To the Big Apple we go....

AACCCKKK
I have no time here, but didn't want to leave you hanging.
S.Rube's preschool teacher kinda ruined the surprise. There was no 3rd clue as a result.
We are packing and are leaving in 2 hours!
For NEW YORK CITY!!!

I'll tell you more next Wednesday.

B.Rube's Big Surprise - Part 2

B.Rube's Big Surprise

Shhhhhhh. I can't talk about it yet. But, I will give you all of the same clues that I'm sending to him.
All he knows at this point is that I have a date night planned for us on Thursday night and that he needs to be ready to go at about 5 pm.

Last night at work, I sent him this.



I'll send him another one tonight.

My Date with Destiny

I had an appointment with my hairdresser yesterday. Just like most girls, I love my appointments to get my hair done.
And yesterday was no exception.

I kinda went in thinking that I wanted a change. After the red wig that I got to wear as Poison Ivy a few weeks ago, I realized that I was a bit tired of the bleached out blonde. So, in preparation for my appointment yesterday, I went to www.instyle.com/instyle/makeover to see what might suit me well.

I was able to choose from over 100 hairstyles from Hollywood's most popular stars.
You HAVE to try this. It was freakin' HILARIOUS.
Here are a few of my favourites....
(Can you guess whose hair I have on?)









How did I leave the salon? Well.... not all that different than before. And certainly not like any of the pictures above.

EDITED TO ADD: (for you, Sue!)

Go Crazy!

Thelma, Thelma, Thelma
It is your day. Who'd have thunk that you'd even live to see 40? I mean, with all that reckless living you've been doing!
But, you did. And you're here. And you're 40. Holy shit.
(that means I'm not that far behind you. yikes. no, better yet, YIKES!!!)
And you look like you're 28, anyway. You know you do. Even when you smile.

Listen. I'm thrilled that we've reconnected in this way. I'm thrilled to have you in my life. We've seen each other through a couple decades of living and moved across the continent together. And it's wonderful to know that you're still there. And to know that you'll always be there. You're a good friend. Good friends bring out the best in each other. And we do.



I can't wait to party this weekend. All weekend.
I know that you will have relinquished all restraint and will be in TOP form. Be prepared to shake a booty, ride a bull, grind the pole and play air guitar, all in one night.

Happy Birthday, bella!!

Dear Mom and Dad,

7 days and counting down!!!!!!!!!!

Exploring our Options....

Okay. Please. Is there someone out there licensed to administer an enema to a kicking-and-screaming, truly uncomfortable little girl? It is now 28 hours later and S.Rube is still trying desperately to poo and not to poo all at the same time.

Edited to Add at 3:40 pm: Okay, she managed to get something out and is clearly feeling a bit better, but insists there is still more there.

I think the key is, as my friend Sue reminded me, that we increased her fibre intake without really increasing her water intake. So, she has been building bulk that isn't really helping the situation. Rather, it has made it worse.

See. That's as exciting as it gets.

The reality is that sometimes life on the Rube Farm is rather boring and mundane; uninspiring and kinda like living in a vacuum; where there's not much to say and even less to think about.
Rather than write you mindless drivel, provide you with links to other funny places, or confess that I've been making poor eating choices again, I just shut up.

Right now, S.Rube is hiding behind a chair in the living room trying to poo. Or trying not to poo. I'm never sure which it actually is. In any case, there's a battle of some sort going on between her and her lower half. My only wish is that I don't have a carpet to clean in the end. Oh, and I'd like her discomfort to be eliminated, too.

Happy Birthday MOM!!!

I know that you're tapping your feet and clapping your hands whilst singing "9 to 5" and "Islands in the Stream" along with Dolly Parton right this instant, with a belly full of yummy Italian food from Theo's. I'm sure you had a great night out.

I just want you to know that we're thinking of you and S.Rube made you a picture today that she can't wait to give you when she sees you. SOON!!!
Just over two weeks away!

I guess you can officially start taking advantage of all of those great seniors discounts, eh? (not that you haven't been cheating your way through them before actually qualifying anyway). Do you get a pay increase now, too? From our oh-so-generous government, or maybe from Dad?

We love you a ton and are looking forward to your visit.

