2013 Begins with a Good Omen

 This morning was a slow start, and I didn't even party last night.  I welcomed with some relief, the vigilant cold (flu?) that forced me to stop the frenzied partying, eating, consuming, gifting, and worrying that comes during the Holiday Season.  The past two days have found me in bed sucking lozenges, sleeping, and watching Netflix on my phone.  Laaaaazy bones.

So this morning I heard the usual sounds of the little farm waking up-starting with the turkeys.  We still have 3 turkeys left from heritage breeds Narragansett and Royal Palm.  Two puffy males constantly strut in front of the lone female, their male ego a beautiful blue show.  The turkeys were loud, gobbling, gobbling, gobbling.  They kept getting louder and louder until it approached the level of ruckus.

I opened the blinds to see a huge flock of wild turkeys descending on the farm!  It was invigorating!

So the Mister and I hurried outside to investigate and dissuade our guests from discovering the free food.  There must have been close to fifty, gliding in and surrounding our turkeys.  Our two males were puffed and huffed.

Through the gate and already the wild flock is starting to part.

Some flew away.

 And that-a-way.

Others meandered to our neighbors field.

I felt a flood of options and questions come over me:
What if we just made them our own flock?
Let's have a big dinner?
How are they thriving and surviving so well in the winter?
Do you think they'll come back?
Where are they going?

When we turned back to our turkeys, they were still fluffed up from the encounter.  Not being a turkey whisperer, I couldn't tell if their gobbling call (answered one second later by the simultaneous gobbling of the entire flock of wildlings) was a warning, a threat, or just a Hey! Where'd you guys come from?

Here they are in the neighboring field, close to fifty of them!  The sky above, the clouds, the vigorous show of family and flock, the asking for blessing from our farm (sorry, denied!) seemed just the sign I needed to start my 2013.

So I started my morning with a O.J., banana, spinachspinachspinach green power smoothie.  A sign of things to come?

Then our post-Holiday overly-blessed house spent the morning taking care of some important business.  Like how is it my kids have never seen Goonies?  I almost feel like my duty as a mother should be in question.  This is one of the great films from my childhood.

Use caution when blowing young minds.  They are little sponges.  I dread the day my kids get a facebook, pinterest, and whatever else account. 

Oh Samwise, how cute you were.  I once wanted to kiss you braces and all.  Big brother is taking it all in, and I'm making a list of all the great 80's flicks that need to be shown weekly for Outdoor Movie Nights on the farm.  A sign of things to come?

And occasional distraction with little brother, just to prove we're not total TV Zombies.

Happy New Year!
Love From,
Mrs. Olsen

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Anderson Talent: Part II

What with my beached whale status, and the fact that for $7.99 a month I can watch Netflix episodes without even needing a disc...means that I have been in an Apache Avenue Time Warp the past couple of weeks. The Cosby Show People! It was the sitcom of my childhood, and according to some, the sitcom of the century.

But mostly, it's a sitcom about my dad. I have been watching episodes while folding laundry, while doing dishes, and I laugh at Dr. Huxtable and think of my dad. Although I would say my dad is more of a cowboy version of ole Bill, there's the undeniable similarities: the dry sense of humor, the deflection of tension through silliness, the athletic prowess relived through the offspring. There's the interest in your kids lives, the interest in your kids friends, the waiting for the kids friends to get the dad's weird sense of humor.

The loving to hang out on a Friday night in High School with your best friend while your dad lounges out hours of riddles which he will only answer with a yes or no question. What dad is ever cool enough to get their high school offspring (and buddy) to want to hang out with him on a weekend night?

Ummmm, that would be my dad.



This is a picture in the 80's at my Grandparent's 50th Wedding Anniversary. Apparently I'm not the only one who compared my dad to Bill Cosby, because it was at this somewhat formal family event my dad was invited to be the Master of Ceremonies. He was funny. All the grown-ups were comparing him to everyone's favorite funnyman, Bill Cosby, and I heard it often growing up.

So now watching The Cosby Show, I'm not obsessing over what amazing outfit Denise is going to be wearing next. I'm a mother now, and I think of what kind of parent I want to be. The parent I intend to be. And yes, the parent I wish I could be but decide not to be sometimes.

