Mrs.Adventure

Dale & Thomas Popcorn Giveaway

2012-02-10T06:44:00.001-06:00

I'll start by saying I've been a fan of Dale & Thomas Popcorn for a while now. In a way I've kept it a secret since it means more popcorn for me.

Last year I won a gift box from Dale & Thomas from Breakfast With Tiffany. We loved them so much that we ordered a large assortment for my in-laws this past Christmas.

Sigh, I might as well come out with it now - Father-in-law, there were 12 bags. I KNOW your box had 10... I ATE the others prior to Christmas.

Shame. Shame. Shame.

See how good it is I mean to push such a delicate flower like me to stealing. I'll clarify - from gifts I purchase at Christmas not the elderly folks.

Anyway all of this rambling and gushing leads up to one of YOU getting your very own six pack to try out or donate to me. Dale & Thomas will send you a box of Chocolate Drizzle, Kettle Corn, White Chocolate with Peanut Butter (pronouced Buttah).... Rocky Road... and more.

All you have to do is leave me a comment below. For fun how about you tell me your favorite childhood story.

I'll go first it's a tie between David & Golith or Peter Pan. Both inspiring in their own way. I'm nothing if not complex.

Now it's your turn... (I'll pick a winner on Valentines Day).

PS: Please note that Dale & Thomas only ships to the contiguous United States so the winner cannot live in Hawaii and Alaska. Sorry Canada you're out on this one two - I'll make it up to you some how.

Let's talk: Midwives & Home Birth

2012-02-09T08:43:00.003-06:00

Since mentioning we were hoping to birth at home with a mid-wife I've received several emails, questions, as well as some concerns. So today I'd like to take a second and talk about it. For those of you un-interested in baby chat - I'll be back to my irregular unscheduled wacky self tomorrow ;o).

First I'd like to ask you a simple question:

What do you hear when you hear the word hospital?

I hear the word: Infirmary.

And how can I not?

It's a place full of people that are either injured, sick, dying or dead. Last time I checked pregnancy is not an illness, it is a normal life event. Having a baby does not equal the bubonic plague. And lord please don't get me started on the awful reality TV birth stories (

Which I think are in some sort of conspiracy with the hospitals to scare women into being afraid of birth).

Of course we are responsible adults and in the unlikely event of a complication during birth, we live less than 15 miles to the closest hospital. I'd also like to mention that this is true in all walks of life (living is risky – period). I don't know a person that make sure they are 15 miles from a hospital in case they have a heart attack - do you? I'm thankful we have Obstetricians but the fact still remains they are surgeons. Combine that with a statistic that 95% of obsetricans have NEVER even witnessed a natural birth (not even in school).

Never?

There is something very wrong with that. I am fully supportive of birth complications being handled by specialists at a hospital and do not believe everyone should birth at home no matter what. But when 1 in 4 births in the US end by Cesarean its time that we step back and ask ourselves what the problem is?

That's right our Cesarean Rate is over 35%,
UP from 5% in 1970.

There is NO WAY any doctor can convince me that in the last 40 years and increase of 30% of women now not give birth naturally. It's insanity. Many drugs (like Pitocin) are being used in many cases for convenience to speed up labor... instead of NECESSITY.

For instance: If natural labor takes 20 hours on its own there is no danger to the baby its your body's natural process. If my labor takes more than 10 hours in a hospital they usually start to adminsiter Pitocin. This is where one thing leads to another. The Pitocin speeds up contractions making it more painful for the mother, they have to monitor the baby because the petocin is known to cut off oxygen supply due to the mother not breathing normally... then since your body cannot do what is designed to do because of the drugs they give you more, and on and on. If your lucky you just end up with an episiotomy and they'll tell you they saved your baby. Lets remember though as I mentioned before in the US 1-4 will end up with a Cesarean in todays hospitals.

For my fellow fact lovers, here are some numbers:

About 99% of all births in the U.S. take place in hospitals, yet we rank 29th in the world in infant mortality with 6.71 deaths per 1,000 live births. That compares to a rate of about 3.5 deaths per 1,000 live births in Far Eastern and Scandinavian countries such as Singapore, Japan, Norway and Sweden. All countries in which Mid-wifes attend 88% of all births.

I'm a numbers girl.

I like facts just as much as I like common sense. So of course all the above was enough to reassure me that bringing our child into this world in the least stressful and tramatic was as possible is the only way we'd choose to go. Of course the baby will come when its ready and in the manner it needs to come. If we have to go to a hospital in the end we will, but in no way are we planning on it.

PS: Feel free to disagree with me, there are hundreds of thousands of hospitals that would love to check you in, perform surgery and send you on your way. Afterall they do say there's one born every minute.

God Bless America.

Around these parts...

2012-02-07T05:56:00.001-06:00

Mr. Arkansas has been his usual self always making me laugh...

He wanted to read the sign a neighbor hung... apparently a union suit is coverage enough.

Meanwhile I've been catching up on my reading.

From the above my favorites are Birthing From Within and of course What to Expect When You're Expecting.

My next favorite is below.

