Applesauce & Anniversaries

In our travels the other day we ran across a neigborhood sign...'Free Apples'. Cue Bat-Turn onto the street to follow the signs!

The man handing out the apples had two trees that had produced a truly gargantuan number of apples, he had them in large brown grocery bags lining his driveway--Red and Yellow Delicious varieties. Most were smaller because he said he hadn't gotten to thinning the fruit off the trees that year (been there, done that), and combined with a bumper crop year he was anxious to get rid of the things while they were still good.

After we got done petting his cool old Basset mix dog and visiting with him, we bagged up a bunch in exchange for a promise of more bags (he had run out and still had a ton of apples to bag up) and some eggs from our hens. So we trucked home the apples and ran back over with the eggs and bags...

Next was to set to work making applesauce! It came out great--I peeled and cored the apples and popped them into the slow cooker for about 6 hours with a few spices and a bit of vanilla. The house smelled wonderful! We kept some of the finished products out to eat and froze the rest of it, applesauce is terrific for adding to cookie dough to sweeten and moisten it. Yay for neighbors who share their windfalls!


Also this week was the 20th anniversary with that darling husband of mine, double yay! I wanted something a bit special and unique for an anniversay gift this year (anyone who hangs with me for that long deserves a prize) so the kid and I went shopping and found ourselves at Cheshire Antiques, a cool multi-seller antique shop here in town. After wandering around the store a bit I got an idea--to create a '20' out of various objects, kind a build-it-yourself 20th anniversary gift!

I scavenged a large number '2', a road sign number set with reflectors...but could find nothing to serve as a '0'. The staff pitched in to help me--the store has a second story that I cannot access since I can't climb stairs due to chronic gimpiness. Two employees went up there and one of the ladies came back down with several objects and I settled on a HEAVY glass and brass porthole cover.

Great, I've got my 20!  Hmmm, now for something to mount it on...a bit more prowling and I discovered a box full of fruit crate end pieces, including one with a 'Pure Gold' paper label on it--perfect! To top it all off I had a gift certificate in my purse that I'd been hauling around for about 5 years--in the past everything I've wanted at Chesire has been either $4 or $400 so the certificate had gone unused. Today was it's day to shine, and I ended up paying 35 cents out of pocket. Thanking the store staff for their awesome service we left.

Now off to Meek's hardware store, also here in town, to put it all together! Luckily the number 2 and the porthole cover already had perfect mounting holes in them, I figured if I bought the hardware, the folks at the store might be kind enough to drill a couple of holes in the fruit crate box end so that I could take the parts home and assemble them. Figuring out the hardware we needed was a bit tricky since the '2' was MUCH thinner than the '0' so would require shorter bolts. And the brass-and-glass porthole cover for the '0' was MUCH heavier so would need beefier hardware to hold it on...The kid and I were standing in front of Meek's wall 'o hardware bits juggling parts when one of the employees happened by and asked if we needed help...boy did we ever! I knew what I wanted but couldn't reach some of the stuff--their display had been designed for people taller than I so OF COURSE I couldn't see the exact parts I needed...ain't that always the way?

It was a slow time for the store, so by now several employees had appeared. One of the guys kind of took over the project and hauled all my stuff to the front of the store where he spread everything out on a worktable so we could assemble everything. I'd asked if they could just drill three holes for me, but the guy ended up actually building my 20th anniversary gift to completion! Once they started and ran back and forth getting the right hardware they got so enthused I didn't have the heart to stop them, they got so into it...plus they know their products best so I went with their recommendations. They even had lovely brass hardware to match the porthole cover! The Meek's folks were so kind, I explained that because my hands were messed up I couldn't hold a drill any more so they just charged me a few bucks for the hardware--small towns are wonderful!

But damn if between all of us if it didn't work out, go together in the end and turn out AWESOME!
And here's the finished gift!

It was just one of those times where fate smiled on me, people I didn't even know went above and beyond the call pitched in to help me and everything just kind of weirdly fell together.
J. likes it, now to hang it on the wall!

How Chickens Do Halloween

The other day the kid and I went out and wormed the chickens...a good time had by all, as always. In two weeks we get to do it again, as you must to catch any hatching worm eggs and break the cycle. Some of the implements of chickeny terror:

Broad-spectrum paste wormer, which kills everything, both mixed with water to be given orally and applied straight to that little bare spot in each wing pit and masssaged in, so:

 Chickens do not appreciate a wing pit massage and resist this procedure. Especially proud pretty bois like Milton, here.

