To Whom It May Concern:

I couldn't believe your recent finds at the antique store!

I guess if I was a designer, I would say they have "good bones", but I'm not a designer. So I'll just say, they look old. I can hear you laugh now, waiting to show me how they were diamonds in the rough.

You got me! I figured I would show you what I've been up to, since we haven't been around for a while. I'll be quick about it: Buddha Baby grew up, got kicked out of his crib, and Rainbow Girl finally got her own room!

By the way, nothing like your make-overs, but clean, good, and (hopefully) a little more organized. I've broken it down quite scientifically for you:




I can't even tell you how badly Rainbow Girl needed a desk. No more banishing her to the nether-regions so she can focus!








The wicker chest is now holding mittens by my front door. And I brought in the bookcase from her old room, which opened that other room nicely as well thanks for asking!



Sorry about the glare from my high quality point and shoot camera. Here's the last angle.











Can't wait to play next week during Christmas break!

With Love from Your Sister,
Mrs. Olsen

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.

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.

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!

I was about Rainbow Girl's age when I went to Utah's home-fry amusement park Lagoon and beheld a teenage lovefest while waiting to ride the roller coaster. It was the blessed decade called "The 80's" and tight acid-washed jeans were everywhere. I saw a rubby-dubby couple around 16 or 17, and stared slackjawed in the roller coaster line surveying the first hickey I had ever witnessed in the flesh. It was the size of a golf ball. The mullet stud in front of me advertised it by unbuttoning his sleeveless shirt down past his single chest hair. And his ratty-hair-with-wings-lover clung to his neck like an infant.

So now it's nearly two decades later, married with kids. Hickeys are old news to me. But it's true that my recent jaunt to Utah's mini-Disneyland was a lovefest indeed.



Here I am feeling the love and wanting to be coy on camera. The Mister was having none of that. But it's not for lack of love mind you. Since he was five, he's always acted approximately two decades older than his real age. That means he's like a silver-haired fifty-ish old guy right now who worries about retirement, missionary funds, and keeping the lawn green. It works!



When we went on the swings, I hoped to catch some happy girls at play.

When Lagoon can melt a good 3 or 4 decades off The Mister of the House, I just get giddy inside.



Plus there's something about his sheer intelligence that makes me all warm & fuzzy inside. For The Mister of the House, he can observe, deduce, understand, and reenact. I watched his mind work while he observed all the whirly twirly roller coasters at Lagoon.





Be still my heart! Since The Mister is such a smartie pants, I figured I would carry on a family tradition started by my mother on family vacations....spellchecking! Look at me Mister! Look at my brain catch bad pronunciation!




It may be possible that Rainbow Girl got her heartstrings tugged as well.



As long as puberty isn't a factor, we're enjoying this innocent little tryst.

Mrs. Olsen to Rainbow Girl: Okay kid. For your birthday, would you rather have a fun birthday party with a bunch of friends? Or would you rather take one friend to Lagoon?