The rants, rambles, and otherwise uninteresting happenings in the life of...well, ME, you might say. You mean you wanna know more? Ok ok, you have my warning! (For you who want to know lots more about me, go here.)
Yesterday Joe put a wooden cross he had strung with lights on the roof,
so of course we heard him tramping around. Abby was in her highchair,
and she pointed to the roof and said, "Joe's on da vuff!"
Her favorite song is "Hey you, I'm into Jesus", and she's always singing it!
We have these ApologetiX CD's (Christian parodies of old rock songs),
and there's one that says "Choir Boy" (but I don't remember what it's
about). It's so funny to see Abby's mouth contortions when she says
"Choir Boy" in a funny tone of voice!
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Anne-the-cat 
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In our house, we have a quaint little phrase (coined by Dad) called
"stir the frosting". What, exactly does "stir the frosting" mean? Here
are the steps, in their entirety:
1. Buy a jar of your favorite frosting.
2. Go home (be safe--don't want to wreck before you get to stir the frosting!).
3. Get a spoon (knives work, but not quite as well).
4. Take the lid and the foil thingy to detract stirrers-in-training (aka small children) off.
5. The second-best part: Stir the frosting! Stir stir stir...it really
needed that extra stirring you know...meanwhile, make your mouth water.
This part shouldn't be too hard (the mouthwatering part, I mean).
6. Remove the spoon. Funny how frosting just kind of globs onto spoons, isn't it? Huh...never would've figured.
7. Lick the spoon...the best part. You can't just stick that spoon in
the sink and let all that good frosting go to waste! Enjoy the fruits
of your hard labor!
Now...I just wonder if Mom will let me "stir the pop"...
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Anne-the-cat
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Tonight I had a superbly funny phone call tonight. See, Ben has this
coworker, Kelly N. (the guy who's trying to find me a husband), whom
I've mentioned numerous times before, and he loves to joke. The other
day he called pretending to be a seller of everything (encyclopedias,
vaccuums, etc) to Dad. Well tonight, he called, for ME. It's nice to
get calls for ME (even though I don't really have much to say on the
phone...just the thought of someone calling just for ME is nice). But I
have decided I don't like getting calls from this particular man.
First thing he said was, "This is the Chevrolet Something-or-other [he
named some important-sounding firm]. Is Mr. Ben McLean around?" I said
he wasn't available, and could I take a message. He said no; was I
Ben's wife? I said no, I was his sister, then he said "Are you
qualified to make an important financial decision for Mr. Ben?" And I
said "no, but can I take a message and have him call you back? He can
call back tomorrow." (I was thinking Why
is this guy calling at this time of night? There's a bunch of kids in
the background...not very professional, and definitely after-hours no
matter which firm he works for!)
"Tomorrow!?! I can't wait until tomorrow!"
THEN I recognized the voice and I started laughing. "I know who you are
now!" I said. "I recognize your voice now! I thought you sounded
familiar!"
We both laughed.
He said something to his son; he was dropping him off for
something...I'm still not exactly what; it was a Christian function at
a church where they shoot machine guns. O...k...hope they have fun!
Then, of course, he asked what Ben was doing; I told him Ben was in
Beth's hunter's ed class; then he started talking about Huterite
people. He'd been telling Ben the other day he had been going to
Huterite colonies to find me a husband. Then he said, "It's been almost
a year since I started looking for a husband for you."
"Wow, almost a year?"
"Yep. Want to know a stranger?"
"Uh...but...it's a STRANGER!"
"Picky?!?!? You can't be PICKY! Here...there's a whole lot of boys here."
"What, are they all like 7?"
"No!" He paused. "How about a colored boy? Here's a real nice-looking
one." He moved the phone slightly away from his mouth. "Hey, how old
are you! You? Fourteen? Fifteen?" He returned to me. "There, fifteen."
"I have to wait for my husband to grow up?"
"You might just have to! Here I been looking for a husband for you for
almost a year; you can't be too picky!" He turned to the boy. "Here,
talk to this girl. Say hi to this girl. Tell her you're available."
Oh. My. Goodness.
The kid did.
"Hi?" he said. He was quiet for a sec, but I heard Kelly saying
something in the background, then the kid said, "I'm available!" then
Kelly took the phone back. "There, see? He's available."