Dog toenail cutter to trim any claws/spurs that need it and Adams Flea and Tick mist, sprayed liberally deep into the No Man's Land of chicken butts (where angels fear to tread, sister) and fluffy thighs and feet to take care of any mites. Since the kid holds the bird while I do all these things to the chickens, I am also free of worms and/or mites since I never fail to get that stuff on me. Not pictured: the goodie dish holding bits of diced ham, a few pieces given to each bird at the completion of worming along with a sincere apology...and boy, you'd better make it sound good, they can tell the difference.

But what the hey, it was also a good time to get a few pictures of pissy chickens!

Because most of the time when you try to photograph chickens while doing the semi-annual worming, they know what's coming and get all snotty and squirmy, so you wind up with pics of thrashing poultry like this one of Tater Tot:

It was also a good time to update on Blossom, my half-Silkie who this year decided to start shedding toes like a maple tree in Fall. We figured it was frostbite from last winter and her toes waited until months later to actually fall off.
Blossom *had* ten toes--Silkies have 5 toes on each foot instead of 4 like normal chickens. Blossom being a little weirdo from the get-go, she had two of her toes fused together at hatch, the two rear-facing toes of her left foot. I expected for her to have problems with *those* toes, if she ever did have foot troubles...

Nope. Weirdo mutant fused toes are just fine, as is ONE other toe. Blossom has shed all of the rest of her toe tips, though.
Even worst, she did this while staying in the house recovering from another injury...all of a sudden I started finding the ends of her toes, claw and all, lying in the middle of the living room.
FREAKY.
To make things even MORE gruesome, I never found two of her toes. Either the dog ate them or they are lying in wait somewhere in my house for me to have forgotten all about it and then pop up someday.
ICK. Zombie Chicken.

Speaking of zombies...
Happily, some of the other chickens posed nicely for head shots. Although I didn't realize until later that my daughter's zombie bunny Tshirt had lined up perfectly...

 Cam, my big Americaunas/Giant Cochin mix Head Rooster doin' the zombie bunny thing...

Several others got in on it.

 Pie, an Americaunas/Buff Brahma mix hen

 Tater Tot again, (once she calmed down) a bantam Cochin/MilleFleur Belgian d'Uccle mix hen

...and Rambo, the Head Hen, a 7 year old buff Brahma hen who is WAY too dignified to wear zombie bunny ears and is NOT amused by all this tomfoolery.

Something Icky This Way Comes 3: Butterscotch Zucchini Seal Burp Balls

Finally getting to the back of this wretched recipe box...

I was amused to find a bunch of recipes that used zucchini, all dating from the time when my dad decided we were going to put in a big raised-bed garden.
When I was a kid my dad was huge into fruit and vegetable gardening, we also raised rabbits, turkeys and chickens for meat and eggs (and a few as pets). Our family did the self-sustaining urban farming thing long before it was hip.
We did all our own growing, harvesting and canning, ditto for processing animals for table.
My dad, being thrifty, would get enormous packets of zucchini seeds. And not being wasteful, he couldn't stand to only plant what we needed and toss the rest.

So he'd plant ALL the seeds.

And anyone who's grown zucchini knows what a damned weed it is. Pretty shortly you've got so much zucchini that you consider building another room onto the house just for squash storage. To make things even more fun, it all comes ripe in the same few short weeks.
The kicker in our area was that all of the other people in our town grew zucchini as well. And my dad, being thrifty...well, he couldn't bear to throw away all that thrice-damned zucchini.
We all liked zucchini...but criminy.
So here are a few of the zucchini recipes my mom had gleefully hoarded, no doubt prized for the sheer volume of squash they used up.

Spicy Zucchini Wheat Bread. Hmmm...OK. Looks alright but has a high, fussy PITA value as it's labor intensive; the entire back of the recipe card was heavily notated. And only uses 1 1/2 cups of the damned squash.

Zucchini Pancakes..ooh..these use a respectable 2 cups of squash and could be nice for breakfast with some butter and syrup--wait, what? Salt, pepper and catsup?!

Greek Zucchini and Macaroni...ulp. Better, uses 3 cups of the stuff. But some of these ingredients in the 70's in our small town may as well have been on the moon.

