Unscented: Undetected

"I need some unscented soap, shampoo and conditioner, deodorant, and laundry stuff."-Husband

First off, does that not defeat the purpose of all of the above? I mean, if you have an allergy to fragrances I guess that it would make sense to have those products, but I know that A has none of the above. He is actually enthusiastic about new toiletries. In fact, when I stock up on shampoo when it's on sale, he puts every. single. bottle. in the shower so that he can try them out. Annoying? Yes. Charming? Sometimes.

After I mentally prepared myself to answer his question, I replied: "I can make all of those things with recipes I found on Pinterest for toiletries and even cleaning products." Then, I asked the obvious. "Why, husband, do you want all of these items unscented?

Are you ready?

"So the deer won't smell me."

So... the deer... won't smell him? The same deer that literally run out in front of my car on a regular basis?

**Side Note: This is not uncommon, I have learned. There is an entire market of these items targeted at hunters. You can buy female deer (doe) URINE to spray on your shoes so that the buck (male deer) will think that you're a female looking for love. You can buy dirt scented dryer sheets so that the deer don't smell you and detect a foreign invader in their habitat. The list goes on and on. I will post a list of my favorites at a later date, but now, back to your regularly scheduled program.

Yes, he wants these products to completely eliminate the smells associated with humans so that he can then have a "blank canvas", if you will, onto which he will spray deer smells that he has purchased from a mass producer of all things hunting related.

Obviously, I didn't sense the urgency of the need for these products, because I put them on my "to do this weekend" list. Well, my resourceful husband took matters into his own hands.

He woke up early on the weekend to return the vases he had purchased for our wedding reception, since he had no use for them now that they had served their purpose. There was absolutely NO WAY I was going to sit in that return line with him while he returned the used vases. However, they were much cleaner after we used them than they were when we purchased them. Maybe we actually did them a favor? Who knows.

Anyway, when he returned from town, he had two bags in hand and a look of sheer glee splayed across his face.

 He had spent $60 on unscented products. I literally could have made everything he wanted for $15.00 and had enough to last him for five hunting seasons.

The only thing that kept me from blasting him for how ridiculous it was for him to buy all of his stuff was the excitement on his face as he examined all of his new products. He looked like a kid at Christmas.  I've never seen the boy so happy to go take a shower. Or wash clothes! The icing on the cake was when he took his freshly washed and dried laundry and, wait for it, folded it and placed it inside of the SCENT FREE plastic bag that was so graciously included in his kit!

So, this morning when he went hunting, I smiled to myself as he showered with his special shampoo/conditioner and green bar of soap that I'm forbidden to use, extracted his clothes from the scent free bag and carefully dressed without touching anything in the room as not to pick up "human scents". And when he walked out the door, I knew that he paused underneath the deck to spray down in an additional layer of scent killer before he struck off for the woods.

It may be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard of, and I may think that it is absolutely insane, but I can honestly say that it's worth it because it buys me more time to sleep in. God bless the scent blocker. Amen.

So Thankful

A number of my Facebook friends have been posting what they are thankful for each day of November.

"What a great idea!" I thought as I first saw it. "I should do that," I also thought. But, you know me, I'm lazy so  I didn't.

Today it struck me that I have so much to be grateful for. I will probably write a few of these posts when I'm feeling nostalgic, but this one is dedicated to my favorite dynamic duo.

 I didn't have a traditional two-parent upbringing and I literally had a village raise me. The chiefs being Granny and Papa, of course. Today, and every day, I am thankful for them.

Here are some, not all, of the reasons why:

-They are consistent. I always know that they're going to be at church on Sunday and when I come over in the mornings I know that they'll be having coffee in the sun room.

-They are predictable. I always know what to expect- good or bad- and that is worth more than gold.

-They love me. So much that I can't even comprehend it. They know everything about me, and they still love me.

-They tell me to be nice when I don't want to be. Sometimes I listen to them.
-They tell me to calm down when I get upset at them for telling me to be nice.

-They show me every day what it is to live for Christ and to love eachother unconditionally.

-They babysit Polly while I'm at work. I mean, who has ever heard of this nonsense?!

