Don't Be Jealous.

We like to dabble in hillbilly. Not go all out Summer teeth and barefoot in the gas station bathroom, but we appreciate a homemade moonshine and the like. There's always been that camo-colored thread of redneck weaving through the rich tapestry of our family life.
Rich tapestry. Yep.

Everybody's familiar with the Poopy Truck in all its incarnations:

(gah, look at all that green grass! where are you green grass?!)

Old Red has hauled many a load of firewood. If you've been unfortunate enough to get stuck behind us in traffic, I apologize. Yes, we are the yahoos in funny knit hats (because the back window ain't all there-Brrr!,) probably 2 dogs on the front seat between us (stinking dogs,) cruising along in the truck laboring under its load (or not, maybe just laboring) at about 20 mph the whole way home.

I can overlook the rust spots and warts, because, thanks to our trusty truck, we've had our redneck membership upgraded this weekend: Mark welded the driver's side door shut.

Just like them Duke Boys with their General Lee!

The old bungee cord door latch system worked alright for a while until Mark backed up in the woods with the door open. The door came home a little hyperextended by a gentle tree of the forest. Very inconvenient when you're driving down the road and the door unexpectedly flies open into oncoming traffic.

The bonus to the whole thing was when Mark & his brother came in after welding, their faces red and squinty with that identical crazy laughter they share, because the window glass in the door basically exploded during the welding process. Fixed door. Broken window. Sounds about right.

Yeehaw! Ya'll come back now, y'hear! And Don't Be Jealous.

Still snowing where you live? And if so, are you losing your mind yet? Watching my house being slowly torn apart by glaciers is kind of wearing on me. That and all this lack of color maybe.

Oh, wait. Here's color:Luckily no one was hurt in the explosion.

Our nieces stayed overnight Friday and this is the inevitable fallout. They all happily slept in those "tents?" Me? I just let it all fall apart like that. And took a picture to boot! Have I no shame?

Small price to pay, having their room temporarily under demolition. All four girls had many fun hours out in the snow, especially playing with the horses. I'm pretty sure the horses had fun, too. I think they've been bored with all this white, white, white, and they came running when Aggie called them.We were watching from the house as they haltered the horses and led them around. Someone lost a boot! We debated back and forth as we watched from the window. Should we tell them to leave the horses alone? Goodness knows we don't want anyone to get hurt.

I watched them climb aboard and then leap off into the snow. Then they'd lead the horses back to the gate or hay ring so they could climb back on and do it again. They were out there for hours with no complaints about the cold so you know they were deeply into their play.

In the end, the parental call (ours and nieces' father's call) was to keep an eye on them and intervene if necessary. But everyone was having such a good time and so well behaved we didn't have to bother them, just sat back and enjoyed the show.

I'm probably biased (y' think?!) but to me that afternoon fooling around with the horses in 2 or 3 feet of snow, all girl cousins getting along & working together, was a magical and fleeting thing. We had to let them take advantage of it.

There were no boys or grownups there to take charge or do the dirty work. They haltered the horses. They made them listen. They invented whatever they were playing. No toys, no video games, no input but their own.

When they fell down, they got back up. They helped one another. No one came running into the house tattling or whining. They were kind to the horses and the horses were kind to them. They were proud of themselves when they recounted their fun to us.

Just the kind of times I want them to have. I want them to construct ridiculous things out of blankets and rope and scrap wood. I want to find that they tried to fix something themselves with a butterknife instead of a screw driver. I hope they try recipes on their own. Dig holes in the yard for fun. Jump off the swings.

Not because I want to wonder where all the silverwear went to (usually it's Mark's fault when that happens,) or have to untie the spiderwebs of yarn tied from doorknob to doorknob to doorknob, or waste food on experimental baking (guilty here!), but because I want them to stretch out a little bit. Do weird stuff (not destructive or dangerous or illegal, just...weird.) Make up songs. Talk to imaginary friends. Try something all by yourself even if it's wrong. Have fun! Make memories.

Ya, all that kind of stuff.

Said the woman in her ninth hour of the day behind a desk in a nearly windowless room, staring at a computer monitor, typing a blog post. Guess I need a dose of my own medicine!

Maybe I'll give my imaginary friends a call to see if they'd like to try a new cookie recipe in our hideout made of blankets and pillows. That may be the very definition of Cabin Fever!