NOW we're talkin'! Each of these bad boys uses 4 CUPS of the demon squash. Although how in the Hell zucchini and horseradish are considered Dutch Relish I have NO idea. The Zucchini Olive Salad is just a giant bowl of diced squash with a tiny amount of dressing mixed into it, this 'recipe' clearly is saying, "Just shut up and shovel this stuff down your neck already, we're drowning in zucchini, here!"

But getting back to the weirdo recipes still lurking in this tin box...

Not To Be Outdone stage 3...Tupperware parties were where it was at in the 70's. When my mom had hers, the Tupperware rep passed out 'recipes' that hinged on using your new Tupperware (pretty sharp for back then, huh?).
But when I first ran across these odd little slips of orange paper, it took me a minute to figure out the strange notations.

Seal? Burp? Shake into little balls?! Has Bettie been into the sandpaper bread wine?!

Seal, wink and shake sounds like a series of country line dance moves. Now, everybody grapevine!
And oh yeah, using 7Up in everything was quite the thing for a while, too. It was a very odd, embarassing time to be alive.

On the subject of desserts, how about some Spicy Ice Cream Pie? Applesauce cake mix and maple nut ice cream. Then frost that mess. Another fussy, demanding, PITA recipe that orders you around. Up yours, weird piecake!

Again, I sense that this recipe singlehandedly tanked both applesauce cake mix AND maple nut ice cream.

Moving on to Peanut Butter Fruit Squares! A lovely desert that...uh...wait, what the Hell IS this glop?
One bite and all your teeth would fall out, I swear.

Ribbon Fantasy Fudge..which sounds like it's giving the recipe above some serious competition when it comes to speed-rotting your teeth. And secret ingredient, my eye--I think that marshmallow creme was invented strictly for it's ability to freak out the person who's eating anything made with it, so that they cough, choke and gasp, "I ate WHAT?!"

This is all too modern. We should get back to basics.
Like Steamed Pudding, right? Right...?
I admit, it's hard to find the ground suet department in the grocery store. And you wouldn't think something old-fashioned, when women's time was at a premium and they were usually cooking dinner, nursing a baby, churning butter and repairing the roof all at the same time, would end up being yet another fussy, demanding, pay attention to meeeee kinda recipe, yet there this one is.

On the plus side, it includes a recipe for Hard Sauce...
Wait--NO IT DAMNED WELL DOESN'T. I see NO booze there what so freakin' ever.

Sigh...
Where's that sandpaper bread wine...

Y'know, eventually ya just say the Hell with it and make things like Butter Sticks.

Ahhh...my old nemesis, Bisquick. Just me, thee, a stick of butter and some cold water. A meal in itself.

I think for dessert I'll make a Butterscotch Yule Log.

But why bother with cutting it into slices when you can just peel back that waxed paper, plonk down in front of the TV and gnaw on that bad boy?

Pass the sandpaper wine, would ya?

Something Icky This Way Comes 2: Mayo And Tuna And Meat, Oh My!

Welp, let's move on to main dishes!
Spicy Beef Cesspool Casserole, sporting a breathtaking FIVE teaspoons of bouillon in this indigestable salt bomb. Just to make sure they've added green chilies, if the sodium don't get ya the sleep dep from the late-night heartburn will.

The combination of stewed tomatoes AND taco sauce only serve to make this look like a crime scene. Obligatory Bisquick wads wonderously made even worst with the addition of cornmeal, rigidly spaced.

OK, maybe something simple. I know, Macaroni and Cheese!

Wait...what?! A freaking CUP of stuffed green olives?! And the 'cheese' is a combination of parmesan and 'grated' American cheese?! What planet did this recipe originate on?!

Well...maybe Pork Chops with Cheese Biscuits will save the day...

Or not. The meat is either slathered in melted chocolate or suffocating in a Bisquick and bouillon glaze Hell. Want to bet which it is? The impenetrable biscuithenge wall surrounding the meat like it's a ritual sacrifice is a nice touch though, props to the photog...

Sigh.
How about a sandwich? Maybe a nice Reuben Foldover...? TWO CUPS of Bisquick in this bad boy.

For extra fun tell your kids you've made homemade pizza pockets and watch them bite into a corned beef & sauerkraut nightmare of epic proportions! Just make sure to lay down a tarp first.

