Hey All! It’s been a crazy and busy summer so far. We are not in our summer living digs yet but it is happening soon. (As soon as I light a stick of dynamite under Cranky’s bum to get it moving on finishing our summer home!) Turns out, we will be living in a boathouse. Cranky liked the idea of the boathouse so he went ahead and started that project. Plus, he really wants me and youngin’s out of the house for the summer. That, in itself, is motivation enough to get this project finished.
Here is the boathouse without the roof, porches and steps which are now installed, but you get the idea. Too cool, right? Yeah, I know, that Cranky is alright. I guess I’ll keep him. He is kind of handy. Plus, divorces these days are way too expensive.
In other news, the girl has been granted a dream come true.
Meet Pete. Hey, that rhymes. I am a poet and didn’t even know it! Anyway, Pete is my girl’s dream come true. She has been asking for a donkey since she was 3 years old. She is only 5 1/2 years old now, but trust me, if you had to listen to her ask for donkey every day for the last 2 1/2 years, you would have caved and bought her the donkey too. Either that or you would have chosen to beat your head against a concrete slab. The pain was the same. Sometimes, it is just easier to give in to their every whim and demand.
So, the girl is very happy and can not stop looking at, playing with, touching, brushing, leading, tugging, and pulling her donkey. Aren’t little girls supposed to play with dolls and want a horse? Yep, I should have some personal experience with this girl thing. I never played with dolls but I do remember that I did want a horse. A donkey never, ever crossed my mind as the coolest animal on the planet. My daughter’s new best friend is her donkey. Should I be concerned?
You should note that Pete was transported to his new home in our ugly, two-tone brown, whompin’, tricked out van, otherwise known as the Love Machine. The Love Machine has transported the likes of calves, pigs, goats, chickens, dogs, cats, and now has the distinction of the bringing home a donkey. It’s moving up in the world of cool ass vans. Now, it has donkey poop in it too. Yep, that’s right, Pete pooped on the drive home. Pete’s a gem. Did I mention that it was a hot, humid day in Pa? (Another rhyme…ha…I kill me.)
Don’t worry, I hosed it out.
When we were looking for a different van, I told Cranky that I had a few demands for the ‘new’ van. First, it had to be cheap. I do not do car payments so it had to be in our price range. Like something we could barter for. We evenually did barter a couple pigs to bring it to a more manageable green, hard cash reality. It also had to be a huge gas guzzling clunker cuz, you know, I’m all about polluting the Earth. It also had to be able to haul many things…like animals, my endless supply of junk from junking excursions and my youngin’s and their friends. Although, this has not come into play as of yet. First, my youngin’s are much too embarrassed by the Love Machine and the smell inside is the real kicker. For some reason, my youngin’s do not invite their friends along in it. That’s okay with me. It saves me gas money to not have to haul other people’s snotty, little twerps around. The last requirement for the van? It had to one that I could hose out with the pressure washer. So, no bells and whistles on this baby. Just plain Jane, old, ugly van that we affectionately refer to as the Love Machine.
Have I ever told you how much I love my Love Machine? There is alot of love in this family and I have to share it while driving down the road, with the windows rolled down and the wind blowing Pete’s poop smell for all the passing motorists. The Love Machine rocks.
One more thing…take another look at the photos of Pete. See that little dude in the back window? That’s my legally blind brother. He had no idea that I was taking a photo and he has no idea that he is on my blog. But since he is blind, he will never know, will he? He would flip out if he knew…he he he. His name is Yimpy. Not his real name, but his real nickname. Seriously. I had a speech problem when I was little and that’s how he got his nickname. Don’t ask me how I got “Yimpy” out of the name, Charles. I stopped trying to figure it out. Either way, he answers to his nickname among many others, Captain Pissypants and Mighty Midget, just to name a few. We are a cruel family but we have some pretty cool nicknames among us. I think I will post about our nicknames sometime. My momma goes by Squaw and it had nothing to do with a speech problem.
Later tators, I have to get to bed.
Cheesychick…another great nickname, if I do say so myself.