Big Ed's

Friday was my birthday. No, not my 21st- but thanks for the guess. And to celebrate we went to Big Ed's. It's nothing fancy. It's just a really, really good steak. 

You'd think that if the steak was as good as I say it was, I'd have taken a picture. But I didn't, so you'll just have to take my word for it. OR go visit my friend, Victoria, who I've mentioned before. She's really good at taking pictures of the yummy things she eats.

I'm off to Wichita this week. Yes, I'm getting my hair cut; but I'm also going to attend the wedding of a very dear friend, Kate. Cinco de Mayo Marriage won't even know what hit it, after I bust a move. Marriage power.

Land(mark), ho!

Most people know Kansas is (relatively) flat. And you don't have to drive much further west than Salina to see that, by comparison, everything east looks hilly. My in-laws live in the country. And on a clear, starry night, they can see from their front window the lights of our neighboring towns. That are 30-40 miles away. Flat, flat, flat, flat, flat. So now that I've imparted all this wonderful knowledge and background, it's time for the application.

I get lost, I am directionally challenged and the lack of terrain and trees makes navigating the gravel roads I drive a near impossibility (I went for the dramatic flare). Let's just say that when Farmer Tim and I explore or are going to new places, I am NOT in the passenger seat with a map. Now that I've been here a year, I'm not as desperate as I once was, but nothing makes me happier than when I see an obvious landmark I can use to get me where I need to go. Ergo my appreciation for the lone tree along Road 24, which the Franklin's long ago dubbed the "pheasant tree". Granted, they use it as a unit of measure, telling them how far they are from home. For instance, when there is a snow storm and you don't know where you are in the blizzard-like conditions (because it's flat and most likely windy- it's Kansas), a sighting of that pheasant tree lets you know you are within a mile from home. Phew.

I can make my way to the usual spots, no problem. But I'm still driving to new fields, and Tim telling me to, "go 2 miles south, 1 mile east, then turn on a trail road," can bring on the tears. Which way is north? How bad is this trail road? So if I have something like the pheasant tree, in the midst of all this flatness, I feel a lot better. Besides, who doesn't want to be a pirate and yell out things like, "landmark, ho"?

The End.

Corn on my mind.

It's that time of year again. For what, you ask? To plant corn. Obviously. And to commemorate the occasion I have some pictures to share. I think what really makes this year's corn planting so momentous is that it marks the time we moved back to Kansas...which means I survived our first year in Small Town USA. Or it survived me (?)- because between you and me, I've not always been a peach. Tim says I've been a trooper, but probably that's his secret way of saying, "you think she looks normal and pleasant, but you don't have to live with her." I jest...And now for a farm wife's perspective of what happens right before you plant the corn (I say that because I've been known to miss a few things around here).

1. Check the temperature of the soil. If it's not an optimal reading, the corn won't take very well.

2. Add seed to the planter and do a test run.

3. After the test run, check that the depth of the planted seed is where you want it.

4. Go. Then go some more- as in, like, 10 days to 2 weeks.

So wish us luck and say a prayer- that the crops grow and thrive, that Farmer Tim et al. stays safe and that I don't make too many imaginary friends, as things will be busy for the next six-ish months.

Denim faux paus.

Two blog posts in one day? I'm sorry. But as I innocently perused J.Crew online an image of what appeared to be a disaster caught my eye. Yo, Crew, my 1980s wardrobe called and they want their denim dress back *gasp*. I was compelled to share in hopes someone would agree they've made a huge mistake. I don't claim to be a fashion icon nor do I have plans to be a fancy fashion blog writer. But consider this my due diligence to society. A warning, if you will, that not all things at J.Crew are created equal (apparently). 

MESSAGE:

**FRIENDS DON'T LET FRIENDS MISS OUT ON A GREAT STYLE. JUST ENTER THE EMAIL ADDRESS OF THE PERSON YOU'D LIKE TO EMAIL THIS ITEM TO BELOW (YOU CAN EMAIL MORE THAN ONE FRIEND).

DENIM DRESS ITEM #: 67190 **BY THE BY: FRIENDS DON'T LET FRIENDS WEAR THIS DRESS.

Slippery Pig

This is my next to last Seattle post. Promise? Or, I'm sorry? And the montage continues, thanks to our visit to the Slippery Pig. It was oddly reminiscent of a place that should exist in the Swiss Alps, only it's in Poulsbo, WA. On a gravel road. But how fun and who wouldn't love a place called Slippery Pig?

Here's the happy, non-sleep deprived mom and dad! Seriously.

Livin' la vida Seattle.

Friday Funday. At least that's what we call it around here when you take the ferry into Seattle for the day. It's an hour long cruise from Bremerton to downtown Seattle. Ben, the baby, did REALLY well. All day. Those smiley pictures of him- those were taken at the end of this loooong day. True story. 

This one's for you Victoria...TULIPS!!! The bouquet is only $10 (reference, Amy above)

1. veggie stand

2. slightly more vibrant veggie stand

3. the very FIRST Starbucks

4. cool neon sign

5. infamous vendor, known for their mad fish throwing skills

We spent the majority of the afternoon strolling (literally, thanks to Ben) in and around Pike Place Market. It's a feast for the eyes and your stomach. Vendors pass out samples of their fare (take it), street performers abound and people watching is at its finest. Farmer Tim and I collect magnets, so I found one to proudly display on the fridge of shame. And for $15 I bought a print, that had the seller not insisted he had taken the photograph himself, would not have suspected otherwise. Sucker or not, I had a great time and would go again. Only this time, I'd leave the skinny jeans and tennis shoes at home- thankfully, my pictures don't give way to such an atrocity.

You're never fully dressed without a smile.

Even if Ben's smiles are just gas, I'll take them (even though I'm pretty sure it's just me). Either way, aren't they the sweetest?