I Just Wanna Be Left Alone

This is a little long, but worth it. I love the ending,"I just wanna be left alone." So true. I don't need the government to run my life. I just wanna be allowed to live in peace with my own choices for my life.

More Adventures in DIY

Say... What's he doing there with that drill, a tree, some buckets and a curious 3 year old?

Maple tapping, that's what!

(I just love that my resourceful husband is so willing to try these kind of "old-fashioned" projects!)



We have four beautiful maple trees in our yard. They make wonderful shade in the summer, keeping our yard and house so cool and pleasant. We really love them, but I admit that sometimes we begrudge them the space they take up on our small property. We're really into producing our own food, but not much will grow in the deep shade under these big trees. So this year, we're putting them to work. They may be older than we are, but they still have to earn their keep. We figure that our four trees should easily be able to provide us with enough enough syrup for our own use, and maybe even more.

Many of our Amish neighbors are tapping their maples and making syrup now, so one of them came over this morning to show us how to do it. He and Nathan quickly set the taps and now we (and I use the term "we" loosely, as PW would say) just have to empty the buckets every day. We'll be taking the sap down to the Amish neighbors house where they'll be cooking large quantities throughout the "run" as it's called.




It's amazing how fast the sap actually flows. As soon as the hole was drilled, the sap (which tastes like sweet water-- I tasted it!) starts dribbling down the tree.

It takes 30-40 gallons of sap to get a gallon of syrup. But we could get several gallons of sap each day from each tree for as long as the run goes on, which I'm told can be up to a month depending on the weather (freezing at night and just above freezing during the day is ideal).

I am very excited about this undertaking!




Jonah tagged along with grocery bags in his boots because he got them wet and muddy yesterday. He didn't like the bags, but it was better than the alternative, so he put up with it.




I can tell that he, too, is dreaming of summer when he can play in the sandbox and pool. Barefoot, instead of wearing bags on his feet.


So now I know that spring really is around the corner. I can tell by the buckets hanging on my trees!

Unconscionable

I know.

I'm nuts.

Here, I will confess The Crazy.

I will Tell All.

Show you a Dirty Secret.

Very dirty.






Yeah, I totally let my kid play with dirt in the house.

Look, it's the end of February. There are worse things than a little dirt in the house.

Like a whiny and bored 3 year old. Believe me, that's worse.

It really drives me nuts when I hear parents get worked up about dirt. "EEEEEK! Don't do that! You'll get dirty!" As if that's the worse thing ever. Kids get dirty. It's good for them. It's good for their minds, their immune systems and yes, even their digestion. Not even kidding on that one.

But is it going overboard to let my kid play with dirt in the house?

Maybe.

But at least the only price to pay for hours of entertainment is a few quick minutes with a broom.

A Donkey with Pots Clanging on the Sides

I found this by way of Country Doctor's Wife and it totally cracked me up. I have to share it here.

Nosophobia

I am just one big wad of neuroses.

Hows that for an opening line? Alright... lets see where I can take it...

A couple of years ago, I started going to a homeopathic MD. In that first visit, he spend a lot of time asking me questions in order to choose the proper homeopathic remedy for my particular problem. Very in-depth questions about my temperament and personality. Even though I have a basic understanding of how homeopathy works, I remember that I felt a little injured and melancholy when I left because I felt like he spent the whole time digging into all the irritating things I don't like about myself. I understand that, of course, that's how homeopathy works-- find precisely the right remedy for the patient.

But I was miffed. In fact, I stubbornly insisted that I'm not a "worrier".

"'Worry'?? Noooo.... I wouldn't say I worry..."

"Not even a little?" the good doctor inquired...

"Weeeelll... uh... no. I wouldn't say that I'm a 'worrier'." I stated.

"Does she worry?" he asked Nathan.

Nathan looked pointedly uncomfortable. "Um. Yyyyyes."

