Day 1

I want chocolate.
I want chocolate.
I want chocolate.
I want chocolate.

Oh, sorry.

It's Day 1 of this cleanse.  So far, I think I have complained to anyone who will listen about how hungry I am.  It's only Day 1.  And I seriously have been eating non stop - fruits, chicken, salad, hard boiled eggs, 18 lbs of pistachios (ok, perhaps that's an exaggeration, but still, my fingers hurt from the salt - that's probably  not allowed on this cleanse either, whoops!), 4 bacon wrapped scallops, cauliflower mash.....I know, this all sounds gloriously filling, doesn't it?  IT'S NOT!  I'm lying on the floor dying ovah here!

Perhaps I'm playing this up a little over dramatically, but this is apparently a lesson in the fact that I have ZERO will power.  And guess what - I don't need it since I come from good stock, and good genes!  But yet, here I am, cleansing the soul.

If no one hears from me, please send chocolate, and lots of it!  Here's to Day 2!  And no chocolate, fingers crossed.

It's time to cleanse!

I've decided.  I'm doing a 30 day cleanse, The Whole30, to be exact.  My friend Cartzy convinced me to give it a whirl, with a strong twist of my Gumby arm.  Basically, it's no dairy, no pasta, no bread, no carbs, nothing delicious....oh sorry, I digress.  Oh, and no ALCOHOL!  How shall I live without my wine for 30 days???  I'll figure it out, damnit!

So tomorrow marks Day 1.  It will start out with no sugar or milk in my coffee, replaced with coconut milk.  Doesn't that sound delish?  (sarcasm, sarcasm, sarcasm...)  AV is doing this with me, but he could live on bland chicken and boring steamed vegetables for 30 years, let alone 30 days.  I've been trying to convince SistahSlice to play along, but so far, she's not having it.  I have a feeling I'm going to grow really tired of sweet potato and cauliflower, and may offer up my first born child for some chocolate or some wine.  Or vodka!   The next few posts may turn into total whine sessions (wine-sessions??) about my withdrawals, but I'm starting my seeds soon for Farm de Sledge, so hopefully that will be a distraction.

Here's to 30 more days!  I should get a coin if I finish this successfully!

Come out come out where ever you are!

We know you are out there! We know you're reading this fantabulous blog.  Follow US!

It's about to get feisty up in here!

Bessie is BACK!

Annnnnnnnd, she's BACK!  Bessie had a glorious visit at the local Agway, and after a relaxing week at the Spa, she's back and ready to rock the yard.

Now the next question is, what project to start on first??

Sunday Funday

We hunkered down Sunday night for what has been turning into our Sunday Funday.  PBR!

No, I'm not talking about Pabst Blue Ribbon beer, I'm talking about Professional Bull Riding!  But tonight there was an added bonus.  Jousting!

For weeks, during the PBR, they have been promoting this new show on the History channel, Full Metal Jousting.  My first thought?  Medieval Times here we come.  Sure, everyone's probably been on vacation someplace, enjoyed a lovely meal of a big, honkin' Turkey leg and some other form of food you have to eat with your hands, watch the grease drip down your forearm, and vote for your favorite knight.  It's wonderful dinner theater, really.

But apparently, Full Metal Jousting is different!  This is real joust to joust contact. Riding on a horse, trying to impale your fellow knight with an 11 foot long pole, made of one piece of Douglas Pine Fir.  THIS is entertainment!  What other show do you hear "Take my helmet off, I'm going to throw up?"  Not the Real Housewives of Orange County, that's for sure!  Are they trained for combat riding a horse while having their coach smack them in the shoulder with an aluminum baseball bat?  I think not.

Although the competition is early on, I'm eagerly anticipating the blood and warfare that's going to ensue, once these maniacs actually learn how to wield their jousts and control their horses!  And the best part?  Once eliminated, the contestant who got the boot has the opportunity to stick around and train, so that 'in the case' that a fellow contestant can no longer compete, he can swing back in and take his place.  You know that's going to happen!!  Bring it on Sir Lancelot!

And bonus event?  While we were watching this magnificent game show, MamaSlice was enjoying the competition with SistahSlice as well!  That's family bonding at it's best!

Until next Sunday's Funday...

It's a Golfer's Paradise

Slice and I have taken to golfing; in my backyard.  Now, while I certainly do not have a driving range back there (but did you know that there are plenty of websites out there that will eagerly help you create your very own driving range, putting green, and miniature golf hookup?) I do have plenty of land to do stupid things with. Golfers unite!

A friend of Slice's offered her his old clubs after having not a single bite on Craigslist.  I told her to come on over and we could hack balls in my Back 40.  I figured this would be a one time deal.  Naaaah!  Golf Whack Monday has commenced and we eagerly spent the evening hucking balls into the woodline.  My boyfriend, AV (short for Avalanche, for the mean truck he drives), came home to find this debauchery and brought up a very good question:

How do you plan on retrieving the balls?

Radio Silence.......

For a while it worked out in our favor as God Dog was all too eager to try to choke himself with a golf ball while running it back and forth to us.  But all good things must come to an end and he soon found no fun in this chore.

But then the rocket scientist in us both came out, and the idea of some sort of attachment for Bessie was born.  Now, who knows what will come of this idea, or if she will ever return from her Spa Adventure, but this may definitely be on the list of things to look into, after all, range fees at Casa de Sledge are significantly less than any other range around.

Stay tuned for Summer!

Wanted: A Nest of my Own

As a kind forewarning, many of the adventures you will read about will or have taken place at SistahSledge’s homestead. As previously mentioned she inhabits approximately 4 acres of this earth. It’s a great set up – some house and some land which fosters our antics. Unlike SistahSledge I have yet to plant my stakes.

The pursuit began about a year ago, visited my favorite realtor (and only realtor I know) and we set up listings. So within minutes I get barraged with emails that say all these things in this special realtor language I don’t understand. For example - you would think 1.5 bathrooms means one and a half bathrooms. False! In special realtor speak that means one full bathroom and five half baths (1.5 isn’t common, you see 1.1, 2.0 etc. – I’m waiting for the day I get 0.0, I feel it’s close). So the listings are set up, I have decided of a few towns that I think will provide some good options and I’m off.

About six months later, after I deciphered realtor language, went to some open houses, and spent countless hours driving/riding my bike around to look at houses – I decided it was time to re engage my realtor and actual start to schedule appointments and look at these potential homes. Why I didn’t do this sooner – good question. Looking at homes provides hours of endless entertainment and makes you realize your “messy” living conditions are far cleaner and less repulsive than you could’ve imagined.

In the heaping handful of structures I’ve looked at – I’ve seen some quirky things. The first house I ever looked at was this putrid mustardy yellow. I walk through the kitchen (where the counters weren’t attached to the walls) and was interrupting dinner of the elderly woman and her son who apparently lived there. Awkward party of 4!

That initial experience left me hungry for more. So accordingly the showings continued. One house had a dog the size of a grizzly bear, who I considered adopting without the homeowners permission (more affectionately known as stealing). That house actually had U shaped floors due to some terrible Tim Allen home renovations. Another house had so much oil leaking out of the furnace I considered siphoning it up and dumping it back in their tank. That house had a clothes line that went from their front window to the tree in the front yard. Because nothing says “Welcome!” like some underbrithces hanging out front.

In short – the quest continues. It’s a challenging equation – find something within my price range with a good (relatively dry) chunk of land and a house that won’t fall over or blow up. Eventually I'll find something, and in the mean time am provided with cheap entertainment with my saint of a real estate agent.