How NOT to tell your husband you don't like his sausage

This is the Fella smiling after cooking us lunch. Consider this the before photo. I do not have an after. Only the one burned in my memory.



He asked his mom for the recipe and made it all on his own. The Fella doesn't generally cook. As in NEVER. He grills, he microwaves, he orders pizza. He doesn't cook. But lately he's been inspired to give it a try. And I love that. Love him.

Saturday we went out and bought all the ingredients. Everything looked good- the rice, the tomatoes. But this part got me.



Kielbasa. Beef Kielbasa. I can do it, I thought. It's just an giant hotdog. I like hotdogs- fried to a crisp and smothered on a bun. Could that rice and tomato make me forget?

He served up a small portion on my plate. I smiled through several bites of everything but kielbasa. And then I took a teeny tiny bite. I chewed. It got bigger. I chewed more. This wasn't going well.

And then I did it.
After my adorable Fella worked so hard and made us lunch...
I spit in out in a napkin in front of him.
I did.

That my friends is how NOT to tell your husband you don't like his sausage.

He has since forgiven me and I was allowed to kiss my cook. Though I can promise I will never hear the end of it. That's how we roll.

Sunlight

It seems funny to be writing about sunlight on a day that is so dark I've thought it was bedtime since I got up.

It seems funny because I'm sort of twisted and love cloudy days. Sometimes I prefer them.

Funny because you generally need a flashlight to get around my house or office or anywhere you find me spending large amounts of time. I'm not a fan of overhead lighting and fluorescent light generally sends me into convulsions.



But Spring means that extra hour....and then two or three after I get home. I witness the flaming sky and fleeting sun but not through my dirty windshield. I get to be me when I get home. Playing in the yard. Taking clothes off the line. Pulling weeds. Taking pictures.

I get to do the things that I desire...that pile up after a long day of being stuck behind a desk. After the long commute the little farm is still awake and waiting for me.

I'm ready to Spring forward.
Are you?

Back

Back to routines. I love those.
Back to normal. Whatever that means.
Back to blogging.



Are you ready to come back to the little farm?
I've missed you.

Amnesia

I think I need to just get on here and write before I forget how. It seems my Christmas amnesia exploded into all out blog amnesia.

All the Christmas decorations are put away...just yesterday, actually.

And as I sit here I still have no idea what to write about.
No pictures to show you.

The truth is I'm busy.

I work in a very small office and back in November we went from four to three. I won't lie- it's something I sort of wished for. I wished for it in the way that I needed more. More to do. More challenge. My long dormant ambition needed a spark. I've known that for a long time.

Careful what you wish for.

I'm busy. Extra work. Extra hours. Extra stress.
I forgot what all that was like. Another amnesia of sorts.
But you know what...I forgot how good it felt.
And I forgot how good this felt.
Back soon, friends.

Christmas Amnesia

Christmas has thrown up all over my living room. That image ain't exactly pretty...and well, neither is the little farm at the moment.

There are legions of nutcrackers not yet in formation. There are boxes that I will open with more anticipation and surprise than those that find their way under the tree. I swear I have some sort of Christmas decoration amnesia.

The Fella does. I know this because of the conversation we have every year. And by conversation I'm referring to him standing at the bottom of the attic ladder repeating-

This better be the last one.

Thank goodness he can't see me standing at the top of the ladder. I'm pretty sure I'm wearing an expression that screams one of those fiber optic trees at the CVS register would look really good with my bowl of festive Hershey kisses.



I opened one box last night and admired the adorable little mouse ornament perched on top. Of course I wasn't surprised when I didn't remember buying the little guy.

And then he ran out of the box. Eek.
Good thing we have six cats....who don't know a darn thing 'bout catching mice.

It's a good thing I'll forget about all of this before next year comes around.

The Perfect Storm

I ventured out on Saturday afternoon to run errands. Around 4pm the flakes started falling. And then I did what I always do when this happens- alert BellaMomma. She had already been alerted.

Sunday morning dawned like this...



















And by late morning it was gone. The perfect storm.

I didn't mean to

I didn't mean to be gone so long. I never do.

Seeing the green in these photos shows me the weeks that have passed. The green is gone and covered with leaves.

What better way to mark my return than with a another wonderful quilt find. I won't bore you with the price, but it was less than five dollars. I think it might make a lovely tree skirt. I love using things like this for Christmas.







And speaking of that...the only decorations I have out is a bowl of red, green and silver Hershey Kisses. That's a good start, right? Oh- and a bag of red and green M&Ms. They somehow hopped into my cart at Target. I didn't mean to.