Me: insulted! "Why! ME? No... Welll... anxiety, perhaps... yes, just a little... but not 'worrying'."

Seriously.

The astute doctor was right, of course. I actually am a worrier. I'm trying to accept this about myself.

I am fascinated with the human body and it's amazing creation and inner workings. All the intricate mechanisms that God put in place to make everything work together so smoothly! Amazing! I learn about the body and the health of it. I read endlessly. I'm fairly, "in touch" with my own body and what's going on with it.

Well, it turns out that I know just enough to hang myself.

I get a particularly bad headache and hm, I can feel my pulse awfully strong... and this headache is a little... strange... and I HAVE AN ANEURYSM! I'm going to die!

Or a little stomach ache after supper and... it sure hurts right there under my right ribs just to the side of my stomach and... I'M HAVING A GALL BLADDER ATTACK! Or no, I'm sure it hurts here in the lower right quadrant and I'm convinced it must be MY APPENDIX IS BLOWING UP! I'm going to die!

After all, I've never missed an episode of House so I know very well that every fainting spell invariably leads to seizures and bleeding out of every orifice.

So every time I get a "little" something, my crazy, hypochondriac brain manages to convince me that it's surely much more severe that it appears and I might not wake up tomorrow and I have to DO! SOMETHING! NOW! Or I'll clearly die.

"Yes, dear, you are dying. We are all dying." Nathan says as he goes back to reading the news.

Tonight I was ranting and freaking about my latest "little something" that is causing my brain to have an attack of appendicitis. I actually have an appointment scheduled with a Naturopath, but it's two weeks from now, and I don't really know how I can live with my brain until then. It just. won't. shut. up. So I discharged it all over my poor, sweet husband.

I said Blah! Blah, blah, blah! Blah!

And Nathan said Simple solution!

And I said Blah! Blah!

And he said Solution!

Me: Blah!

Him: Solution!

"Look!" I said. "I KNOW that men have this ability to just compartmentalize things so that they don't have to think about them anymore, but I DO NOT HAVE THAT ABILITY! I am a woman. Women can multitask and that involves not compartmentalizing."

"Oh." he said. "Well, then, carry on, you neurotic, crazy woman."



But I'm not a "worrier" you see. I just suffer from anxiety.

Movie Picnic!

A couple of days ago, my sister was telling me what a fun movie Wall-E was. And a couple hours after that, Nathan called on his way home and asked if I wanted a movie. We pretty much never get to rent movies because we don't go to town often enough to be able to return them (I bet we're their faaaavorite customers what with the late fees we've racked up...). So we just... don't. I know, I know... Netflix. And I would love it. But I haven't talked Nathan into committing to that. It's just one more thing to pay for, and we're trying to avoid that.

So it's a pretty special treat to get to rent a movie!

We made a plan-- Friday night, family movie picnic!

Now, if you've never had a movie picnic with a (tv deprived) little kid, you're missing out!

We talked about and looked forward to it all day, Jonah and me. We made a finger-food menu:

Deviled eggs--





Those silly little pickle-wrapped-in-cream-cheese-and-ham thingies--



(Totally silly and kid-foodish, I know. Glam, baby.)


Some super yummy Chewy Chocolate Ginger Cookies--




And of course-- a big bowl of popcorn.

Jonah requested lemonade and I cut up some carrot sticks.

We spread a "picnic blanket"...


...popped in the movie, and had some fun!

I guess there are lots of families out there who eat in front of the TV. We never do, but it sure makes a fun treat once in a while.

Jonah giggled and laughed all the way through. He was delighted! Actually, all three of us laughed all the way through! It was the perfect family movie, I have to say. Totally clean, cute and silly while still being "deep" enough for adults. It had enough of the Sci-Fi element for Nathan to enjoy.

And today? All Jonah can talk about is robots.

Look At the Snowy Horses Outside My Kitchen Window!

Because You Wouldn't Want Your Spaceship to Fall Our of the Sky...

