So since I’m hip and know all the cool words to use, like bae and wicked, it’s time for the latest Fresh List. Instagram comments have revealed another phrase that’s popular now, too: jeally. As in, “I’m so jeally that you’re at the lake this weekend and I’m stuck at work.” Girls, I’m so jeally of your audacity to add random Ys to words and type them in a public forum. What if men did this? They’d be kicked off Instagram, obvi. Wait, are there any men on Instagram?
And lately I’ve noticed an overuse of the term “can’t even.” When something is terribly cute, we say, “I can’t even. Stop it.” Are we all in a sorority? How many things are so cute we lose the ability to…I can’t even. Stop. For really.
Trevor taught me a new one, and since he’s three, which is closer in age to sixteen year olds than me, he knows. “Flustertated.” I overheard him tell Claire that he’s flustertated with his Thomas the Train’s dead battery. Then he said to her, “Come here, you little jalapeno.” I can’t even.
Once again, I’m sticking with Fresh for my List. We all know I’m not really cool, as I live in Sedan and our internet service is too slow to keep up with trends, but these are things that blow my Mennonite-length skirt up lately.
What’s fresh in Franch Land? Read on, you little jalapeno.
I finally finished the new-to-me chairs for our dining table. We had some from Craigslist that I really loved, but they were rickety, made embarrassing sounds when you sat on them, and were going to blow any second. Every time we had people over, I would be seriously concerned that the chairs would bust into smithereens. When I found Trevor sword fighting with various wood pieces that had broken off some chairs, I knew it was time. Matt’s mom found these for me at an antique store for a great price, so I’ve been working for a few weeks to sand, paint, and reupholster them.
Me, six months pregnant: Matt, how do I use the sander?
Matt, busy francher: Just plug it in and stick a sandpaper sheet to it.
Me: Okay…I guess.
Matt, walking past my hunched-over self sanding six chairs on a 90 degree day: You’re gonna be real proud of those chairs when you finish. Real proud.
DIY is tedious and time consuming and I hate it. But the result is nice.
The before-paint new chairs on the left, one of my old chairs on the right.
No thanks to some people, they are done and I am proud of them! I think the Americana* style looks great with my table and these chairs are sturdy. You can come over and pig out now. No worries.
*I have no idea what Americana style is but it makes me sound like a real decorator.
Three Year Olds
I’ve discovered that I am not really a toddler person. Toddlers are adorable and all, but they aren’t that potty-trained, they scream in public, and they refuse to take two naps a day. Trevor will be four in a few months, and he hasn’t taken a nap in at least a year, but we have had the best time with a three year old in our house. He’s three going on 17, so not a toddler anymore. He is full of suggestions and literally never stops talking, but as long as he keeps his sense of humor, we’re fine with that. Matt and I are often amazed at his wit and perspective, which I would assume most parents are with their own kids, so this is probably nothing different, but he’s our first kid so we’re in the amazed stage. Here is a real, actual conversation we had the day after Halloween, when he was paying the price for consuming an unprecedented amount of candy:
Trevor: Mom, my tummy is still rumbling after I pooped.
Me: Did you have diarrhea poop or regular poop?
Trevor: It was regular poop. But I did have poop juice.
Me: What is poop juice?
Trevor: It’s just dirty water that comes out of your bobo.
See the perspective here? He’s all about comparison and literal analysis. If you don’t have a three year old in your house, you’re missing out on a LOT of poop talk. I will have a three year old for like the next seven years with all these kids, so I better be grateful and enjoy it.
Soups and Stews and Frito Pies
We love soup, and it’s officially soup weather in New Mexico! Tonight’s low is 8 degrees. That means you can eat five bowls for dinner as long as you sleep with the heater turned off so your body burns calories all night maintaining homeostasis. I’m a Frito Pie addict, so we have those year-round, but one of our favorite soups is broccoli cheese. I have a super recipe that you will love if you’re not too lazy to go to the store and get a pint of half-and-half and a bag of frozen broccoli. We had it for lunch today with Hawaiian roll ham and cheese sliders and that’s the perfect fall lunch.
Here’s my recipe. If you have a better one, send it my way and I’ll test it. It’s probably not better, though, so whatever.
I don’t know what it is about the vest that I love so much. The laid-back style factor? The shoulder warmth? The fleece-lined pockets? Everything about vests is just garment perfection. Thank you, Vest Inventor, for being too poor for sleeves. If looking fresh has been a struggle for you lately, I recommend sporting a vest tomorrow.
The fly and insect epidemic around here has been unbearable this past month. At my friend Rebecca’s kid’s birthday party a few weeks ago, flies literally covered every surface of the crepe paper hanging from her ceiling. It’s so, so not bae. These aren’t just any flies, either. They come in special desert sizes: tiny-pequeno or extra-grande. The first part of October, it was fruit flies or gnats or something of that nature less than a millimeter in size. You can’t kill these except for with a glass of red wine on the counter. Annoying, and who can let a glass of wine go to waste like that? Lately, we’ve had pterodactyl flies that hang out on the windows and make a loud buzzing sound as they die. Tonight, they should all succumb to the frigid temps, and my insectual rage should calm to acceptable levels. So, dead flies…that’s fresh.
<THERE IS NO PHOTO OF DEAD FLIES HERE BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE WEIRD>
Obviously I haven’t been out in public much lately with a Fresh List like this, but it’s a good opportunity to show off my chairs and gripe about bugs. Farm life is good today – we are officially finished with corn harvest [insert champagne] and now just have to worry about keeping hundreds of cows healthy and hydrated. No biggie.
Live fresh, my friends. Don’t be jeally. Stay bae. And avoid the poop juice.