The Spoon of Doom!

Deep in the underbelly of CrayCray is a creature lurking so hideous, it strikes fear into the hearts of every man, woman and child old enough to pour their own cereal.

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Really. It was very innocent. SOMMMEOONNNE poured cereal and other food into a pot in the sink. This slurry was a slimy newtonian glob. There was no way a trash bag was going to hold it in.

SOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo

I proceeded visit John. I knew he could handle it. John eats anything. In it went. And in slow motion, You can’t stop that style, a lurking spoon danced “Merrily down the drain.”

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Um. Yea.  That pretty much sums it up.

I already had fear about poop towers and such. Now there is a spoon just waiting to wiggle it’s way down at just the right time. I’m hoping it works it’s way out like a lego. Otherwise the blockage may be another blog post.

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Sorry.

I haven’t felt much like writing on here lately.  There are some things that have been hanging over our heads.  It use to be that I would lay this stuff on people.  But truthfully, everyone’s tired of it.  I’m tired of it. 

I love being in Craycray… Still.

I only miss my big giant king sized squishy bed.

 

So that’s good.

I know this is a season like other hard seasons.

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It will pass eventually.

So that’s good.

Someday we will all get to Heaven.

What a day of rejoicing that will be.

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Healing will come.

There have been times of worse uncertainty.

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And we are stronger for it.

But, sometimes it’s hard to see where the shelter is.

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So we will just hold on.

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(These pictures are from our home in Minneapolis, Ks. Please link back directly to my site and give me credit. Again these are mine and I don’t release these. — still stupid)

 

 

 

 

Henman to the Rescue

(Disclaimer. These pictures are mine. All mine. Do not steal them or put them on Pinterest or anywhere else without linking back to my site. If you do, I will hunt you down and from my lawsuit have enough money to buy a brand new car and maybe some gas money. Stealing is a sin. God is watching you.)

Thought Cray Cray should show off her sordid past. I believe in transparency.   Just keepin’ it real.

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Henman was project manager throughout the whole renovation. Here he is compiling his punch list. It was quite excessive.

One of the first things Henman wanted us to address was “ugly” He said “Me no like that.”

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olieteeth

He said he promised he wasn’t talking about his sister.

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Crayman said “Oh, that’s not too bad.”

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Crayman has been hit in the head a few times.

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This is not Crayman’s work. Crayman would have used ducktape.

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I jist don’t know why she leaked.  (There are some people who should not legally be allowed to buy a calk gun)

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See that house? I want to go shoot it with a paintball gun. (Have I mentioned how much I dislike sticks and bricks?)

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Crayman said he might need a little help.

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Henman said he knows how to use glue.

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(This is where I found Henman. I had time to run into the house to retrieve my camera and back. When I was snapping shots Crayman turned around and was surprised to see Henman behind him. Crayman asked. “Did he crawl up here?”  Uh. yea.)

Hot Cakes

Know what I love about CrayCray? She’s not perfect.

I’ve lived in one of those sticks and bricks subs. You know. Cookie cutter houses where as soon as one dude goes out and mows his lawn, there is an obligatory movement by the rest of the men folk.

And I hated it!

All that fakeness.

Isolation. Because everyone wheels it into the garage without so much as a nod.

All that….. “perfect”.

I don’t miss it one lick.

I’m from Huskerville. You do the finger wave even if you don’t know the vehicle. And greet everyone on the street with a “howyadoin’?” And homemade pie is still judged at the county fair.

CrayCray is like that 60 something biker chick that hits the casino FREQUENTLY,uses too much Aqua Net, doesn’t mind to be called “Hot Cakes.”, smells like mothballvanilla and calls everyone “Hun”. I like that chick. She has the best stories. She’s a little rough around the edges and talks like a man from all those smokin’ years.

Our mobile home park has an interesting mix of suburbia and Huskerville. The rigs are all pretty much similar but the folk are downhome. Crayman and I have talked, I could really settle in here. The rent is crazy cheap. And the neighborhood is quieter than our sicks and bricks sub. I kid you not!

Not at all what I expected.

In our society we are so quick to judge a sub-culture that does not fit the standard American dream mold. Most of the people here have N.I.C.E cars.Their yards are neat and their rigs are well kept. I’m sure there parks that are not like this one. But, how many more are?