Mushroom Cheese Appetizers, anyone? Willing to bet that the 'extra fuss' will be in the ER around 2AM when the winning combination of sausage, onion and that whopping 3/4 of a cup of mayonnaise kicks in.

These were the kind of thing that after the party the hostess would be finding for weeks tucked into the potted plants and hidden behind the knick-knacks on the mantle.

Mayonnaise, like Jello and tuna, was a staple of the 1970's, no dish was complete without it. As proof I give you...BLT Dip!
Yeah baby...a metric ton of mayo, a touch of sour cream and bacon. A meal in itself.

And should your sodium levels fall dangerously low...never fear, scoop that glop up with potato chips!
Why was it the life expectancy rate was so low in the 1970's...?

Get ready--it's time for Mayo2: The Queasyning! See if you can spot a theme, here...
And the Bisquick is back. Hello darkness, my old friend...

Layered Tuna Bake. Or, how to combine a bunch of perfectly fine-on-their-own ingredients into the culinary equivelant of Mr. Hyde.
If it helps, just envision a hot tuna fish sandwich. With cheese.
Yeah...there it is. Lordy, where's that wine from the sandpaper bread?!

Oh...I'm sorry, that last was nothing like a hot tuna fish sandwich that's been left in the package tray of a '52 Buick for 8 hours on an August day in Death Valley.
This one is. Tuna Cheese Braid! Yay!

This hot mess clocks in with a 1/2 cup of mayonaise. Hot mayonaise, keep in mind. Willing to bet that the white wine in this recipe is for the chef to drink just to get through making this oven-baked nightmare.

Deep Dish Taco Squares.
When I was a kid I saw a Star Trek episode that featured a burrowing creature that suffered burns and looked just like this. So I think I'll reinvent this as Horta Casserole.

Only 1/2 a pound of ground beef, but between the 1/2 cup of sour cream, the 1/2 cup of mayo and the 1/2 cup of cheese, your arteries have seen their last sunset. Life finds a way, and so does Bisquick.

Only one more post to go. Hang in there.

Something Icky This Way Comes...

So today I was trying to hunt down a recipe and ran across a little metal recipe box I'd given my mom years ago that has now made it's way back to me. Today was the first time I'd looked through it...and man, mom had some weird shit in there!

Thank heaven she loved us, as I can honestly say I have NEVER tasted any of these recipes. And once I post them here, they will be burned at midnight at the new moon, the ashes buried with 18 cloves of garlic, a vial of holy water and the earth salted so that nothing ever grows there again. I may rig up some kind of black sarcaphogus to bury them in, actually...

Join me as we dive headlong into the 1970's...that ugly time of Jello, mayonnaise, Bisquick and tuna. Frequently mixed together.

Buckle up, kids...this Pandora's Lunchbox was FULL of recipes so I'm gonna space this out over three posts.

The little recipe box was put out by the Bisquick folks, so naturally it was top-heavy with every Bisquick recipe under the sun and then some. And food styling was...um...to be kind, in it's infancy. So yeah, the pictures are genuinely nauseating and what's worse, are I'm sure an honest depiction of the end product of the recipe.

Like Italian Casserole!
Seems fairly harmless, just one of those 'Meh, dump everything in a big dish, lump some wads of Bisquick on it and you're good to go' things...until you come to the screeching halt that is...a layer of American cheese slices.

Which does not belong?

Not to be outdone is Italian Chili with Dumplings!
YES, I said 'Italian Chili'. This mess looks suspiciously like someone just grabbed some ingredients out of the pantry while blackout drunk and threw it in a pan...but it's not the worst offender in that area today, believe me.

With the requisite Bisquick wads, of course. Notice that nowhere in this recipe is chili used or mentioned other than the nonsensical title.

Not To Be Outdone 2, The Sickening : Block Party Beans!
Now we're talkin'! There's that pantry dump to use up those cans of weird shit that have been lurking back there since time itself began. It's like a scavenger hunt of every canned legume known to man. I give it an 8 out of 10, two points deducted for forgetting the Jelly Bean/Coffee Bean garnish.

That'll teach Karen from down the street to leave you off the Block Party Planning Committee ever again, that bitch...

Apricot Prune Upside Down Cake!
Surprised, aren't you? Didn't know that cake could be depressing and sad, did you? Dried apricots. Dried prunes. Lurking Bisquick. It's like some dusty, weirdo survival food that even the Donner Party would reject.