Last but not least we've been munching on Zucchini Fries w/ Sweet Onion Dip (via my pinterest filed under Eat it, photo by me).

You should make these TONIGHT they are amazing - I promise you will thank me :o)

So we're having a baby.

2012-02-06T08:51:00.001-06:00

The cat's out of the bag which is wonderful because I'm ready to chat :o)

So far being pregnant hasn't exactly been a slice of pie I've been nauseous 24/7. So much in fact that I missed the past two weeks of work. Thankfully I have a VERY supportive and understanding husband. Its been about thirteen days of throwing up at least four times a day. Thankfully we discovered unisome which seems to keep it under control a little. Meaning I've only been sick twice today and its already 9 am.

But I"M SO EXCITED. I have our baby's heart beating inside of me knowing that makes me smile like a cheese-ball. We've been catching up on our reading and what not. Mostly its Mr. Arkansas that's read he narrates out-loud while I lay in bed and try not to puke - its our kind of romantic I tell ya.

Here are some things we've been thinking:

We DO NOT want to know the sex of the baby until birth. I know it's almost impossible not to WANT to know but Mr. A has convinced me that it's one of the last greatest surprises in the world. My only concern was not being able to decorate the baby's room. But the theme I've picked it really doesn't matter (details to come).

Of course I don't want our baby to have to wear yellow and green for the first six months of his/her life. So we came up with a plan, we'd set money aside for the items I'd want if we had a girl or a boy. I'm saving links for Mr. A and soon as the baby's born he'll place the order. So things like little pink dresses or blue overalls will be at the house before the baby is two weeks old - problem solved.

In other decisions we've sort of always known. We will be cloth diapering, I plan to breastfeed, a parent will be home with the baby for its first year. Since we've been together going on five years we've had plenty of time to discuss in detail our plans.

Except one thing.

Where we'd have the baby. I never really thought of it. The idea of a hospital creeps me out to no end. I'm thankful for modern medicine and if I was high risk I know I'd want the BEST care possible. But after watching The Business of Being Born (as well as other

documentary’s) I have to say a tramatic hospital birth with montiors beeping, strange nurses, bright lights, drugs... its not ideal.

So as long as everything is normal we are going to deliver with a midwife. Once I researched the statictics on my own, read the stories, informed myself, I knew this was the path we'd want to go on. I know you are going to have questions and maybe even some concerns and I promise to go more in depth on the subject later :o).

Oh Boy! (or Girl?)

2012-02-01T08:35:00.000-06:00

That's right.

We're having a baby!

We found out January 20th. I of course... am awful with keeping secrets. I've known for eleven days and couldn't wait any longer. Since I know you're going to have questions, I'll try and help a little.

8 weeks... Isn’t it too early to tell everyone?

Traditionally, I suppose since most couples wait until the end of the first trimester, after which the risk of miscarriage drops significantly. Of course we realize we still have a couple of weeks to go until that point. I am just too excited to contain it for another month. Not to mention this is our space to share our life no matter the outcome.

I'm a talker.

Were we trying?

No. But I've been off birth control for more than a year so we are not completely shocked. The funniest thing is that about two minutes after I told Mr. Arkansas the news he was talking about how we needed to get lots of organic fruits and veggies so he could cook healthy things for me and the baby. Yeah, I pretty much melted. He’s destined to be the world’s best dad.

Due date?

Baby W (who we lovingly refer to as "The Bun") is due in September, which means we're about 8 weeks along. I can't believe in seven months I'm going to be a mother.

A mother ya'll.

Needless to say, there will be lots to do in the upcoming months. I am not planning to make this blog baby-central, but I hope you'll understand that I've got baby on the brain.

CEP Compression Socks Review (updated w/ discount)

2012-01-26T15:21:00.004-06:00

More specifically, Compression socks.

You know you love it.

They look like soccer socks (to me) but they're made for running, so I doubt people are wearing them as a fashion statement.

Could they really make that big a difference to my running?

The kind folks over at Sports Compression wanted to give me the chance to find out. According to CEP, there's a published medical study showing that runners in CEP compression socks experienced 5% better performance, which equates to 10-12 minutes in a marathon!

Or for me that extra ½ a mile.

Upon slipping them on they were really snug (duh, compression). Let me tell you, I am really impressed at how well these work. Running in compression socks, seemed to take the strain off my legs and dare I say it?

Made me a better runner.

Not only was I impressed with the fact that they work they are also very confortable. They are marked L / R so you always have the perfect fit.

CEP offers compression wear for all different sports, not just running. If you interested in running faster, further or without pain you can check out their products page to learn more.

Thanks again, CEP!

PS: The kind folks at CEP would like to offer you 15% off the same pair, just use the code BLOG15 at checkout.

Crock Pot Potato Soup (low cal version)

2012-01-23T08:12:00.004-06:00

Its cold here in the Mid-West and there's nothing I love more when its cold than a nice fire and some potato soup. About two months ago I made my first version of "low cal" potato soup, while it was "ok" I hadn't perfected it yet. After a couple trials here we are with the best creamy potato soup not even using a drop of cream.

