Don't Tell a Girl No

The wood is cut and the cows are fed. So what is a farmer to do when it's near white-out conditions outside?

((Logical answer: go home and relax by the fire))

But instead, I go outside and find this:

 

My husband spots with me with my camera.

You are not blogging about this.

Why not?

No, ma'am.

Why not?

Because it's redneck.

He's referring to the fact that he just pulled an old broken-down Scout from a cow pasture, down a fairly main road, and then up to the shop. He plans to fix it up and get it running again.

Apparently non-rednecks call tow trucks.

Or, don't even allow trucks to sit in pastures for 10+ years.

Our farm manager chimes in:

What's wrong with being redneck?

I think he might be a bit offended.

So my husband says,

Nothing. It's just that I can see her blog now. She will start it out with something sarcastic like ... "My brilliant husband ... blah blah blah."

Silly man. He should know better than to tell me not to do something.

So, without further ado....

My brilliant husband ... pulled the biggest redneck move today.

But the towing part isn't what I consider redneck. It's his future plans for the truck that are.

When he gets it fixed up, I am assuming it will look like a less-ridiculous version of this:

His plans: he said we can take the top off and take it to go get ice cream.

It's not my preference for an ice cream-getting convertible, but okay, I can play along.

But then he informs me that the main purpose for the old Scout is to become the new fuel truck on the farm. He is going to put a tank in the back so he can drive it around the fields and fill up tractors.

So what I think he is telling me is we'll be going to Dairy Queen in a convertible fuel truck. That's pretty damn redneck if you ask me, especially coming from a guy who would probably rather cut off his right arm than have someone classify him as redneck.

He gets it in the shop and surveys the damage.

Surprisingly after a little charge of the battery, all of the lights started working. And the best part is that "Jet Airliner" by the Steve Miller Band started blaring from the radio.

This might actually happen. I just might soon be the passenger in a convertible ice cream-getting fuel truck.

I really shouldn't poke fun. Apparently this Scout (oh, and the other TWO still sitting in the cow pasture) hold fond childhood memories for my husband.

I think he is quite proud.

So I vow to end this post without making any more snarky comments.

Just kidding.

You may now call me Mrs. REDNECK!

I think this means I need to go out and buy that annoying Gretchen Wilson CD so I can blare it from the speakers when we drive into town. Errrr.. make that 8-track.

Warm and Cozy

So I totally married a pyro. Well, he's not technically a pyromaniac, but sorta. And the one major benefit to marrying a sorta-pyro is that there is a fire in the fireplace just about every night from October to March.

It also means my husband sleeps on the couch from October to March because I can't pry him away from that damn fire. Forget that we have a fireplace in the master too. I am seriously considering moving the couch up to the bedroom. At this rate, our parents will never get the grandchildren that they so desperately want.

To keep with my theme of trying to be a good little farm wife, I went to "help" my husband cut firewood the other day.

I am a horrible wife, but I just love the expressions on his face when he struggles with something. Rather than offer to help, I offer to take a picture.

Nice job honey. Keep up the good work.

Again, rather than offer to help, I have pictures to take. Like the thousand pictures I took until I mastered the perfect angel that made my legs look long and skinny. Not to mention it shrinks my big ol' canoe feet.

Still trying to develop a hip shrinking technique.

Alright, I'm satisfied with this one. We can move on now.

I can't say I had ever seen a wood splitter in action before.

And good thing I didn't flinch. Because thanks to Poor Prior Planning (P to the third, my dorky husband calls it), he ran out of fuel after two logs.

Time to do it by hand.

Oh Lord, watch out, he looks a little crazy. Kinda like he's trying to get a running start at this one.

Okay, so I helped a little. In a very OCD manner, I stacked the wood on the truck. Big logs on the left, medium pieces in the middle and kindling on the right. When you have a pyro for a husband you learn about the importance of things like kindling.

And God forbid should I make the mistake of throwing away a newspaper. That stuff is like gold to him this time of year.

Just another night at home.

Aprons, Aprons, and More Aprons

To all of my friends who swear I just hang out all day and eat Bon Bons while watching soap operas: I have proof that I am doing something sorta productive.

((But I can't ignore the fact that there just may happen to be a TV in my sewing room that at any given time may have trashy reality show reruns on. And while there may not be Bon Bons, I am the guilty party who snuck and ate that entire box of Ding-Dongs that somebody made the mistake of setting down in the farm shop. Oops!))

But I digress.

Back to the business at hand.

I have been an apron making machine the past couple of months. And now that the holidays are over, I can slow down for a second and bore the complete heck out of you with pictures of a few of my projects.

Hands down, without a doubt, this was my favorite apron set. It was a gift ordered for the chief meteorologist at my old TV station and her tiny little niece.

You probably can't tell with my crappy photography skills, but their names are embroidered in hot pink.

                             

The most animated meteorologist ever.

Who incidentally happens to be one of the craziest, but coolest, girls I know.

This is a project I worked on for a friend in San Diego. His girlfriend has recently taken on the hobby of cooking.

And he has already declared her Pacific Beach's best chef. What a guy!

The jeweler's apron. I never thought I would make an apron out the denim. But it turns out that is the fabric of choice for jewelers when they are working with their soldering irons. 

Being a Kansas girl, I love the sunflower apron!

This apron was designed for a lady whose kitchen has stainless steel appliances and black granite counter tops. She'll blend right in :-)

I made about 20 more aprons for Christmas orders, but I didn't take pictures of them. Lucky you!

And right when I thought I couldn't look at another apron, a friend called and saved the day. She needed some baby gifts. A welcome diversion.

Remember my super cool grandma who sends me fabric all the time? Well, she's still at it! Which means, I get to make lots of fun new styles for spring and summer. Soooo.... I have put several of my fall/winter styles on sale to make room! Check them out here!