Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Who has a sweet tooth worse than Santa Claus?
I got up at 5:00 a.m. this morning and I've been hustling about doing laundry, dishes, etc. like any other morning but somehow I just can't seem to make myself get dress. I'm still in my pajamas, wool sweater, and the snow boots I put on right before my husband left for work before six this morning. Yes, snow boots.
I couldn't find my house shoes and when I spied these comfy warm snow boots on my chilly wood bedroom floor, they began calling to my cold feet. It was only suppose to be a temporary fix but when I slipped them on and they enveloped my feet in soft pillowy warmth, I just couldn't take them off even when I finally found my house shoes underneath the computer desk. Then as I've carried my Kleenex box from work station to work station, I've come to the conclusion that some part of me deserves to be comfortable. Right now, that's my feet.
If your wondering why the major photo cropping. It's because I don't want you to see my messy Kleenex strewn room. I haven't gotten around to straightening it yet.
Your right. I'm a big baby. I'm never sick with flu or colds. In fact, a little over a week ago, I spent two days holding my grand daughters who all had the swine flu. Did I get sick? No! So this cold is all my doctor's fault. He took me off my thyroid medications for a week to run some tests and my systems down. Now I feel like the elf, Grumpy. No, that was a dwarf wasn't it? Oh well, Santa amongst his throng of elves probably has one that's pretty grumpy like me.
If my writing sounds rather plugged nosed and nasally. Please ignore the sniffling sounds in the background of my clicking keys, I'm doing my best. And those of you that are out and about today, if you see Santa Claus be sure and tell him my doctor deserves to go on his naughty list. I'll supply the coal for his stocking. My husband is bringing a load home today for our stove.
Oh, my look at the clock! It's time to do chores. Ten o'clock may seem a bit late but I'm only milking once a day now. The fresh water I give the critters freezes up immediately if I go any earlier. Plus, the hens haven't all laid there eggs until mid morning. Depending on where they lay them, they have a chance of freezing so I have to gather eggs before night. So pardon me for a little while but I'll be back to talk about the title, And You Thought You Had a Sweet Tooth!
Now should I keep my pajamas on or put on my wool Swiss Army pants, with my wool hat and my...
Oh dear, I just now noticed. The Santas in the photo say NEOL. When I checked to see where the photo was that spelled the word correctly- NOEL - it was missing. I must of deleted it when I was clearing out some of the photos in my blog files. My brain is getting foggier my the minute. Just a quick note. These Santas were given to my husband and his brothers for Christmas by their Aunt Mabel and they'd fill them with milk. Along with a plate of cookies these mugs were set out for Santa on Christmas Eve.
Now that leads me to my subject for the day. What has a sweet tooth worse than Santa Claus? No, not you or me. Definitely not my second to the oldest sister no matter what she claims. She's too skinny.
Why honey bees. Our two hives had a really rough summer. Just as the blossoms got going along came hoards of grasshopper devouring everything in sight. This fall we brought the hives off the prairie and began feeding them sugar water. Yet, I don't think they will have enough even with my help last fall so I ordered feeders that go inside the hive.
Feeders for inside the hives. I hope they fit.
It's only forty degrees outside but our forecast is for colder temperatures and this day is probably about it. So despite it not being fifty or over like recommended in I go. Wish me luck. When you get into a bees hive in the winter they aren't often friendly since they think you're a robber. If it gets real exciting, I'll write about it Friday. Oh, I hope not.
I'm back. Just thought I'd tell you. It was like being Santa and handing out candy canes to a room full of children. Those bees came alive when they smelled the sugar water and raced for it. So much for the literature telling me to leave a honey trail to it. These girls know what sugar water is!