Whodun the Doodee

In the spirit of Halloween and sophmoric behavior, I present: The Case of the Exorbitant Excrement.

After the Thriller competition, the four of us walked into TR’s house and I headed straight to the bathroom. I noticed that the toilet lid was politely closed. For a house majority of boys, I thought Wow that’s so nice. And then I lifted the lid.
Good god almighty! Who did that??

Are they hurt?

And why didn’t they flush?? Wait, it’s NOT flushing!!!

So I marched out to the living room intending to yell at people for giving me gag reflexes.

Halfway down the hallway, someone pulled me to the side and whispered loudly that it was left there for TR to find.

The hooplah caused the rest of the house to sit down and review the facts of the night in order to catch the culprit. TR ruled out the girls since, according to him, we wouldn’t know how to turn off the toilet valve. He then proceeded to pick apart each male with reasons why they would or wouldn’t be the guilty party. For 30 minutes this went on. Sharing different hypotheses, with one important question sprinkled several times throughout the investigation: “Why wasn’t there any toilet paper in the toilet?”

Until finally, a decision was made based purely on gut feelings. TH had dunit. TR just knew he had and wouldn’t hear of any other possibility.

We parted ways that weekend with TH still thrown into the figurative prison.

And then today. We received what might be the most important piece of evidence for the case. A drawing depicting the whereabouts of TH when the crime was committed. An alibi, if you will.

There’s a pooper-non-flusher on the loose, people. Watch your commodes.

From Dirndl to Zombie…

in less than 6 hours. Ah, I love days like these. Although, if I’m completely honest with myself, that’s pretty much how every day ends up: pale faced and half dead.
We piled onto the bus that would take us to the much touted “second largest oktoberfest in the nation”. Hmmm… Not sure about that one. But it did have the second largest number of people chewing tobacco and wearing beer slogan t-shirts.

Can I describe how nice the day was? R and I had just come off of almost two straight weeks of rain and to walk outside into that sunshine? Divine. It was like heaven opened up to my cute dirndl dress and said, “Go on, my little bavarian child and bask in the fruits (or hops?) of the german microbreweries.”
Okay. I will, I said.

But our first stop was food: brauts, potato cakes, and onion blossoms. Life was good… my cinched waist was not.

We wandered aorund the grounds, until our exhausted feet found some tables in the open air. I mean, yes we were tired. We had just spent the entire morning eating breakfast burritos, drinking blackberry fermented “juice” and watching a marathon of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Wouldn’t you be tired too?

This is me midway through a lager and conversation. If you’ve spent any amount of time with me on a beautiful day sipping some spirits, you know my thought process. Unfortunately, this thought process usually turns into a vocal adaptation. Here it is in a nutshell:
  1. I really like hanging out with you guys
  2. Isn’t it beautiful out?
  3. Yes, pour me a little.
  4. Okay, a bit more.
  5. Shouldn’t we go on a trip together?
  6. My parents are going to pass away someday. (This sounds like a horrible statement. But it’s not intended to be. I’m only consoled when someone reminds me that 63 is the new 53.)
  7. Wait, I’m going to pass away some day.
  8. Are you guys going to miss me?
  9. What would you say about me at the funeral?
  10. Is anyone listening?
  11. So back to that trip…
  12. What. You don’t want to go on one now? It’s okay, I’m over our mortality. I promise.
  13. So what have you been up– wait. Back to me. What have I been up to? Well … [insert 30 minutes of non-stop talking*]
  14. Cackling laughter
  15. Did I tell you how much I like hanging out with you?

*This is actually a false statement. Ever since starting this blog, I now have nothing to talk about in person (re: myself)


After a few hours, I started to notice a decline in our host T. To the point where he grabbed hold of a turkey leg and pounded his phone with one digit. Next he would be dragging a woman along the ground by her hair.

Luckily we had to leave for our Thriller debut before seeing that caveman spectacle.