It may be hard to hear him, but in this video he talks about flying a spaceship. With his eyes closed. Which may explain how he managed to get birds in the engines.

Every Good Superhero Needs a CAPE (edited)

Dress up is a big deal for a certain going-on-4-year-old boy around here.


His Daddy was just a little distressed to find this boy in princess dresses at a friend's house a week or so ago...

So Mommy made him a cape.



Combine that with "gahgoes" and a "space helmet" and a little boy has all he needs to become a "superman."



And this cape contains real flying power! From the arm of the couch to the floor... from the arm of the couch to the floor, from the arm... you get the idea.

~~~
ETA:

When Daddy got home, much hilarity ensued.

Oh, The Cute!

These are so adorable!


I mean, seriously! I don't know what I would do with them, but they're pretty darned cute.



And they're made from old sweaters!

Why can't I have good ideas like that?




See more here: Lucy's Locket

Every Cook Should Have a Trusty Stirrer

Best Laugh Ever

I just came across this, which you may have see before, but it's been several years since I read it. I remember laughing my head off at the time.

(Try reading it out loud for even more fun!)

~~~

A telephonic exchange between a hotel guest and roomservice, at a hotel in
Asia, which was recorded and published in the Far East Economic Review…..It
was nominated best email of 1997.

Room Service: “Morny. Ruin sorbees”
Guest: “Sorry, I thought I dialled room-service”
RS : “Rye..Ruin sorbees..morny! Djewish to odor sunteen??”
Guest: “Uh..yes..I’d like some bacon and eggs”
RS: “Ow July den?”
G: “What??”
RS: “Ow July den?…pry,boy, pooch?”
G : “Oh, the eggs! How do I like them? Sorry, scrambled please.”
RS: “Ow July dee bayhcem…crease?”
G: “Crisp will be fine”
RS : “Hokay. An San tos?”
G: “What?”
RS: “San tos. July San tos?”
G: “I don’t think so”
RS: “No? Judo one toes??”
G: “I feel really bad about this, but I don’t know what ‘judo one
toes’means.”
RS: “Toes! toes!…why djew Don Juan toes? Ow bow singlish mopping we
bother?”
G: “English muffin!! I’ve got it! You were saying ‘Toast.’ Fine. Yes, an
English muffin will be fine.”
RS: “We bother?”
G: “No..just put the bother on the side.”
RS: “Wad?”
G: “I mean butter…just put it on the side.”
RS: “Copy?”
G: “Sorry?”
RS: “Copy…tea…mill?”
G: “Yes. Coffee please, and that’s all.”
RS: “One Minnie. Ass ruin torino fee, strangle ache, crease baychem, tossy
singlish mopping we bother honey sigh, and copy….rye??”
G: “Whatever you say”
RS: “Tendjewberrymud”

He Makes His Own Theme Song

(Name that movie!)






Sorry the video is dark... not good enough lighting in here in the earlyish morning for this little camera. The audio is the important part anyway!

V-day

I know that Valentine's Day is just a smarmy and saccharine greeting-card holiday. However, I choose to view it as an excuse to do something special in the middle of a dreary winter. Okay, well, mainly an excuse to eat special food in the middle of a dreary winter.

Foods like French Onion Soup with little sourdough heart croutons...




...and smothered in melty, gooey coughmozzerellacough cheese. (Look, as much as I adore Gruyere (seriously, it's my all-time favorite cheese), I just can't afford 10 bucks for a tiny little piece that I could eat in one sitting. I don't know why Americans have not figured out the whole cheese thing, but aaaanyyywayyy...)

Yeah, heart croutons. I know it's cheesy... heh heh! Get it... cheesy?

(But the roasted old milk cow beef broth and onions caramelized in the resulting tallow? Yum. Just yum.)

For dessert, we cut hearts out of some mocha shortbread...



...and dusted them with powdered sugar (evil for a health nut, I know, but you only live once.)