You may notice that I topped mine with a little cheddar though :o)

Ingredients:

4 medium potatoes, peeled and cubed

3/4 cup chopped onion

1 small carrot, chopped

1/4 cup chopped celery

1 1/2 cups chicken broth

3 tablespoons butter, cubed

3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

2 1/2 cups milk

1 tablespoon minced fresh parsley, garlic powder, italian seasoning (we like Braggs).

3/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon pepper

1 cup shredded cheddar cheese (for topping).

Directions

Add your potatoes, onion, carrot, celery and broth to your crock pot set it on high for about 5 hours or low for 8.

Once your crock pot begins to simmer, in a small saucepan, melt butter; stir in flour until smooth. Gradually stir in milk. Bring to a boil; cook and stir for 2 minutes or until thickened. Stir into your crock pot potato mixture. Cook and stir until thickened and bubbly. Add seasonings, salt and pepper.

Side Note: I have added this after the first hour and after the third with the same results.

Remove from the heat; now for the fun part. Measure about 2-3 cups worth of potato soup out, blend it in your food processor or blender then add it back to the crock pot. Stir in cheese until melted.

Mmm mmm good!

Writing it down.

2012-01-18T08:41:00.000-06:00

As most of you may know, I’m an avid note-taker. I say note-taker because 80% of the time I have a journal on my person. I also have a spiral notebook for work meeting notes, a small note pad for phone messages, a entire binder divided by states for my notes and business cards for my new job, I have a folder for emails I need to follow up on, a binder full of magazine pages divided by room, and last but not least shall I say pinterest?

Sidenote: It's pronounced like "interest" with a P. Every time I hear someone muddle its name and call in PIN-TER-EESSTT. I scream a little inside.

Now where were we? Ah yes, journaling.

The main problem a crazy person like me runs into is remembering what I was trying to describe at the time. Since ideas never come to me in a convenient location, I’m usually writing while in the line at the grocery store, at a stop light, etc. It’s usually short hand and goes something like this:

“The Banjo aka Zombie Lure” - totally make one.

I have no idea what I was trying to say or write about.

Zip. Zilch. Nada.

My first questions to myself were, who did I see playing a banjo? Why on earth did I think it was a good lure? And where are the Zombies? Maybe Mr. A will know.

It’s safe to assume that at least half of everything you’ve read would have gone forgotten if it weren’t for his memory. I’ll come to him with the above and he’ll go “oh we were watching XYZ show and (fill in all the blanks). Then, I write.

Some of my short hands are a little easier to interperet;

“Research # of deaths caused by planes on freeways”.

I remember this one there was a news story about a plan having to make a landing on a freeway. Then Mr. Arkansas tells me how ironic it would be if the person afraid of flying was killed on a freeway by a plane. Of course you can see why I wanted to research the odds…

So this weekend I had a little time on my hands so I flipped through my journal – this always ends in me laughing till I cry and then questioning my own sanity.

Enough jabbering on my part post's next week to include.

Marco Polo
We came in for bread and milk...
And photos from our St. Louis trip

Driving off cliffs...

2012-01-17T08:12:00.000-06:00

A recap from last week... I call Mr. Arkansas on my drive home.

Me: I’m sort of freaking out right now. Will you please just listen to me?

Mr. Arkansas: Sure, honey what's wrong?

Me: So before I left for my trip I called Walgreens to renew my meds I only had a week left. Then when I got back I went by to pick them up. But they told me I had to see my doctor. So I called our doctor in Texas explained that I was out of state blah, blah. He gave the ok all was supposed be fine. This was three days ago. Now I’m completely out of Xanax and I only have three of my non-vomit pills.

Then today I called because Walgreens hasn’t gotten notice and the nurse put me into voicemail. This has happend FOUR TIMES today... causing me to actually need the Xanax I'm out of.

Mr. Arkansas: Darlin, just calm down I’d call back.

So I do.

***Upon arriving home, walking in the back door I’m on hold with the doctor’s office. I give Mr. Arkansas a quite kiss and walk into the living room. I speak with the nurse. Everything is good.

Mr. Arkansas: So it’s taken care of?

Me: Yes............. *pause*........... But, when I called back I told nurse “Crystal” that if I drove off a cliff that it would be her fault. I’m out of medication and she’s preventing me from speaking to someone about it.

Mr. Arkansas: What? Who the hell thinks about driving off a cliff?

Me: Um…me. And everyone.

Mr. Arkansas: ?

Mr. Arkansas: You're nuts

Me: Well I'm off my meds remember.

Mr. Arkansas: Just stop talking.

Me: Fine, but I think we both what's going on here.

Unfixable in the most delicious way.

2012-01-16T07:40:00.002-06:00

Last week one of the last fitting pair of jeans I own got a hole in the leg, right beside my knee. Thankfully it wasn’t the ass-end, truth be told - if so - I might have lost it. Even the knee made me want to cry a tiny little bit.

I heard the fat lady scream.

So this past week I tried on all kinds the skinny ones. The boyfriend ones. The low rise ones. I might have even tried a pair of the famous mom jeans.

None fit right.

