Friday was the day before  Halloween and our local school  outlawed costumes.  Party poopers !!  Instead, they sent a note home to say it would be a pajama day, at least that’s what I thought it said , It was sent  a week in advance after all.  How am I supposed to remember that?

Looking in the boys pajama drawer all I could find were some short shorts and miss-matched T-shirts.  Off to the store I went and bought cute firefighter PJs.  I laid them out the night before and I was very pleased with myself.

Much to their amusement on Friday morning, they took off their jammies and put on the new ones. They giggled  their way to school  in the car and we laughed about how fun it would be to see everyone in their pajamas !

We pull up at the school drop off line, I look around and I don’t  see any other students in pajamas!  My blood ran cold  and the hairs on my arms  stood up.  What if I was wrong? Would my kids  be that guy in the chicken suit turning up to the Halloween party and finding the costume part has been canceled?

I yelled at everyone to stay still, pulled out of the drop off lane, and into the parking lot.

Scrambling through their bags ,I found  a crumpled flyer amongst pencil shavings, crumbled goldfish crackers,  and something soggy I couldn’t identify.

Reading as fast as I could I finally found  the line ” Friday is pajama day ” .

I am a freaking awesome parent!  I got it right and others forgot! For once my kids and I  followed instructions !!  I can’t tell you how many times I have forgotten to send in cookies, markers, lunch or even a raincoat on dark cloudy days!

Of course now my kids are feeding off my previous anxiety and they don’t want to get out of the car.

My first thought was to just have them get out and endure the other school kids looking at them weirdly, but I would hear about that for the next 10 years. ” Do you remember the time you sent us to school in our pajamas, Mom?” Most people have dreams about just such an occurance, and sometimes are telling their shrink about it. So I relented and stayed parked for my kids future mental health.

We sat for another 10 minutes and finally some other children showed up in their bedroom attire.  Some even had robes on and fluffy slippers !

Overachievers.

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Phew! Dodged another Mom fail.

This country living has changed me from a shopaholic to a farmaholic.

Pinterest pins from me were cute jackets for the Fall,  and places to travel to, and how to make cute hair bows.

Now it’s all about chickens, compost ,and homemade fare from what I can forage.

My last browse found a one step butter recipe , in a canning jar , from heavy whipping cream.  But it could never work, could it?

Not one to let a chance go by , I picked up a pint of heavy whipping cream from the local store ( this is called double cream in the UK ) ,  I poured into a quart canning jar, put the lid on it, and shook it for about 25 minutes.  My arms were aching and I did allow the kids to take a turn  (  a little concerned as the jar was made of glass )

At the 25 minute mark, as if by magic, I kid you not, the cream had separated into butter  and buttermilk !!  There was no warning just a sloshing sound from the jar.

I drained off the buttermilk and added a small sprinkle of salt to the butter ,  shook for another moment and it was done ! 

Bloody marvelous !  Freshest, most delicious butter I have ever tasted.

I should not have doubted.  I am glad I tried , and succeeded.

I can now add ‘butter maker’ to my repertoire 🐮😃

We moved into our 1950s farmhouse style home about one month ago. We are still living out of boxes, exploring, decorating and generally fixing the place up. It’s going to take a long time to make it the way we would like.

It is a 2 1/2 acre property with multiple fruit trees, and I have blogged before about my home made pomegranate syrup. Still enjoying it in prosecco by the way!

This morning I grabbed another bucket of pomegranates my trusty wooden spoon and set about de seeding them.

It’s a messy business getting juice from this fruit ,so I decided to sit outside on my back steps underneath a huge pine tree in the shade.  The two dogs came out with me and went off to explore.

A rooster was crowing ,  and all I could hear over the tap tapping of my wooden spoon was… Nothing !

I sat and enjoyed a quiet hour  whilst realising that we had made a very good decision in our move to this home.

