Okay ladies! One week is all we have until the big dance. You know what I'm talking about. All the moms, grannies, aunts, and the occasional occupational male chef put on a show of creativity, baked goods, harvest wares, and 12-piece place settings amidst all the important people in their life on the Annual Day of Thanks. Now if you want to actually have time to take a shower and smell nice, then you'll want to follow The Pioneer Woman's Thanksgiving Cooking Schedule that begins on Monday.

Yep. You heard me. Monday. And to add to this schedule, Mrs. Olsen has some special preparations that will help your Thanksgiving Feast be over the top! The perfect place settings that use mini-pumpkins, candy corn, and popcorn...the best silverware polish you can make from scratch!....and adorable crafts that will force your rugrats to stop and think about all the dang things you do for them all the time and that they should be grateful for...I've got it all here!

Let's start here shall we?



Wait, what is that? Let's get a better look shall we?



*cough* Where in the good heck are my candy corns? That axe is totally rusty! I have a feeling there's no such thing as a home remedy for rusting axes...uh, I mean silverware. Uh, I mean...where am I?

Okay, the gigs up people. I killed 2 turkeys yesterday and it wasn't funny at all. See now, when we moved to a little more country last year we wanted to be more self-sufficient. We wanted that connection to food that has been culturally lost, but is probably still pretty important, and very likely even vital to our existence. So I asked for it, but I swear I didn't sign up for this.

Keep reading if you dare, but consider yourself warned.



First of all, I thought it would be no big deal cause I've been dealing with a kid that freaks out whenever she has to go collect eggs. Mr. Tom can't let Miss Hen turn her head without saying Excuse me? Look at me! My feathers are ruffled up for you baby. I love you! Wanna come stay with me at Bok Bok Cottage over the weekend? So Miss Turkey Hen literally runs for her life whenever my kid shows up. She's runs at them, jumps up on them, and totally freaks them out. Hence, the big stick carried by Rainbow Girl (and tears).



When he gets all hot and bothered wantin' some feather love, he puffs up and his face turns blue. Isn't he pretty?



Oh how I desperately wanted to film The Mister of the House trying to catch this big guy, but I was disappointed when he brought out a long metal hook, caught his foot, and pulled him right into his fateful arms.



So here's this picture again. See those 2 little nails that the axe is resting in? That is where you catch the head, then pull the neck and head down over the sawhorse. Usually The Mister has some boy helpers, but he exhausted their services this spring, and so it was just me and him. I was really really nervous.

I had to hold the feet of the turkey while The Mister took the axe. I'm a tough girl okay? I'm on the lazy side but I love nature, want to live simply, and outweigh most Mormon mommies on my block. I had no notions of my toughness, or expectations of how I should act when the axe came down.

Thwump!

Half of the neck is open, and I'm holding onto a body that is flapping and flailing. I scream like I'm trying out for Return of the Rapist Swamp Thing. I screamed, inhaled, screamed, The Mister is yelling 'Let go of the feet! Let it go!' and I am frozen, holding the flailing body, and screaming and screaming. And even as I write this, I have to admit that I was truly truly traumatized, because when I finally did let go and shuffled backwards away from the scene of the crime, I started sobbing my guts out.

What the hell?

For real.

When I finally mentally checked myself Uh, Mrs. Olsen you are freaking out. You are being a dumb girl. Please stop crying. Please stop. So I stopped and looked over across the yard. All my laying hens, who had been pecking in the garden and flowerbeds just moments before, were frozen in there tracks. I then watched all of them hightail it into the safety of Bok Bok Cottage.



And guess what? I had to do it again, was still in shock, and shocked at how freaked out I was, but then got to hold the ladies feet while the axe came down. No screaming that time, but I winced and sobbed some more.

Anybody that doesn't appreciate their turkey dinner is getting it shoved down their face by yours truly.



But wait, there's more! Here's a drill bit that has rubber stoppers to help pluck the feathers. We actually didn't use it, cause our learning curve taught us that you drop the birds in hot hot water and the feathers will then pull out nice and easy.