The skinny ones there was no way a normal person could function, you know like sit down, bend over, sit indian style. The boyfriend ones looks so awful I don’t think I could have found one wearing them not that I'm in the market. Then the low rise? I won’t even relive how bad they were, I resembled an unfit 90’s verion of Rosie O’donnel.

After that tragic workout of an experience trying any other pairs on seemed like a moot point. Instead of crying I went home had myself a glass of wine and decided that my only pair of fitting stretch jeans WOULD carry through the rest of the week. Maybe even next.

Normally, I would feel bad right now.

Maybe I should, but it’s more than that.

Last night I stood naked in front of the full length fun house mirror in my closet I couldn’t help but wonder why I would hate this “so much”?

It’s hard to find that equilibrium of self-acceptance and love. Then soon as I find it, the top button on my jeans refuses to button and it’s gone again.

Then I do the “Councling Session” on myself and remind myself of all the things that got me to this point. The late nights cooking with husband, the extra slice of homemade pizza, two scoops, Belgian waffles and of course bad day chocolate bars.

I love those things.

I just need to learn to balance them better. Like juggling without balls. I love my body for all the wonderful things it allows me to do, run, walk, jump on hotel beds, skip, laugh and even sleep.

So yes I "know" I need to loose these 20 or so pounds. But instead of the fat talk I'm just going to be careful, continue to be kind to my body and if a cookie finds its way in well, things have a way of working themselves out.

Today, I’m calling it progress.

A couple changes...

2012-01-15T14:01:00.000-06:00

Since you're reading this, I'd say it's safe to assume you've seen the new banner?

About that.

I was bored and well created something out of three really awesome photos we've snapped over the past few months, I've posted them before so you might remember them. The top left is a little tricky - its a campfire.

In addition to playing with my banner I also decided that I didn't like the "dump truck" as the photo dump. I convinced myself that a dog pooping photos was WAY better.

It seriously cracks me up.

I'll leave this one on a non-offensive note... the dude.

"Yes, I see you. I'm not impressed"

Fat Talk.

2012-01-13T13:34:00.004-06:00

I'm on my soap box again. I had no intention of posting (again) today. But you know when you see something that upsets you. Then it eats at you, it agitates like an awful hangnail until you finally do something about it? That "something" is this post. If you're a new reader or stopped by for my regular antics I'd read my earlier post instead.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I'm 5'2. I'm at least 25 pounds overweight.

Let that soak in.

I have family members with overweight children.

This ad does NOT upset me.

Because it's the TRUTH.

Does it hurt? A little. But only in the way that the truth can.

The first time I saw it, our local news was doing a story on all the parents that are upset about it. Anyway I wanted to show you guys the ad and ask your opinion.

THEN, while searching I found this article. I became MAD. Since I completely disagree with her I won't ask you to read it, unless you want to, I'll give you the jest anyway - the author is upset about the ad campaign and decides to attack back.

She does this by stating that "Fat doesn’t cause your teeth and skin to rot, nerve damage, heart damage, brain damage, hallucinations - and it doesn’t make you commit violent, shameful acts. Fat does not cause you to allow your child to be harmed or killed. Fat does not turn your home into a biohazard"

Do I live in an alternate universe?

FAT is BAD.

NO really it is. Being overweight or in the case of this ad campaign obese is hard on our bodies. It causes high blood pressure, diabetes, depression, heart disease and yes lady a shorter life expectancy.

Here's the proof and here and here. These are only links on effects on our bodies, I go as far to include the ways it affects our health care system and society in general.

As I've mentioned many, many times I struggle with my weight. I struggle with carrots over cookies when I'm sad, I love tawny port... but never would I make an excuse for my child to be morbidly obese unless god forbid there was some sort of health condition.

A mother that has an overweight child SHOULD be accountable if she feeds that child pizza and ice-cream every day. Then that child develops a disease that can kill him. Who else should we blame?

I think that as a nation we have become too sensitive and to careful not to "offend" anyone that we've now disregard logic if it makes us feel better about our bad choices.

Do I think that it’s ok to make fun a person because they are overweight? Absolutely not

Do I think that weight defines class, character or worth? NO

Do I think that it's ok to explain to children what HEALTHY is and what it’s NOT? Yes, yes I do.

I'm upset because I'm sick and tired of people complaining about "their feelings". Look if an ad about obesity hurts your feelings it's most-likely because you or someone in your family is dealing with it. It's SUPPOSED to get your attention that's why its an AD.

I just can't understand why we don't say a peep as models photos are cropped so they look like they weigh 90lbs. Yet, an AD with no photoshoping showing the reality of childhood obesity is wrong? It seems a little off to me.

What do you think?

Baby it's cold outside...

2012-01-13T07:55:00.000-06:00

Wednesday our high was in the 60s. Thursday I awoke to a frigid 15 degrees. The weather woman announced it as treacherous and said “it feels like eight”.

Yay.

OK to be fair, I totally knew I was moving to a place colder than Texas. I mean pretty much any where in the US fits the criteria, even Southern California. Anyway Mr. Arkansas being the wonderful husband he is started up my car half an hour before I needed to leave. Took my car for a drive to make sure the roads were not too slick for my puney ass to drive in.