Our previous home was a four bedroom,  three bathroom tract home in a cul-de-sac.  Everyone was busy with school and sports, the kids played in the backyard or in our luxurious pool.  Seemed like everyone was in a rush.  The neighbours would come home from work or school and immediately drive  into the garage and shut the door.  No apparent time to stop and say hello.

Three homes looked over into our yard,  so that left very little for privacy (  or chance of skinny-dipping!! )  There were four homes in our cul-de-sac and although I knew the first names of all of my neighbors, I was never in their homes in the eight years that I lived there .  They had been in mine though!

You might be getting the impression I did not enjoy modern home living .  I felt the pressure to keep my house pristine ,  be the model neighbor ,  wash my car on a Sunday like everybody else and have my children dressed immaculately whilst sipping organic fruit juice.

Moving here has been a release from all of that.  My kids can make as much noise as they want, ride their bikes until sundown, climb trees and get as dirty as they like.   Because our home is older I don’t feel it has to be perfect, it has to be lived in , and loved.

No one is looking in in our yard, and I have the privacy I yearned.

I am looking forward to planning and planting a vegetable garden in the spring ,and to getting a few chickens for eggs. I’d like to plant a few more trees ( apple, cherry and avocado).

By no means am I Ina Garten or the Pioneer Woman ,  but I am embracing nature and loving my surroundings.

Country living was only 2 miles away , but we found it. ❤️

Every year the stores are crammed full of costumes from early September onwards. Halloween is coming! I’d personally prefer to be out of triple digits and my bathing suit before thinking about dressing in nylon , but the kids love it.

One year we dressed the two little boys as Tweedle dee and Tweedle dum , but changed the suffix to a variation of their names as no one wanted to be the ‘dumb one’ . Freckles painted on their noses and padding around their bellies with each wearing a helicopter hat. They were the talk of the neighborhood!

Next they had a little sister,  and one went as the big bad wolf and she as little red riding hood  ( she was terrified and turned the color of her cape screaming as the mask went on ) Poor choice on my behalf

This year we have a threesome , three little kids that I want to theme together somehow. To know me is to know I love a theme.

Over dinner we discussed it,  and talked the oldest out of most of his ideas ( which would have cost a fortune)

We decided on a short list which includes (2 male and 1 female for some) :

•Mario , Luigi and Princess Peach

•Wendy, Peter Pan and Captain Hook

•Three blind mice

•Three musketeers

•Three little pigs

•Woody, Jessie and Buzz

•Darth, Luke and Leia

Now to poll the vote and hit the craft stores  , thrift stores and my Halloween boxes in storage. Although……those store ready made costumes are mighty tempting…..!

Boo.

We moved house last week from a cookie cutter tract home  to a farm house on 2 1/2  half acres.

Exploring our property has been quite the adventure!  Out buildings, an actual outhouse ,  fruit trees including walnut, persimmon and pomegranates.

We will be raising chickens , a small sheep , 4 dogs , 2 barn cats ,and  a potbelly pig if I can convince my husband.

I picked up a 20 to 30 pomegranates and went to Pinterest to figure out what to do with them ,  deciding finally on syrup.

Some say that it wasn’t an apple that Eve offered Adam, but a pomegranate , and with the ‘seed’ and plentiful sweet juice, it wouldn’t surprise me one bit

Deseeding the pomegranates was a chore with pink splatters all over the kitchen.  My preferred method was to cut them in half  and hit them on the back with a wooden spoon.

The little gems fell into a tub of water I had below.  I then placed them into a Ziploc bag removing most of the air, and crushed them with a rolling pin.

My 20 to 30 pomegranates yielded 2 cups of juice.  I added a quarter cup of sugar and a squeeze of lemon juice, brought it to a boil and then simmered for 25 minutes.

I ended up with about half a cup of syrup.

Next was the tasting. I opened a bottle of Prosecco, poured a glass and a splash of the syrup with a few pomegranate seeds for decoration.