That folks, is talent!

Like American Television searching for "Who's Got Talent", I get caught up and even rightly impressed with busy mothers composing hymns, and people with vocal pipes to light up a stadium, but I'm trying to not forget the network of quiet talents that, like their showy counterparts, require work, discipline, patience, and perseverance. The talents of:
* listening
* forgiving
* laughing
* playing ball
* and filling your punk kid's gas tank every other month just to be nice

These are the talents of my favorite funnyman, my own little Hoser....my dad! (P.S. The gal on the right ain't so bad either)



Here's some awesome memories of my dad that have spawned from the depths of my brain while watching The Cosby Show:

- He taught all of us kids our address and phone number with a little chant we would sing. He also taught us a chant to know what to get when it was our turn to set the table: "Bread-n-butter, Salt-n-pepper, Knives-and-Forks-and Spoons!"

- When I was in Jr. High, the little Siepert kid up the street ended up at our house one day looking for his older brother. My dad joked around with him, probably teased him. The next day, this kid knocked on the door and asked me if my dad could play. No kidding! So cute.

- When my nephew was a baby, he was put down for a nap. My dad stood above the crib and grabbed a children's book and started singing the pages (cool cowboy voice mind you). Pretty soon the kid settled down and all was quiet, but Hoser was gone a long time. When he finally came out, he was asked what took so long? Your grandkid stopped crying a long time ago? My dad simply replied that he had to finish the story (I'm pretty sure he kept singing it too).

- When new friends would come over to my house, they all seemed to be intimidated by my dad. He was a coach, and his humor was dry. Inevitably (especially this happened with friends that were boys) he would sullenly walk up behind them, grab each ear in his hands, and then tilt their head from side to side while making airplane sounds. After 3 rotations, he would start shaking their head (by their ears) and make machine gun sounds. Duh. He was a fighter plane people!

- Speaking of chants. As a coach as a church-owned school, he helped during the summer with boys basketball camps. It was b-ball morning, noon, and night. After meal-time all the boys would fill the gym and get ready for a group stretch. Then Hoser would state they were to stretch while chanting an old Indian saying..."Repeat After Me!"
{Stretch to the right} Oh-wah!
OH-WAH
{Stretch to the left} Tuh-nah!
TUH-NAH
{Reach for the sky} Siam!
SIAM

Repeat 5 times..getting faster each time. Little boys at a church college chanting this over and over? Now that's funny!

- And lastly: A woman turns off the lights to her house. A couple hours later she turns on the news. What she sees on the news makes her kill herself.

What happened and why did she kill herself?

(p.s. in riddles, every detail is significant. Only yes or no questions allowed!)

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Letter: Dear Nerds

Dear Nerds,

Having a Julliard-trained brother-in-law exercising his training in the production of the upcoming HBO series "Game of Thrones" means that Mrs. Olsen and The Mister of the House received a tour of the set that you have tried to sneak onto via fake job interviews, ninja methods, or pure open nerdiness that makes you feel like a legitimate consultant for the series.


Mandy & Bryan practicing as UK Tour Guides in Edinburgh

Since we were able to take no pictures of the set, we'll just say In your face nerds, we saw the Iron Throne!

And also, the fact that I'm gloating on the blog about seeing the Iron Throne (as well as Winterfell sets, Cersei's chambers, and The Red Keep) just might mean I could be on the other side of cool as well.

Our gracious glimpse into:
*an amazing storyline
*the sheer magnitude of talent required to actually produce sets and TV series
*beholding from afar the beauty of whatever actor plays Jaime Lannister

was interesting and exciting.



Thanks Bryan and Mandy for this 2010 highlight!

Signed,
Mrs. Olsen

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Letter: Dear Cool People

Dear Cool People,
(Mrs. Olsen 2010 Halloween Awards go to...)

Where were you this past year when I went to the company Halloween Party? Just wondering why nobody "got" this heee-larious themed costume from my sister-and-brother-in-law. Am I really that old and out of touch with younguns these days? And do you think you could sit down and enjoy one of the old "classics"?



Please tell me there are some cool people that read this blog....

Signed,
Here's a close runner-up that's sure to be "got".

