A long time coming...

Well the day has finally come and I am now an official "blogger". Let's be clear, this is Brandon, the other half of the "Katie and Brandon" blog.

On multiple occasions I have been tempted to join in and share with the world the inner happenings of our life. To date, my lovely bride of nearly 10 months has done a fine job with the sharing. After reading the last few posts, however, it's definitely my turn.

So we don't have a washer and dryer, I don't mind dirty clothes. As I like to ask Katie, "Who do I have to impress on the farm?" Exactly, dirt is "in" at the farm. We are almost out of towels, I can drip-dry.

So our hot water heater gives the occasional jolt of electricity via the shower head or faucet. I thought she asked for me to electrify her life every now and then.

So we have scorpions. Yes, welcome to the desert. Anahuac has alligators. At least scorpions can't eat you. Did she mention her mom found two, yes 2, in our house during their stay? I bet she didn't mention that she let the first one escape after moving it from the slippery wine glass to the easily ascended styrafoam cup. That was an exciting day and a half living with the mystery scorpion.

So I had a nasty cough and wanted some green tea. I started topping it off with whiskey, certainly that's masculine enough for a farmer.

So we watch Desperate Housewives and Greys Anatomy. I have accepted the advice of many and set aside weekly time for a date night with my wife. I am talking serious husband points here. And let me confirm the fact that we don't watch television, we watch it at our convenience on the internet.

And finally, the cooking. Katie is a fabulous cook. Her siblings used to tease me about how bad she was in the kitchen. I hear there is a story about burnt maccaroni and cheese. Glad she grew out of that because I have been consistently impressed. I never expected her to pamper me so much with the home cooked meals. I fully expected to share those duties as we did in College Station. It has been a pleasant surprise and I do not take it for granted.

Let me also say that the "Katie surprises" are generally positive experiences. Not so much with yesterdays lunch. We were both working in the office when Katie suggests its time for lunch and heads to the kitchen. She calls out to me asking if a leftover fish sandwich would do. Keep in mind this fish was fried exactly one week ago. No problem, I can handle it. What I bit into however, was not fish. Instead, my dear wife mistakingly used the week old fried oysters. Topped with tarter sauce and served cold between two pieces of wheat bread. What a lovely "Katie surprise."

Any bets on when I'll get to working on that washer and dryer?

Happy birthday, Lindsey Gail

One of my oldest and dearest friends turns 24 today! 

I've been best friends with this girl since the 8th grade, but we're only two-thirds of our best friend trio: 

And, we kind of have a funny story. You see, Nicki (tall girl on the right) and I have been best friends since 7th grade, and in middle school everyone has their own lunch table, right? Another friend of ours brought Lindsey to our lunch table one day - but where did she sit? MY seat. So for a couple of weeks we were NOT friends - because she stole my seat at the lunch table. 

Luckily for both of us, I got over it (or she found a new seat, I don't really remember how it worked out), and life has been great ever since. 

A few fun facts about Lindsey: 

• She was majorly obsessed with the Houston Rockets basketball team when we were growing up. So much so, that she kept a "Rockets journal" each season, and intently watched each game, scribbling notes about the highlights of each quarter, points scored, rebounds made, and fouls acquired by each player. 
  
• She always had some sort of celebrity crush, like Bryce Drew who played for the Rockets (or more appropriately, sat the bench for a season or two) and Joshua Jackson from Dawson's Creek. 
  
• She used to have to put a full heading (name, date, subject, teacher, topic, assignment) on EVERY piece of paper at school - even if she was just taking notes. 
  
• She has the most contagious laughter I've ever been around. 
  
• Number 22 is "her number".
  

Happy birthday, Lindsey. Hope year 24 treats you well. 

No, we still do not have a washing machine

My dear sister-in-law Amanda just returned from Brazil a few days ago, and was catching up on a few posts she missed, including all of our preparations for my family's visit.

Amanda: "Did he really get the washer and dryer and set up? I'll be sooooo impressed..."