Result, I made a’ pomosa’ and  it was delicious !!

Cheers! Welcome to farm life and all the joy it will bring.

I do not , and have never, liked video games. I tried Pac Man and hated the idea of being chased. Asteroids, and could never peek out long enough to shoot and not be killed , Mario and not run off the pipe into the virtual abyss.

I never owned a hand held gaming system or ever attempted to play another game since the 90’s ( except Wii bowling which I enjoyed until I pulled my shoulder)

In short, I have very poor hand to eye coordination, little patience and don’t like being rushed or chased. Any repetitive noise annoys me to the point of distraction . Think the 7am lawnmower on a Sunday morning followed by the edger and then the blower. I could kill their gardener by 8am,( we don’t have one.)

I was introduced to the app game “2048” by my oldest son about 18 months ago and it has amused and frustrated me since. I have only beaten it 3 times in 18 months

I like it though. It’s simple , no pressure, no skill involved , no interaction with opponents chasing or shooting me and no noise.

The goal is to double the numbers from 2 until 2048 by moving tiles over a grid. Sounds really easy ( my eldest keeps flashing his iPhone at me EVERY time he succeeds which seems to be daily ) but even that victory evades me.

Its a great wee distraction whilst in the waiting room or on a bus or train.

Try it, you might like it.

No one paid me to say this but…..my bank account number can be had by the creators contacting me!

$2048 seems about right.

Perhaps the nights will not be so lonely if I just invest in one of these and have it customized with the hubby on it?

http://www.mypillowpartner.com/male-body-pillows

Goodnight lovers , wherever you are xx

My husband,  as I have mentioned, is a brave and wonderful ,did I say handsome, firefighter/paramedic in Los Angeles. He works 24 hour shifts and sometimes many in a row. He, and his colleagues are subject to overtime at any given moment.  This wreaks havoc with just about every part of our home life.

All of the major holidays can be disrupted, missed, spent at the fire station or postponed.

Birthdays are no exception. We choose to celebrate as a family on whichever day falls closest to that date of not working.

Today is our son’s seventh birthday and daddy had to work.  That’s no biggie in our life , we will just celebrate tomorrow.  However, it does confuse the children.  Cries of “where are my presents, where are the cake and balloons ?” can be heard over the day. He knows it’s his birthday but it’s hard when you are counting down the days and someone moves the finish line.

Reassurances are given and claims of having two birthdays  and being super special seem to be doing the trick !

Christmas is the hardest one. Going to the fire station is a two hour drive one way and quite often we are left sitting whilst the men run their calls  and their turkey  dinner gets cold.  The kids don’t get to open their presents until Boxing Day and Daddy sometimes doesn’t get home until 10 AM. That’s torture for small children !!

New Year’s Eve’s have been lonely  and we have spent many Easter egg hunts without Daddy pointing out the one up the tree.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all doom and gloom for a firefighter wife. We get to have our husband home for days at a time and taking a month off for a summer vacation is not out of the question .  It’s just a matter of making things work  and changing things around.

We are making our own rules.

Happy birthday little fella.The cake will be here tomorrow and so will Daddy ❤️

There is a medical distinction between “Guts” and “Balls”.

We’ve heard colleagues referring to people with “Guts”, or with “Balls”.

Do they, however, know the difference between them?

Here’s the official distinction; straight from the British Medical Journal: Volume 323; page 295.

GUTS – Is arriving home late, after a night out with the lads, being met by your wife with a broom, and having the “Guts” to ask: “Are you still cleaning, or are you flying somewhere?”

BALLS – Is coming home late after a night out with the lads, smelling of perfume and beer, lipstick on your collar, slapping your wife on the bum and having the “Balls” to say: ‘You’re next, Chubby.’

I trust this clears up any confusion.

Medically speaking, there is no difference in outcome; both are fatal.

…..this house buying and selling is going to kill me , or send me looney tunes. I am sure of it now.