Cold Goldfish Drama

It is really cold out. We had a freeze last night and will again tonight. The goldfish are not happy. They are not allowed inside as they are not house pets. In fact, my argument for getting them in the first place was that fish are not pets. They aren't, you can't pet them. As some of you may know, Manly Man has me on animal restriction. I cannot have anymore pets until we move to a larger place. Still, fish are not pets. Seriously.

Last summer I set up the little pond in an attempt to raise tadpoles. After spending $100, I had a first rate tadpole habitat. Then the tadpoles ate each other. I bought some sort of mosquito eating fish and three goldfish to take the place of the cannibalistic tadpoles. The Monkeys named the new goldfish. We have Yang, Ozzy Osborne, and Ketchup. Yep, those are the names my babies picked out for goldfish - goody,goody.

Of note, only one monkey has fallen into the the little pond. Well, only one that I know of.

Some of the pond plants were allowed inside, much like the cats. The three goldfish will stay outside in their half whiskey barrel pond in very cold water. All three of them are hovering near the bottom. Ozzy Osborne looks a little sideways (imagine that). A quick Internet search tells me that they will survive just fine outside over winter. These are not hot house goldfish. They are hardy goldfish.

Not convinced they will be safe, I put in an emergency call to Sister #3 regarding winter care of goldfish. As you can see, this is a high emergency. She has yet to call me back. I can see her over there in neighboring tiny town while snickering at my ignorance and refusing to share her water gardening/fish herding knowledge.

I am only panicking a little. Anybody know if I am doing this right? Anybody? ARRRRGGHH.

Where I Make the Same Mistake Twice

Six days ago, I set out to prove that sour dough starter just happens. Never mind that bread has been made this way forever. Somehow, it just seems odd that this will grow yeast. I wanted to this to be a pure from scratch sour dough made from whole wheat flour, water, maybe a little sugar,and naturally occurring yeasts in my kitchen. No I didn't add the yeast, apparently they are airborne.

On day three, the flour/water mixture did a bubbling thingy, but still didn't smell or taste of sour dough starter. Two days ago, it had the distinctive sour dough taste. At that time, I put it in a plastic freezer baggie, gave it some more water and flour as well as a little bit of sugar to get it going. Then it was placed back on the counter. Today, it looked like my other starter - all bubbly and frothy, just light brown instead of white. The baggy was doing the balloon trick. My other starter has been known to walk off of the counter.

I decided to take a smell of the new batch and see if it was right. YOWWWW, this sour dough starter has a wicked aroma. Definitely sour dough, but man it made my nose burn. I didn't remember the other sour dough starter ever smelling like that, so I got it out and repeated the experiment. Note to self, do not stick your face into any baggie of sour dough starter and take a big whiff. Nose burning, eyes watering, lesson learned, I just haaaad to do it twice.

Wake Up Call

As I may have mentioned before, our family donates old or outgrown clothes, toys, books, and just about anything else we don't need anymore to a local women's shelter. I also shop in the thrift store for things we need that don't necessarily have to be brand new.

This weekend, my Mom brought by a couple of bags of clothes and linens to donate. I had gone through my summer clothes and pulled out some things to give. Today I took the trip to Kaufman to drop off the bags and look for a replacement backpack for Baby Monkey. He has been dragging his on the ground and rubbed a hole into the bottom of it, big sigh.

On arrival, it seemed a little odd that there were so many people helping sort donations. After dropping our stuff off at the back, I drove around front and parked in the thrift store parking lot. A quick look around revealed no backpacks. Oh well, I can buy new if necessary. There is usually a lot of stuff to choose from. Today, there was very little in the way of children's clothes or toys.

When I went back outside, I noticed it. The parking lot was completely full. All those people helping sort donations were homeless or battered women being taken care of by the center. The shelter was full to capacity. There were no backpacks because so many people need inexpensive things now.