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New Farm Addition

We are slowly increasing our self-sufficiency on our little hobby farm. After watching Food Inc. recently, we decided we would try our best to wean ourselves from the "Industrial Meat Complex". We're not vegetarians mind you, but we're not barbarians either.

These pigs were just purchased so Rainbow Girl could start her 4-H experience, and so friends and family could have some fresh and healthy pork in their freezers this fall.



Paula, you made a comment on how difficult it is to buy healthier foods. From our studies (mostly with neighbors) the end-cost of feeding, butchering, and packaging is around $1.80 per pound. Not bad? With the amount of folks we are splitting it with, we'll probably end up with 20-30 pounds. Enough for a sweet pork salad dinner this autumn.

Did I just say that out loud? Sorry pigs! We do love you!



Here's a trailer for the movie Food, Inc. I highly recommend watching it!

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Weedkiller: Part One

By the time Vanilla Wafer was born, my womb had been dry for four years previous. We were so excited to have that perfect mix of one boy and one girl. We reached deep into our Scandanavian heritage and gave him a Viking name. It was only a matter of time until he would pillage the neighborhood and wreak havoc on the nay-sayers.

Would. You. Just. Look. At. That. Face! That was way back in aught-five.

Now look at him:





And as Joseph! Be still my heart! (pictured here with his cute cousin Eliza). It was one short high school career ago that he was a little cuddly mutt!

So here's the thing: we wanted him to be a tough little viking, to grow up fast and strong like a weed, but that kid is downright tender-hearted. Now don't get me wrong, the testerone thing is evident when he just starts wrestling neighbor boys for no reason but to say hi. Other than that he is cautious, careful, and quiet. Plus he's four, and he's semi-eloquent. That basically means that when I was recently in a major hurry and got the kids a cheeseburger at MickeyD's, that after the fact we couldn't get in the car without him begging for a "Cheese Ham-bow-guhr" for a month straight. Not cheeseburger, a Cheese Ham-bow-guhr. Got that?

In a hurry to take Rainbow Girl to piano, and from the back seat comes the excited "Mooom, can I get a cheese ham-bow-guhr?"

On the way to Grandma's across town: "Mooom, can I get a cheese ham-bow-guhr?".

So I thought: protein, calories, growing boy, semi-eloquent english quotes, happy kids, no dishes...totally worth a buck!

But then one night I was carpooling Rainbow Girl's best friend. Her mom is my dear friend, works hard to pass good nutrition into her family, cans food 4 months out of the year, and recently did the "Daniel Diet" with her family (aka all natural foods, nothing processed).

So I'm throwing the burgers to the kids, yell back and ask if BestFriend wants something. She politely says no. We drop off the friend, get home, and then Rainbow Girl cautiously approaches me to ask me a question: "Mom" she starts timidly, "BestFriend told me that there is poo in the hamburger meat. That's why she doesn't eat those hamburgers. Is this true mom?".

Okay, wait just a second. What do you think? What would you say?




So after thinking for about 6.7 seconds, I dropped my head down so I could look her square in the eyes and said: "Yep. It's true."

"Mooom!" she starts, "Why didn't you tell me?!"



...and then an old argument I had heard once just popped out of my mouth. "Well, they make sure they cook it at a really high temperature so any bacteria that might be in there would get killed!"

Rainbow Girl says nothing. She is just looking at me, looking off into the void, wondering. I hurry off to my bedroom to fold some laundry and catch myself in the mirror. "What the hell did I just say to my kid?" I wondered to myself.

The thing is, The Mister of the House and I, we owned a movie store for 6 years. So the delicious film "Fast Food Nation" had been presented to me a few years earlier. Based on the book by Eric Schlosser, this film details the cultural, marketing, ranching, and farming fallout of the crazy consumption of the American Fast Food Meal. One scene in particular shows the Kill Floor where they process the beef. It illustrates how quickly they must get the meat through, that an occasional intestinal puncture would spill unspent shittake mushrooms onto the processing block. Minus the mushrooms part. It shows how they would be in too much of a hurry to shut down, throw out the contaminated carcass, and that instead they would just keep going and, um, incorporate all of the ingredients.

All this e.coli stuff that happens? That's from poo in the meat, right?