Both my valentines like them quite a lot.

Painting, Addendum

For my last post, some housekeeping--

This comment from Karen Deborah really cracked me up:

whew sounds like a lot of work. Ummm maybe you want to spice up your blog with some photos and some blog polls. sounds like your rough beams and plank floors would be better just scrubbed or something. Aren't those the character of old farm houses? Are you sure about painting those? Won't the floors chip and peel and get nasty?
I mean you are the one who said they are kinda losing it right now so sloppin paint around on everything might be something you regret when the sun starts shining again.
Besides prepping for painting is so much work you'll kill yourself with a project that big. Bake a pan of brownies and forget about it.

Okay, let me clarify about the old plank floors. Upstairs, I have lovely and gorgeous, if rough, but charmingly "distressed" (hickory?) plank floors. I love them. Downstairs, however? Not so much. This has has been around a looong time and it's been much abused in that time. The only downstairs floor we'll probably keep is in the office, which is the only room with an original floor in good shape. The bathroom is currently sporting particle board. The kitchen has new oak flooring that we laid last year and plan to continue out into the living room. Here's what you need to know about the living room floor:

1. It's rough. Reeeally rough.
2. It has holes.
3. It has cracks.
4. In some places, you can see to the crawlspace.
5. You have to be careful going barefoot in this room.
   
6. When we moved here, it was painted/stained in a full Heinz 57 of colors.
7. There are at least two different kinds/sizes of wood.
8. The whole thing will of necessity be torn out within the next few years, God willing, for the replacing of foundation and floor joists.
9. When we moved in here, we had no kitchen, so the living room served for temporary dining/kitchen space, so I had to be able to live with it, so I painted it a lovely chocolate brown.
10. Dark floors, believe it or not, show an awful lot of dirt.
11. I am a nutcase.

That said, she's right about the painted floor chipping and peeling and getting nasty. That's exactly what happened with the high wear this floor has suffered. The remedy? More paint!

So I figure, I can slap on another coat of paint (I'm thinking of a lovely "Chai Tea" color this time...) WITHOUT SANDING and it will get me through another couple of years until this floor is done for.

Painting a floor is hard, though. It involves moving EVERYTHING off of it and, well, NOT WALKING ON IT. And this room is the main throughoughfare of the entire house. But I have a plan. A plan of which I will most likely not see the insanity until I'm half way through the execution of it.

But I gotta say that the brownie idea is sounding better and better...

To Stay Out of the Straightjacket

I've said before that I get a little bit nuts in the winter. I do crazy things like chopping off my hair, adopting crazy, overgrown puppies, making strange experiments for supper (guess what I'm making tonight? Cheese-burger soup! AH-HAHAA!), grinding up an old milk cow, or starting drivel-filled blogs. (Today for example, I got a rabbit. Some neighbors came by and dropped her off, "Will you give her a home?" What could I say. She's not a useful rabbit, she's a wannabe show rabbit. I would love to bring her in the house, but Nathan might blow a gasket. We've been there before. But that's another story for another time.)

Generally, I have spring-fever all winter long. It starts as soon as the leaves fall off the trees.

I'm not very "zen" am I?

Anyway, spring-fever is nothing new. But now I'm getting The Spring Itch.

The Spring Itch causes me to start noticing things. Dust bunnies. Grungy walls. Smudged windows. Broken toys. Boxes of things I haven't needed. Piles of books and papers. Junk Drawers. Clutter. Dirt.

There is also a matching Fall Itch, but I don't want to think about that right now.

So I'm feeling the need to freshen everything up.

PAINT!

PAINT FOR ALL!

I'm starting an overhaul of my living room.

Those grungy walls? Getting painted.

Those rough, ugly beams holding the upstairs up off our heads? Getting painted.

That worn and gouged, old plank floor? Getting painted.

Everything is getting painted.

Well, not the ceiling. The ceiling is doing okay, and I hate painting ceilings. Or rather, my neck hates it.