But I did get to see (and experience) a Big Lebowski scene with R while getting ready for Thriller. Except this time it was baby powder and not ashes.

Friends, there is absolutely one vital thing to bring along to a 12-yr old’s Thriller competition. Good sports of husbands. Man, they didn’t complain once. They made fun of it all (and us), but never complained. Even when we asked them to do their best zombie stance.


This isn’t the last you’ll see of J & T. They’re coming down for the Adventure Race next weekend. I’ll probably look like a zombie in those photos as well. Need to start exercising. Stat.

No, please sit down. Standing ovations embarrass us.

My friend J signed me and our husbands up to take part in a world record breaking event. With satellite locations around the world, everyone had to start the The Thriller dance at exactly the same time. http://www.thrilltheworld.com


Why did the four of us bring the mean age of the Claremore, OK group up by 20 years? Oh right. Because the rest of the group was in 6th grade.

R got checked out a few times by the middle schoolers, thinking that maybe he went to the school in the next town over. Back off girls. This Ralph Macchio is mine. So what if I look like I could be his mother, lay off.

The good news of the night: I didn’t have to add much powder to my hair to make it gray.

So, I’ll leave you with the final product. J & I are on the left in the first and second rows. R & T are on the right in the third and fourth rows. I must warn you however that, at this point in the night, I had forgotten most of the steps… thanks to spending the previous 4 hours at the Tulsa Oktoberfest in a dirndl.
R’s favorite part? The jumping high-five at the end with T.

We don’t mess around….

…when messing around. Wait. That didn’t sound right. Barbeque messy, people, barbeque.

It was rainy evening and as soon as we started our run, my knee swelled up despite the new brace and I had to stop. How should we work out instead? Shoving barbeque into our mouths.

I managed to miss the shot of sauce running down our chins. It was beautiful.

…and did I hear you say you wanted to get a closer look at that photo on the table?

Okay, here she is. Isn’t she wonderful? I want to take a tour of her home.

Hitchin’ a Ride…

Look who we found wanting to tag along with us the other day.

I’m sorry, but I could ride for days as long as I had that vision on my handlebars. He just needs to wear high waisted polyester pants and munch on those crispy wafer cookies with the cream in the middle. Then he’d be my little grandpa frog, riding shotgun. Kind of.

I’ve just spent the last five minutes googling those cookies and for the life of me, I cannot come up with the name. I even typed in “cookies that old people like”. How horrible is that?? Please help.
*BREAKING NEWS* The wafer cookie has been found. I repeat, the wafer cookie has been found. Hat tip to my mother-in-law. Here’s the link: my grandpa ate a lot of these.

Thank you, Pete.

My favorite NY baker hooked me up this weekend. He’s one of the (many) blogs I read listed to the right.

He baked an apple pie with crumble topping and made it look so darn easy that I thought I could manage it. I’ve gotta take this pie-making business in baby steps. So the three lovely words “pre-made pie crust” gave me a big smile. If he suggested it, then well…I guess I better follow the recipe to the T, right?

He did give a link to the crust recipe he normally uses, which I’ll tackle one of these days when I’ve got my big girl pie-making panties on.

Not tonight though.

We stopped through a little town today that was known for their apple orchards back in the day. It’s slowed down a bit, but we still popped in to buy some straight-off-the-tree-and-piled-into-a-bag apples.

At home, they went right into my hanging basket. Ah, it gave my OCD such pleasure to see all baskets filled.

I quickly donned my new apron, a birthday present made lovingly by my friend K. Then onto the laptop where I watched….(and this is where I hesitate. Deciding if I should share. But only for a few seconds)… how to core and peel apples.

Look people, it’s only been the past few years that I’ve started cooking. Give a girl a break.

Awww, look at them. Why did this intimidate me? They were willing and able, and I made it through with no cuts.