-They are addicted to sweets and they hide them from eachother.*Ok, so it's just Granny hiding her dumdums in her sewing room, but Papa eats ice cream straight out of the gallon container!

-They are an endless source of entertainment.

-They are always there. They've never missed an important event in my life. Ever.

-They tell me every single time that I see them how much they love me. Come on, put a price on THAT.

Anyway, I 've got snot running out of my nose and my eye make-up is wrecked. I'm such an embarrassment to myself.

What are you thankful for today? If it's a person, call them up and tell them. It just might make their day!

Over and Out,
Sunny

The Merging of the Households

As many of you may or may not know, on October 22, 2011, I married my high school sweetheart! We had a beautiful wedding on a BEAUTIFUL day in a beautiful church. The people were beautiful, the flowers were beautiful, and the ceremony was... beautiful. I was truly magical.

I figure that my first year as a married gal would be great blog material. I don't have much time to write right this moment, as blueberry muffins are in the oven and A is on his way back home with dinner. But, for the sake of blogging and trying to get back into my groove, I will journal what I did today.

I woke up to the sounds of a cat meowing outside of my bedroom. Its voice was scratching and shrill. I wanted to shoot it. When I opened my eyes, I discovered that it was none other than my beloved, waking me up. Before dawn. We have named the "cat" Sparkles, and I am currently setting out rat poison.

I pulled the covers over my head and put an arm around Polly and dozed off only to be woken by my brave hunter returning from his jaunt through the woods at an unspecified time after sunrise.

Fast forward a few hours later, and my new mother-in-law and I traveled a great distance to collect my gifts from a Pampered Chef shower that some of her girl friends were kind enough to give in my honor prior to the wedding. With five LARGE boxes in tow, we returned to the cabin in the woods that is now my home to look at the loot. Once we unwrapped all of the gadgets and whatnots, I realized that my new pretties needed somewhere to go.

Enter: A's bachelor kitchen. I had already done some organizing, but I really had to do some creative shifting today.

Anyway, I rearranged, organized and threw out until all of my things had a home in which they were best suited and most beautifully displayed. I am proud. So proud!

The point of this post really was to tell you what all he had in his cabinets. I mean, seriously. I don't understand men and their grocery shopping habits! No cereal, no drinks, no snacks! The combination is absolutely fantastic. Here we go!

6 cans of green beans
14 cans of corn
2 cans of tomato soup
2 packages of tuna helper
lots of koolaid
lots of packages of seasonings (those may or may not be my fault)
Half-eaten package of oyster crackers
6 bottles of hot sauce
4 bottles of italian dressing
4 large cans of baked beans
9 cans of tuna of unknown expiration dates
lots of old bread
2 jumbo containers of Butt Rub


...and more hot sauce.

I love him. And his weird pantry.

Good evening! Keep pestering me and maybe I'll crank out some good material in the near future. 

I'm talking to you, Erica.

Chicken Water

Pardon my hiatus, I'm trying to make a living and it's about to kill me. And all of my brain cells. Anyway, let's get straight to the story.

I'm having a bridal shower tomorrow and, in anticipation, I've been at home with Granny and Papa, bugging the snot out of her. Ok Polly is here, too, but she doesn't count. I'll tell you about Polly later.

At approximately 8 o'clock p.m. I realized that I had yet to mail my wedding invitations. Also, I had three Redbox movies in my purse that I would soon own if I didn't get up and return them. After a bit of guilt tripping and nagging, Granny agreed to ride into town with me to run my errands.

*A piece of advice- don't try to mail 219 wedding invitations through the regular letter slot. You will have to do them three at a time and it is quite time consuming.  People will line up behind you, juding your holey brown pajama pants and mustard flats. At least, that's what I hear. Sometimes that happens. To some people. Not me, though. No sir, not this girl.

Once I completed the arduous task of cramming the invites into the already full mailbox- you're welcome USPS- we scooted over to the Redbox where approximately 5 well dressed persons were waiting to return movies. I was in pajamas and my Cole Haan flats. Fancy shoes and lounge pants, how attractive. Naturally, I wasn't carrying my purse. (I was being judged, for sure. With no fancy purse to validate my slack appearance.)