Today, I painted the double doors that lead to the front porch. "Spinach Salad" the color is called. Appropriate for The Spring Itch, wouldn't you say?

I'm trying to pick a color for the walls. I thought I had it licked, but I'm so glad I bought a sample, cuz it didn't turn out to be what I'm going for. I want a warm green, but not putrid or dark. Not bluish, or grayish, just warm, but not pea. Am I asking too much? Probably. there's always a disconnect between the colors in my head and the colors that come in the cans. In the future, we'll be able to hook our brains up the the computer in the paint section and the computer will make a recipe for the color we want.

Anyway, I haven't quite gotten the urge to do anything about the decluttering and cleaning, so I'll start with the painting. And maybe sewing some new accent pillows. Curtains would be nice, too, but I think they are a luxury given the expense. The cleaning will come with the warmer weather. In the meantime, I'll keep myself sane by slopping paint on every surface that doesn't move.

If You Don't Get the Answer You Want, Just Make Something Up

Jonah, brings a video in it's box into the kitchen where I'm making supper: "Mom! I'm gonna watch this tonight after supper! It's not gonna be boring and it'll be really fun and I'm gonna watch this after supper! See? It's about a dog! It's gonna be GREAT!"

Me: " Jonah, you have to ask, you can't just decide for yourself. And the answer is 'I don't know, we'll see.'"

Jonah, turns box over, points finger to read: "Hm. Let me see if I can watch it. It says 'I caaaan wa-tch this taaa-night.' Wahooo!!! I can watch this tonight! I'm gonna watch this after supper!! It's gonna be grrreat!"

Lets "Stimulate" the Economy by Taking More Freedoms

I don't usually post about politics because it's just a little too high-profile for me. But being the health nut that I am, I'm making an exception for this one. The whole "Economic Stimulus Plan" is insanity as far as I am concerned, but this part really rankles me. Apparently a bill about government regulation of health care was tacked on there, and nobody even bated an eye. (Not that I should really care, right? I don't even go to doctors. Still. This is bad news.)

From Bloomberg.com:

Tragically, no one from either party is objecting to the health provisions slipped in without discussion. ... The bill’s health rules will affect “every individual in the United States” (445, 454, 479). Your medical treatments will be tracked electronically by a federal system. ... One new bureaucracy, the National Coordinator of Health Information Technology, will monitor treatments to make sure your doctor is doing what the federal government deems appropriate and cost effective.

It's a short article. Go read it and see if your blood pressure doesn't rise a few notches.

Nineteen Eighty-Four anyone?

Hacking It Up

Warning: Do not read this post if you are ill, squeamish, currently suffering from morning sickness or sea sickness, easily grossed out, generally unstable, or just plain annoyed by crazy nutcases. Because that's what we are. Crazy nutcases. No one here but us chickens.

You have been warned.





Now, wanna see what we did today?


(You should say "no".)



You sure?


You asked for it.






(You were afraid I was going to post pictures of puke, weren't you?)

What you are looking at (or trying not to) is a hind quarter of a cow.

Not a nice meaty, grain-finished steer, but rather a dairy cow. A retired dairy cow. An old, retired dairy cow. An old, retired dairy cow who is now residing in my freezer.

And yes, like the crazy nutcases we are, we bought the quarter and processed it ourselves. Because we're crazy, do-it-ourselfer, back-to-the-land, cheapskate nutcases.

Thankfully, Nathan did not sling it on the table and tell me to "have at it." He did the hacking and sawing and bulk trimming, and I did the chunking and trimming and grinding and packaging and freezing and canning.

(That bright yellow fat, by the way, is the result of the fact that this is a dairy cow of a yellow-fat sort of breed (one of the reasons people like Angus so much: white fat. Cow racists.) that lived on grass most of her life.)




I'm so glad for this power grinder that we borrowed for the job. I can't imagine double-grinding those 25 pounds of burger with one of those little hand grinders or even a grinder that fits on a mixer. I shudder to think of it.