Once I was cleared for take-off he said something, I just can’t shake.

Mr. Arkansas: “Just wait till this bill hill we live on is covered in snow and ice and you have to park at the bottom”.

Me: I'm sorry, what?

Mr. Arkansas: Yeah, we’ll need to get you snow boots because I’m sure you won’t make it up the hill a few times. You’ll have to park on the bottom.

Me: I don’t think so dude...... Nope.

Mr. Arkansas: (laughing)

Me: It’s not funny, I’m not joking - dude.

Mr. Arkansas: (laughing louder) Honey the ice will get bad and you'll have to a few times is all I'm saying. We live at the top of a hill its bound to happen.

Me: (things start to spin on me) Please tell me you're joking. I didn't sign up for walking up hills in the dark IN THE SNOW.

I'll die.

I'll fall and crack my head open like an egg just like the bearded infomercial guy you were all sad about. *brief pause* We're moving.

Mr. Arkansas: (still laughing) What so we’re moving to the bottom of the hill?

Sigh, This is insanity. I mean its 2012 we should have flying cars by now. Or at least trained robots to carry us places. Like through the snow up hill in the dark.

My to-do list this weekend includes a small floor heater for my office, gloves, snow boots (with fur on the inside preferably) and flannel shirts.

It’s getting cold ya’ll.

The Unnormal

2012-01-12T08:07:00.002-06:00

You see once I started looking for weird things on the web, it sort of exploded such a vast collection that I needed more than one post to share it all. Since then I have had to come to terms that I am not as weird as I once thought. And two, there are a lot of people out there who like latex and bondage.

Of course I’m not judging those people.

Okay, I’m judging them a little.

It’s just that (to me) the site itself is so baffling to the point that a person (being me) could assume that - must be a joke.

But it’s not. At all.

Which means I feel the need to share it with you.

And I quote: For some people there’s only one thing better than a latex bondage hood without vision, and that’s a hood with vision. Our latex bondage hood with perforated pin hole eyes gives you the advantage to observe without being recognized, retaining that vital element of mystery and anonymity.

Mystery?

I'm pretty sure that would be the LAST word I would use to describe the above. But just like those silly infomercials I'm going to say it - BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE.

I think we all have a few things to ponder now, don't we?

PS: This guy was too awesome to keep to myself, Don't try and fight it.

A little odd.

2012-01-10T16:06:00.001-06:00

Well hello. I'm feeling a little under the weather so we'll blame this post on the meds. Hopefully my drunkeness with work in the amusment factor instead of the her-cheese-slid-off-her-cracker-she's-kookoo kind.

I found the following photos while browsing the web, surounding them are words I've thought they needed. Sorry in advance.

Warning: This photo could be offensive if you have no sense. of wonderment.

I happen to be intriged by it. There's just SO much going on... and the milk.

The Milk Nazis

So many things to say, yet not a word will come out I can't explain it.

Next I found us a guide for the impending zombie appocolyse, because I care.

Last but not least this oddity might just top them all. A giant shark....*wait for it*..... PILLOW.

#1 It's snuggly.

#2 It can swallow you, for warmth. Or hiding.

#3 You can hide things or people in it. Small children. Puppies. Possibilities are endless.

I vote that every household have a giant shark. If I win the lotto I'll make it happen people. Hear that Karma?

Speaking of hiding... I have some work I need to attend to.

Peace out.

(why yes, that was soooo 1990, yet it feels right).

PS: if you're not tired of me yet, I posted about "Neighbors" over at Underground Pioneers.

That girl.

2012-01-09T08:00:00.001-06:00

I saw you for the first time yesterday, in, I don’t know… months.

I wanted to reach out and say hello.

But I didn’t want to scare you.

I have a way of making things awkward, I’m sure you remember.

I get too close to fast, always bypassing the normal customs and boundaries. Just like the time I embarrassed husband by offering food off my plate to a stranger sitting near us in Italy.

I come on too strong, to quick.

I’ve never found that “filter” that a person like me should have.

I hope you understand.

I always throw myself head first into things and I tend to forget.

I mean to say, I forgot.

About you that is.

I have no idea when you left. Once I realized, it was too late.

And I missed you.

Mr. Arkansas missed you as well, although he’d never admit it.

I live in Missouri now, landed a decent job, things seem to be on a good path. I think you’d be excited, you were always so much fun, ready for anything.

Anyway I just wanted to say, Hi. Welcome back old friend.

Hopefully, I'll see you again?

"The sky is falling" Pack.

2012-01-05T08:13:00.001-06:00

Since Mr. Arkansas and I have been married we’ve often spoke about “being prepared”. In Texas, that usually meant prepared for a hurricane by year three we had it down to stocking up on water, gas, we had a generator, so we’d be fine without power for a few days.

But it all boiled down to “days” not “months”. Then last week we started talking after watching something about ancient aliens and 2012. I don't remember the details other than it was scary, then cripple that with the fact that we both have a tendency to be a little OCD with our paranoid-ness. Long story short, we decided to add some survial gear to our weekly our grocery list.