I'm sure the reason for leaving the pan over the cake for a few minutes is so your children don't burst into tears of despair when you announce you've made a cake...and they are then greeted with this slimey mess.
Note: as with the chili-less Italian 'chili', there is no cake in this 'cake'.

But what, I ask you, WHAT are the 1970's without a Jello mold or two? Or twenty?
Molded Vegetable Relish, the perfect alternative to that unholy apricot-prune thing that made your children need 16 years of therapy. Just when lime Jello seems like an acceptable alternative to dried fruit and Bisquick wads, fill that sucker to the brim with chopped vegatables, every child's favorite! No eating around them, kids!

Because who doesn't love 'em some lime Jello paired with green peppers? Both green, right? OK, we're good. Just make sure you make this abomination in a bicycle helmet, as shown.

Barf in a bike helmet not your thing? Well you're in luck, 'cause we've also got Molded Chef's Salad!*
Retch along with me as we explore the wonders of Lemon Jello, vinegar, strips of cheese, HAM (I shit you not), onions and more of that goddamned ever-present green pepper.
The best part about this picture is the Glaive-like shape of the finished product. Who knew they had Jello on Krull?

*Few actual Chef's Salad ingredients, sorry.

But wait, don't decide until you've seen Frozen Fruit Salad!
IT'S SCREAMING AT ME. I'm...I'm not the only one who sees a happy, screaming face in there, am I...? Good. *whew*  Also, this thing is the color of Spam.

 Fun game: cover the lettuce up, show this pic to friends and ask them: Jello mold or fancy artisan soap bar?

Last but not least in the land of Jello...
Creamy Fruit Salad! 
Apricot Jello + mayonaise = Flesh fruit salad. JESUS TAKE THE WHEEL

 I *did* warn you about the mayonaise thing. Willing to bet that the flesh tones of this biopsy-on-a-plate singlehandedly meant the death of apricot-flavored Jello.

Not your thing, either? How about Jolly Gelatin Gem Cake?

Oh...haha...did we say 'cake? Silly us, again; no actual 'cake is present, sorry. Closest you're gonna get is a soggy layer of graham cracker crumbs entombed in an acre of butter.

Well, if you can't have cake, how about some Parmesan Wine bread?
No, it's not just you, that shit straight-up looks like particle board. Or 15 grit sandpaper. Use any leftovers to refinish your outdoor deck. Just reading the recipe makes me feel like I've got a lump of that dry shit clogging my gullet. Dry, dry, dry.

Even the saucy promise of a bit of naughtiness with the wine is cruelly yanked away with the suggestion to use apple juice instead. Why not complete the trifecta of dry, dour and depressing and just use vinegar? The Jello folks certainly didn't shy away from vinegar when push came to shove, buddy.
Bisquuuiick...

Never fear, there are other breads!
No. It is. It is SO bread, it says it's bread. Sesame Cheese Casserole Bread! Although no way is that a mere 3 tablespoons of sesame seeds crusted onto that doorstop. Maybe it's Halloween and it's just cosplaying a curling stone that has escaped from Canada...?

 I'll bet I could use this sucker to scour that stubborn algae out my birdbath...

Next up: we dig deeper and enter into a horrible, inhuman combination.


*Bisquick*

Not Today, Satan

Me: OK, so I have to reformat this 500+ page book for the publisher...

Word: OK I’LL ONLY PRETEND TO MAKE CHANGES THO

Me: What? No. I changed the ‘Normal’ template! Just DO it!

Word:  SORRY NOT GONNA HOLD YER CHANGES. SUCKS TO BE YOU LOL

Me: Why?! I did everything I was supposed to, I’ve checked it 5 times now! I even changed the off-the-beaten-track weirdo ‘extra’ places Microsoft throws in just to get a laugh. JUST KEEP THE CHANGES.

Word: AHAHA NO. GO QUESTWANDER THE INTERNET FOR AN HOUR GROVELING FOR HELP WHILE YOUR BRAIN TURNS TO OATMEAL

Me: *an hour later* OK, everyone says I have to dig into MSWord’s guts and make scary irreversible changes...WHAT?! You STILL won’t, you pig?!