Me: "No. It's going to happen 'this week'."

Amanda: "HAHAHAHAHA I KNEW IT!"

We didn't have time to get any laundry done before my parents arrived, then we racked up more while they were here, including using every bath towel we own, so it's pretty overwhelming at this point. It would take more than 24 hours to finish it all one load at a time. Which would be fine if I could do it at home, and work between changes. Not so fine when I have to go camp out somewhere else. 

So, we kind of have a laundry strike going on right now. You literally have to step over a pile of clothes and towels to enter our closet, and just this morning Brandon put on his last pair of socks. I'm fairly confident I could win this battle, because: 

1. I have a lot more underwear 
   
2. I can wear flip flops, he has to wear boots
   

And, while he might not mind wearing my socks for a few days (it's happened before), he probably will mind reusing my dad's bath towel. 

I'd say the odds are in my favor. 

The masculinity of green tea

Monday night, Brandon and I decided to catch up on the two television shows we watch. We missed two episodes of Desperate Housewives and one of Grey's Anatomy while my family was in town. 

We realize this is not quality TV, but those two shows comprise the entire two hours a week we spend watching it. And for two people who consider Yahoo!Finance, Western Livestock Journal, Farm Press and MarketingSherpa their only other sources of entertainment, we don't think we're doing too bad.  

So after dinner, we were settling in on the couch, and I was setting up the laptop (we mostly watch "TV" online). 

Brandon says, "You know, my throat could really use some of that hot tea you've been drinking lately."

Me: "Okay, sounds good to me, too. What kind do you want? We have that nighttime herbal stuff you got from one of your students four years ago*, regular green tea, and some new green tea I just bought that has orange, jasmine and passion fruit."

Brandon: "Hmmm, let's go with the orange, jasmine, passion fruited one.  ...Wow, that sounds gay."

"So, are we going to watch Desperate Housewives or Grey's Anatomy first?"

Me: "Um, because that doesn't sound 'gay'?"

*Aside: Who buys "Traditional Medicinals Nighty Night Herbal Tea" for a tractor-driving, Wrangler-wearing, deer-hunting ag teacher? His idea of a "nightcap" was a glass of whiskey.

Why we thought we needed a new hot water heater

Our shower has electrical currents. Seriously. 

We have to warn our guests, and keep a wash rag handy to turn the faucet in case the currents decide to get violent.

We first noticed the the shocking powers of our shower about six months ago. Of course, Brandon let me discover them for myself. 

When I ran out of the shower one morning screaming, "Our shower! It shocked me! I'm pretty sure that's NOT supposed to happen," he was all, "Yeah, I know, it's shocked me before, too."

Excuse me? You don't see a problem with that? Last time I checked, water and electricity were two things you were NOT supposed to mix. 

So this went on for a while. It wasn't every time we showered, but you never knew when it would happen. We could go a couple months with no sign, then out of the blue, I would get zapped adjusting the shower head. But there was always that fear of not knowing when it would strike...

It hasn't really bothered the two of us so much (I'll admit, the first time I thought I was getting electrocuted in the shower, I was quite alarmed, but I guess you can adjust to anything). And, the bachelor guests we've had so far have been very understanding.  

But, Brandon got shocked the night before my parents were scheduled to arrive. And plans changed.

I told him it wasn't a big deal, they would handle it fine. 

But he was all, "I am NOT going to have my in-laws getting electrocuted in my shower." 

"If it were just your dad and brothers, that would be one thing. I wouldn't feel so bad. But the first time your mom gets shocked in the shower, I will never hear the end of it."

So, we were prepared to fork over our remaining Home Depot wedding gift cards, along with a wad of our own cash, to purchase a new hot water heater. Brandon thought the root of our electrical currents had something to do with the hot water heater, and a replacement was the way to fix it. 

Now, most people could just drain theirs, replace some things inside, and be all fixed up. But, ours ran for one year without a filter on the well to catch all the rust, salt, and other junk that gets pumped up (which is why we also need a new well).