Nothing could have prepared me for what I came home to.

First and foremost there was my in-laws large black hiker bag loaded on his back, clipped to the side he was sporting his pistol gripped short double barrel shot gun. He resembled some sort of ninja marine warrior from a 90s video game.

Before I could say a word he started telling me all he’d accomplished. I expected a first-aid kid, some peanut butter, maybe some bags of dried rice and beans. He had all the above plus, boxes of shot gun shells, freeze dried meals, a knife, fishing gear, a tarp for shelter, matches, water proof fire starters, dried goods, olive oil, moonshine, a heirloom seed pack, ect.

It gets better, he had more than one bag.

I was informed that the first one (described above) is our “Shit has hit the fan - get out now” bag. Then there are the extra bags for the “we have a few minutes let’s packed and get out” or once the underground is complete it could be “let’s hunker down”. The later of the two have extra dry goods, will have bags of socks and other essentials.

Does this sound as crazy to read as it is to type? Not the socks part but all of it.

I'm going to assume that I sound like the insane man we met in Hot Springs that wanted us to buy ammo and store it in his bunker for some race war. The people you meet in the south are so strange. Yet, the thought of having food in case of any sort of disaster is comforting.

Very comforting in fact.

I mean no matter what disaster we now have some sort of plan and stash. Maybe nothing will ever happen, maybe we will be those weirdo’s that clear out and re-stock ever three years, those weirdo’s that live underground, in a bunker, held up by tree trunks, covered in earth those folks others whisper about.

But then again, that's been the plan all along right?

Who left me in charge? And also where can I buy a pony?

2012-01-04T10:31:00.002-06:00

Things I’ve never been good at: Being quite, sitting still, paying utility bills on time, applying pressure to things that are gushing blood.

In most households these are the "mom" jobs. But lets be honest I don’t have the crocs or high waisted jeans to be good at stuff like this. Ok fine I have the crocs but we will keep that between us.

Next on my list of things I'm awful at... being alone. Like home alone. When left up to my own inhabitions I tend to freak myself out. I'll see shadows lurking in the windows, the tree branches turn into serial killers, you know the usual.

Since I leaving well enough alone has never been my strong suite the following texts were sent.

Me: I'm preparing for the worse it's getting all home alone one here...icing down the stairs for intruders...

Me: BTW do we do we have any extra paint cans?

Mr. Arkansas: Yes.

Me: You hated that feather pillow right?

Mr. Arkansas: No reply

Me: This old blue fan is all shocky.

Mr. Arkansas: No reply

I've determined that either he lost cell signal, got kidnapped (hopefully by Chuck Norris since he's always wanted to meet him) or he's decided to ignore me which surely couldn't be so.

PS: I'm no longer alone so please don't try and break in. There is a marine inside, cleaning guns, most likely pantless, drinking beer. Enough said.

PPS: All of the above statements in my PS are 100% factual at the moment. It was too hilarious NOT to point out (sorry honey had to throw you under the bus this time).

Insanity loves company.

2012-01-03T08:03:00.003-06:00

As a child I can remember passing those houses. You know the ones with gnomes holding shovels doing cute human like things, the five shinny globes standing tall in the background, a few random faded flamingos off in the distance. When selling girl-scout cookies I’d usually avoid houses that had them. I have a way of making myself believe that inanimate objects have souls and watch us. It’s creepy and off base so I won't go into detail.

Then two years ago my grandpa gave me a ceramic gnome, more specifically the Travelocity gnome. I loved his cute little blue coat, missing arms. I fondly named him “Roamy” since he’s a traveling gnome. Between Mr. A and myself his backstory is he was a thief (since he has no arms), he was a traveler but after the loss of his hands he now prefers to stand guard and stare down squirrels.

Roamy stood watch at Bungalow in Texas and now he’s happily in our rental’s front yard in Southern Missouri occasionally getting peed on by the neighbor’s semi-feral dogs.

The reason that I’m telling you his story is because I’ve decided that instead of becoming the crazy cat lady - I need a collection of gnomes.

Some how between the age of eight and twenty eight I've become that person.

Cue the in-depth Google search.

Wait there are Zombie gnomes?

Purpose: To scare away assholes, other peoples children, unfunny neighbors and other un-disirables.

Or for those like me a daily laugh at the irony of it all.

AND gun fighting gnomes?

We probably won't shoot anyone. Maybe.

Oh holy hell. ZOMBIE gnomes. Ninja Gnomes. I swear the sun just got brighter. My wish list got a little longer.

But only 5" x 2.5" inches so not that much.

Photo Dump: Tecumseh, Nebraska

2012-01-02T05:41:00.001-06:00

Welcome to our first photo dump! Long story short I needed a place for all the random photos we'll be snapping across the central US and Canada. And honestly, what better place than here? My dumps will be just that, random deposits of photos with the city name they were snapped with little other details. I'll still blog our travel tales in full detail as always so no worries there :o).

Enough of my rambling, I now present to you photos from our December 2011 walking tour of downtown Tecumseh Nebraska.

Population less than 2,000 - Established in 1856.

