The Perfect Banana Bread

I've been doing a LOT of "cooking from scratch" lately and having lots of fun. Needless to say, my family likes it too.

Looking at the bananas in the fruit basket, I realized today was the day to make some perfect banana bread. I had been saving the bananas. Even if someone went to grab one, I would quickly stop them with the reminder, "I'm saving those for bread."

Finally, our wait was over. Today was the day. They were ripe.....really ripe.....perfectly ripe!

I brought out my "perfect banana bread" recipe. I prepared my work space. Hayden wanted to help (as usual), so we put on our matching kitchen aprons, pulled up Hayden's step stool, washed our hands, and got to work. We measured and poured the ingredients, perfectly.

"This was going to be the best banana bread we've ever made."

"YES!" was Hayden's enthusiastc response.

I put the perfect "pinch" of nutmeg into the batter and gave Hayden the spoon to mix it in.

Okay, here's where it get's bad.....
I turned around to the sink to rinse off the measuring cup. The oven chimed to let me know it was perfectly preheated and ready for action. I turned around and....

"AHHHHHHHH! No! OUT of the KITCHEN!"

Hayden had unscrewed the top of the nutmeg, dumped half the jar in, and continued to mix!

After I screamed, Hayden jumped down and ran out of the kitchen. In a "monster mom moment" I hurt his little feelings and broke down over my not-so-perfect-anymore banana bread. The entire kitchen was filled with the pungent aroma of nutmeg. "It took me so long to wait for those bananas to be perfect" I thought to myself.

Reluctantly, I filled the pans anyway and put them in the oven. Somehow I thought there could be a teeny-tiny possibility that some of the nutmeg would "cook out".

It didn't.

We tried.

We choked it down.

I even whipped up a cream cheese frosting to cover it with and "take the edge off". Nothing worked.

And now....there it sits...in the garbage.

And then I wondered:

"My sweet little Hayden.....will he ever forgive me? Will he someday be telling a therapist about this cooking disaster and how my reaction scarred him; that it is the reason for all his bad decisions in life?"

(Seriously, though)...Will my brain's knee-jerk reaction ever remember (in that split-second instant) that the tender feelings of my little boy are SO much more important than the "perfect" banana bread?

More important than, well...anything.

Filled with guilt, I wondered how in an effort to share a special moment with my little boy--to spend quality time and build lasting relationships and memories--I lost my mind and control over myself because of a silly mistake by a little "helper" who was "just copying what mommy did."

That night, as we tucked Hayden into bed, he looked at me and said, "Mommy, snuggle?" Relieved, I jumped into the bed and wrapped my arms around him.

"I'm sorry I was such a grouch." I confessed, pleading for forgiveness.

"It's okay, mommy....I love you."

And then I realized, tomorrow is a new day....with no mistakes yet.

Eventhough I don't want to remember the banana bread disaster, somehow I hope I never forget it.

Backyard Get-Away

Have you ever gone somewhere and felt like you stepped into a brochure for some far away place?

We did...and the best part is that it's only 30 minutes away from the farm.

The town is called Bisbee. It seems to have a European ambiance since the buildings are over 100 years old, and the entire town is built into the mountains. During the 1800's, Bisbee was settled as a mining town. Copper is still (literally) spilling out of the mountains. Now it has become a gathering place for "folks of the hippie-type". This isn't a big deal for me since, remember, I was raised by hippies.

The winding streets are lined with boutiques and galleries. Inside every door is a new adventure. Between restaurants, cafes, ice cream shops, and festivals, Bisbee has become the regular place for our "date nights".

I have a feeling we will be making lots of visits and telling lots of stories about Bisbee on this site. For now, I will just share a few pictures and experiences so far.

I wonder how many cars, horses and trollies have driven through these streets since 1880. (Yes, Bisbee used to have streetcar trollies.)



This picture is a total reflection of Bisbee: Two hippies getting into a 60's bug, parked on the street next to a $120,000 Mercedez. Classic! (Click on the picture and notice the hippie crusty" I received for snapping a picture!)



We went on a double date with our friends, Lane and Shanda, last weekend. Shanda found these cool flowers. We've never seen these teeny-tiny bouquet-like gems before, have you?

"Happy (30th) Birthday To Me!"

Last night (while Ben was in bed trying to heal) Hayden and I stayed up late, baked a chocolate cake from scratch, and played "trains". If I knew how, I would have baked a cake like THIS one.

Once again, the birthday celebration has been post-poned until Thanksgiving Day, due to a medical emergency.
Meet us at Disneyland...Thanksgiving Day.

When I was in 5th grade, I remember it being a cool thing to pass the "decade mark". My friends and I would proudly proclaim we were "a decade". Now, after the third time around, it doesn't seem so magically amazing anymore.

Or DOES it?

What IS amazing is taking a step back and camparing myself over the years so far (which I did at midnight last night). I realized that I'm pretty happy with who I am becoming. I'm more comfortable in my skin and confident in myself than I was in my twenties. That was something that I always hoped to develop. I still have to work on it, but I can see it.

I'm also happy with my perspective and the goals I have for the next ten years. From what I can see so far, I think my 30's are going to be pretty cool; full of new experiences, goals, lessons, and adventures.

Stay tuned to find out what I'm talking about.

Feeling Froggy?

During the Monsoon season in this valley, a little creature starts to show up everytime it rains called the "Colorado River Toad". They are EVERYWHERE!

They are also extremely poisonous to pets if they chomp into them. Somehow, Jack knows this instinctively because eventhough they are all over our porch everynight (eating bugs and hanging out) he stays WAY away from them.

It has rained here for a few days, so a few nights ago we went outside, after a particulary freaky storm, and the air was filled with the sound of their "music". We started laughing because it was SOOOOO loud.