Most hot water heaters, upon turning the spout, immediately begin gushing stored water. Not ours. It was fully plugged with about a foot of solid orange gunk. 

Luckily, Brandon found the right guy to talk to at Home Depot, and to my very pleasant surprise, returned home with two elements (I think that's what they're called), rather than a whole new hot water heater. 

The Home Depot man had told him how to drain a plugged-up heater, and so the day began. We turned off the hot water and got to work. We had to spray a water hose into the heater, collect a bucket of water, rinse and repeat...for hours. In fact, my parents arrived to me carrying out a bucket of brown water. 

My dad walks in after driving 20 hours straight and says, "All I want is a shower."

Me: "Well, Dad, funny that's the one thing you want. Because it's the one thing we can't give you right now...unless you want a cold one."

Later that afternoon, Brandon thought he had fixed the hot water heater, and turned the water back on so my dad could get his shower. 

Over dinner, there was a break in the conversation, and my dad says, "Well, Brandon, I hate to tell you, but you still don't have hot water. I just wanted one so bad I took a cold one. I think I would rather get shocked than take one of those again."

Brandon and I stayed up until midnight redraining the water heater, and ended up just putting the old elements back in. 

So, we had hot water again, but we still have the electrical currents too. 

And my mom, of all people, experienced them one morning.  

Katie Surprise

We are not a wasteful home. It is very rare to see food thrown away here. We usually find some way to use every scrap we can find in the fridge. No one who has ever lived with me will find this surprising. 

Thankfully, neither of us is a picky eater either. Apparently Brandon was growing up, but I tell him all the time I'm not sure this would have worked had he continued those habits into adulthood. 

I've always followed recipes rather loosely. If I don't have some of the ingredients one calls for? I improvise by substituting with something similar or that "fits" with the other ingredients, or just leave them out. I never buy something to use in just one recipe.

And, I've always been a fan of making things up to combine and reuse leftovers, or use some ingredients that have been sitting around for a while. My college roommates and I dubbed each of these recipes a "Katie Surprise". 

Most of them involve combining lots of things into one baking dish. Surprisingly enough, I've never really had a total flop with any of these meals. 

The only one that came close was a few years ago, when I had some rice, meat and other things mixed in a casserole dish, uncovered in the oven, and couldn't figure out why the rice was still crunchy after an hour in there. Then I remembered there was a reason I left the lid on the pot when cooking rice on the stove. 

Granted, I've never made any Katie Surprises twice, either. Which means they are always bearable, but at times less than desirable. 

A few months ago, I made yet another one of these dishes for dinner, and Brandon started to catch on to this habit. 

About halfway through dinner, he said, "You like experimenting, don't you?"

"Actually, yes, I do. Which means you have a whole lifetime of Katie Surprises ahead of you."

I'm not sure if he was excited about that statement...

We were trying to clean out the fridge before my parents arrived last week, so we tried another Katie Surprise with leftover ingredients from making Mexican cornbread casserole, mixed with ranch style beans we had with burgers - a week earlier. 

It turned out to be some sort of Mexican sloppy joe substance. Brandon ate his as a burrito. I preferred it with tortilla chips. Either way, it wasn't bad and got rid of several containers of leftovers prior to "the invasion".

We ended up even feeding it to our guests before dinner this past week as a dip - and actually got complements on it. Not bad for a Katie Surprise.  

Restoring order

The Boyer clan is back in Texas, as of 4am CST today, and Brandon and I are on the road to restoring order in our house and work schedules. 

We had a great visit, but one week of only half paying attention to things like mail and bills really gets you behind in the paperwork.  

So far, the only thing they left behind is Mason's work boots, and the only thing I mistakenly sent to Texas is a bottle of sunscreen, but we'll see if that tally increases. 

Mason worked all day today making a desert biome for a school project, which coincided nicely with their trip to Arizona. Before they left, my mom and I got some pictures from our jeep trip in the mountains blown up to use as the background in his shadowbox, and he had the rattler from the rattlesnake we killed in the desert. 