Word: WELCOME TO MICROSOFT HELL. TELL YOU WHAT, I’LL MAKE SOME OF THE CHANGES BUT I’M GONNA MAKE YOU GO THROUGH THIS 500+ PAGE MANUSCRIPT AND CHECK  EVERY PARAGRAPH TO MAKE SURE THE FORMATTING TOOK. AND I’LL ALSO SWITCH BACK AND FORTH  FOR NO DISCERNIBLE REASON SO STAY FROSTY FOR THE NEXT 12 HOURS WITH THOSE BLOODSHOT EYES OF YOURS WHILE YOU TRY TO MAINTAIN YOUR SANITY

Me: X*$#!@ 

Word: *holds up other shoe preparing to drop it*

Me: WHAT?! Why are you now randomly changing periods to commas?! And what’s with the random double spaces and ignoring paragraph breaks you unholy monster?! Right hand to God, I’ll pry open this computer case and FIND YOU.

Word: *throws in extra lines of text, leaves others OUT wholesale* OH LOOK HERE COMES A THUNDERSTORM TIME FOR ME TO LOSE POWER AND EAT 2/3 OF THIS BAD BOY. LOL YOU WANTED TO REWRITE THIS BITCH FROM SCRATCH, RIGHT?

Me: Yeah, well up yours Word, I have the original backed up AND I’m working with a copy so my original is SAFE. You can’t break me!

Word: *evil chuckle* ISN’T THE SEQUEL YOU WROTE TO THIS ONE TWICE AS LONG...? YEAH, BABY...THERE IT IS...I LOVE THE TEARS OF A WRITER...

WAIT...WHAT’S THAT CAN OPENER FOR?!

Satan's Carpet Cleaner

One thing my father taught me was to love a good, well-made appliance. Towards that end I have no trouble whatsoever paying good money for something--but once I have, you bet that damned thing better work.

Once such item is my monster Bissell carpet cleaner. With our Nevada snowy winters, decomposed granite (DG) dirt that cheerfully sticks in the tread of your shoes until you come inside and our various animals, this thing isn't a luxury item, it's a damned necessity.

I call mine the Big Beast.

I got it at the same time we bought the house 6 years ago once I saw the state of the carpets here. Based on the amount of dog hair and DG the Big Beast has pulled up out of the carpet I strongly suspect the previous tenants had simply left the window of the master bedroom open and allowed several large dogs to come and go through it as they willed, year round.

By the way, the Bissell 'Pet Urine Remover' solution in fact, looks suspiciously like...well...

The Big Beast has served me faithfully ever since. This thing could pull Satan himself up from Hell through my carpet, it's that strong.  When you turn it on you have to warn anyone else in the house that you are about to do so because this thing is mind-rattlingly LOUD. Using it gives you such a 'RAWR!' feeling that you know what Ripley must have felt when she climbed into that Cat Power Loader and battled the Alien Queen. I may have actually blown kisses at it when I do my Spring cleaning after Chickam is through and my house is a wreck. I love it.

When it works.

When it does NOT, it never fails that the thrice-accursed thing fails spectacularly, vomiting several gallons of filthy water all over my carpet or even more fun, haha, laying down scads of soapy water and then refusing to suck it back up.

And does it do this right at the outset, you ask?

Of course it bloody doesn't. It's sneaky. It waits until it's lulled you into a false sense of security and you're halfway through your whole-house cleaning job. When you've put in your earbuds and turned on your music player so you don't have to endure it's loud, throaty roar as it's foaming maw attacks your carpets. When you've fallen into the mindlessness of carpet cleaning.

Then you realize--I haven't had to empty the dirty water receptacle yet. And I should have had to empty it at least twice by now, shouldn't I...? Because that's the other fun thing about using the Big Beast--you use it so seldom that it's easy to forget the finer points.

I long ago learned the operate the Big Beast barefoot in order to make sure that 1. It's putting down soapy water and 2. That it's picking it back up again. I know by know that the carpet should have a certain degree of wetness after I've used the cleaner on it and no more.

I check with my feet. The carpet squelches, it's too wet.

Damn, damn, DAMN. I unload the two water containers--no fool I, I'm not gotta tip this thing upside down with them in place and spill them, I learn. I tip the thing over and no surprise, it's loaded to the gills with dirt and dog hair--some of it from our dog over the winter, but a lot of it still from the previous tenant's dogs, which are the gift that keeps on giving even 6 years later. Armed with several tools I pulls clots of gunk out of the machine, and the levels of nastiness they have attained are stunning.