I suffered through the return process. The natural progression of events, of course, was to go to Chicfila and get ice dream cones to reward ourselves for our hard work. The cones were huge and they were delicious. Good thing I'm not getting married in six weeks or I'd not be eating ice cream.

Oh, wait. Sigh.

We inhaled our ice cream cones and headed back home to check on Papa and Polly. I was itching to see What Not to Wear and I'm sure that Granny was wanting to see a Nancy Grace re-run.

The second we stepped through the door, I heard Papa yelling from the bathroom. "Hazel! Come here!"
I hear muttering and Granny emerges and stomps angrily my way. She was not amused.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked.

"I've got to call Keith and tell him to turn off the chicken water. Papa can't take a shower."

Uh. Excuse me? Chicken water? What?

I'm sure I've mentioned our fabulous collection of chickens and whatnot that live in the woods in a chicken community that is, really, the avian equivalent of a gypsy ghetto. Or maybe a slum.

The explanation is really quiet simple. My uncle had left the water on to fill the water dishes for his 300 million chickens, so when my grandpa went to shower, he had no water pressure.

Does this story make sense? Nope.

Does this story make sense in the context of my life? Yep.

The moral of the story: next time your water pressure is a little puny, go make sure the chicken water is turned off- lest you burn up the water pump.

That is all. Goodnight.

A Work in Progress

Things are changing around here. I've been working non-stop so the weekends are absorbing all of the projects I meant to do during the week. And by projects I mean things I want Adam to do. They include:

1. Build a garden so I can have tomatoes and squash to my little hearts desire. I won't lie, I'm bothered by the fact that I don't know where my food comes from and the radiation catastrophe has been a big influence on my decision to make Adam become a quasi farmer.

2. Build this bed. Mine will be stained a light pecan color and distressed. I am so in love with it. Obsessed really. However, Adam says it's not happening until I sell his current bed because, seriously, who needs two beds?

I do!

I. Love.

3. Build four of these for his kitchen bar area.

So cute in distressed black!

For now, that is all that I have lined up. I feel confident that these little projects will provide for great blogging seeing as how I'm always right and he's always right.

Hey, I may not know what I'm doing but I can always tell him how to do what he's doing better and more efficiently. 

And to think, a few months ago I was eating sushi in the city.

Off to find stains and glazes!

Focus... Focus... Huh?

My mind is mush. No matter how many Mountain Dews I drank today I could not get with the program. It wasn't until I saw that I only had an hour left at work that I actually became a productive member of society. I was a number crunching machine.

Anyhoo, I've got several things to tell you about but can't formulate a cohesive blog entry so I'm reverting to my favorite story telling method: listing.

1. My uncle's dog has recently taken up opossum hunting. She trees the opossum (or, "possum" as Helper insists I say/spell it.) and he shoots it. The end.

2. He likes this because the opossums are killing his chickens. I dislike this because I dislike the menagerie that is his back yard. If I wanted to wake up at the butt crack of dawn I'd set an alarm. I don't need the stupid chickens to start my day for me.

3. The dog is cute so I can't take it personally. She runs with one of her back legs picked up off of the ground as though it is slowing her down. And she pees when I talk to her. I like her.

4. Moaner, aka Caroline, sent me a box of clothes and I'm going to wear every single article at some point this week. I've already worn 4 out of 8 and it's only Monday. I'm certain that I'd dress like a homeless troll if I didn't have her to guide me away from the yoga pants and flip flops.

5. Helper's name is Adam and he edits my blog every day. I hate it when he finds spelling errors.

6. I hate it even more when he misses my spelling errors.

7. I shop at a ridiculously expensive grocery store called the Piglet because it is near Adam's house. I once paid $45.00 for soup ingredients because I didn't pay attention to what I was doing. FORTY-FIVE BONES! I could have bought a bra and made soup with that money!

8. Granny is making a quilt and I fully intend to somehow smuggle it into my room.

9. She'd scalp me if I stole her quilt.

10. Every single tv show that I watched today made me cry. Not sobbing like hearing Tim McGraw's My Little Girl, but misty like you get when you see the ASPCA commercial.