He waited until the last minute to collect his "real desert sand" and dug some up in our yard at 4:30 am, right before they left. 

Of course, there had to be a couple of disasters right before they headed out Saturday morning. 

To kick it off on Friday, my dad (with very good intentions) installed an electric wire around the bottom of our dog pen to keep Wilbur from digging out (we've had some real trouble with that lately). When he finished, we put Wilbur in the pen, and let him get a good zap to learn it was there. Thinking he had learned his lesson, we let him out for a while. When we went into town later, both dogs had to go in the pen. Wilbur was not excited about getting back in there, and I had to squeeze the gate shut because he was sitting so close. 

We were gone no longer than one hour, and Wilbur had vanished by the time we returned. We still have no idea how he even escaped the wire to get out, but he apparently got the shock of his life from that electric fence, and did NOT want to be in that pen. 

My dad felt guilty about the dog running away, and spent the next four hours searching for him with no luck. We tried to tell him he had done more to keep Wilbur in the pen than we had, but he still felt really bad, and continued to circle our block until dark. Still no sign.

Then on Saturday, they had planned to wake up at 3am, and be on the road at 4, so Brandon and I set our alarm for 3:45. When I stumbled out to say goodbye, everything looked like they were on schedule - bedrooms were empty, lights off, no luggage in the hall. But as soon as I stepped into the dining room, they were all returning inside.

Turns out one of the propane bottles Mason loaded had turned over during the night, and was steadily leaking gas into the truck camper. You could smell it when you opened our front door, and hear it leaking as you approached the truck. Everyone was a bit nervous, since there were three bales of alfalfa also in the truck camper, and Brandon's truck was parked right beside them - pulling a diesel tank. Brandon did manage to crawl through the truck and turn off the tank, but the gas was heavy in the air. 

Needless to say, they weren't going anywhere for a while. 

So, at 4:15, I made breakfast for the Boyers (which, looking back, might not have been a good idea, since all the windows were open), got them a cup of coffee, and we had our last bit of quality time together - even though we were all probably incoherent at that hour. 

By 5:00, the gas had cleared enough my dad felt safe starting the vehicle, and we all held our breath as he cranked the engine. 

No explosion, so they piled in and headed east. And we headed back to bed. 

Later that morning, we awoke to a cow in the backyard. But when we went to retrieve her, I spotted Wilbur in the pasture. 

I ran inside hollering to Brandon, "He's here! He's back! He's sleeping in the pasture! He's right outside!"

Brandon: "Who? Your dad?"

"No, Wilbur! He came back!"

Brandon was less enthused, but I think he's happy Wilbur is back. He immediately called my dad, to give him some peace about the whole ordeal. 

It certainly has been an adventure with Wilbur since he's been back. He is still absolutely terrified of the dog pen. It took me several hours Saturday morning to get him to stay in the yard. He kept hunkering back to his hideout in the pasture, and I would have to lure him back with treats and human food. 

We I have had to drag him on a leash to the pen every time they have gone in, and once he gets there, he stands there on his chain (I temporarily cut off the electric wire, so we have him on a chain to make sure he doesn't skip town again) right at the gate, and refuses to even eat his treat. He tucks his tail in and starts shaking when he sees me walk outside with the leash, and looks the same the next morning when I let him out. 

It's pretty pathetic, and I feel bad for him. Brandon tells me I'm getting "soft".  

Anyway, it was a great week with the Boyers, and even the "disasters" turned out just fine. Looking forward to getting back to work now! 

Preparing for the Boyers: Part 2

It's almost D-Day. In just 24 hours, we are expecting the "invasion" or "raid" as Brandon has (lovingly) coined my family's visit. 

We haven't gotten nearly as much done as we wanted around here, but at this point, what do you do? 

My Friday evening was spent pulling weeds and mowing (which I was excited about, since it means we finally have grass growing), and today I have to go grocery shopping and clean up around the house. 