As it is, we spent several hours cutting and grinding.

He cut...



...and I ground.





I'm tired.

And now, I'm working on canning up some of it with my finicky pressure canner, and I have more meat in the fridge that needs canning and freezing for stew meat, after Nathan gets back with some more freezer paper. (Talk about foresight: Yeah, we're going to process some beef, and I somehow didn't think to get more freezer paper and bags... I ran out of paper after the first few roasts, and only barely managed to scrounge up enough bags for the most of ground meat.)

It is a gorgeous beautiful day outside --56 degrees!-- and I'm inside canning. I'd go out for a walk, but I'd be afraid my canner would blow up my kitchen... But hey. My freezer is bursting with meat, and that's saying something. We don't usually get to be so fortunate as to actually have much meat to eat. Even if it is an old cow.

Cuz Maybe I Could End Up on that Green Foresty Planet...

Am hibernating.

Creative brain functioning well not.

Sorry blog neglected readers are.

Mundane life is.

Funny bone broken, it is.

Should might help go to bed before midnight if.







The Asgard landed in my kitchen and now I'm talking like Yoda. No, really.

Vitamin D in need of I am.

Grasping for material, I am.

Try harder, I will.

The Axe

We don't watch much TV. We're just not that into it. We only have some fuzzy network stations that we can get to come in if the rabbit ears are pointed just right and the moon is in it's seventh house and you stand on your head and touch you nose with your elbow. (I am glad to hear that they've pushed back cutting the analog signal, because even with the fancy digital antenna we were given, which does actually help the analog, we get a crumby digital signal. As in, none.) Anyway, all that to say that anything we watch, we pretty much watch online. Hulu is our favorite for catching up on the few things that we watch.

So tonight we snuggled up with a laptop to watch the latest episode of Crusoe that we thought would have aired last night. And... there was no new episode. Okay, so it's a break between seasons, we thought. But sadly enough, Google informs me that Crusoe is canceled.

I don't care much about TV, so it shouldn't be a big deal to me, but I am really bummed about this! It was the only decent thing on TV! There was NOTHING objectionable about this show. We didn't miss an episode. It was maybe a little hokey sometimes, but generally a fun and imaginative series. And they didn't even give it an ending. We didn't get to see Robinson Crusoe get off the island and be reunited with his family, or even rebuild his awesome treehouse after it was burned in the last episode. How anticlimactic.

I admit that I had a bad feeling that it was doomed from the start. It was just too... good. Decent. Unoffensive. Moral. There was even the occasional Biblical reference, a couple of times including salvation from sin.

Just like with Firefly (okay, not entirely decent, but very fun) or Pushing Daisies (a very clever show, also pretty unobjectionable), only the good die young.

Out of Nowhere

Jonah: "Mom, can we milk pigs?"

Blink, blink.

Me: "Um. No."

Pause.

Jonah: "Only piglets milk pigs?"

Blink, blink.

Me: "Um. Yes."

One

I've never been good at being the center of attention. It gives me the willies. I'm more of, you know, the retiring type. A "wallflower" if you will. (And yet. I have a blog.)

So I held it together pretty well yesterday when some friends had a small surprise birthday "but-we-won't-call-it-a-party-because-you're-too-self-conscious" party. Well, they didn't really call it that... it was just a reason to get together and have some fun in the middle of a particularly dreary winter. As far as I knew, I was being invited over to hang out with a friend for the afternoon since it was my birthday. Turns out when I got there, they had invited another family who had driven a long way with their five kids. We don't get to see them often, so it was very special and very fun. They'd been planning it for two weeks and it all came together perfectly. Nathan even knew about it and never even dropped a hint! I never suspected a thing.