I post these photos with an outpouring of love and respect for the life of these birds. After plucking the feathers, you lightly torch them to get the remaining hairs burned off.



Did you know you had to do that?

Signed,

Started my cycle today but don't think that
had anything to do with it

p.s. my turkeys had a good life and for that I am grateful.

Post-Edit: I'm not sure I can fully describe the emotional wave that overthrew me with the post-screaming sobbing. Racked. Tears. Wrenched face. Curious husband. Mascara down past my cheekbones sobbing. I mean, my shoulders were shaking with each cry. Did anyone see/love the movie Raising Arizona? Holly Hunter is in the car after they stole their baby and she starts crying: I just love him so much (and her shoulders move up and down about 5 times in that sentence). Anyway, high school break-ups were never as emotionally draining as watching the violent release of the life of our turkeys. How do hunters do it?

adorable, right?

Cousin love revisited. Check out Grace rockin' the side pony.

As it happens, Mrs. Olsen and The Mister of the House recently spent an entire childless, work-free, vacationing week in celebration of 10 years of marriage. We reveled in fall colors and American History on the East Coast. Our camera batteries died on day 4, but on day 2 we had a lovely Boo Radley moment. Come on in if you dare!

The Mister of the House has strong opinions about headstones. He despises the shiny, ostentatious, marble headstones of the present. He insisted that he wanted a simple thin headstone someday (to accompany his pine box) just like the ones throughout this cemetery.


Romantic huh? Here's some of the folks we paid our respects to:

Of course, we also talked about having a bench on a simple hillside to commemorate our final resting place. Benches also go well with pine boxes.

Just look at that John Hancock! Nothing like some male ego to tell the King of England to back off! There's a new alpha-male on the block called democracy.



Anyone who knows The Mister of the House, knows how nearly impossible and vexing it is to get him to pose for a camera. Prepare to be amazed at this next picture for which he happily obliged and posed:



If anyone is wondering, I love this photo. I love that my man wants to be buried in a pinebox on a country hillside with a bench!

It's almost inspiring to think of an entire life, and the legacy they left behind them, burning a trail to heaven with intermittent ash falling on the present. Cemeteries are good for that. It makes you think of the legacy you might leave behind, if any at all. Paul Revere, John Hancock, fought a dear fight for our liberties, and I was quietly reminded of that at this place.

And yet, the legacy that touched me most personally, although not to diminish the great cause of our First Patriots...was this:


Josiah Franklin and Abiah his wife, lie here interred. They lived lovingly together in wedlock fifty-five years; and without an estate or any careful employment; by constant labor and honest industry, maintained a large family comfortably, and brought up thirteen children and seven grandchildren respectably. From this instance, Reader, be encouraged to diligence in thy calling, and distrust not Providence. He was a pious and prudent man; she a virtuous woman. Their youngest son, in filial regard to their memory, places this stone. J. F. Born, 1655. Died, 1744. Aet. 89. A. F. Born, 1667. Died, 1752. Aet. 85


With all the living to inspire others, the American Dream, celebrities, do-gooders, and world-changers...sometimes it's tough to live "small". At least to be content while doing it. Motherhood seems to be one of those things the world considers small. And when my kid has diarrhea and I change 13 runnies in a day, I too wonder if it is worth it.

So thank you Josiah and Abiah, for living quietly without acquiring much worldly goods, for being content without a big estate, and for encouraging diligence in the great calling of family life. There is something so inspiring and beautiful about their lives. Eulogy penned by none other than their youngest son, Benjamin.

This month the Department of Energy has seen the fruits of enviro-minded Universities from around the globe. Each given a $100K grant, they designed solar homes with new technologies and just last week set them up and had them all displayed at the National Mall in D.C.

I'm not sure what's going on at Mrs. Olsen's house. I mean, I feel like I have a lot to say, but have proceeded on a mystic impetus to shut up. Or maybe turn off. Since I'm averaging one post a month right now (does anybody miss me?) my mystic impetus has temporarily aligned with the mass reminiscing, crossroads of life, wetting-your-pants impossibility of that fateful day: September 11, 2001. Those double elevens hit me today (the 22nd) and said: tick-tock, almost out of time, don't forget. Never forget.