Brandon cleaned "the hunting room" last night. This is the spare bedroom, converted into a camping/hunting gear storage facility, where Mason will be sleeping. He's also going to try to find an hour to connect the washer and dryer early Sunday morning. Our laundry is beginning to consume our closet again, and he's out of socks (which means he's wearing mine). He also has the lofty goal of fixing the roof shingles that have blown off during wind storms and buying a new hot water heater (that's another story) - all by the time my folks arrive. I'm not as optimistic. 

We have quite a few fun things planned, along with a daily meal schedule (part of my obsession with planning things - but hey, I had to make a grocery list). We're going to the Dodgers vs. Cubs spring training game, going jeeping in the desert, having a fish fry and a shrimp boil, and try to take them up north near Flagstaff to see the snow that fell yesterday. 

I am fairly certain that until the four inches fell in Anahuac last December, Mason had never seen snow. Brandon looked at me like we were crazy people when I told him this, and I was all, "Hey, we live in the swamp. You have to travel a long way to get to snow." Not to mention the fact that my mom is deathly afraid of icy roads - does not make for a pleasant vacation. We tried it once before the boys were around.  

Our plans for the week will not be something my dad categorizes as a "vacation". His idea of a vacation is finding a quiet place to nap, not traipsing across the west. But he'll be a good sport. 

We really couldn't be more excited about their visit, and getting to show them more of Arizona. 

So, we pretty well have daily activities planned out, a meal schedule, and a grocery list. After the hot water heater installation and washer/dryer connection tomorrow morning, we can just sit back, relax, and enjoy the calm before the storm. 

88 years and counting

I'm not sure if Friday the 13th is a good day for someone to turn 88, but today is MeMe's birthday. 

My family has often joked about MeMe's "nine lives". She has survived breast cancer, a stroke that paralyzed her left side, two amputations, diabetes, high blood pressure, and two six month rounds where we were convinced she had dementia - then one day she was suddenly her old self again, both times. 

She has spent the last 7.5 years in a nursing home, due to the stroke. The statistics say only 8% of female residents who were 75-84 years old when they were admitted stay longer than 3-5 years. But with her "nine life" history, MeMe has never paid much attention to the statistics.

She is quite fond of Brandon. After the second time she met him (the first time was during one of the rounds where she was crazy, and has no recollection), she asked when I would bring him back, because "He smells good!" ...If she only knew what things were like now that he's farming. But every time we've gone to Texas, Brandon has packed his cologne "for MeMe", certainly not for me. 

She has regularly written me letters since I moved to Arizona, and one of the most recent ones contained this: 

"Can't wait to see your house. I bet it is pretty - Bet it is as pretty as Brandon."

I had never really thought of comparing my house to my husband's looks, but I guess it worked for her. 

Needless to say, she really lights things up, and has always been a ball of fire. 88 years later, that is still the case. 

It's really enlightening to think about all the things our grandparents have witnessed. Since she was born in 1921, MeMe has seen: 

• The U.S. enter six wars (WWII, Korean War, Vietnam, Persian Gulf War, Afghanistan and Iraq), and the tension of the Cold War
  
• Attack on Pearl Harbor
  
• Assassinations of John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr., to name a notable few 
  
• The Civil Rights Movement 
  
• Terrorism on U.S. soil
  
• The rise of radio, television, the Internet, fax machines, cell phones, and the Blackberry my 15-year-old brother carries around now
  

And while there are so many people complaining about hard times now, we should talk to people like MeMe, whose youth was marked by the Great Depression, where people were selecting which meal to give up in a day, not still driving new cars, talking on cell phones, and watching satellite TV, while their home forecloses.  

