My Captain jokingly referred to me as his darling “Prepper” today.  I had no idea what he meant.  Food prepper?  Get the kids to school prepper?  Laundry prepper?  What? What does he mean?

Apparently he was making fun of my penchant for behaving like a girl-scout-survivalist-prepare-for-the-worst kind of PREPPER.

He teased me like it’s a bad thing! What the heck?!  Who wouldn’t want a partner who always has what you need?  No one, that’s who.

How did he come to this affectionate little moniker for me?

Well it sure as heck wasn’t because I bought a year’s worth of freeze dried food from Mountain House, to go with the gallons of beans and rice packed in the basement shelves.

And it probably wasn’t because I bought two emergency water purifiers, to be able to re-hydrate said food.

And it most likely wasn’t because I have stored enough chocolate and toilet paper to last this family generations.  (Priorities, friends, priorities.)

It was apparently because I asked him to help me build a planter/candle heater.  THAT was where I crossed the line….you know, the line between a delicate trophy wife who needs to be taken care of,  and a bad-ass, self-sufficient, get-you-through-the-zombie-apocalypse, she’s-a-little-bit-scary kind of spouse.

And despite my unmitigated, saucy leap over that line, he grinned at me indulgently, and drove me to Lowes, where he braved the pre-blizzard crowds to buy terra cotta pots, nuts, bolts, and washers.  He might have been concerned that I’d crossed the line, but he was still willing to humor me.  Is that love, or what?

Why did I want those things?

Well, imagine in this blizzard that we lose power.  (We live in the styx.  We’re gonna lose power.)  And suppose I am unable to get our generator started with my wimpy noodle arms.  How am I going to get heat of any kind?  The Little Cottage doesn’t have a fireplace.  We’d have no heat source whatsoever.  I must keep my babies warm!!

Check this out, my friends:

VOILA!  A few tea lights, and I’m in business.  Oh sure, it’s not going to heat the whole cottage, but by golly my kitchen will be toasty!  And where does everyone like to congregate, especially during a storm? That’s right, the kitchen!  (The place where I’m rehydrating all of those beans and rice packets….)

You can go to Youtube and find a ton of videos on how to make one of these, but in a nutshell, it’s different sizes of terra cotta pots, attached with a bolt, with nuts between to create insulation space.

You put these in bell formation over some tea lights, securely balanced on something to raise it (in this case bricks), with something flame retardant below (in this case, more bricks).  The radiant heat can get to around 200 degrees, which can really help you out when you’re powerless!

Cheap, but genius, and certainly easy.  All the things he loves in his wife.

Now, if only I had a way to work my well without electricity.  Once I overcome THAT challenge, then I really could accept My Captain’s PREPPER nametag.  Though, to be honest, I prefer to be called ‘Love Of My Life, Who Makes Me Complete’.  But I can understand how that might be too long on the tongue.  Why don’t we all agree that when we hear him call me PREPPER, he really means ‘Love Of My Life, Who Makes Me Complete’?

Deal?    Deal.

And chuckle as he will, while he’s out saving the world on Friday and Saturday’s blizzard, and the kids and I are alone fending for ourselves…he will know that we won’t be human popsicles when he gets home.

Always a good thing in a family.  That whole thawed out, warm to the touch thing.

See you all on the other side of Blizzard Jonas !!!

Love,

Mama

We just got back from a trip out west…western Maryland, that is.  Holed up in a nearly century-old log cabin, we rang in the new year quietly, all snug in our woodstove-heated, three room abode.

There was no internet.  There was no cell service.

There was only the flurry of beautiful fluffy snow, the sound of the trickling creek, and the wind dancing through the Hemlock.

We hiked, we geo-cached, and we ate constantly.  There wasn’t enough snow to do anything with, but it was just fine.  We had board games a plenty, and no pressing responsibilities.

And you know something?  It was amazing.

After a few days of this, however, My Captain had to check in with those that depend on him back in Montgomery County, so we drove to a place that had open Wi-Fi.

We ended up at a completely empty ski shack.

It was fun to watch the kids after unplugging from electronics and society for a while.

It was fun to watch them just FLOP.

I could actually see them look down at their roots and remember where they were planted.  It was a deep, peace-giving, breath of fresh air.

And silliness, of course.

They’re back at the grind now, all three of them.  But they all seem more centered.  I don’t know how long it will last, but at least now I know what to do when they need a reminder.

My friend Bonnie, who isn’t JUST my friend, she’s also My Captains’ best friend’s sister, and was Critter and Varmint’s 3rd grade teacher back in The Day… recently opened a little curio/antique shop near us…

called Mrs. Brown’s Attic, in Barnesville, Maryland.

It’s adorable.

Housed in a century old store…with original floor and windows and shelving,

all it’s missing is the wood stove that no doubt heated the place a hundred years ago.

She even has food out for anyone to share…usually her homemade macaroons and chocolate pretzels.

Well amongst some of the cool finds at her store was a pottery/stoneware/plaster bust of Ceasar.   Complete with faux gilding.  This thing was something else, let me tell you.

My Captain’s best friend (and Bonnie’s brother), Ty, thought it would be funny to buy it for Varmint, just because it was so weird.  He didn’t actually do it, but he did chuckle to us that it would be funny to give it to her for Christmas.

We shared this with Varmint, who figured it would be even funnier if she gave it to HIM for Christmas.

