{Ten Minute Tuesdays} Clean Those Light Fixtures!

Tuesday, Tuesday, how I love Tuesday.

Time for our Ten Minute Tuesday task!

Today, I cleaned light fixtures! I used a little of my general all-purpose cleaner (vinegar, water, and lavender essential oil), sprayed it on a microfiber cloth, and wiped all down all the light fixtures! Don't stress about them being perfect- no one looks that close- but a quick wipe down really helps those fixtures to shine!

A couple notes...

Don't just get the glass parts- wipe the metal stuff too!

If you're short (like yours truly) and need to stand on a chair, don't choose one with wheels. You may just start to fall off the thing when it rolls and get a picture of the floor- like so. You may also make a less-than-human squeaking noise that brings your husband upstairs, at which point he'll shake his head and remind you that you've got a perfectly good step stool in the kitchen.

Happy homemaking! (And use step stools),

Grand Beginnings: The Story of Us Part I

It’s cold and snowy and I’m ready for winter to be over… but instead of complaining, and because it's almost Valentine's Day, I’m gonna be romantic. Because I’m married now and life is all romantic. Right.

 <Imagine the watery time-travel transition they use in movies>



Let me take you to a time that was, um…six and a half years ago. Or so. Something like that.


It was the summer after my freshman year in college, July 20th, to be exact. I’d come back home to small-town Iowa for the summer, and was beginning to regret my decision. I could have stayed in Chicago and worked at my school-year desk job, watching movies and doing just about whatever I wanted. No manure smell, no working at the fast food place where I spent most of my high school evenings, no obnoxious little sisters… Chicago was looking pretty good. 

That night was no exception. I was, once again, kicking myself for coming back to my tiny hometown rather than staying in the Windy City as I was getting off of my shift at the fast food place. It had been a rough night, and while fast food is notoriously pretty easy, I was sick of it. Really really sick of it. When I went to college, I thought my days at this fine greasy establishment were over. But I needed money and a summer job, and the fast food place really wanted me back, so back I went. 

Like I said, it had been a long shift. I was tired and crabby (not a terribly unusual state for that summer), and was just taking off my apron when my co-worker (whose name I completely forget! We’ll call him Jimmy) walked up to me and asked if I was going to the birthday party. I’d forgotten about the party. It was for another co-worker whose name I forget and isn’t terribly important. The important part is that this kid was having his 16th birthday party, and his girlfriend, Angela, had invited me. Angela’s a sweetheart. I’d known her in high school- she was a year under me- and we’d been pretty close back then. However, a 16-year-old’s birthday party? Really? I was soo above that, being 19 and all. And in college. It was bad enough that I was working with all these kids, but socializing with them? I didn’t think so. 

Until Jimmy told me that he was going. Jimmy was a (cough cough) older man. He was a junior in college, and was my manager. And I thought he was pretty cute. I’m not sure why anymore. The fact that I don’t actually remember his real name is probably pretty telling. Suddenly, a 16 year old’s birthday party didn’t sound quite so lame. 

“Yeah, I’m going,” I replied as I rushed out the door. Had to get home and shower to get rid of the burger smell. I convinced myself I was going to the party for Angela’s sake. She’d been such a good friend. I owed it to her, cute boy notwithstanding.

I got to the party late. Fashionably late. Too-cool-for-a-high-school-party late. I planned on going in, getting some cake, hugging Angela, then ignoring Jimmy until he decided to come flirt with me. Unfortunately, I’d arrived too late to ignore Jimmy. He’d already left. But as I surveyed the room , Jimmy suddenly and dramatically didn’t matter anymore.

Zeke, my Hunky Husband (well, at the time, just Hunky Guy… but we all knew where this was going) was there. Sitting quiet and comfortable on the couch.

Zeke’s eyes met mine. I blushed up to the roots of my hair. Smooth. Real smooth, I thought to myself.

“Hey. It’s been awhile,” he said. I couldn’t remove my tongue from the roof of my mouth.  Say something, say something! Speak, woman!

“Uh, yeah,” was my brilliant reply.

“What have you been doing?” he asked. I couldn’t feel my feet. Where were my feet? And how come I was so shy around this guy?!? I was acting like I was twelve. I hadn’t gotten butterflies or blushed like this since Kevin, my very first crush, had held my hand under the table in the lunchroom in 6th grade.

“Oh, I’m going to school in Chicago. Elementary Education.” I’m mundane and boring! Think interesting thoughts! Oh, never mind. Refocus the conversation back to him so you don’t have to talk anymore. “How about you?”