It's neat to see how far we've come in the past 80+ years as well. In the year MeMe was born: 

• The first radio broadcast of a baseball game hit the airwaves - now we watch them livestreaming on the Internet
  
• Warren G. Harding was inaugurated as the 29th president (in the first election women were allowed to vote) - we're now on the 44th (where a woman ran for election in the primaries)
  
• The U.S. formally ended WWI and declared peace with Germany
  
• Insulin was discovered - good thing, since MeMe has diabetes
  
• The first Miss America was crowned - fitting; MeMe was crowned "Miss Golden Years" of the greater Houston area her first year in the nursing home
  
• The Tomb of the Unknowns was dedicated - and has been guarded 24/7 since
  

This is a short clip of MeMe at Christmas and an example of the humor and life she brings to our family gatherings - right after she insisted on opening her presents first:  

Happy birthday, MeMe.

Hoping my mom doesn't read this in the next four days...

Brandon and I were crowded around the computer last night, catching up on Yahoo!Finance articles and solving the world's economic troubles, when in mid-sentence he says, "Katie, I'm going to leave for a minute, but you just keep looking this way. Don't turn around. Just keep reading or something. But DON'T turn around."

My immediate reaction: "What is it, a scorpion?"

Sure enough, as soon as he gets up, I turn around. Halfway up the back wall of the office above our chest freezer is a very large scorpion.

But what does he walk in with to catch the scorpion? A wine glass. My wine glass. He doesn't drink wine - why should he care, right? No sense in using one of the old plastic cups from football games he uses, or a red plastic cup we could throw away. The mild fit I threw about this did not work, and the scorpion was caught in the glass. 

We tried to take a picture of the scorpion to share with everyone, but it wasn't working very well in the glass. 

Brandon says, "Let's get him in something else where we can see him."

Then he just turns the glass over! Expecting the scorpion to sit on the counter! 

Which, of course, it doesn't, and is soon scurrying across the kitchen floor, once again loose in our house. Brandon manages to trap him again - in the wine glass. The rest of the scorpion story can be viewed in the video below: 

If my mom sees this post before she gets on the road this weekend, she quite possibly might rethink her trip. If she does make it here, I guarantee you she will:

• Throw the covers back before she gets in bed every night and shake out her shoes each morning
  
• Ask for a stemmed wine glass
  
• Not eat cereal, even though it's her favorite breakfast food
  

Well, I have some dishes to disinfect. And a scorpion still sitting on the kitchen counter. (Brandon likes to keep them around for some reason.)  

Praise God for ... shrimp

My dad called this morning to let me know he was planning to buy some shrimp from the Texas Gulf Coast before they head west, to boil for all of us desert dwellers while they are here. 

I let Brandon know the good news as he was digging around in the fridge looking for breakfast. 

He immediately froze, looked up at the ceiling, and said, "God? Is that you? I knew you loved me!"

Needless to say, he's a little excited about the fresh, Texas-sized shrimp headed our way. They are one of his favorite foods. My dad knows this very well, and has prepared them on more than one of our trips to Texas. 

They are also bringing: 

• Taso, Cajun goodness from a recent business trip my dad made to Louisiana
  
• Morgan's Red Rider BB gun, so I can get after the pigeons that sit in the screened area next to our office and coo all morning while I try to work
  
• My dad's knew flat-top grill he claims makes "a steak he would put up next to Ruth Chris any day of the week"
  
• Some beef jerky Dad and Mason made a couple weeks ago (if Mason hasn't eaten it all)
  
• Mason, who I am afraid might be attached to the roof after my parents attempt to drive 20 hours with him
  

We're getting excited! 

Cupcake count

I mentioned on Thursday when I made the cupcakes that I doubted they would last 48 hours. Turns out my estimate was right on the money. At 39 hours, there are five left. Five. I have eaten three, as of ten minutes ago.

I found out that Brandon's diet yesterday consisted solely of cupcakes until after 2pm. I know plenty of women who would kill for a metabolism like that.

Today is my last regular season basketball game, and the playoff tournament starts on Monday. Too bad I can't take cupcakes to the kids.

Happy birthday, Starett!

Wow, I can't believe this kid is 18 today. Seems like just yesterday Calli and I were making sure he didn't set the house on fire. 

