Skagit Valley flats from the back of a Honda Magna on the 4th of July

 Not much of a post, but hey, what the hell. If you have the chance (and we blessedly often do, living mere minutes away up the foothills from them), visit Skagit county's farmlands out in NW WA, they're gorgeous and some of the last huge swathes of un-Californicated lands around here.

All About the Ol FamDamnily

So bear with me, I am at a loss for really interesting or sparklingly witty quippy bitchiness to post today, but I am (trying to be) very up on posting regularly - hopefully every day, just to get my chops... um... up to chopage? Sure! There might be some self-indulgent stuff or things that are really only interesting to me, but I think that's okay. So let's start with...

The Dudes and Little Boss dying eggs. She supervises.

There is my lovely, gorgeously long haired, delightfully goofy and all-around wonderful Husbandman. He is also known as Manwife and Professor Husbandman around here. He's not a professor, he just tells terrible jokes like a 70 year old math prof and it makes me cry.

Well, no, I just groan. But it sounds like I'm dying, it's awful all around. 

I mean, he gardens. And bakes! Happily. I can forgive a lot of bad puns for that sort of thing.

I've already done an entire post on the wonders of his awesome awesomeness that is awe-inspiring here, so we'll let you get caught up and then move onto...

Hikin'! Next year we try Squidge out on snowshoeing, yay :)

The two little pixies gnomes! Squidge/Sweetbean/Tatopie on the right. Saderator/Little Boss/Jellybean (known as Bumblebee in her fetal stages) is the small lady there, looking very burglar chic. Squidge is 7, and has recently lost his two bottom front teeth and learned to read - it's been a big year! I still see him as a tiny carrot infant in the hospital billirubin bed, squalling and being  a hellion, or as a poofy, Michellan Man lookin' little toddly man, yelling at the stove and running around nakey butted. Sigh. I do like that he can wipe his own ass now, though. I'm a big fan of that. I like that he can read now, he's always loved books, but now he has this look in his eyes like, "AHA! The mystery, she untangles. Excellent" and it really is. Very excellent.
Little Boss there has just turned two (I know, it's been a while, blogland, I apologize) and has been acting it for months now. She's wonderfully willful and independent, which can be a struggle but ultimately worth it. She's going to be an ass-kicking wonder woman of immesurable strength, I can tell... now if only I can get her to come and get dressed when I ask... and to stop licking the dog. I mean. Really. 

They're both a little odd, but that's pretty great too.

This is my family. Well, when I say my family, I mean just the four of us, plus three dogs and a cat who thinks he is the lord of the dogs, nay, a canine ninja...

Abbot and Costello (yes, seriously)

Jett! She's 17 and a lot like Big Edie.

James Kitty!

I've never been much of a cat person, and still don't consider myself one (though I've met some nice kitties here and there), but James Kittyman there is pretty much the coolest dude ever. I think I like him so much because he's got such a good personality. He's social and friendly without being smothery or gross, and he is one useful damn cat - dude catches about three mice a day, that I see, anyhow, at the height of summer mousieness. It's amazing and well worth the deworming bills. My favorite part of his Jamesness is that he thinks he's one of the dogs.
No lie. He even wrestles with Costello (cute tiny black and tan Chiweenie/Puggle on the far right).
Jett, the old lady on the far right, is my first dog I've ever had in my family. I got her when I was 10! She's never been the friendliest pup, but she is definitely the Doggiest of Dogs, especially in her energetic youth. She used to go camping, hiking, and wandering around the Cascades with my mother and me. I have a lot of excellent memories of feeding her ice cream cones after a long day hiking at the Nooksack River. Now that Jett is almost 17, she mostly hangs out on her special rug by the fire, or in a sun beam, and eating lots of table scraps (yeah, I'm awful, whatever). I'm pretty sure her big joy in life is being the grouchy old lady, yelling at the much younger Abbot and Costello to get off of her lawn.
Abbot is our giant Lab mix, he's about 1 1/2, but he's already about 90lbs. My husband always tells me, "Just wait til he fills out a little" while I look at both of them in horror. I got him thinking Labs were a bit smaller than that, but... well... he's a lumox and my best buddy. He's a sweetheart and a total mama's boy. He tries to sit in peoples laps and knocks things (and children) over with his gargantuan beaver tail. Abbot was the runt, and the fattest puppy in his litter (What's fatter than a friar? His Abbot. HAHA get it? no? that's ok it's silly), I guess I thought he'd stay smallish and fat, but I like having an energetic hike and walk partner. He's also the gentlest dog I've met, he and the tiny 12lb Costello play for hours and lay all over each other and even play tug of war! I've seen Abbot stop and adjust his grip softer, or his jumping lower, or slow down for Costello. It's amazing to see two dog buddies who are the best of friends and really hilarious looking together to boot!
Costello was an impulse addition - my parents had bought his sister (Cujo, who is half his size but lives up to her name) from a neighbor and we had to get one of her siblings. We were lucky, Costello was the last puppy left! He is a snugglebutt, with all of the gawky clumsy goofiness of a kid aged dog. He loves to battle James and annoy Jett. His new favorite hobby is climbing up on the dining table and "cleaning" it. Sigh. Yeah. He's definitely Husbandman's dog, haha!