In the film, poo and e.coli is presented to a top dog of the industry, and in the film he counters back that the strict cooking regulations will kill any bacteria that may be present. THAT LINE, from THAT guy defending poo in the burger, is what came out of my mouth to my kid! Messed up.

So I came back to my kid and said sorry. I said it was gross and we should just stop getting those cheese ham-bow-guhrs and we went to bed. The weird thing is that THAT resolve to sign off the Fast Food burger was mine several years ago, after seeing the film "Fast Food Nation". I lasted a really really long time. The Mister tapped into his daring and risky Viking heritage and lasted a month before he ate a burger again.

And now this? Proud mom wanting a strong boy, and why had I forgotten my previous resolve? Damn them I think it's because of the Southwest Chicken Salad.

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Salad with a Digital Digest

Funny thing about eating greens every day, is that you eventually start to crave them. Weird, right? If you are increasing your greens, then you've got some extra roughage working for you. So now you have a chance to sit back and digest some media samplings as well....you know, to go with your salad.

First, a new movie in your Netflix queue. This film is the Olsen Family's FAVORITE film for 2009 and it just came out on DVD last week. It's mind-blowing creative adaptation of the Little Mermaid...and the latest from my favorite Studio Ghibli. It's Ponyo!

p.s. In case you're worried we're anime freaks...Pokemon is dumb.

My film blessed award-winning brother-in-law just sent me this all-star, always-an-Oscar movie trailer. In honor of the recent Academy Awards, and the fact that I laughed out loud multiple times while sitting alone at the computer, well, that means I think you'll enjoy this too.

A Trailer for Every Academy Award Winning Movie Ever -- powered by Cracked.com

What's your favorite film of 2009?

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Week of Love: Where's the Love?

Back in 1999, I changed my name to Mrs. Olsen and started a new life with The Mister of the House. Like most college-aged newlyweds, we started out our life with a good many gifts, but lacked major assets that made our living nomadic and even sparse. I entered the arrangement, like most newlyweds, with the mission to buy things, make things, and acquire things to eventually fill up our house and home.

Little by little, we started our path to make a home and acquire stuff! We bought used furniture and made it beautiful with tile mosaic tops. We made babies and outgrew our clothes, but saved them just in case we became lithe and fit again. We held onto the former symbols of our lives, tapestries, tape collections, and those first pair of hiking boots that took us (well me!) into The Grand Canyon.

Half a decade later, self-employed and working hard, I realized that in some ways we still felt that newlywed "climbing to the top" syndrome. We were working to make our way into our own affluent family economy, but had not yet arrived. Yet, even then we had acquired boxes and boxes and boxes of stuff!

Old torn levis to make into a quilt! Saved toys from our childhood so we could relive their glory through our offspring! Sterling silver tableware to make into a custom wind-chime! Boxes of loose pictures waiting for rounded edges and acid-free paper. Books, books, and more books from school and life and religion. Old clothes, future clothes, baby clothes, free clothes for the eventual baby boy. You name it! Basically, physical representations of my good intentions never realized.

Slowly, and as the piles grew older, I felt like all this stuff with its attending promises of action were suffocating me!

Mrs. Olsen to people, especially newlyweds: Savor sparse living! Purchase with caution, and only what you need!

Adding fuel to my new mantra is A&E's t.v. series "Hoarders". The Mister of the House and I are morbidly fascinated with it. It starts out informing you that hoarding is a psychological syndrome that has seduced more than 3 million people. It is characterized by people who can't let things go, even if it's trash, even if it's unsanitary, even if it's old and has no use. And they are drowning in this stuff. In some sad ways, I can relate to them. Boxes full of intentions that (while they have their place) are no good once they get in the way of living and loving!

Watching the show makes me thank the good Lord above that I know how to have relationships with my kids, my friends, (some readers?), and my husband....instead of nurturing relationships with things....with inanimate stuff!

So this Valentine's Day, do yourself and your loved ones a favor. Let go of that box you've been tripping over for a while, and get to making living loving memories with your special people.

Here's a teaser to the show Hoarders, watch and enjoy!