Here is the whole Boyer/Burk clan at Christmas: 

The birthday boy is back and center, in the brown shirt.   

Turns out I need another muffin pan. And a cooling rack.

Brandon, 9am: "Do we have anything quick I can grab to eat?"

Me, thinking it's still breakfast time: "Um, bagels, raisin bread, bananas, frozen waffles..."

Brandon: "No, I don't mean like a snack where I will be hungry in two hours, but won't be able to eat for four. I mean like food. Something that will tide me over for a while."

Me: "Well in that case, you have the option of leftover beef tips or making a sandwich."

Brandon: "Yeah, I'll make a sandwich."

[Leaves the house for work again]

Brandon, 10:30am, with one cookie already in his mouth, another in his hand: "Do we have anything to eat?"

Me: "Still have the beef tips. Or another sandwich. Hey, didn't you just leave here with food?"

Brandon: "Yeah, but I'm hungry again. Not for real food this time, though. What do we have that's sweet?"

Me: "Ice cream, we could make cinnamon rolls, ... I have a cake mix. I could make a cake." [not really thinking he was going to go for this - he was in a hurry, right?]

Brandon: "Oooh, yeah, make a cake. That would taste good."

Me: "But aren't you leaving now?"

Brandon: "Well, yeah, but I'll be back."

So I get out the cake mix - maybe we'll have a little treat tonight (after I feed him leftover beef tips and rice for the third night in a row). Then I get the idea to call and see if he would rather have cupcakes.

Brandon: "Yeah, make cupcakes."

So, I get out the muffin pan, and fill it with the paper cups. But then I read on the box that I'm going to have 24 cupcakes. I only have a 12-cupcake pan. I remember having this problem before, when I made my pumpkin-shaped cupcakes at Halloween, and how I meant to get another pan after that. I didn't.

The first batch goes in, and 21 minutes later, they're perfect, and it's time for the second round. But I have to take the first ones out of the pan (even though the box says to let them cool for 10 minutes in the pan). That's when I realize I also have not bought a cooling rack yet, which I really could have used when I made 50 Valentine cookies last month.

But this worked just fine:

(After I determined the back left burner lets all the oven heat through.)

When Brandon got in from work and saw the spread of iced cupcakes in the kitchen he said, "Oooh, these are going to be great. I can just run in and grab a couple so easy. That's the first thing I thought when you asked if I would rather have cupcakes. Great idea."

He makes it sound like they're going to last longer than 48 hours. I made some brownies recently, with butterscotch chips, and they were around for a whopping 24 hours. I ate two. And a half.

Update: Using the stove as a cupcake cooling rack does NOT work just fine. It leaves some sort of residue on the burners that makes the smoke alarm go off if you try to boil water for tea the next morning.

Signs of spring

I have been begging Mother Nature for spring to "really" be here for weeks now. I know, I'm in the middle of the desert, how can I complain about "cool" weather?

Especially after Brandon's uncle sent this picture of their backyard in Maryland Monday morning:It's really more of the 50 degree temperature change throughout the day I could do without. Sweatshirt in the morning, shorts by noon, bundle back up at night. Come on, Spring, make up your mind - in or out?

Anyway, since I am learning about the desert weather patterns, Brandon keeps telling me we're still in for one more cold spell - and we aren't free from the threat until Easter. I probably asked him every day in the month of February if I could make my closet switch yet - to move the winter coats out and all the summer dresses in. And every time I asked, I would get the same response, "I sure wouldn't. It's still likely we'll get another freeze. Better wait 'til Easter."

Well, I just couldn't take it anymore, so I took the liberty of defying Mother Nature and switching out the items in my closet over the weekend. I've also worn flip flops nearly every day, and broken out a few summer dresses, just to further make my point that spring has arrived - because I say so. How do you have two consecutive weeks of temperatures over 85 degrees, and not classify that as Spring?