“I’m workin for my dad yet,” he said, with no signs of the internal struggle that was currently making my insides churn. “But I’m going to school this year, in Minnesota.”

Well, that was unexpected. I’d known Zeke in high school. He would cut Math class to come and visit me in Home Ec (where I unsuccessfully attempted to make a quilt. My teacher wrote on my evaluation, “Great job for your very first sewing project!”). He was on the football team, which meant that he was too cool for me. We were in Government together, too. I woke him up one time, thinking he’d been partying too hard the night before. He corrected me- he’d been running his family farm for the past week. Oh.

I’d always thought of him as just another stupid jock. A stupid jock with a nice, comfortable family farm to support him for the rest of his life. College was the last thing I expected from him. In fact, just the fact that he was talking to me again was kind of the last thing I expected. He was a football player (and a good one); I was just a nerdy girl who thrived on Speech Team. He was waaay too popular to talk to me.

But here he was, talking to me anyway. We talked for a little while longer, about college, about our high school friends, about work (he wanted to use me for my curly fry connections).  Slowly, very very slowly, my prejudices about him started to dissipate.

Angela interrupted us, asking me about how school was going, wanting to catch up. I found myself reluctant to end the conversation with Zeke. I was confused, very confused. This 6’5” man was nothing like the guys I usually liked. I liked the shorter, skinny, talkative kind, not the well-muscled, exceedingly tall, soft-spoken sort. He farmed, for heaven’s sake. I knew nothing about farming. At all. I couldn’t tell a heifer from a steer, and I don’t think I even knew what those words were at the time.

Angela and I talked for a little, but pretty soon, there was Zeke again next to me again.

“You wanna listen to some music? I have a song you’d like,” he said, and pulled out his iPod. We shared headphones and listened- all the while, I was very aware of the fact that we were acting like a high-school couple. Like I acted with some other guy a year before. But that other guy did not smell this good.

Stop smelling him! I ordered myself. This is NUTS.  I don’t remember anything about the song we listened to. I wasn’t paying any attention. Zeke’s shoulders looked way too nice. Like I could just lay my head down right there….

“So, when are you leaving for school?” He obviously didn’t realize that he was interrupting my shoulder-lust.

“Oh, um, August. August 15. I have to go back early because I’m going to be an RA.”

“Oh, okay. I’m actually going up to Sturgis a week before that.”

From some dark corner in my brain, I retrieved any knowledge I’d ever gained about this “Sturgis.” Sturgis, Motorcycle Rally. I’m still very impressed that I figured that one out.

“You have a motorcycle?” I asked.

“Yeah. It’s right outside,” he said. “I rode it here.”

“Really? I’ve never been on a motorcycle. You should take me for a ride sometime.” What is this? Now I’m flirting with him?! What is WRONG with me? And I don’t want to go on a motorcycle!!! They’re fast! They have no seat belts, they’re dangerous….

“Well, you want to go now? I just have to take some of my stuff off the back…”

Crap. Now I was stuck. Tried to act all cool and tough and adventurous, and it totally backfired. Who knew that he would actually offer? Now what?

“Uh, okay.” I’d sealed my doom, I was sure of it. He left to take stuff off the back. I’d later learn that this “stuff” is called a T-bag. But at the time, I don’t think I would have cared. I was too nervous, there was too much dread deep in my core. Me, on a motorcycle?? No way.

My parents forebode trampoline-jumping. I was not the motorcycle type. I’d probably have to confess to my mom that I rode a motorcycle. Like I did the first time I went on a trampoline… when I was 18.

Zeke walked back into the room, which I was just noticing was becoming more and more empty. People were leaving the party, and I was still there. I had planned on leaving early… but oh well.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Sure.” I gulped.

I barely trusted my legs as I followed him outside, where the motorcycle sat waiting. Well, here goes nothing.

This is getting long. We'll do part two soon! (The anticipation is killing you, I know. Don't fall off the edge of your seats, now).

{Seven Quick Takes} Turkey Turds, Princes, and Frozen Raccoons

Linking up today with Jen! 

1

I have an announcement!

My.Christmas.Decorations.Are.Down! (And there was much rejoicing! Especially on behalf of poor Hunky Husband, who's been reminding me that the Christmas lights were still up... for about three weeks.)

Ain't no way they're making it to the attic this week, though. Baby steps.

2

 Oh my goodness turkeys. 

Apparently, turkeys don't like to stand in the snow. And apparently, turkeys like to look at themselves. It helps them preen. 