I may spend the rest of my life chasing animals, cleaning up shedded fur and occasionally eating it, picking legos out of my heel and vaccum, yelling at kids to get their asses outside and stop pestering me, and listening to terrible, godawful puns for the rest of my life, but I think the life we have made for ourselves in the little yellow bungalow in the foothills is a pretty damned good one. In my youth, I was a pisspot and fancied an adult life with no children, no spouse and no permanent residence to tie me down. Shit happened, things shifted, I rode the waves and here we are. I'm happy with how things shook out and glad that I trusted the ride.

An Ode To Manwife and Dudes everywhere

So somehow Manwife is becoming One of Them. Or, er, us.












Manwife before "the Change"

Manwife's future, complete with freaky beard and armhair. Actually...Dick, is that you?

Now, don't be fooled by the silly pictures, this bothers me not in the slightest. It's simply amazing. My husband is the one that turns out to be the only person I've dated who shows an interest in turning a few wrenches, and isn't too bad at it. He can do manly things that I always had to do like haul appliances and fix them and cook omlettes. He shows an interest in things of a mechanical and dudely nature, like motorcycles, monster trucks, demo derbies, and tattoos. Yes. Unlike the former geeky wet blankets I dated, he shows more interest in things I like aside from proper bong cleaning and the best RPG to play for gore factor.
This is probably one thing that clued me into the huge, neon sign with an arrow pointing at him that hovered about that read KEEPER DO NOT FUCK THIS UP LADY.
The Manwife is a Dude. With a capital D, yes. Beer drinkin, cigar smokin', snowboardin', video game whuppin, lawn mowin', speed-lovin', grill-masterin', stand up guy and daddy-man-ing Dude. He is, as many of my former co-workers (which would be his present co-workers, we met at work, awwwwz) would say, A Guy's Guy. Not like a guy kept by guys, he is probably the straightest guy I've met, with no questionable sexuality issues - which were, btw not MY issues, but the formers. I'm pretty ok with cute boy kissy cute boy, even if it is my cute boy. Anyhow. Not Manwife. He is a Coloradoan almost to the core...I don't believe he fucked any bison in his day though, as many do. or is that Montana....

So it should be no surprise to me that this Dude of Dudes aspires to be a mini-Y. Biker (aka Dear ol Dad and Dude of First nations). I can think of worse role models for a fellow. Shit, I can think of worse role models for a lady, too! I wanted to be my Dad when I was growing up, and I have the facial shaving scars from when I was 6 to prove it. I was even going to be in construction like Dad, and drive hot rods and muscle cars. Then as I got older, I realized I'd end up being like his crusty ol obstinate ass whether I wanted to or not, so here I am, crusty and obstinate before my time.
But for Manwife, Dad is an important fellow Dude to have around. He is a Mentor Dude of sorts. Manwife's dad was a judge back in the tiny town he grew up in in CO (let's just say the TV show South Park is very close to reality...and geography... in that town and leave it at that), and didn't have much to do with the common folk out there, what with everyone hating him for throwing them in lockup for DUIs and posession charges. No car shows or demolition derbies or football games for MW, except for the football games he was IN. A shame, really. His dad I think was a bit distant and distracted with my crazy MIL and being the law and whatnot.
So now MW has me, and along with me comes the flock of black sheep. Mom and dad both, plus assorted "family" we've acquired, plus big bro and SIL...we're a big group of outcasts and folks that people scratch their heads and wonder what the fuck to do with, so Manwife fits in well, being the former rotten delinquent should-be-felon of significant intellect he is. It's nice MW has Dad around to remind him what being a Dude is, and that step-dads are relevant and important (yes, Dad is technically Step dad, but I am not a huge fan of Bio Dad and Dad is a bigger man in that dept so there we are), and that bike building is a good way to channel those former delinquent tendencies in adulthood.

Bike parts stripped and sanded by MW, painted by daddy-o

So here's to you, Manwife, Dude of Dudes and husband of awesomeness. Way to not be a douche and be a great goddamned Dad. Congratulations on your bike endorsement!