I fully expect Mother Nature to bring a freeze down upon me any day now - probably when I am stranded outside in a summer dress and flip flops. Just so Brandon can say, "Told ya so."

But I am not the only one ready for spring, or thinking it's already here. We have little signs everywhere.

Our yard is about half green already, especially when you count all the weeds.[For you folks in Texas: our grass goes dormant and stays yellow all winter long. When my mom saw a recent picture taken at my house she said, "Is that your house? What happened to your yard? Where did your grass go?" This is completely normal, and one of the reasons I am itching for spring.]

Half of the little fruit trees in our front yard have already bloomed and are now donning green leaves.
We have a couple bougainvilleas sprouting up from where we trimmed them down to a stub for the winter.

And we're only waiting on one last calf (from my cow, of course), after the arrival of this newest addition last week:
Time to start irrigating! Wow, last summer I definitely would not have been excited to hear those words. Not after dragging five gallon buckets of water all over the yard every few days to water the 25 trees Brandon planted, and additional bougainvilleas and bird of paradise that line our fence and front porch. But right now I can't wait.

The inside of the house, however, is a different story.
I had to throw out the last of my Valentine flowers over the weekend.

Chocolate brown fingernails and making basketball history

A few weeks ago, I had this sudden urge to paint my fingernails a dark color. I'm not really sure why - for most of my life, and all of my adult life, I haven't even liked nail polish, much less anything bold like that. 

I think it may have something to do with Dierks Bentley's Feel That Fire song. 

I thought black might portray some sort of strange "gothic farmer's wife" look, so I scanned for something a little more subtle while I was grocery shopping at Wal-Mart early Saturday morning. Maybe a shiny, dark purple? 

But I found the perfect chocolate brown in the 99 cent section - no way was I spending more than that on this little experiment.   

Brandon didn't see them until we were eating dinner Saturday evening. 

"What did you do that for?"

"I really don't know. I just wanted to, and I don't know why."

"Well it looks weird. Like I married some gothic girl or something." (What did I tell you?)

"I kinda like them."

"It's just different. You don't usually wear anything on them, do you?"

"No. In fact, I don't think I've painted my nails since I've known you."

"Maybe that's what it is. I'm just not used to seeing any color there."

"Maybe. But it is pretty dark."

[And a few minutes later, as he was finishing dinner while staring down at my fingernails]

"Ugh. I think I'm going to the other room now. I don't want to look at that anymore." 

...But I really like them now. And he hasn't mentioned it since. So I guess they're growing on both of us.

Other than the new nail polish, the most exciting thing in our weekend was my basketball team finally winning a game. For a little background, we had lost every game with an average point differential of 14, and there were only two weeks left in the season. These kids needed a win. 

At halftime, we were up 18-6, and in our huddle my kids were saying: 

"Coach Katie, we might win this one."

"Coach Katie, we're winning."

And the best one...

"I can't believe it! We're winning!"

As the game progressed into the third and fourth quarters, they were so excited they could hardly contain themselves. All the parents had video cameras out (for the first time all season). We were making team history. 

From the bench, you could still hear comments like: 

"We're really gonna win, we're really gonna win!"

"Coach Katie, do you see the score? We're really gonna win!"

And again...

"I just can't beleive it!"

I was very happy for them. Most of my kids are playing for the first time this year, and I was afraid it was also going to be the last time after getting discouraged week after week under our losing streak.

After the game, we all went to Cold Stone, and one parent bought ice cream for the whole team - and me. It was a big celebration. I was chatting with a few of the kids, and I asked one of them, "That was a fun game, huh?"

"Yes, and I still can't believe we won!"

I tried to add in a little inspiration: 

"What do you mean you didn't beleive? Of course we could win - you always have to think that."

"Well, I guess I beleived. But I didn't think it would really happen."

-Same thing, kid. Oh well. 

And then some of the parents asked, seriously, "So, we were wondering if you could just forfeit the game next week, so they can end the season with a win?"

Oh, I wish. 

It was a great day.