I was in the shower when Sandis came running into the bathroom. "Mommy, we need the rabbit costumes," she claimed.

Now you may be wondering why we have rabbit costumes. Good question. Well, there is a "dress-a-bunny" costume at the county fair.  Of course, my girls would participate.  Of course.  Post-Halloween seemed a good time to pick up costumes for the aforementioned competition, and so we did.

Anyway, Sandis wanted the costumes.  I asked why, because, well, the contest is nine months off so it seemed just a bit early to dress the rabbits.

"Because," she answered, "Quetzl is getting married."

"Um, so your rabbit is getting married and he needs a dinosaur costume?" I inquired.

She replied, "Well, that's all we have."

So, rabbit weddings.  It seems they proceed as follows:

1. Put all rabbits on trampoline in their nest boxes

2. Try and keep rabbits in nest boxes (note, Harn is against this part)

3. Dress boy rabbit who is getting married as a dinosaur

4. Dress girl rabbit who is getting married as a cheerleader

5. Dress baby rabbits in cheer poms, possibly bridesmaids? Nope, I've been told they are flower girls.  Flower girls who would EAT the flowers.

6. Turn dressed rabbits in nest boxes towards each other and take pictures

7. Say no actual words of marriage binding

This occupied an entire afternoon, a good day for everyone except the rabbit being dressed as they are kind of against that while it is happening.  After dressed, they seem quite oblivious, amazingly enough.

Rabbit weddings, what next?

 

Vicodin is my newest friend.  Why? Well, a tooth of mine that has both crown and root canal was acting up. Went to the dentist today and found out that the root canal was drilled too deeply or something like that.  Now part of the filling is coming out of the bottom of where the roots used to be and my jaw is all inflamed and swollen.  To fix it, (stop reading now if you are squeamish) they will peel back the gums and drill in through the side of my jaw, clean out all the problem, then refill the root area from the bottom.  Well, that sure sounds like fun.

I have to go to a specialist for this new torture and money sink, so until I can get in there, I have Vicodin to keep me company.  I blame all misspellings, bad grammar, and other errors in this post, and life in general, on Vicodin for the foreseeable future.

For my birthday, I received some nail polish.  Three different colors picked out by the three members of my family.  As Stella used two of them to paint my toenails, she exclaimed, "and these are not for chickens or kids, these nail polishes are only for mommy."

Good to know that I don't have to share with the chickens & children, because if I did, the polish bottles would be scattered about the back yard instead of put away on the lovely shelf I made.

And yes, the children DO paint the chicken's toenails.  The chickens seem to not mind this procedure.  They look on in confusion (which is a pretty normal chicken state,) but don't squawk or struggle.  If a chicken doesn't like something, they do let you know, generally by making noise and running around in what appears to be an aimless fashion, but which to them, is their perfect defense.

In any case, here are some pictures of chicken nail painting.  Sorry, no pictures from my own.

Chicken: Yes, I'm upside-down and confused.  This is normal for me.

Add the polish - no red or they'll peck it.  This chicken gets a lovely greenish-yellow

See how happy they are? 

Post pedicure loveliness.

If you have chickens that are in need of pedicures, bring them over.  The girls would be more than happy to make them beautiful!

Allow me to give you a small glimpse into the chaotic ramblings that inhabit Stella's brain..

Stella sees a football player on the sidelines using an oxygen mask.  She lights up, "mommy, if I play football when I grow up, can I have an oxygen mask?"

So many thoughts go through my head.  Things like why she would want to receive oxygen.  Or play football.  I answer that if she played in the NFL as an adult, she may get to use an oxygen mask, but this is unlikely as she has never wanted to play football, ever.  I asked if she wanted to play now.  No, she doesn't.

"Ok, what other ways can you get to have an oxygen mask," she asks, clearly, not giving up easily.

Brian says that if you plane crashes, you get an oxygen mask.

"No, that's for something bad that happens. I don't want bad things to happen. How else can you get one," she posits.

"Well," I say, "you sister had one as a baby when she was really sick."

"How come she got to have an oxygen mask when she was a baby and I didn't," Stella sneers.

This is Stella.

The kids have had 11 days of quasi-school this year.  I've had 2 days of lunch duty, 2 days of helping in class, 1 day of sick kid, 1 day of bringing in the lizard for show-and-tell, 1 day of bringing cupcakes for a birthday and 2 forgotten lunches.  As you can see, that leaves me with two, TWO, days that I have not had to go back to their school during the day.

This week I told them that since it was my birthday, and since I didn't have lunch duty, I did NOT want to worry about having to schlep forgotten lunches.

What did they say when we get out of the car? "We forgot our lunch."

Of course you did.

It was out of the fridge and. in. their. hand. before we left.  But, they set it down to pick up something else (oooh, shiny!) and left it at home.  So on the one day I don't have to go back to school, the one day I should have to myself, I drive their lunch to school.

This is my life.

What do you say when you turn 44? I'm really not sure.  I've not had a great year, that goes without saying.  I really don't want to rehash that mess today, now do I? No, no, I most certainly do not.

Did I do 44 interesting things this year? Or learn 44 new bits of knowledge? Or???

I guess I'll say that I survived 8.295x44 days.  Yes, I did.  I made it through.  That is the best thing that happened this year.  But there were some other good things, I suppose.  I'll start with 10 good things that happened this year:

1. We had 25 baby rabbits survive and thrive
2. The 5 breeding rabbits are doing well too
3. We got a new dog
4. Sandis got her blue-tongued skink
5. We have 6 happy chickens in the coop
6. My car is still running
7. And so is Brian's
8. Sandis did very well in the county fair with both rabbits and vet science
9. Stella's dances both did well and went to state fair
10. Stella has a whole new group of friends that are HER friends, from dance

And follow with a few good things about today:

1. Two words, Gingerbread Latte
2. Many episodes of Torchwood
3. Some knitting
4. Alone time
5. Time with Brian
6. It's not hot
7. I don't have to work
8. Lovely birthday messages on FB
9. Some writing done
10. Some errands done

Now I need to build this new year up bit by bit, until, one year from today, I have 45 reasons that the past year was amazing

Sandis has become British.

She woke up yesterday with a British accent that hasn't left.  I am her "fake mummy," because I can't be her actual mother, being that I'm not British.  Her sister is "small child," or occasionally, "fake sissy."  She keeps asking for cheese crisps and wishing that her football season wasn't over.  Much more babbling when you are British, I've found.

The story is that she is really The Doctor's ginger child.  He implanted fake memories into our family so that we think she's our child, but really The Doctor gave her to us for safe keeping.  Some day, he will return for her.

Having seen the show, I can't argue with the logic.

Sandis' "Fake Da" has challenged her to keep up the British accent for an entire week.  She was British today at the dentist, but didn't speak during the library program.  Not sure if that counts or not.  She's planning on doing it tomorrow at quasi-school.  Should be quite the shock for her teachers.

BTW, her accent is quite good, to an unrefined American ear.  All from watching Dr Who and Harry Potter.
I guess she was inexplicably "from Boston" a bit as toddler.