Ok so that makes me sob, too. I cry a lot.

11. I ate a honey bun for dinner and didn't even feel bad.

12. I'm pretty sure that #11 is absolutely a bad thing.

13. I'm going to find my tennis shoes tomorrow.

14. Goodnight.

Nailed

I am uncharacteristically awake at this hour on this night.

I drank milk before I got into bed, watched non-exciting TV shows and said my prayers.

And then I just laid here. And tossed. And turned. I finally wound up on my side staring at the wall that I like to call “The Shrine of Sunny.”

The shrine isn’t my fault and I don’t particularly understand it. It is a collection of Sunny themed things that I’ve gathered over the years. Ok so it used to be just two things but now there are three of them. 

Watching over me as I sleep.

Oh, what’s that? You want to know what these things are and how they got there? And why they are there in the first place?

Item one is a charcoal portrait I had done my senior year in high school when I was lucky enough to travel to New York City with Helper’s dear mother and a friend of hers.

Aside from the 14-block trek to the Sex Museum, it was a lovely trip. A very educational trip, too.

I also commissioned an Asian man to write my name in fancy Asian letters while I was visiting Central Park.  I had instant buyers remorse, but what are you going to do with a painting that says “Sunny” in letters of birds and butterflies?

I brought both pieces of “art” back with me, fully aware that I had no intentions of hanging them up or doing anything special with them. I had simply bought them in the heat of the moment. It was NYC, after all. 

Once I returned home with said articles, I put them in my closet and didn’t think much about them.

Time out. Remember the time that Papa took all of the decorative pillows off of my bed because he said that if he were to ever want to go and lie down on my bed to take a nap, he didn’t want to have to move the pillows out of the way? In essence, the decorative pillows were blocking his potential napping spot.

You never heard that story before? Well it happened. He put all 8 of my pillows in the utility closet on the other end of the house.

We have lived in this house for five years and I have lived with them for thirteen. He has never laid his head anywhere except the sofa or his bed. Or the recliner.

Back to the shrine. Granny found the portrait and had it matted and framed. She also found a frame for the awkward name drawing/painting. An arduous task it was, but she was unrelenting in her quest. 

I shall interject here to say that Granny and Papa don’t put a lot of thought into artwork placement. If there is a nail in the general vicinity of where they want something to hang, then they stick it on that nail and call it a day.

Exhibit A: I purchased a large oil impressionist painting and hung it in my bedroom beside my bed. It took a few tries but I finally got it just right. Papa always hated it so he took it down and left a few nails in its place.

Enter, Granny. The portrait currently hangs at about 6’ and the name is directly below it, centered perfectly. Somewhere along the way another random nail entered the picture. It now holds a family portrait of Granny, Papa and I that we had done back when I was still a blonde.  It’s an interesting collage to say the least. The Moaner thinks it’s hilarious.

Exhibit B: When we first moved into our house, I had three pictures flanking each side of my bed. They were level and symmetrically spaced. Once I decided that I no longer wanted pictures of dresses in my room, I took them down but the nails remained.

Currently, on the right side of my bed there are two pictures occupying two of three nails. One is of a friend from high school and another of Papa and his favorite dog, Susie. The pictures are 5x7 and 8x10. Nowhere near large enough to hang. Did I mention that they’re hanging at about 6 foot?

On the left side there is a picture that I had framed while I was in college of a couple dancing. It is more to scale, but the color scheme doesn’t exactly “go.”

The moral of this rambling story is this: it doesn’t matter how many beautiful things I buy or how many times I move my pillows back into my bedroom. If Papa doesn’t like it, it goes. That, and if there’s a nail somewhere, Granny will hang something on it.

**Granny, please do not take down my artwork. I’ve grown to love it and would be very sad if I came home tomorrow to find the shrine gone and my picture of Papa and Susie in a drawer somewhere. I love my yard sale room!

Love,

Me

Ps. Once I decide to stop being lazy, I'll take pics so stay tuned for an update to this post!