To me, my birthdays are always like a little mini "mid-life crisis". I'm not sure why. Must have to do with having a birthday in the middle of winter. I just get a little bit crazy. I can't count the times I've had my hair hacked off on my birthday. And I did it again yesterday, too. Yep, I sat down in that chair and when she asked how I wanted it cut, I said, "I dunno. Do something that looks good. Make sure it's wash-n-wear." and sat back and trusted she wouldn't lop off an ear. I didn't have my glasses on, and I couldn't see what she was doing other than it was getting shorter and shorter and she kept cutting and cutting and my skin started to crawl a little bit but it turns out I really like it. It's nice to have a change.

Last year on my birthday, I was in this same sort of mind-frame, but instead of getting my hair mowed, I caught a wild hare that suggested I start a blog. So the next day (consequently, also my only sister's birthday-- Happy Birthday, Sister!) I started this blog.

And here we are today, one year later, and I think I might still have a couple readers. Maybe.

So-- Happy Blogiversary to Me!

I like to change things up from time to time, so to keep me from redesigning my whole blog every time the wind changes, I like to make a new masthead at the beginning of each month. It's fun and keeps me exercising my design-muscles. So in honor of my Blogiversary and Day-after-birthday and to get the attention off me (oh, wait... this is my blog...), I'm going to bore you snotless with a retrospective of my mastheads. Ready? (Oh. Hrm. It seems that I can't do the whole year starting with Last Februrary because I can't seem to find Last Februrary on my computer. So, it looks like I'll be starting with May. Close enough. Hey, I heard that sigh of relief!)



























So now that I've proved I must be some sort of closet-narcisist despite my protestations, I'm going to shamelessly point out that since it's MY blogiversary and day-after-birthday, YOU should leave a comment. (I declare this my official delurking-day, since I seem to have missed all the half-dozen or so "official" delurking days of the blogosphere.)

Cheers!

Cut and Paste

Jonah has really been into making things lately. He's not too big on coloring. I think he's too impatient. He just scribbles around with the crayons or markers and calls it done. What can I say? He's a boy.

But now he's developed an obsession with glue. At first, I let him have a small bottle of Elmer's unsupervised. I knew that he knows what to do with it, so I cautioned him to only use a little and then left him to it. Big mistake. I came back to a sticky puddle on my table.

So the next time I was at the store, I picked up a glue stick. This can still make a decent mess, but not nearly as bad. At first, he could not figure out how to make pieces of paper look like what he had in mind. After coaching him through several projects ("To make a butterfly, you have to cut out a body and four wings..."), he's suddenly developed the co-ordination and foresight to do it on his own.

He made this all by himself, all the cutting and gluing. At one point he wanted me to help with some of the tiny pieces, but I was just not doing it right. Sigh. You know what they say, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.





Can you see what it is and what each piece is? (Make sure to note the tiny little piece on the end right by the scissors, if you can see it.)

Aw, There Goes My Blackmarket Clean Sharps Income

So it's tax season. As if you needed a reminder.

Nathan, heroically, does our taxes himself. That's right-- himself. And he does it quite well. And he's very honest, keeping track of everything he earns from many different sources. Even my music-lesson-teaching money is accounted for. I'm sure it makes him a little more crazy every year, but he manages quite well.

So this morning, we were reading in the tax law to find an answer to a question about some income. We found what we needed to know, but we also found out that all the answers to life's most persistent questions (well, insofar as the IRS cares, anyway) is found in the tax laws. I'm not kidding, EVERYTHING is covered in there.

To wit:

"Income from illegal activites, such as money from dealing illegal drugs, must be included in your income on Form 1040, line 21, or on Schedule C or Schedule C-EZ if from your self-employment activity."

And also:

"If you steal property, you must report its fair market value in your income in the year you steal it unless in the same year, you return it to it's rightful owner."

There you have it folks. As far as the IRS care, it ain't illegal as long as you report it in your taxes.

Toddler Tee

Suzanne from an open [sketch]book left a link to this in the comments to my last post.




How cute!!

It's tempting, isn't it?