Behind me is the first "yankee" statue either of us had seen up until this point. I'm serious y'all.

Their beautiful courthouse snapped with my wonky photo eye. I have to admit I like it.

Notice that the left and the right side of the city hall do not match?

Me too.

I loved her lumps...

... her lovely lady lumps.

And of course we had time to visit their local cemetery (for more details on our cemetery love click here).

And last but not least a Puggle plug because who couldn't love this?

Have a great day, stay warm friends!

This isn’t a hooker-pimp transaction.

2011-12-29T09:30:00.001-06:00

One word y’all - Portlandia.

I just discovered the first season on Netflix last night. I’m in love, in an innocent non-stalking kind of way. I seriously can't believe I haven't heard about it until now... Where were you on that one? I guess my head has been in the clouds. Speaking of having my heads in the clouds... this morning I learned a very disturbing thing: there are Beaver anal glands in our vanilla ice cream.

Seriously. Turns out, someone decided that beaver anal glands enhanced sweets, including vanilla ice cream and many raspberry products. They are sneaky so it’s called castoreum instead of anus. Very similar to the way high-frucose-corn-syrup is now called "corn sugar" tricky bastards.

To make matters worse, Shellac made from secretions from the female Lac beetle is found in those adorable colored sprinkles you like on your beaver butt ice cream.

Of course this news made my OCD spiral out of control, I started researching all sorts of foods we eat and would never want to. You know like anus.

One next to Castoreum (Beaver Anus) was L-cysteine is also known as cysteine. It is made from none other than human hair, duck feathers, pig bristles and hooves YUMMO. We can find this yumminess in many prepackaged breads including Safeway Brand, King’s Hawaiian Bread (why did I have to ruin this for myself?) and even White Castle buns.

Next I found Silicon dioxide, it’s the reason I will never again by pre-grated cheese. Sand. Silica. This stuff is not only found in cement and space shuttle panels it’s also in our pre- grated cheese. I'll opt to do it thank-you-very-much.

Last but not least we have methylparaben. It’s found in many wines, soft drinks, and fruit juice from concentrate. It originates in the vaginas of dogs when they are in heat. Who in the hell decided “hey that dogs in heat lets extract some juice and add it to our wine” nasty I tell ya.

Not than I'm going to stop drinking wine - cheers y'all.

Are there more?

Of course, I didn’t want to ruin all foods for you. Although I do think it’s important to be aware of the foods we eat for yourself, your family and your beavers everywhere.

PS: If you need to bleach you brain after reading this here is my easy four ingredient tomato soup… anal gland free. And for those of you that are going to research bever anus here's your first link - enjoy.

An old man...

2011-12-28T09:46:00.001-06:00

Tuesday at about 6:50 I realized I hadn’t thought of lunch yet. After deciding between another sandwich or cheese and crackers I opted for the later. The sausage was frozen so I left it out in my desk drawer until lunch.
I thought it was a solid plan until my sausage turned grey and got all spongy.

I text Mr. A of course.

Me: I’m afraid to eat the sausage.

Mr. A: It tasted fine to me. Are you looking at the grey end?

Yes, I was looking at the GREY end of the meat.

Me: Umm I’m going out to lunch.

I went to Schlotzsky’s. Upon entering the smell of Cinnabon filled my nostrils. On a side note, I think selling Cinnabon at a sandwich shop should be illegal. It's like having a Ben & Jerry’s at a fat camp. After calming the animal inside my brain that wanted to EAT every-single-one I reminded myself that I had to suck it up so I could stop “sucking it in”.

I opted for the Turkey and Avocado Cobb salad (which was amazing by the way) and a tea. In the very crowded common area there one table that stood out amongst the others. It was a little old man sitting by himself. Maybe it was the line of small toy dogs that got my attention. Either way once I noticed them I was intrigued. Some appeared to be plastic others small glass dogs.

Then my boss mentioned that he’s there every day and every day his line of dogs is stretched out across the table. Of course I wanted to talk to him. I had to go back. First and foremost to see if it’s true, Second for another cobb salad.

When I got home I started telling Mr. A about the old man and how I wanted to talk to him about his dogs.

Mr. A: Honey; for the love of God please DO NOT mess with that old man.

Me: Mess with? What? I just want to know what's up with the dogs.

Mr. A: Rach he's crazy he carries dogs with him, leave him alone.

Me: He didn't look crazy.

Mr. A: Seriously? He carries DOGS WITH HIM his cheese is off his cracker leave him alone.

Me: Sigh.... shesh..... geeze... ok fine.

Sometimes you win one, sometimes you loose one.

A Converstation, A Cupcake and Christmas

2011-12-22T08:45:00.003-06:00

Last night while I was in my closet changing from buisnuess-casual to sweats-queen Mr. Arkansas came in and said "I got you a present today".

I may or may not have jumped up and down like a child asking for it.

But as usual he gave me a hint "Its round and shiny".

Me: Is it a disco ball, because that would be awesome.

Mr. A: No it's smaller than that.

Me: Is it a grill, you know the gold ones from the grocery vending machine?

