Without further adieu, here is a slideshow of our hideaway in the woods - 3br/1ba, barn, and 9 acres of land.

Note - the house has pieces of wood propped against it - that's cause hubby was installing crown molding & baseboards in the MBR that weekend...

I kept it quiet until it was a done deal...

This past weekend we closed on a 3 BR cabin in central Wisconsin on 9 acres of land -mostly pine forest. It also has a large barn/mega-garage, some small outbuildings (wood sheds, old outhouse, former chicken coops...)

We have quite a bit of fixing-up to do but after one weekend's worth of work it is already taking shape and is rewarding us with the promise of many fun summer vacations to come.

The wildlife up there is amazing. The privacy is awesome (it is on our own private road, too), and the fresh air is invigorating. I could do without the deer ticks, though. I don't consider Lyme Disease a "feature" of a northwoods retreat!

Pictures to follow sometime soon...

With a disappointing voter turnout...the call is for the GI Tract disater.

Here is the story:

A few weeks ago, hubby had to take the day off from work when our sump pump began emitting terrible noises from its cavernous lair below the basement floor. He hustled over to Home Depot, bought a new pump after removing the old one and realizing it wasn't even a proper sump but a 1960's effluent pump for a septic system!

He got the installation and cleanup done by 1pm so we all decided to go out for a nice lunch and a beer for dad to reward him for his handyman skills.

We settled on Houlihans as our destination because it is near home, offers Guinness on tap, has a kids menu and fantastic burgers.

As our lunch commenced, hubby and I each ordered a salad and a burger; kiddo opted for chicken tenders.

Everything was delicious but along the ride home I felt a tell-tale gurgling erupting in my stomach. I assumed too much diet coke was giving me gas.

We arrived home, I began some chores and felt like I had to pass some of the aforementioned gastric carbonation...so I attempted to squeak one out only to be engulfed in an underpants emergency: I didn't have gas but rather DIARRHEA! I sh*t all over my thong and new jeans! I had to get into the shower and clean up, the schmear was EVERYWHERE!!!

Hubby heard my screams and inquired about the problem.

"Oh man, something I ate at Houlihan's gave me the skids!" I exclaimed.

"Hmmm, maybe they should call it "Stool-ihans," he deadpanned.

For today's blog topic, I can either relate one of two true stories:

A compilation of sweet, slightly humorous observations from the Bible Class I attended this morning

or

A minor scatalogical disaster that happened to me this afternoon.

You choose.

(I think I already know what the concensus will be...)

I spent almost all fo this glorious 70+ degree day outside fiddling around in the pond. "Fiddling" as in cleaning, adding plants, scooping out dead tadpoles...

Yeah, two of the "newbies" I added last week didn't make it.

But I made an incredible discovery: a bullfrog tadpole that I put in the pond at the beginning of the fall survived the winter and came out of his hiding/hibernation place under a pile of decaying leaves at the bottom of the pond. This dude is HUGE. Actually he's almost horrifically scary - think of a big snake head with a thin, fish-like tail and that's pretty close to what I have swimming around, sucking algae off the plants and rocks. Two of the new tads are still alive and scuttling about, and of course my lone but gorgeous goldfish thiks she's queen of the pond.

But she isn't alone...

Apparently she had just enough time with some fish I imported to the pond at the end of the summer last year to spawn. All of those pet store fish died. My large goldfish remained and stayed the winter. I noticed during a warm patch of weather we had in december that there was a tiny little grey guy swimming around - likely her offspring. Well "Pee Wee", as we call him, is still alive and is spending much of his time in the shallow parts fo the pond, scraping algae from rocks and pebbles.

So the three swimmy survivors include a beautiful 6+inch long goldfish - she looks like a cross between a shubukin and a comet; a year-old bullfrog tad, who is starting to get leg buds, and a goldfish fry about 1" long. Also include inthe "survivor" category an uncountable number of japanese trapdoor snails of varing generations,  a multitude of seed-size common pond snails, and a decent amount of duckweek plants.

I'm concerned that once the Big Tadpole (as we call him) morphs to carnivorous from algae-eater that my fish will be in danger. I just hope that there are enough insects flitting about the water's edge to distract him.

Last night I taught a review session for the first grade home-study religion class at my parish. This means that instead of weekly "ccd" class, the kids do their workbooks at home and come to church once per quarter for a review of the material, plus time to work on themed crafts, play games relevant to the lessons, etc.

My daughter was in the class, as well as a girl I taught last time and a boy named Michael.

Despite good planning on my part (textbook earmarked with post-in notes, guidelines of cirriculum at hand, bible at the ready) I encountered a number of stumbling blocks through this challenging evening.

First, my daughter kept tearing apart the plastic tablecloths, seemingly unconsciously - some might call it "fidgeting." She also provided quite precocious answers to many of the review questions, sending the other kids into giggles.

Then, one little girl asked me a tough question about loving others:

"I know God wants us to love other people but do I have to love my Stepmother even though I don't like her?"

*sigh*

Finally, as the grand finale to the evening, Michael provided the class with background "music" by cutting gas quite audibly throughout the evening!