Luckily, our neighborhood turkeys have Hunky Husband to shovel a walkway for them! And the walkway is right by some large windows! 

The front entryway of my home (apologies for the over-exposed nighttime pictures):

Seriously, turkeys? Stop pooing on my welcome mat!

3

I solved a mystery this week... well, not so much a mystery. 

See, I've put on about... 25 pounds. In the past year and a half. As we all remember, I'm little, and on a little frame, 25 pounds is a lot. That extra weight also puts my BMI into the unhealthy range. Boo. 

On the bright side, my boobs look fabulous! (Okay. You didn't need to know that.)

Now, I knew that I'm eating more- and not very well. Camp always has cookies! I have no self-control! It's a bad combination. 

I also don't... really... exercise. Ever. I figure, I move around enough just during the day, right? Well, that was my excuse, anyway... but I had a pedometer for a while, and I was taking about 9,000 steps a day (the "goal" is 10,000), so I thought I was doin' pretty good! But that was before I was working in an office.This week, I decided to wear my ol' trusty pedometer, just to see.

Mystery solved!

I'm taking all of 4,000- 3,000 steps a day. Which isn't much. At all. <Sigh> I guess I'm going to have to start this exercising thing... any suggestions?

Note: I need something without any equipment, that I can do indoors, in about ten minutes, and that doesn't require running or sweating. I'm a challenge, I know.

4

We didn't watch the Superbowl last weekend. We took a nap instead.

And yes, I do realize that I'm blessed with the rarest of husbands- a man who, despite being built like a linebacker, does not watch football.

5

Five years ago, if you had told me that I would have four dead racoons strapped to the roof of my car, I'd have told you that you were nuts. 

 (See the tails sticking out of the bag? Oh yeah.)

Zeke's dad had some racoons that had been causing problems around the farm- so he trapped 'em and shot 'em and sent them along with us to the trading post near our home. I wouldn't let them ride inside the car with us- so we strapped them on the roof (and that way, they wouldn't thaw out- they were pretty well frozen already). 

The trading post was closed on Sundays. 

So they also came to church with us.

6

Can we discuss husbands and their need to leave pants all over the house?

Am I the only one with a perpetually pants-losing husband?

7 

Fun with our nieces this weekend.... 

Our 3-year-old niece (to me)- while taking Zeke to "show him sumtin" : "I'm gonna take your prince upstairs pa-minute, but I'll brink him back!"

My prince indeed.

{Pretty Happy Funny Real} Kitchen Edition

Today I'm linking with Like Mother Like Daughter for PHFR!

 Today's contentment brought to you by the upstairs kitchen of the Little Wife Household-all these photos were taken while I was making supper. I'm a multitasker, here.

{Pretty}

For my bridal shower, a friend of mine made me this recipe box. I love it! It's so pretty. I keep it out on my counter because it just brightens the whole place up. 

 {Happy}

Omigoodness. This makes me so happy. First- new wok! This bad boy was my Christmas present from Zeke this year. And yes, I know, you're not supposed to use a spoon, you're supposed to use the handles to bounce the food around. but I'm not coordinated, and I'd rather not loose half of my stir fry on the floor and the other half onto the burner...

Can we talk about the stir fry? This is a frozen mix that we got from Walmart. We don't usually like to buy food from there, but these stir fry mixes are tough to beat. They're Birds Eye brand, and come with noodles and frozen veggies and sauce... and in our area, they're only $6 for a big bag. We can make two suppers out of one bag. I just add some left over chopped up chicken breast, and sometimes "beef it up" by adding some extra frozen veggies, and it's a full supper right there. Half and hour to cook, and only one wok to wash.

Happy.

{Funny}

(You can't see it, but the bedroom and bathroom lights were also on...)

While I was taking these pictures, Zekecame home and said what he says almost every evening... "Why is every single light in the house ON!?"

Now that I think of it.... he says that every morning, before we leave for work, too...

The lights are ooooon, and we're all hoooome...

{Real}

Real life with Little Wife- this spaghetti squash has been sitting on my counter for over a month. I had big plans, but it just never happened, and I kind of forgot all about the squash.

I'm afraid to use it, but haven't yet thrown it away.

Poor squash.

Conquering Cleaning-Schedule-Phobia, At Least For the Time Being, Anyway

Confession time.

I have cleaning-schedule-phobia.

I like the idea of a cleaning schedule. I've tried a bunch of them. You know what? I usually stick to the schedule for... like... three days. And then I'm over it.