Mr. A: No. Speaking of that kind of grill you should of seen the video I saw today.

Then he proceeds to tell me about two brothers (literally and physically) who were arrested. While in the back of the police car one brother pooed out a cocaine balloon then the other brother (in cuffs) eats it. The younger brother died hours later from overdose. So the cops checked the camera and saw the whole ordeal.

Needless to say I forgot all about my "gift" and basically walked away confused and grossed out. Then hours later he presented me with a pink sparkley strawberry cupcake from our downtown shop. It was the best cupcake I've had in my life.

Love is weird.

In other news we are heading to Nebraska for Christmas. I'm SO excited to see my aunt, uncle and cousins. Then we'll be ringing in the new year with my in-laws. Seeing as though I'm irresponsible and tend to disappear from time to time, it's a fantastic time to say:

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!

Athletic Underachievement - Part III

2011-12-20T12:20:00.001-06:00

Previously on, in The History of Rachael’s Athletic Underachievement, we heard about my memories of elementary school gym class then we discovered what happens when I tried to overcome my genetic makeup for the sake of skipping class. In today’s episode we will dive into getting caught and not learning a lesson.

Soon as Mrs. Baker saw us, it happened. I lost my mind. I remember running through the woods thinking, I can do this, I can get out of sight, I never heard Krystal’s footsteps along mine so I figured my odds of being chased were slim.

I looked over my shoulder - I was alone. I stopped long enough to stumble around and catch my breath then I took off again. I remember the fight or flight feeling that overcame my entire body. My leg’s felt is if they were ten foot long and would bounce off the ground as they hit, I was free.

Then, slam.

As I tumbled to the ground my face smashed into the dirt. I remember looking around trying to figure out what the hell happened when I saw her. I had been tackled by the she-man, mullet sporting, blue jean jacket wearing school cop. She resembled a washed up PE coach with more hostility built up then a mama bear protecting a cub from an intruder.

Game over.

It took about two months for my mother to even allow me to go to my friend’s houses. To use the term walking on eggshells wouldn’t even be enough. Shortly after I was allowed to start staying over at Krystal’s again I met John. Then shortly after meeting John, he introduced us to racing. Not Nascar, that would have looks un-redneck compared to the usual crowd.

Friday’s after school let out a whole group of us high-schoolers would drive the hour to the back roads of Bryan Texas, turn down that long dirt road, park along the side at wait in anticipation.

It was race day.

The track was just a wide hard packed logging road that had been “graded” by a friend whose folks had property near there. They would spray oil over the dirt to keep the dust down, not that it helped much once the tires started spinning.

Once the racers started arriving we’d all gather along the grass, I’d hold my hands up to my ears as the vehicles rumbled past. Smoke would fly, people would cheer, the smell of ethanol would fill the air. It was dirty, loud and glorious.

You’d never know what you’d see on that track each time it was different. I’ve seen trucks lowered with parachutes, go-cart looking frames with shiny motors strapped down, racing tractors, every kind of car from a Corvette to a Dodge Neon.

The people were just as interesting, wranglers, mullets, numbered shirts, tweety bird tattoos, women that hoped to one day resemble Jaime Pressly but missed the boat - you know the good stuff.

If we were lucky someone would bring beer and smokes. Cops were never an issue since we were outside city limits and the county sheriff lived on the other side of town.

Sometimes I miss that sixteen year old girl, standing in the ditch watching races wild eyed, ready for anything life wanted to throw at me. Lucky for me every now and then she gives me a glimpse that she’s still there.

Ready, willing and able.

That’s what she said.

Sorry (It’s been a while so I had to throw that one in there).

All sorts of random.

2011-12-19T13:42:00.000-06:00

I started this post a month or so ago. At first thought it was just a place to jot down ideas as they came to me. But after the weeks have passed by re-reading these "thoughts" I decided - I need more councling. Since I'm best at being my own therapist I've decided that my quirks and pondering must be tied to my undiganosed OCD.
Now that we've cleared the air with a medical diagnosis, last month thoughts:

If we are all unique, what the hell is unique? Nevermind don't answer I like the pondering on this one.
Research Aliens & Crop Circles - Prove Mr. A wrong.
I need to stock up on my fake teeth. I really need a new grill. Yes the gold ones. Except the fake gold kind from the quarter machines at the grocery. While we are on the subject I need to find my bonnet and good hillbilly teeth they've been missing for months.

Reasons I can never go to prison:

I don't like food to touch.
I'm clausterphobic
I've never slept confortable in a sleeping bag.
No conditioner. Should I repeat?
I'm too pretty and weak, yes it's totally a reason.
I would get the crap kicked out of me because I would never be a good girl friend.

Random Thought: "As my husband wrestled the pepporoni from my hands the thought - I'm an enabler -may have crossed my mind".

I should note the pepproni was for the dog.

What I mean to say is it was meant for human consumption but I was scheming to give it to the pug. He has one eye. And he snorts. This is the part where you agree that if you had a one eyed pug you'd feed him pepporoni as well.

Wow. That's it. It's a dangerous place, my mind. Hope you made it out un-scathed.