Into the oven the pies went (one will be frozen for a quick reheat later on) while R and I practiced our Thriller moves. That is coming up next weekend..and from the laughs I’ve already expended, it should be a good time.
Note to self: Buy a pie server.

Rainy Day

Not too long ago, we spent a rainy day in what we like to call our ‘candy store.’ Books organized haphazardly on rows and rows of shelves.

Nothing frilly. Just strips of white paper taped to wooden boxes marking which section you were looking through.
I have been on a diary kick lately. Interested in historical journals… and found a great one highlighting the women on the Oregon Trail. Mmmmm.. I could’ve slurped that one up for dessert. It was so insightful and interesting.

I hope you enjoy your rainy days!

Roadkill, Not I.

Did I mention that R and I are training for an adventure race coming up in a few weeks? It’s called the Urban Adventure Race and it includes 6-8 miles of trail trekking as well as up to 20 miles of mountain biking. And please don’t forget the “rope elements” and “mystery tasks”. Apparently one of us has to know how to navigate by compass alone as well.

Oh yes, I’ll be bringing my camera, even though it was not listed on the the 3000 mandatory things you have to carry. Because this is going to be ugly. Real ugly.
One thing not on the list? A defibrillator. I’ll be bringing one of those too.

So, yeah, we’ve been training since… well, since yesterday.

Did you hear me? It’s coming up in three weeks and we’ve been sitting around watching Netflix movies and eating Fritos up until last night.

I’m scared.

So I bought a reflector vest to wear as we hit the pavement.

Hopefully people will see me on the road. Do you think they will?

Krumping & Humping

In between forcing the in-laws to watch my new favorite dance style (Krumping), thanks to Russell Ferguson and So You Think You Can Dance…
Popping into the local library for a good half hour of reading…

Going out to eat, playing a game of scrabble, and watching the movie “The Scarlet Pimpernel”…..

Watching Shady hump my husband’s leg….

Hearing the crackle of a fire being stoked…

And confronting “the other woman” during a football game…

All in all, a thumbs up.

The Little Things…

Or in this case, one big thing gets me excited. (I heard that, Office watchers.)

One of my favorite antique stores in a small town just north of us is building something big. And to me, it makes me grin every time I see it.

It’s a covering for a farmers market. Why does that make me happy? Because as of right now, there’s a splattering of random vendors set up in parking lots, street corners, and other places that catch you off guard.. not at all coordinated time-wise either.

No saturday morning shopping. More like driving home from work and oh what is that over there shopping. Which, don’t get me wrong, is fun too.

You know, to stop spontaneously and pick up a few good tomatoes. A few good tomatoes. Tell me about the sauce. You can’t handle the sauce.

The only good saturday morning one-stop marketplace is about 45 minutes away. Thumbs down.

But this. This! Only 5 minutes.


1987 – A remake

R’s co-workers threw an 80s prom party this weekend. So I tried my darndest to bring out my inner Kelly LeBrock from Weird Science and ended up feeling more like Bill Paxton as the blob. R doned his real prescription Ray-Ban sunglasses that I did not help him pick out. That is a whole ‘nother story.

It was a fun night.

We chatted with people while I tried to divert their attention from R’s insistance on wearing both his regular glasses and sunglasses all night.

We slow-danced. And don’t worry, mom..

I made sure there was room for the Holy Spirit.

We stood in a circle and danced. After R did his thang, I threw off my shoes and broke out the Carlton dance from Fresh Prince. This was my debut in front of his co-workers. Here is a video if you haven’t ever seen it: watch this move!

Except I didn’t even make it two swings before twisting my ankle and stumbling out of the circle. I definitely broke under pressure.
Nice to meet everyone, my name is Carolyn.

But then! Then, we watched a video tutorial on how to perform the thriller dance.

And we all broke it out. I was a little ahead of the rest of the group, I think.

Great night!

P.S. We are still having some internet troubles, thus the infrequent posts this week. More coming soon!