Sometimes I intentionally put myself in situations so I can arise from the ashes and get productive, foster creativity, or save money. Exhibit 1: have people over for dinner so I have a legitimate reason to really really get my house sparkling. This past month we had cousin birthdays, my outside reasoning stated I would save some money...but my insides really just wanted to color. Like that things kids do. And moms never do cause everybody eats 3 times a day and leaves trails of dishes and crumbs.

So in the name of happy birthday to cousin Olivia, here's some more of my exceptional art....if I was a 5th grader.

If you want to see some wacky, fun, and professional art then click here.

Since my sister moved to Boston, I keep hearing about these birthday parties with 3 course meals, a hired clown, a rented bouncy mansion, and the like. Outside the upper-crust coastline, and back into Zion, mommies get over the top with hand-made 3-D birthday invites and gift bags for the party-goers that cost more (and look cuter) than the one sent with my kid.

So when Vanilla Wafer turned 4 recently, I wanted to lower the birthday party standards for all those moms wondering if they really need to build a water-misting outdoor obstacle course for that overheated summer birthday. Now don't get me wrong, big birthday bashes have their place, but just don't get in the trap that each year needs to be a little bit bigger or a lot bit better than the year before. Here's how we celebrated the life of our little guy this month...



since Vanilla Wafer has been wearing his Spiderman costume the entire month of August, I decided to go with that theme. Every good party must have a THEME mind you!


Rainbow Girl: "Mom, aren't there any balloons? I want to decorate!"
Mrs. Olsen: "...uuhhhhh....I made a cake!"
Rainbow Girl: "Never mind, I found some string. I'm going to make spider webs!"


For easily distracted youngsters, I like to follow this simple rule: Invite the same number of guests as the age of your kid. For us, we had 3 little cousins and the best buddy that lives next door. Sister was a bonus (and my helper!). Sorry if you wanted to come.

Of course, mutual cooperation helps. We insisted that birthday gifts be simple and happy, just like four year olds seem to be naturally. In this case, Vanilla Wafer got bubble bath, a sword, a kite, and total utter happiness. Anything bigger or better than that, and Mrs. Olsen can't sleep cause she just got burdened with birthday guilt.


We really pulled out the stops for this activity. Each kid got an old paper grocery sack to cut out eyes. If they had any sort of attention span, we were going to color them and grab each other and moan like a monster, then try to guess who they were. But alas, on to the next activity....

In this case, it was Monsters vs. Aliens playing as the last of summer matinee specials. $1 admission means I threw a party for under ten bucks! Yeah baby!



And lastly, reminisce all your kids personality styles and quirks. Like sticking out the tongue while he concentrates, obsessive love of younger brothers, and the fact that he wants to marry his mom and asks her twice a day in his crappy late-developing English: "Mwooom, will you mawr-rwee meeee?". Yes son, I will marry you! Here's some cake!

By some summer miracle, this blog is getting updated. There is so much going on, I'm not quite sure where to begin, how to end, or what to expound. So now that I have a second at this way-past-bedtime shush, I thought I'd throw out a taste of Mrs. Olsen's Summer of Oh-Nine so far....


and reverence. Also curiosity, dry heaving & new theories about millenial life. Hmmmm..?


wish these were my toes darnit. Purple!

My mommy moved home from Hawaii, and my sissy got in a big jet airplane all the way across the U.S. so we could digest an Idaho sunset together. Aaaaahh.... p.s. over a foot cut off my locks and the olfactory cells reminiscing Apache Avenue when I got a perm the first time in over 15 years!

Looksie!

A Circus! Right in our neighborhood!

I haven't looked this good in a suit since Ricks College!

If anyone is reading these blurbs: Please take a guess at how much older cousin on the left is than Rainbow Girl?

Round 2 of the neighborhood circus. Notice the cat-like poise of Rainbow Girl via Tiger! Yeow!


Aaahh. For reals my only daughter got baptized and received The Gift of the Holy Ghost, and my heart nearly exploded with JOY!