Spring is *almost* here. Dummy me: I neglected to check and re-check the weather predictions for the week before I ran to the pet store last night and bought 4 bullfrog tadpoles for my pond. I knew that night time temps were too cold so I scooped up a bunch of pond water into a giant bowl and allowed them to spend the night in an indoor environs. My plan was to take the bowl out this morning to acclimate to outdoor temps which I *thought* were going to be in the 50's. It was merely 37 (air temp) this morning at 10 am and the water was insanely cold. In fact, the goldfish went back into his nest in "torpor" which is like suspended animation, which they do when the water is too cold for normal activity.

Luckily, the sun has been beating down all day and so my relatively shalow pond, sans floating plants in quantity, is warming up nicely. I just took the bowl outdoors and sunk it into some gravel on a shallow pond bank. In about 30 minutes I'll measure water temps in the bowl and the larger water area and if its close enough, I'll release the tads and hope they make it overnight and start making a dent on the algae situation in the swamp!

I copied this from Michelle over at smoochdog who copied it from her friend, Janet and so forth...

Anyway...

I liked this quiz and I somehow feel happy about the resulting analysis which basically states that I'm a grounded, down-to-earth, yet sophisticated gal. Nothing like a "complimentary" quiz!


    

Saturday night. Ah, Saturday night...

A woman I met from the church costume crew is getting married next week, but she is not a "typical" bride. This is her first marriage - and she is 53 years old!

Although I'm not "tight" with her I thought it was a shame that no one planned a shower or anything else special. So as a kindness,  I planned and executed a bachelorette party for her at the cantina of a local Mexican restaurant. They have karaoke on  Saturday night (built-in entertainment) and delicious margaritas so I sent out a broadcast email to all the ladies from the show cast and crew. Thankfully 4 ladies let me know they were coming, which, to be honest, seems like just the right amount to have a good time at a bar.

I sat alone at our reserved table with a gift bag printed with lots of nude studly dudes all over it, for what seemed an eternity. Thankfully after 25 minutes the gals began to show up and the party was underway. We had the requisite silly hat and a feather boa for the bachelorette, and I brought a gift bag filled with assorted "flavors" of lubricants and massage oils, and an XXL black lace thong - which is probably close to her actual size. Eeeeeewwwww! Anyway...

I started in with the margaritas while everyone else tamely sipped their beers. Thanks to my dear friend, Jose Cuervo, I played the role of "misbehavin' lady" to keep everyones' spirits high. And yet  the "church gals" were an even more raunchy bunch (in a "good way" if there is such a thing) WITHOUT liquor so needless to say, a good time was had by all.

As karaoke commenced, I got up to perform "Wanted Dead or Alive" by Bon Jovi, when some guys ahead of me handed the dj their selection: the same song! I balked. Chicago guy (think Bears Superfan but in a Cubs jersey)#1 says, "Ok, do you want to challenge?"

My druken bragadocio kicked in. "I'm from the East Coast, man. Jersey is in my blood. Hell, YEAH, I want to challenge!"

No doubt about it, I kicked major ass on MY rendition (or at least my drunken ears thought so.)

Later in the evening, one fellow who had been performing various 60's country-pop classics asked, "What's going on, are you having some sort of party?"

I explained the situation and he then got up, and asked the bride-to-be to sit up on stage with him. He began to seranade her with "Can't Help Falling In Love With You" by Elvis. And then, in the sweetest gesture I've seen in a bar in many years, EVERY GUY in the joint got up and joined in, the group crooning to her as if she were the belle of the ball. It was amazing.

Later, the country-pop guy was looking over the song list with me and began stroking my back. I was buzzed enough not to care and yet sober enough to inch away so as to get my point across without being rude.

The next day, I had a very similar "close talking"/shoulder rubbing experience, but with a fellow at Church so in a way it was even more inappropriate! Yet again I scooted away subtly to escape the flirtation. Finally, that evening, despite heaps of laundry to fold, my husband would NOT leave me alone! (If you know what I mean...)

It dawned on me this morning when I had a pain on my side and looked over my calendar that I must be ovulating! Isn't that ever so strange?! I guess its true - that all mammals "smell" a female "in heat" or whatever. Ha! Sorry guys, these eggs have flown the coop!

Despite a quasi-career in the world of "alternative" music, I have always loved the genre of 50's and 60's cocktail jazz. There is something tittillating to me about those uptempo and occasionaly steamy tunes that exude a level of sexiness in direct correlation to the number martinis or tom collins' imbibed through the evening.

When I'm in a "lounge" situation in Philly or Atlantic City, inevitably the crooner on deck is Frank Sinatra, mixed on occassion with some Dino for campy variety. It is not often that the foxy females of that era get their equal time on the restaurant or bar sound system.

Imagine my surprise and thrill of showing up to make a Communion-to-the-homebound housecall on Thursday, only to open the door and hear what sounded like a bachelor party in the basement. I didn't see him dancing, but the octogenarian I was visiting was jamming out to arguably one of the most hip songstresses of the 60's, Ms. Della Reese.

Apparently he was so engrossed in the moment that he didn't hear me come in. I asked, "Were you playing a record?" He noted that yes, awhile back he was at a record sale and saw the hard-to-find album and snatched it up for his collection immediately.

I was stunned. And impressed. And mad at myself for not considering that despite an aging body and declining health, a person could be a youthful hep-cat underneath the wrinkles and bald head.

After we spent time time praying and chatting, I left his home and offered my heartfelt valediction, "Rock on!"