More on Little Richard

I told you yesterday about the loss (death?) of our Golden Pheasant. Well, B.Rube isn't convinced at all that the bird was taken by a deadly predator and squeezed through the tiny slit under the fence in order to later eat.
He is fairly certain that the bird escaped. It would certainly fit with the theme on the farm this week, which seems to be ESCAPE.
B.Rube said that Dick's feathers came out easily and that the little piles that I saw may have been from when B.Rube took him out of his cage last week when we got him.

I like this theory. obviously. It kinda fits with my whole oblivious nature when it comes to loss and death on the farm.

So, from this point on, we are happily envisioning dear, daring Dick wandering around the fields and forests and safely roosting in tree branches at night.
What a lucky bird.

Beeturia

I don't eat beets very often. In fact, I think I've had them about 3 or 4 times in my whole life. I didn't like them when I was a kid, but I recall my mom making them. My dad probably grew them in his veggie garden. The few times I've had them as an adult I really liked them. B.Rube had some recently and requested them for dinner the other night.

So, I boiled up some beets and we thoroughly enjoyed them for dinner. As did little T.Rube (aka Garbage Disposal).
mmmmmm

Well....the next morning I experienced a good bout of shock accompanying my 'morning movement'. I gasped for a moment, convinced I was dying from blood loss out the rectum, and then remembered that I had eaten the beets. I ran to the computer, after attempting to flush (we're having some major flushing issues lately and I knew this likely hadn't worked well) and washing my hands. I googled "red stool after beets" and was reassured that I was not dying; that I had something called BEETURIA. Surprisingly, only 10-14% of people experience this ( I thought everyone would!) and it is suspected that it is due to a lack of iron, a recessive gene, short small intestine, problematic levels of oxalic acid in your system or any malabsorption issue. In other words, they don't really know. My urine wasn't affected at all; only my stool. (and has continued to be affected for three days following consumption!)

A short while later, S.Rube came into the living room from the bathroom with a confused look on her face.
She says, " Mommy, do you have your period in the toilet or someping?"
I couldn't help but laugh out loud, and remember that my little girl is growing up.

Loss, Escape and Oblivion

Okay, okay. So, it's been a busy week. Shoot me.
Errrr.. really it wasn't that busy. It was just normal and I didn't think much of the blog all week. I'm not supposed to admit that to you, but it's true.

We had a few losses on the farm this week and no gains. Firstly, B.Rube took all 14 of the baby bunnies to the auction last weekend, so they're gone. And are happily hopping around living rooms throughout the Lower Mainland as someone's sweet little pets. ;o)

Yesterday morning, when I did my morning chores, I noticed that Little Richard, our new beautiful Golden Pheasant that we just got a week ago, was gone. There were two small piles of lovely colourful feathers, but no bird. There is only a tiny tiny little slit under the fence that this killer could have gotten through. And it managed to pull the bird out of that same little hole. fucker.
That same morning, one of our older chicks was found dead just inside their pen. I couldn't really see any major signs of trauma, but it was stiff as a board and flat as a pancake. Definitely dead. I'm not sure when it happened that I am able to just lean over and pick up the dead bird by the scaly, gnarly feet, but I am. I just picked the deadweight up and tossed it on the top of the burn pile. I was wearing gloves, for what it's worth.
Not sure if it is coincidental or whether the same predator got them both.

C.C.'s week has been all about ESCAPE. She has managed to get through every little hole in every little fence we have. The only ones looking for an out more than the cute fluffy white dog are the huge stinky muddy pigs. I swear they must know when they're getting closer to the freezer, because they start running away. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that they are swimming in a mud pond right now and would do just about anything to feel cold hard ground under their feet and to touch a blade of glass with their disgusting snouts. And chasing around, capturing and returning slippery 150-lb pigs to their pen is not easy. In fact, it is downright difficult; bordering on impossible.
Quite a simple rule for me...when the pigs (or anyone, for that matter!!) begin to create havoc for me, the countdown clock begins. They are with us for 2 more weeks before magically turning into yummy smoked pork chops, delicious maple bacon and to-die-for breakfast sausage.
It is magic, right?

I love being Green

Another New Addition

In his quest for uniqueness and continued variety in his animal-gathering, B.Rube arrived home from the auction yesterday with this guy. He's a Golden Pheasant apparently. I know nothing about them really.
Other than the fact that he's pretty damn beautiful.