Our little family is so sheltered from what is going on in our country. I was able to find a good, part-time job. Manly Man has a secure, well-paying position. Our marriage is loving and kind. Drug abuse, domestic violence, and poverty are not on our radar. We have plenty of food, shelter, and clothing. An education for my children is taken for granted. We are safe and secure.

I came home and sewed up the hole in Baby Monkey's backpack. Somehow getting a replacement does not seem as important anymore.

The Bestest Compost Tool

 

 

Here is my favorite composting tool, my compost screen. (Ignore the shadow Debbi thighs) Simply put rough compost on top, shake, and the wonderful finished compost falls through. This tool works even better when manned by Monkeys. Manly Man made this for me out of a plywood frame with masonry wire cloth stapled across it. Actually, he made it as the lid to my worm bin, not knowing I would change it's job title from worm bin lid to compost sifter. It has served me well for about four years.

What is your favorite composting tool?

2008 Family Reunion Quilt

 

Here it is. I procrastinated worse than ever this year. I let it go so long that I ended up quilting it from 10:00 am Friday until 2:00 am Saturday morning. I slept three hours and then got up to try to finish it in time. At about 9:00 am I called my Mom, which is pitiful. She saved me. We worked on it together for three hours and finished the boarder quilting and binding. My hands are sore and needle pricked. There was only a little blood.

We made it to the family reunion just a little late. Manly Man's family does this every year a weekend or two after Thanksgiving. It is our way of getting the very large family together once a year. The gifts are always exchanged in some sort of game; something like white elephant, musical chairs, or some story telling pass the present on the word "baby" game. Today was musical gifts. The women sat at one long table, men at another. When the music starts pass the gifts to the left until the music stops, everyone fight over who has what for a minute, and accuse each other or peaking, then start the music again. Total chaos, and too much fun. This is done with about fifty to sixty family members. It is a zoo.

This year, I cheated. After the music had been played two or three times I looked up and saw that Manly Man's maternal grandmother had the package with the quilt in it. I whispered to Aunt Linda, who was in charge, "Can we stop the game now?" She realized what I was up to and yelled for everyone to open their gift. The little blue and green quilt will now live with Gege and I am happy. From here on out I don't care who gets it in years to come. I just wanted Gege to have it this time.

Aunt Debbi Becomes a Productive Member of Society

It is about two o'clock in the morning and I am so excited I can't seem to get to sleep. I finally found a job. That's right, in our lousy economy I found a part time job that works with our schedule. Next week I go to work as a library lady. I am not exactly sure what qualified me for this job, but they want me. Maybe that minor in English literature is finally paying off. Go Figure. I wonder what they are going to do with me when they figure out I can't spell.

Sister #2 Does a Guest Post. Well I do it without her permission

Aunt Debbi here, I have been trying to convince my sisters to guest post for me. I have asked a couple of times. Well Sister #2 busted out with it in the comments and I decided it deserved to have it's own post.

What follows are the words of Becca AKA Sister#2 Enjoy.


This has nothing to do with noodles but I knew it would make you laugh.

Tonight I went for a short run in the cold, dark and decided to water the garden a little afterward...in the cold dark. There was just enough light from the neighbor's christmas lights that I could make out my little rectangular patch of earth and the sugar snap peas growing up the post with the tiny, tattered, American flag attached to the top.

I was feeling quite happy and warm from my run. I had been watering about 30 seconds when I saw it.....it was a dark, black rat-sized thing crawling toward me and then crawling back. I freaked out and squirted it with the water hose and screamed at it and jumped up and down to scare it away. Then I squirted it again and yelled for the dogs to come save me. Then I briefly thought about running to the neighbors house as the black thing was blocking the way to my own house. It did not seem at all intimidated by the things I was doing so I was becoming convinced it was rabid and I was going to have to run for my life.

But it slowly dawned on my that it seemed to move with the wind. Forward and then back, forward and then back. My stupid, tattered, American flag was casting a dark shadow on the ground that looked exactly like a rabid, black rat. I will never water in the dark again.

Maybe I'll make noodles instead.


Aunt Debbi here, isn't she great?