Yay!

the bike has sold, and dave is on his way to buy a new vehicle.  PRAISE THE LORD!!

arghhh!

I thought Noah had already been going through the terrible two's.  It seems I was wrong.  The terrible two's have hit HARD and then... HARDER.  He's been lovely.

Aww

hate

apparently david learned the word "hate" recently.
In the car with my sister and her daughter I hear sweet little david telling Leah's daughter "I hate you, elee.  I hate you, elee."  Her 2 yr old self was very offended, and rightly so.
"David!"
David got an ear full from me.  Not cool, david.  Not cool.

booger

noah picking his nose running at me with that look in his eye.
me: "no. do not come wipe that on me. go get a kleenex."
instead of walking the 6' to the bathroom, noah smiles and puts his "booger!" BACK IN HIS NOSE!
me: "did you just put your booger back in your nose?!"
noah: "haha yeah!"
david: "i do that sometimes too."
oh. my. word. 

ugh, chicken

so, that delightful Norman Rockwell vision I had for tonight's dinner was not fulfilled.  at all.
first off dave and his friend rob are still out hunting.  (for the record, i hate hunting season--dont want there to be an disillusions about that.  "oh, but all the free meat you get!"  free?  really?  price of tag, equipment, investments of weaponry, and baiting == whole lot of NOT free.  And venison taste like good meat gone rotten and smells even worse.)  Secondly, Noah asked me what was for dinner annnnnd... "Nooo!  don't want that!"  he chooses Chicken Con Queso canned soup.  Yeah right.  I am not making you soup after i have done all of this cooking.
Third and most awful:  shoving an onion up a chicken's butt increases the cooking time by about, eh-- forever.  the boys and I ate mashed potatoes, green beans, peaches, and rolls.  The chicken is still in the oven about an hour and a half later.  awesome.  Well, at least the men folk will have some part of their dinner warm.
frustrating.
No lovely family togetherness.  no excitement for the presentation of the food.  NO FREAKING CHICKEN.  jerk.

dinner

If I am going to stick my hand up a chicken's arse numerous times and expose my sink to that much salmonella, it better turn out wonderful!!  And I would like it to look like that ^ (I know that's a turkey), and have everyone be excited for it like that ^.

And i'm sure it will be fine, and it's not like roasting a chicken is tough--i just hate touching raw meat.  Always have, always will.  I have gotten better about--like, I will actually do it, but I really don't like to.  But roasting a chicken makes me feel like a grown-up (obviously getting married and giving birth to 2 babies is just sooo juvenile compared to roasting a stinking chicken!); like a Norman Rockwell painting, if you will.  Love him.