I was laughing SO hard I could barely say anything.
"Well, I'd best be going. I'll talk to you later."
"G'bye."
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Anne-the-cat
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Today I was supposed to make a turkey dinner, all by my ownself. I always wondered if I could make turkey dinner if ever called upon, like for Thanksgiving.
We had a 15 pound turkey in the freezer, and
we decided to eat it (yes, even though it's not Thanksgiving) to make
room for all the peppers (which took 1,000 hours to chop) we brought
back from our trip. Actually, I think there was only 13 pounds of
turkey. One of the extra pounds was the innards (which, by the way, did
you know store-bought turkeys come with two necks? We have pondered
long and hard on who doesn't get a neck), and another pound was blood.
No kidding. I jabbed my knife in the top of the bag to open it, and it
just BLED. I held it over the sink and let it all drain out...kinda
gross. Then I put it in the crock pot (this was last night, by the
way), covered it with dill and lemon pepper, and added a little water.
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Anne-the-cat
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My Funny Grandpa
My Grandpa can talk to anybody, and I'm sure of it. When we were
getting ready to go to Oregon, Grandpa called to ask what Grammoo's
phone number is. He had an old number of hers, and of course it was a
wrong number, and of course he got the wrong person. But being the nice
guy he is, he struck up a conversation with Mr. Wrong Number, ended up
telling him Grammoo was going to sell the house. Mr. Wrong Number came
out, and Grammoo gave him a tour. In the end, he expressed interest in
the house and bought an old-fashioned plow.
All because of my friendly Grandpa!
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Anne-the-cat
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Last night we "jammed" for a while in the little tiny room fondly
dubbed the "studio". Every once in a while Jay would come up and clap
or nod his head to the music.
At one point Dad said, "I think he'll be the next drummer."
"Jay, do you want to play bass, guitar, drums, or sing?" I asked him.
He looked all shy, and dimpled. "Listen," he said.
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Anne-the-cat
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A couple weeks ago Mom and Joe were in town and Mr. Gable, one of the
neighbors the boys regularly work for (they work for Mr. Gable and Mr.
Spartz), called and wanted Joe to call him back. So, when Joe came
back, he returned the call and found out Mr. Gable wanted the boys to
work for him.
Somehow we all (except Joe and Eric, of course)--even me, who took the
call--forgot it was the Gables that wanted the boys, and thought it was
Mr. Spartz (who lives across the street). So Mom told them just to walk
over because she had to leave before they were expected. (The boys walk
to Mr. Spartz's but not the Gables; Mr. Gable's is a mile away.)
Joe had Mrs. Gable pick them up.
It was getting quite late, after six, so Mom went to Mr. Spartz' to
pick the boys up, but they weren't there! She looked all around, but
didn't see them, and came home. She talked to Dad, and was going to go
back and yell and honk, when we got a phone call--it was the boys, at
Mr. Gable's!
"How did you get there?" Mom asked.
"Mrs. Gable drove us!" Joe said.
Then I remembered what I'd forgotten and should have known since I was
the one who took the message--they hadn't been to Mr. Spartz's at all!
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Anne-the-cat
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Sadly, yes. See, you have to understand...I haven't
grown--vertically--since I was 14, so most of my clothes still fit. I
have had the same pair of jeans (and same pair of overalls) for five
years, and just now I've worn a hole in the left knee (and almost in
the right) of my jeans. So today, I was standing in the living
room...and Jay comes up to me. He gives me a hug, then looks down at my
gaping jeans knee and said "Anne, your pants are broke!"
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Anne-the-cat
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Abby's so funny. She's gotten into this (bad) habit of not eating her
dinner. Dad said "Do you want it for breakfast, babycakes?"
I think she said "No". A little later I went to give her a bite, and
she said, "No...dad said uh breakfast." (in other words, "No, Dad said
I could have it for breakfast.")
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Anne-the-cat
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The other day Rase was bragging that on his tippy-toes he
could reach a green tack (on the boys' room wall). Jay, not to be
outdone, said he could reach the light switch of the boys' room on his
tippy-toes. When we went upstairs, he pointed to the ceiling light and
said, "On lots of toes I could reach that!"
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Anne-the-cat
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