My Own Reality Show (Wyoming, Day 13)

Here was my Facebook status today: 

I'm available for hire for SUPER-SLEUTHING on the Internet. We have no water (after everything else went off and came back on), the managers are gone. I somehow sleuthed out one of the owners' cell number on the Internet after much hunting ... maybe I can get the conditioner out of my hair sometime soon!

Later ...

The managers called me back and I tried to find a hidden key and go to a locked room to try to turn the water back on but, alas, lacking a penis I could not figure it out then Sam hit his head and I had to go. Aron should be home in a couple of hours to help out. In the meantime, I'm getting a deep conditioning treatment, probably as God intended. Reason for everything, right?! Or just maybe ...

So today was Saturday (yes, I post these AFTER the day happens, folks, so forgive my screwy English tenses and whatnot).

We did a little of this today.

We did a little of that today.

My friend Eva will appreciate this one ... it's like a little Catechesis of the Good Shepherd class!

Ambidextrous.

Michael ASKED to do some math so he could then get on Moshi Monsters. Yes, I reward them with "screen time" as my friend calls it, for working on math. And if they ask on a Saturday, so be it!

A puzzling turn of events.

Aron got home around 4-ish and we rushed around to get ready to go to town to this cute little church, where we were like the Catholic Superstars, what with our FIVE -- count 'em -- FIVE kidlets and all that. And I get all puffed up like, "Yep, I'm a breeding STAR, people, and I can probably even have MORE. I'm over 40 now, and might EVEN be able to squirt out TWINS for the cause!" We were in the cry room for a little bit and there was a woman in there with boys, aged about 2 and 4. They were playing and being all silly and she was trying to shush them and I was just grinning. Then I got a little teary because I used to have boys about that age who now play so much differently together, who argue and it's PERSONAL sometimes and who I pray never grow apart. Anyway ... no, I'm not crying. There's just something in my eye.

After church we went out to dinner at a family-style place with nice fried foods. Yes, it went as well as you would expect a dinner with 5 kids would go ... meaning, a little loud, but fun. We had FRIED onion rings, chicken FRIED steak, FRIED fish, FRIED chicken strips and FRIES.

Then we hit the sporting goods store (yeah, I said THE because there is only one) for some fishing junk (this is where my dad's ears perk up). Joel is all into bows and arrows lately so Aron got him 3 round-tip arrows so they could make a bow tomorrow. While the kids played hide-and-seek in the hunting garb and Sam walked around playing with a Spongebob fishing rod that would never be his, I found myself strangely perusing the ... HANDGUNS.

This place is gettin' to me, I tell ya. When I go in a place like that, where people buy things to KILL living things, I am both disgusted and fascinated. I'm just not sure where I stand on all that stuff. I used to get so mad at guys who hunted deer. I was all like, "You know you can BUY meat at the store, dummy!" But the longer I am an animal myself (a Mama Bear to be exact), the more I understand wanting to hunt stuff.

I talked Aron into then going to Wendy's for Frostys for the kidlets. They must have been spiked because this is what happened on the way home:

Found another freaky carved tree on the way into the ranch:

If you missed any installments of the Real World: Wyoming series, head to the right-hand side of this here blog, look for Categories, then click on Wyoming.