It's clean again, huzzah. Now it should work.
Nope, the rollers won't turn. Huh. it must be that when the rollers don't turn it won't suck up water.

OK, I go in again and see that hair has lined the rollers where one of the belts goes and is obviously keeping the roller from turning. I spend another cheery half hour muttering bad language, throttling back my disgust and carefully cleaning out the hair...and try it again.

It should work.
Nope...the rollers still won't turn.

Wrestle it over on it's back again like the 600 pound Gallapagos turtle that it is and check. Oh joy, one of the belts is broken.
Who wants to bet if I can find a new belt in our small town! Anyone...?

Bingo, Amazon it is. Two days later I have my belts. Belts, I say, because I've lived with me long enough by now to know that if I only get ONE of the one that is broken either the OTHER belt will break or the new belt will snap going on. So I cut to the chase and buy two of each belt, thus ensuring that I will NEVER have to change a belt on the Big Beast again.

New belt goes on. Rollers turn. Huzzah again, this should fix the problem.
Nope. It still won't suck up that damned water.
It has more than one problem at once, I now know. Time to bust out the $2 cuss words.

By now I'm grimly stomping through the house armed with several screwdrivers, covered head to toe in disgusting dirty water and sick to death of wrestling the Big Beast. I've gone through the 6 stages of Carpet Cleaning: Shock, denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. I've seriously considering stabbing it to death with the screwdrivers I've used to take off the covers again and again, aiming for wherever the word 'easy' appears on the stupid labels. I've begged the Carpet Gods to just make it work for this last 6 foot square section so I can be done. I've threatened the thing with death by backing my '69 Plymouth over it. I've been mucking about with this hellbeast for almost 5 days now. Nothing has worked.

The Big Beast has spent most of it's time in this state:

It's taken to leaving nasty, dirty wet spots that I suspect may forever be a part of the carpet. And while we're on the subject, who the HELL lays beige carpet in a part of the country where it snows?

Husband and I stare at Big Beast wondering what it wants. I wouldn't put human sacrifice beyond it at this point. Then I see it.
"Wait--" I say. "What is that?! That wasn't there before was it?"

Husband says he has no idea. I suspect the thing is spontaneously generating weird new parts just to gaslight me. Nevertheless, since it claims to be a filter we fuss the thing open and clean it (it wasn't dirty but we do it anyway because we are firmly in the 'bargaining' stage). That'll fix it!

It doesn't.
Also, the rollers have stopped turning again.

"FIRE UP THE PLYMOUTH!" I roar at my husband. I'm backing over this SOB right now and I'll bet I can sell tickets to other homeowners at this point. I'm so exhausted and permanently filthy I'm feeling positively maniacal and I swear I'm foaming at the mouth. Don't get it on the carpet, I remind myself.

Instead I take a deep breath and turn to the Internet, making sure to use the proper search parameters..

It is absolutely NO surprise to me that 'Motherfucking' and 'Bissell' work together.

I watch several official Bissell videos for 'loss of suction'. All say the same thing and address Dumbshit 101 areas such as: make sure the tanks are seated properly, make sure it's plugged in, etc. Because by the time you resort to the Internet you haven't checked those things already 900 times, haha. All the videos offer to sell you new, expensive replacement parts. More really bad language is directed at the makers of the videos.

Finally, finally...I run across a little post in an out-of-the-way forum where someone mentions the little trap door in the uptake tank...it has a filter screen behind it that can become clogged.

Away I fly to the kitchen where I've got the Big Beast apart to check...

HALLELUJAH BROTHERS, THERE'S THE PROBLEM. I swear if the person who posted that was standing before me I'd kiss them square on the mouth. The thing is gunked up. I clean it and discover, printed on the inside of the flap door, a message to clean this area regularly--printed inside the flap so that you cannot see it when the flap is closed.

Imps and demons of Hell are loudly and vocally directed at whoever designed this particular aspect of Big Beast. More abuse is heaped upon the heads of the makers of Bissell videos that never mention this little hidden filter screen.

I take the thing out to the living room to show it to my husband, shaking the thing under his nose and griping loudly the entire time. "Look at this! Why would they print that where you can't see it?!"