This week has kind of bit with all the irritating things that weren’t finished before we moved into her. But, I won’t hold it against her. After all. She’s lucky at slots.

Passports and Burban

So. Crayman has this habit of being on his own time. I’ve decided that he’s already on South African time. Because they might show up an hour late for a meeting or run a meeting 2 hours long.

I on the other hand am not.

I am on straight American time. I plan. Have lists. I organize our lives strictly. Because if I didn’t… Well…. Let’s just not picture that.

Last week Crayman realized he needed his passport and he’s leaving on a vision trip next week.

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They have a special department at the government for people like my husband. They are real nice there.

He put a rush on. tick. tick. tick. tick……

Thought maybe he’d have to take a little road trip to Arkansas. Hey. That’s interesting that they put that ‘pecial little department in Arkansas.

But. Luck. It arrived today. A whole 4 days to spare.

Which leads me to Burban. You would think with this stress of finishing EVERYTHING up over the next 2 weeks and Craycray still not being finished and Crayman being gone one of those weeks, I would either be flipping out. Or in Burban bis.

Well Choose flipping. Because the Burban is not the alcoholic kind but our car.

The Burban is DEAD!

He’s been a little finicky lately. And He finally just went kapoot. Ya know.

A WEEK BEFORE THE VISION TRIP!

Leaving me without a vehicular. And a gaggle of kids.

I could drive Craycray around.

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What’s in a name?

Cray Crays.  It will be the Cray Cray bus!

When we announced some time ago that we were contemplating selling everything and moving into a bus or RV so that we could more easily pursue mission deputation, this is what was mockingly being said about us.

Hurtful.  Mean.

I chewed on this for quite some time. craycray web

I decided I would take this hurtful thing and turn it into something that brings me joy.  So, I’ve dubbed her Craycray.

We are excited about this adventure.

Life has been hard and we want to take our kids and fill them up.

We want to create memories together as a family. Because we have few.

We want to see America before we have to leave her.

We don’t want the weight of stuff and everything a house carries.

We have talked about RVing when we were old, why not do it young?

So thank you meanie-head.  You made naming her easy.

Who was that Capped Man?

Our first big obstacle was a big giant hill right out of the lot. We figured it would be a good test on breaks, transmission and motor function. And up she went likity-split. I hear she drives better than the burban.

We didn’t know how much gas she had so we thought we would give her a run down the road for lunch. Our lunch not hers. By now it was about 3 and we were mighty hungry.

When we filled her up she didn’t want to get back going.Sitting behind her I was like “Great! It just figures. This is totally my life….”

whinewhinewhine.

Jeff looked in the burban for some tools. We are in construction. We always have tools. We are driving several hundred miles to pick up a vehicle we are unsure about. We should have tools. We have 4 big giant banging tires and 5 kids riding in the back. We don’need no stinkiNg tools. Ha!

Up walks the cappedman. All American country capped man. With a red truck and an All American truck bed tool box. My hero!

Crayman and Cappedman have male bonding time. “Aarrr AHrggggg hrghhh hrhggg hrggg hrgggg!Gho-gho-gho! R-R-R”  It was a beautiful thing.

Cappedman bestowed Crayman with a lifetime of wisdom from being a truck driver.

  1. “Don’t spit into the the wind.”
  2. “That switch there is not auto pilot.”
  3. “Make sure the caps on the poopshoot”
  4. “If you forget the cap,make sure your wife’s not driving behin’ ya.”

Ya know important stuff like that.

Thank you capped man.

Get Your Heels on!

wheel love

Do you KNOW how much RV wheels cost?!

Seriously.  You may as well buy a new RV when the babies wear out.  That is, unless you know someone who knows someone.

We have a friend that has a friend that is a scrapper.  And what does he scrap?  Neener neener neeeeener.  RV’s

So he dug around and found 4 (how many we needed) beautiful slightly used tires.

Mounted.

This is not the end of the story.  When we arrived at the consignment store where our house sat (Ha! Buying a house from a thrift store.)…… 2 hours away, the question was asked, “Will they be open?”  Because after all it was Martin Luther King Jr. Day.  Yea.

They were not open!

They had the key!

OoooooKkkkaayyyy.

So without too much conversation, Crayman starts taking the wheels off.  Well,  he went over and discovered that the tire iron did not fit.

Sigh.

