Have you ever wished you could be a fly on the wall in someone’s home? Each month a group of brave bloggers lets you in through that pesky hole in the screen so you can see what really goes on when they think no one is watching. This month there are 13 of us who are doing our dirty laundry in public. Come and see! When you’re finished with my post, please click on the links below and visit the other 12 crazy women.

Whew, what an eventful month! Not all sunshine and roses, but enough drama to rate my own reality show.

Love me some babies!

I babysat twin baby boys for a weekend. Holy CRAP! They are wonderful, sweet, easygoing babies, but it’s been a few decades since I was solely responsible for even ONE infant. Two was a little daunting (I’m glad I’m not footing that diaper bill) but so much fun. I’d been needing a baby fix and I got it. Sweet gummy baby smiles made up for all the diapers, even if I did come home smelling like eau de spit up!

Happy Halloween!

So much for Halloween around here. No trick or treaters. Nada. The first few years we lived here I bought candy bars “just in case”. The kind I like, of course…Butterfingers, Reese’s, Snickers. I’ve finally given up hope, and the only concession to Halloween was my “BOO!” shirt and these contacts. I think the wrinkles scare me more than the eyeballs, though. Eeeeeek!

PLEASE don’t vote for The Rowdy Baker…we want our cook back!!!

Poor guys – life was pretty rough for them during the Blogger Idol competition. Just when my sprained ankle was healing and the man got to turn in his apron, I got all involved with Idol. It was a blast, but it took a lot out of me, and meals were pretty much uninspired nonexistent. They were hungry. Oh, so hungry.

Then the ups and downs of being a contestant on Blogger Idol came to a halt. I wrote a post that I loved, but unfortunately the judges were unimpressed. So much for fame and fortune! I was on my way to a funeral six hours away when my husband called to tell me I’d been eliminated. I was bummed – but under the sad circumstances, getting the boot from Idol didn’t seem all that devastating. There’s nothing like losing a good friend to put losing a contest into perspective!

The whole Idol experience was…well…eye opening! Behind the scenes is a raunchy, sometimes shockingly explicit, hysterically funny world where drama runs rampant and egos are often bruised. I met some wonderful people. In fact (yes, shameless plug here) my friend Jen is still going strong and is in the top five. Voting is today, until midnight central time, so if you have 10 seconds to spare, would you please click on this link and vote for Real Life Parenting? You don’t have to sign in or anything…just scroll down to the blue area and vote! If I couldn’t win the coveted #1 spot, I’d sure love to see her get it.

Bad boy Otis has pushed his luck again. At least it didn’t involve pulling stuffing out of furniture this time, but….EEEEEUUUUWW! What the…?

WHAT is that SMELL??!!

His first bath. He didn’t like it.

Hunting season came and went. We’re 3 for 3, folks! 3 for 3!  Here’s how it went down:

Youngest son (aka: Lord Voldemort) got his buck first. He worked hard for that deer. Hours of scouting and setting up cameras in the woods paid off and he got a very nice whitetail. He rubbed it in a bit, because his dad hadn’t gotten one yet. He’d wave his little hunting tag holder around, talking about how light it was feeling since he’d tagged a bear and a deer.

I bought my first license this year – not because I wanted to hunt, but because I’d told Lord V that I would buy a deer tag if he would watch Chicago all the way through, which he did. Now, technically I just had to buy a tag. I didn’t say I would actually shoot a deer! But those tags are $45 – and I hated the thought that it would go unfilled. There were also some heated “discussions” about the implied meaning of the bet. So…I said I’d try, but didn’t know if I could actually pull the trigger.

You know that healing ankle I talked about? Turns out it wasn’t really healing. It was just waiting to bite me in the ass again. Apparently I ruptured one ligament completely and tore another. So here I am in an air boot, in plenty of pain (when I’m not actively taking…ahem… liquid pain relief) and I’m supposed to bag a deer? I took the easy way out. We have 20 acres and a lot of deer on our hill, so I sat in the shop with my .243 pointed out the window and got lucky at daybreak on day two. I got a perfect shot at 240 yards. I think the distance helped, because I couldn’t see his big beautiful eyes.

Bittersweet moment

My deer was smaller than Lord V’s, but we still joined forces to tease and torture The Man. We were pretty relentless, but it’s not often that we get that opportunity. He paid us back by getting a buck that was very similar to Lord V’s.

So…guess what I’ve been doing?

Canning venison. Lots of venison.

You know how I always tell a story on my husband? This isn’t a story, per se. It’s more like me, venting. I try not to whine on Facebook, but I posted this and it got some interesting responses.

I was complaining because there were a whole bunch of really cute shoes on a website I was in, and it had just occurred to me that in all likelihood I would never be able to wear heels again because of this stupid ankle. That’s a big deal. I love heels, though I rarely have an opportunity to wear them. I’m short – heels help! The man just looked at me blankly and said “Why would you want to wear them at 60?” OK. In the first place, I am NOT 60 yet. Not for 14 months and 9 days. And…(sputter)…seriously? I’m just supposed to throw in the towel and start wearing sensible shoes and a plastic rain cap? I was alternating between finding this hysterically funny and horribly insulting.

Excuse me, but I’ll have to catch you next month. I believe there’s a Lawrence Welk Marathon coming on. ..

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