But! I've learned some stuff about myself in the process.

1. I get bored easily.

2. I get overwhelmed and defeated when I feel guilty.

3. If it doesn't apply to me, I don't use it.

4. I have to write down my tasks for the day, or I'll forget. 

Schedules that plan Mondays for the kitchen, Tuesdays for the bathroom and so on don't work for me.
#1 I get bored! I need to mix things up! 
#2 If I miss a Monday, I feel guilty that my kitchen didn't get clean, so I do that on Tuesday. Which means that on Tuesday, my bathroom doesn't get clean and then... eh, forget it.
#3 I have two kitchens- do I clean both of them on Monday? I can't customize the plan easily, so I'm out.
#4 The schedule doesn't change, so I forget what I've gotta do unless I look.

Abandon cleaning schedule!

And then, of course, I feel like I'm flying by the seat of my pants and get all grumpy.


Solution?

The Confident Mom!

I'll be honest, I tried the Confident Mom plan last year, and it didn't go so well. At the time, I was living in a tiny little apartment, and the detailed plans were a bit of overkill. It wasn't too easily customizable, but I did like the fact that while the plan covered everything that needed to get done, it wasn't rigid and I didn't get bored with it. I didn't write things down, though, and checking the plan several times a day wasn't great.

This year, though, The Confident Mom has a plan that's easily customized (!!!) so I can move stuff around more easily. If I know I've got an event on a certain day, I can lighten the load for that particular day by moving tasks around. Now that I'm in a bigger home, the tasks fit my lifestyle better, which is great. The only thing that was missing was #4- I have to write stuff down.

Cue the Household Planning Binder!

Here's what I did. I made a new section in my planning binder and labeled it "Cleaning." Then I edited the Confident Mom schedule as needed, and then printed them off two to a page (one sided). I cut them in half so they fit in my planning binder, and put them in my new "Cleaning" section. I edited and printed 4 weeks at a time.

Then I organize the tasks outlined by the Confident Mom into my Daily Do's page (writing down the things I've gotta do! #4 conquered!) and I get to determine when I'll do each task during the day.



So far, so good. We'll see if this plan helps me conquer my cleaning-schedule-phobia!

Saying Goodbye

My grandfather died last night.

I am blessed in that I have had all of my grandparents living- this grandpa is the first of my grandparents to pass away.

I... well, I'm okay.

Can I be honest, here?

Typically, I'm very emotional. I cry at the drop of a hat, really- sappy commercials, wedding videos, birth stories- I cry. And it's not only the "little" things- Zeke lost his grandmother about a year ago, and that was very hard.

But I'm not very sad about losing my grandpa.

If I was being very kind, I would call my grandpa a storyteller. If was being truthful, I would call him a truth-stretcher. I really did not know him, honestly. There was always, in everything he ever told me, an element of untruth.

Some people elaborate on events  to make things more interesting (and I'm often guilty of this one), some people tell lies to make themselves look better, and some people, well, they seem to be unable to tell the truth in any situation. From the big things to the little things, my grandpa was one of the third kind.

I always kind of thought that someday I'd know him. That someday, I'd have an actual adult conversation with him. That I'd hear about his childhood, learn more about my heritage. I thought I'd know something about him or about his character, or about what he thought was important. That won't ever happen now.

I'm a little angry about that. What kind of legacy does that leave for me? A legacy of lies and tall tales, of untruths and fantasies? How do I grieve someone I've never really met?

I feel guilty that I'm not sad. I will be sad to see my dad grieving. It will hurt to see my grandmother saying goodbye to the man she loved. But for me? I don't think I'll shed many tears. That somehow feels wrong.

I'm not sure about what I'm really feeling. I think that processing all this will take a while.

Pray for all of us, will you? Thank you.

{Theme Thursday} Barns

Linking up with Clan Donaldson for Theme Thursday today!

Ah, barns.

If you had told me ten years ago that I would be as familiar with barns as I am today, I woulda laughed.

I was a city girl, through and through.

And then my family moved to rural Iowa, I met my Hunky Husband and his awesome family (who happen to farm and do lots of farm-y stuff), and it was all over.

The nice thing about having in-laws with bunches of barns?

Great photo backgrounds!

From our wedding

(Bonus note: See the white trim on the doors and window? I painted that. Oh yeah.)

Our niece watching the cows

And we don't even have to call and ask first!

And every once in a while, you'll get a great picture like this one....

Going to feed cows with Grandpa