And Mrs. Brown approved.  We love Bonnie’s sense of humor!  So we hauled Caesar into the minivan and took him home.

Behold Caesar in my kitchen!

Behold Caesar wrapped in paper!

Behold Ceasar under Ty and Maggie’s Christmas tree!  (He’s at work tonight at the fire station, so Maggie let me in to set up Caesar!)

In all honesty, we don’t know WHO the bust is supposed to be. And he doesn’t really look like the Caesar we all have seen in history books, but, “Behold Brutus!”  or, “Behold Schmitty!”  doesn’t work for me.

Tonight, Ty came home and found Caesar under the Christmas tree.

Didn’t even have to open it.

Knew immediately he’d been had.

When he saw Varmint, the only thing he said was, “Oh, it’s ON.”

She looked him straight in the eyes, and simply smiled.

That’s it.  She just smiled.

It scared the heck out of me.  A 14-year-old calmly smiling?  Oh HELL no.

This will be interesting.  I honestly have no idea how this will play out!

Who would you root for?

He had forgotten his black belt.  You can’t wear a Tux without your belt, especially when the beat drops and you’ve got no choice but to get your Jam on.

Look, I’m white bread, with mayonnaise, and I have no idea what I just said about dropping beats with jam.  It’s hard to act cool when you’re a confirmed Master Dork.  Don’t judge.

My Captain and I had run up to the middle school so we could deliver said black belt, and peeked inside the dance hall (aka, cafeteria) to see how the middle schoolers were handling their first dance.   It was about what you would expect.  All the girls were on one side of the room, all the boys were on the other, and what dancing there was going on resembled something between a grand-mal seizure, and a toddler tantrum.

We were about to leave, after depositing the belt to a grateful, and very dapperly dressed Critter, when another parent asked us: “Can you stay? We need more chaperones.  Specifically Men with booming voices.”

My Captain gave me a pained look, but I knew that OF COURSE he would stay.  He never, and I mean, NEVER denies a request for help.

He went to the gym where basketball was being played, and I stayed in the dance room.  But after a while, and after I had said, “No,” and “No!” and “Oh HEELLLLL NO!” to various munchkins several times, I went to My Captain’s room and asked him to switch.

He had the kids well in hand in the blink of an eye, which left me fuming in my impotence.  He comes off as strong and in-charge to the kids, and I just come off as a meanie, nagging, barking bitch.  Why?  Why is that?

By the end of the evening, we were both drained.  I had grown a greater respect for the staff at that school, as well as a keen curiosity as to what in the holy hell would make anyone want to be around several hundred punks of that age every day.  It boggles the mind.

One thing made the evening’s effort worth it, though.  And that was this:

Have I mentioned how much I love my Critter?  He looked like Cary Grant and Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes, all in one writhing, gyrating, beat-dropping bundle of energy.

He would have made an excellent Solid Gold Dancer.

When I posted my previous post about having difficulty getting the top of our outside Blue Spruce lit for the Christmas season, I honestly did NOT think I would come off as nagging.

I don’t need a blog to come off as nagging.  I can do it live, any day of the week, and twice on Sunday.

I had one of my awful headaches today…the kind that makes light too bright, sound too loud, and any smell nausea inducing.  It was one of THOSE headaches.  Fortunately, I have some high powered meds for both the pain, and the nausea, and had promptly taken those as soon as I realized it was going that direction.  Problem with those meds, though, is they make me fuzzy-headed. We’re talking seriously fuzzy-headed.

More than I normally am.  A lot more than normal.  We could even call it hairy-headed, because we’re not talking run of the mill fuzzy.  What I’m saying is that when I’m on these meds, I can’t even wrap my tongue around my own name.

The best thing I can do when it gets like this is climb into my bed.  Which I did, whining that I couldn’t afford to spend the afternoon in bed because I NEED to get the Christmas lights up on the outside tree!  I NEED TO, I tell you!  (Remember, I’ve got a wager on this with the neighbor who owns the orchard down the road!)

After about an hour in bed, I dragged myself out from under the covers, pulled on an old raggedy sweater, and blinked at the light as I crept gingerly downstairs.  The kids had come home from school and were outside with My Captain and his best friend, Ty, stringing lights on the outside tree for me!  Apparently My Captain had texted Ty and asked him if he could spare an hour to help him with something, and Ty’s immediate thought was, “This is about that freakin’ tree, I bet.”

Proving two things:  1) My previous post DID come across as nagging, much to my chagrin, and 2) Ty reads Mama Boe, which means he is SERIOUSLY hard up for entertainment, and now I feel obliged to be as entertaining as I possibly can so I don’t disappoint My Captain’s oldest and best friend and that is some serious stress, because how the heck could I possibly live up to that kind of expectation? Who could?  No one, that’s who.

So now, obviously, I wish I’d never said anything about the freakin’ tree in the first place.

But….

It is awfully pretty.

One of my favorite things about lighting this tree during the holidays is that The Little Cottage is nestled in the woods around the bend of a lonely country road, and the night is SO VERY dark all around us.  And if you are driving down that quiet country road at night, and round the bend, you see a beacon….

of sweet light…

that boldly exclaims, MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!

Because subtlety has never been my strong suit.

And if a bright, joyful light breaking through the darkness doesn’t perfectly honor the birth of Jesus, I don’t know what does!

Thank you, My Captain, Ty, and Varmint and Critter!  This was the best Christmas present ever!

Love,

Mama