Love From,
Still too much stuff but currently have 3 major items listed online thankyouverymuch

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Wednesday Greens: Getting My Don On

Today I went to the store to stock up on Salad-ness. I sat frozen amongst all the lettuce types, and then suddenly got a hot flash. Hot flash because of Don Draper. Hot flash because of iceburg lettuce and a bygone era called "the 60's".



If you haven't heard of Mad Men, then you live in a cave. If you haven't yet watched it, then you are totally missing out. The attention to detail the cast & crew have paid towards this series has won them awards, and when you watch it you'll see proof that other planets exist not only miles away, but decades as well.

In this other planet called Mad Men, chain smoking is the norm for perfectly coifed (and pregnant) females and a round of shots before noon hits the meeting tables at work. I finally figured out that this world was devoid of delicious and ethnic foods when Don Draper, the main character, travels to California and is introduced to the unheard of and interesting food fare called Mexican food.

Aside from that, you will often find these characters ordering "A Wedge" when they're not getting slammed with a vodka. Give me a Wedge with Bleu Cheese and out comes a quarter slice of iceburg lettuce drifting through the smoky haze of the 1960's restaurant.

So today, I thought I'd try "A Wedge". Check it.



What's even funner, I ate this puppy with a steak knife! One clean crisp slice, fork, and slam it into the ole gullet.

I do declare that a wedge is fun. Even funner is this ranch dressing I discovered:


It's yogurt based and so has half the fat and calories as the other ranch versions. Yippee!

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Letter: Dear Starkadders of Cold Comfort Farm

Dear Starkadders of Cold Comfort Farm,

There's a piece of your English Countryside Farm that has always appealed to me. The fresh country air, the quaint shops a hop and skip down the country lane, and the loyal nature of your family clan. That seed of filial loyalty was the primary exploitation of your Head Matriarch, Ada Doom, who ruled her family's life and the farm from the shrouded confines of her upstairs bedroom. Any thoughts of modernization? Travel? Careers off the farm? were met with the proclamation that "There's always been Starkadders on Cold Comfort Farm" and if that didn't discourage properly, then the trump card was played: "I saw something nasty in the woodshed!"

You see I'm calling you out, because my daughter recently discovered her trump card, and she's been playing it again and again. The nasty thing she saw in the woodshed aroused my sympathies. I even wrote a nasty letter to whoever scheduled "Frosty the Snowman" and "Criminal Minds" back to back. Aside from the indecencies, the healing, comforting, and striving for cleaner entertainment, my daughter derived a sense of power from this trauma, and it's getting a little out of hand.

Exhibit One:

Rainbow Girl is hanging out with her Idaho Cousins and 11-year-old cousin wants to show her something on the internet. Ever diligent, Rainbow Girl asks permission first, and worries that it could be bad to watch. Mrs. Olsen (the mom) says Go for it! and then Rainbow Girl watches the following clip. Afterwards, she becomes the sullen female of the cousin group, and proclaims that she is sensitive. She also gets lots of extra attention and won't go to bed at night. Prepare to be damaged for life:

This coming from a kid whose favorite toddler movie was "The Nightmare Before Christmas". The thing is, she warbles her voice and calls out "MoOoom?" while she gives me a play by play for every innocent, if slightly irreverent, clip, joke, or sibling rivalry.

MoOOoom? (warbly voice of a deserted victim discovered 3 hours post-trauma)I think that the show was inappropriate.

Charlie the Unicorn? I ask.

Uh-huh.

Exhibit 2:
Desperate to refresh our favorite movie feeding off our proud Idahoan heritage, we decide to watch Napoleon Dynamite over Christmas. This was Rainbow Girl's idea, and after our day was done, we nestle in for this flick. As it begins, she reverts into watchdog and says: "Wait mom, Vanilla Wafer (age 4) probably shouldn't be watching this. I think there's some bad words." After which she kills the humor of this flick by turning to her brother after Napoleon delivers his deadpan "Idiot!" name-calling, and says "Hey. Hey. Don't say that word brother".

She gave her brother some excellent training that day.

Time for bed!
MooOom....so-and-so threw a snowball at me yesterday

Please gather the eggs!
MooOom...my cousin told me a scary joke and I can't go outside alone

You're greasy. Take a shower!MoOom...I heard a barking sound under my bed

Signed,
Watchdog parent not willing to be taken hostage by Charlie the Unicorn

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