He doesn't know, but he does know he doesn't want me to hold it over him and let it drip on him. One filthy human at a time, please. I run off cackling with glee at the prospect of someday NOT being entrapped in the eternal chore of carpet cleaning like Prometheus having his liver pecked out by eagles for all time.

I replace all the parts to the Big Beast, mutter a serious threat at the carpet cleaning gods and flip the switch.

WE HAVE ROLLERS TURNING AND SUCTION!

I'm past crying for joy, I'm up to growling, "Damn well BETTER, too!"

Now, of course, I have to start all over from the beginning because my carpets are laden with soap.

The Chicks Are Two Months Old!

This weekend will be the 8 week mark, in 3 days the chicks will go outside to live with the big chickens and Chickam will end for this year. All of this is weather permitting as we have had a REALLY wet, thunderstormy Spring this year. And putting baby chickens out in a thunderstorm just seems...well, mean.

After the chicks go out we will, of course, be putting the cam out on weekends (again, weather permitting) for Saturday or Sunday Chickams using the same YouTube channel that show the adult birds out in the chicken yard during the day, we'll announce these on our Chickam Twitter account. As we can get them we'll be giving the chickens things like watermelons and pumpkins to eat, plus the Wheel Of Food, which is always fun.

But anyway, here are updated chick pics of the two month old chicks! We hatched 5 bantam Cochin eggs I got off ebay and 3 eggs from our flock. We seem to have ended up with 4 boys and 4 girls this year.

In order of hatch, the first is Nora.

And yes, in full 'derp' mode. Because he's a rooster named Nora. Nora is a chick from our flock, I suspect that Sprinkles is mama and possibly Groot is daddy.

Next is Fireball, another rooboy, a bantam Cochin hatched from eggs I got off ebay. Fire wins the 'Gigantic Comb' award and is VERY talkative and friendly.

Bobo, another bantam Cochin, a hen. Bobo wins the 'Boneless Chicken' award this year and only wanted to melt into a puddle of chicken during picture time. The kid had to prop her up.

Sadly Bobo has molted out her superhero mask and white butt feathers, however she does had the odd white-tipped feather here and there.

Luna, another bantam Cochin hen--Luna was the chick who had pipped the wrong end of her egg and had to be assisted a bit. She's grown into a BIG ol' honkin chick.

Now Pongo, a rooboy chick from our flock. Pongo appears to have Milton, our bantam roo for a daddy and probably Tater Tot for mom.

Gumdrop (who I insist on calling 'Gumball' for some reason, probably because she's just so round), a bantam Cochin hen. Gumdrop LOVES to bite me. Probably because I am stupid and can't get her name right.

Pickle, a bantam Cochin hen. Pickle is a fearless girl who INSISTS on being petted, NOW.

Lastly is Zuul, a rooboy from our flock. Zuul probably has Milton for a daddy and Star the Red Star hen for mama.

Zuul also channeling the derp.

We had our first non-thunderstorming weekend since the hatch, so the chicks spent the day in the small run getting used to the great outdoors and letting the big chickens know that new chicks are incoming.

Meet & Greet time! As always, there was much staring.

Two hens outside the wire, Star the Red Star on the outside and half of Shake the MilleFleur Belgian d'Uccle.

Milton the  d'Uccle/bantam Cochin mix roo outside. He crowed, taking credit for ALL those babies.

Queen Elizabeak the white Light Brahma/Leghorn mix, Alice the Barred Rock, Shake on the far left POINTEDLY IGNORING the babies in disgust and the rear end of Beauty, our 12 year old Americaunas/bantam mix hen. 

Hens on the outside looking in. Sprinkles the Americanas/Kraeinkoppe mix and Bruce the black mottled Belgian d'Uccle

Groot, the Dark India Cornish Rock roo lookin' at his offspring, and old lady Beauty again.

Pong, the 15 year old white Frizzle cochin hen. Pong has done these Meet & Greets so many times it's all routine by now.

Just not impressed.

Getting Cam to come over to pose with the babies.
TRYING to get Cam to come over. The kid is an expert chicken wrangler by now.

He was afraid of them. This is the Head Roo, the chief protector of the flock, mind you.

Cam JUST GET OVER HERE FOR A SECOND SO I CAN TAKE YOUR PICTURE. For cry-yi...

This was as close as he'd get. After this he ran over to be with his hens. Probably figured that the mama hen was somewhere nearby and he was in for a broody mama-style butt whoopin'.