looking sunburn on her neck, with nary a ray of sun in the sky, you knew it was damp - the dye from her red scarf leaked onto her skin.

They're ba-ack!

My Dad and Uncle rode up to the 'top end' one year, in minus fourty degree weather and trailed strays back into corrals down at what we call the junction. They got back to the cabins around 10:00PM and when I gasp, "you could have froze to death," Dad just says they almost did. I'm glad the ugly weather this year pales in comparison to others. As much as we know a cold snap will help bring any of the cows left wandering the bush down, I'm quite content with our Indian summer.

I love the term Big Sky. It reminds me of who I am.

One of the boys I grew up with married a lovely lady from Calgary. She always gets such a crack out of things when I say my husband is out bringing home the bulls and that I'm on pins and needles waiting for him to be back in cell reception in case I go into labour. I know she pictures me out in a sod house with the wind a' howlin' and my babes round my ankles praying for Daddy to come home. That's fine, she can picture things like that because I picture her with her homeboys in the heart of the city, waiting for her man to bring her a latte from Starbucks.

Just so you know, Rebekah, if I had a clue how to run photoshop, I would put your picture right smack in the middle of the herd with a rope in your hand and poop on your boots and send it as a post card to the unit you work on .I am going to get you out here one day to help haul water and stoke the stove and maybe you could explain to me what a dishwasher and that thing they call the tee-vee is. I'll send an invite with the pony express on Monday and maybe we'll see you and the boys sometime early January.

Gracie & Wyatt's Flat

My little girl is only two and is ready to move to a new pad. I thought this started when they were eighteen.

My Auntie Pat has the best play house this side of the Rockies. It's chalk full of childhood exhilaration and is the type of thing memories will be made of. Ya'll, this is the ticket; the ticket to being numero uno Grammy, Auntie, whatever title you are seeking after.

Now, be prepared because this fine prairie dwelling will make your heart a tad envious if you have the run of the mill, Canadian Tire version of a kid's fortress. If you think you can handle it, feel free to carry on.

Uncle Merle, being the man with a vision, saw this hundred year old bunkhouse, complete with the fact the  pigeon's made this their home, and knew that the setup would make a fine place for imaginations to soar. With the original steel wheels still being able to turn, he hauled this bad boy back to their home place from the neighbours. Can you imagine transporting it from field to field with horses for harvest? Being the hired man who bunked in this beneath a starry sky?

A little before

After a thorough cleaning, new flooring laid down, a couple of windows and the inside being painted a cheerful yellow...the babes were allowed in! Auntie Pat has the sweetest little red play kitchen, table & chairs, and a fancy pants sock monkey tea set. It's settled the fact my girls don't want to go to Disneyland; they want to go to the end of the gravel road, to Uncle Merle's house.

Ain't she a beaut? 

Times are a Changin'

My Grandpa was one of the most well read, well travelled, and intelligent men that I have ever known. He journeyed the world with an international organization, C.U.S.O, throughout the seventies and eighties to help local people in  second and third world countries improve farming practices. He was always open to learning and progressing as a person, and as an intellect. Well, almost always. He was also a Scotsman: a stubborn Scotsman.


While years passed and farming practices changed, my Grandpa liked to stick to the tried and true, tested method. One year while painting the big shop on the home place, my Uncle hurried along with a huge roller brush. Looking over and seeing Grandpa methodically painting away with a little brush he commented, "Dad, why don't you get a roller like me? It goes way faster."


"This has worked well for me for the past twenty years."






Things did work well for Grandpa over the years.  That's why we never argued with him while he continued to fork feed by hand daily to feed well over a hundred head of cows, while the new front end loader sat in the yard.


As time passed and my Uncle began to farm with Grandpa, Uncle Ian decided it was time for a new combine. Keep in mind this isn't the early 1900's or anything, this was the time of big bangs, probably somewhere in the early 90's.


Grandma loved to tell the story about Grandpa coming in to put his long red underwear on and crawl into his winter coat when the temperature was somewhere near thirty degrees Celsius (mid to high eighties Fahrenheit). Grandma must have thought the stress of harvest was really getting to him, because as much as a person loves heat, it's not exactly common practice to parade around in clothes like that with the warm prairie sun beating down.


My other Grandpa (Larry) farmed the neighboring quarter to Grandpa Bill and couldn't figure out why the combine was working the field with the door hanging open. After he was cornered, and an explanation of his strange behaviour was demanded, we heard something that we would laugh about for years to come. The long underwear and open door were desperate attempts to stay warm in the new combine, one with air conditioning! A luxury Grandpa had never known. He didn't know how to shut it off, and was too stubborn to ask for help!


With harvest 2011 wrapping up for many farmers in the area, I wish you much luck with your air conditioners, not to mention the GPS systems. If you are having trouble, look up my Grandpa Larry, he'll come and help you shut it off and you don't have to be embarrassed by having to ask your son.

Living on the Funny Farm

I thought life was a little on the cuh-razy side when we were attacking some reno's in this here abode while I was nine million months pregnant - until I stopped and realized what was actually coming out of my mouth today.

A little before. I have photos of the process, but I'll spare you the details.

Ripping apart this bedroom, to spray foam insulation in and finding a GIANT bird's nest in the ceiling, a table hockey game, multiple vintage board games and an old wallpaper sample book from the 40's was nothing.

Thanks to Alyssa Penner out of Drayton Valley, Alberta,  for the photos. She took time out of her visit with her sister to come and take pictures of our wild prairie children. I don't know if we were more than she bargained for when she was led to the loft of the barn.

Pulling up the carpet- sanding, sanding, filling every single crack in the original hardwood, sanding, and sanding some more 'till I was praying the sander would blow up, was not crazy.

We put new dry wall up and painted the walls a very boring tan. I thought anything could go up on the walls to spruce the place up.

What was a little on the unbalanced side was when I actually said to my two year old, "Do not rope your sister," in a calm manner. I didn't realize that this is not your normal everyday conversation.  Complete with blue ribbon out of my sewing cupboard, she looked up at me and said, "catch Momma?"

My favorite part of this room a few weeks ago was the floor. I think the sheer amount of effort that went into it, made me want to kiss it sometimes. Now my favorite part of the room is that baby in the crate. No, it is not her bed for the night.

Mercy law, send in the troops.