Laura Ingalls Wilder Weekend

One of the most amazing things ever happened this weekend. I got an office with a door. Glory hallelujah! When we bought our house there was a guest house in the backyard. I use this term VERY gingerly. It’s a really nice room but had no heat or AC or bathroom. Our idea was to eventually add a bathroom and use it as a guest room when people came to visit. We bought a window unit had a spare bed out there for a while, then when Sadie moved out of her crib we moved the bed in her room. Then the “Little House” became a playroom for the kids. But really they never used it and basically I got sick of every single member of my family coming and standing by my desk every time I sat down to write. And people touching my stuff. And seeing the mess in my kitchen from my desk. So I kicked my kids out of the Little House and called it mine.

 My Precious. 

It helps that my husband is like being married to Pa Ingalls, Bear Grylls and MacGyver (minus the mullet).

He built me this entryway bench last week while me and the girls were at the beach and painted it this weekend. I ordered the baskets and cushion. While Zeb was finishing my bench, me and the girls picked about 5 gallons of fresh figs and I made jam like it was my J.O.B.

Ma Ingalls would be so jelly. Oh yeah. I said it.

Before bed one night Sadie had two sticks and was beating them together (that used to be part of my screen door, thanks dog.) Aubrey screamed, “Sadie is trying to make fire in the house!!”

What the WHUT ya’ll? I mean it was annoying but my first thought was not, “DANGER!! FIRE!”

Zeb and I laughed and Emma asked, “How do you make fire by rubbing sticks together?”

Zebulicious has an answer for everything. I’m not being sarcastic. He knows everything. So instead of explaining it to them, he took Aubrey and Emma outside, carved a stick into a point and MADE. FIRE. If there is a Zombie Apocalypse you should get to my house ASAP. I have enough jam to last three years and Zeb can make fire, y’all.

I was already laughing to myself about how my weekend had gone all Frontier Life when Zeb randomly got his shotgun out and started cleaning it on the kitchen table. The girls were in the bed but Emma came wandering through for a glass of water and while I was telling her she was never ever, ever to touch a gun EVER, she said, “I think Daddy is better than Toby Walker.”

I had no idea who that was. But apparently he was a sharp shooter in the Wild West and was one of Annie Oakley’s homies. Zeb had watched Annie Oakley with the girls over the weekend while I was compulsively preserving fruit.

So in case you were worried about us we’re all stocked up for the winter and I haz an office door.