So, in transition of this happening as we were contemplating what to do about the tire iron ( Actually I was continuing to listen with my eyebrow raised, involuntary facial ticking and slight eye rolling) A man taking his daily walk comes up and asks how we were doing.  He looks at our tires. Says he has it in his van and starts walking back the way he came.

Enter owner and my conversation.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“You left your key”

“Yea. He thought if you needed to move it…”

(Please ignore the irritating twitch. It’s brought on by stress)

“I’m glad you guys are opened. We wondered’

“We’re not.”

🙂

Back comes Crayman (he had taken off in the suburban after the guy) And in tow manwalking in his work van.

And we wait.  Because we didn’t know if the holes would like up to the nuts.

And they did like they were made for each other!

Manwalking apparently had just moved there. He had been a mechanic, but now he was some special something or other for the government.

So, here is the bizarre summary for you.

  • Find Cheap (yea I left that part out. Mounted, great tires for $50 each.)
  • Owner shows up on day off with left behind key
  • Manwalking shows up and gets right sized socket
  • Mounted tires fit like a glove
  • Lights, brakes, transmission electrical all work ( despite the only thing we knew that worked was the engine)

So we started movin’ on down the road.

Gulp!

Welcome!

Welcome to the Cray Crays Roll!

We are real excited about what God’s doin’ in our lives.  We recently sold our house and are starting this cray cray adventure.  The Ole girls been bought and just waitin’ for us.  She’s needing some new shoes.  And a little make up.  She’s let herself go in a sad kind of way.  But, we’ll get her spiffied up!

But man did she purr!

When we drove up and got out of the burban we walked right past her and right into the office.  We told the salesman that we were here for her and we wanted to give her a good look see.  he says “she’s open and runnin'”

What!?

Yep.  surenuff. She was open and running and we didn’t even know it.  No knocking, No humming or whirling.

Nothin!

Really.  She could be electric for all we know.  (hmm maybe that’s why that cord was danglin’?  We’ll have to find some real long extension cords.)

Now there are somethings I’m a little intimidated with her.  There were an awful lot of unmarked connectors and plugs and spouts. I know when stuff goes in its gotta go out.  Right?  We know where the poop shoot is.  That’s out.  But since it was below freezing we’re really walking by faith that the poop wont just shoot right out of her. We weren’t really able to look in her plumbing.  Melty freezy snow has a way of inhibiting crawling under vehicles.  This may be exciting for the manly man.  Because you sure wont see me under there!

I’ve read about propane.  She’s kind of heffty in the middle with a built in giant tank.  There are some good and bad things about this.  Big tank more gas.  We won’t have to top her off for cooking and such quite as much.  But.  Because it’s built in we don’t know what kind of condition it’s in.  Not to mention the filling part.  So, hopefully I don’t blow myself up the first time I light her up.  Although I can think of worse ways to go.

Bam!  Glory!  There ya go.

I’m a little unhappy about her leaking.  She’s been working on her kegels. JK.  We know that the owners did some patching.  So, it’s unclear as to if she’s leaking now or not.  We know there’s one spot we are going to have to hit.  Praise God we have been doing construction for a few years now.  There really isn’t too much we can get into with her that we can’t fix.

It’s just, “I don’t wanna!”

I am SOOOooo hoping that the leaks have already been dealt with and we can just tear out the damaged pieces.  And put on her new duds.

We have to put in a bunk room.  The boys are none to happy about having to share a room let alone living in a camper.  I’m sure we will have a season of attitude adjustment.

“I’m the Mom!”                           ” I said so!”                      ” Get over it!”

How was that?

We’ve sorta figured out where everyone will sleep.   Ramblin’ Rose will have an over cab bunk.  I’m kinda thinking we should have a permanent mount.  There will be enough annoying things to deal with.  Why not let her have her own room?

The littles, Prancing Polie and the Henman will have a little bunk established over the dinette.  This will have to be constructed nightly.  Grr.  But, I think we have come up with some cool ideas how to put this together.  I may say forget it and have it permanent too.

The older boys. Robosapien and Occasional crabby dude (OCD) hey what’s the fun of having teens if you can’t pick on them? Anyhoo. The almost men, will have the room in the back. They smell weird. So being beyond the toilet should mask some of their scent.

Wish us luck! It will definitely be an adventure.