Suddenly, we heard what seemed like a distant cry of a baby calf and it was not coming from where it was supposed to be. It made sense: after an intense storm with extreme lightning and thunder, it would not be uncommon for a baby cow to get out and get lost. It has happened before. That's when we jump in the car and go "herd" it back to it's mommy.

This night, we could hear the cows calling to each other.

Ben jumped in the car and took off while I waited at the house with our 4-year-old, already in bed. After only a few minutes, Ben returned. I walked out of the house and up to his window.

"Come with me."

"I can't...Hayden is in bed."

"Leave him. This will only be a minute and you HAVE to see this. We aren't even going past the hay barns."

Curious, I jumped into the passenger seat and we were off. "What is it?" I kept asking, but Ben just kept laughing and saying, "You'll see."

We made a turn to face the hay barns as the headlights completely lit up the area. There were instant ponds EVERYWHERE and in each pond were hundreds of tiny toad heads resting on the surface of the water. I rolled down the window. The sound was SO loud that I had to raise my voice to talk to Ben.

And then, we heard it. The baby cow. Only it was really a frog. A mating call that sounded JUST like a calf yelling to it's mommy. What we thought was calves calling out was really only toads calling out to find a girlfriend. It was SO loud! Laughing, I rolled up the window and said, "Let's go to sleep! It's the middle of the night."

* * * * * * *

MEDICAL UPDATE: Ben is doing okay. I keep him stoned on pain-killer drugs and we have a friend at the Fire House who is helping us change the bandages everyday. (I actually helped him change them last night and eventhough it was greuling...we did it.) His wound is infection-free and we hope to keep it that way. Other than that, it is the same. He sleeps most of the time, which is what we want. My 30th birthday celebration at DisneyLand has been post-poned (my birthday is tomorrow). If you would like to come WITH us to DisneyLand, we will now be going on Thanksgiving Day. I know it's non-traditional, but come....it'll be fun!

"Come on Baby, Light My Fire"

Note: This blog is meant to be about our experiences while living on a farm. Sometimes it's funny, sometimes it's cool, and sometimes it's not. Life is never perfect...it isn't meant to be...and to only write about the "perfect parts" wouldn't be completely honest and real. So, here's our reality check:

Some of you may know that when Ben and I met, dated, and got married, he was a firefighter. Funny thing about that: he HATES burns and I HATE fire. I can never watch the movie "Ladder 49" again because it haunts me.

Yesterday was spent with us in the Emergency Room in Bisbee (more about Bisbee to come). Ben was lighting a fire to burn a clearing of brush on the farm. It flashed and caught him on fire. The bad news: he came running into the house with 2nd and 3rd degree burns from his elbow to his fingers. The good news: he's very lucky that NONE of his clothes or hair caught on fire, which would have had the same effect on MORE than the 5 % of his body that WAS affected.

The paramedics were called and before I knew it, I was speeding to the ER in the middle of a Monsoon with my husband sitting next to me.

I learned something about him AND myself yesterday:

First of all, by husband is even braver and more my hero than ever before. I'm not sure I (or many others) would have been able to keep it together as well as he did if I (they) were in his place. Unbelieveable!

Also, In the few times that I have passed out in my life, it was a result of extreme pain. I don't pass out when I'm scared or excited. I wanted to be a nurse since I was 7 years old. Eventhough I took another path, I still do not get queezy with greusome images or experiences (I exposed myself to a lot of that when I was preparing for nursing school)...Unless it's my husband.

While I was standing there being brave for Ben; watching them cut away the gray skin hanging from his arm, and poking needle after needle after IV into his arms (filled with "the good stuff"), I knew suddenly that I was about to pass out. I calmly walked to the other corner, sat in a chair (with a back on it), took off my sweater, and made sure I had a reassuring smile everytime he looked over in agony. After I returned to my chair, from a controlled and calm visit to the ladies room (to puke my guts out), I realized that I can't bare to see my husband (my rock, my hero, the love of my life) suffering. It stirs up emotions that my body is usually pretty resilient to.

After getting up every 3 hours during the night to give him his next dose of pain killers, I am now taking Ben back to get the dressings changed, examined, and more skin cut away. Please keep Ben in your prayers. If you pray. If you don't pray, then pray anyway....or light a candle...we'll take anything. :-)

I'll be in touch soon.

Match-maker

"Do you want another pet?" His voice was excited and quick.

"Uh, what is it?" I responded aprehensively.

"A Sonoran Desert Tortoise."

"YEEEESSS! I've wanted one of those since we moved to the desert!"

And so it began.

Desert tortoises live to be, like, 80-100 years old. Here in the desert people let them roam their yards as pets, but have to build a winter burrow for them to hibernate. There is actually an adoption and foster program for pet "custodians" who are moving in and out of the state. If they can't keep their tortoise anymore, the foster group will find them a new home. They cannot be released back into the wild once they are a pet and let's remember....they live to be 80-100 years old. This time of year is their "active period", so we see 2 or 3 everyday.

Ben pulled up and brought the tortoise inside in a box.

I wanted to name him Archibald.

Ben wanted to name him Ironhide, since he is a life-long Transformers fan.

Hayden wanted to name him Turtle.

After some serious consideration, we decided we could not keep him. Archibald Ironhide Turtle needed to have a family. He needed to continue on his quest for companionship, that we so abruptly interrupted.

Before releasing him back into the wild we let him roam around the house for a few minutes. I think he liked it. He also liked it when we rubbed his feet.

We put him back in his box and I finished up dinner: Homemade "Tomato, Alfredo, Potato, Chicken, and Rosemary Pizza" from scratch (with a Quinoa crust, fresh-cut, home-grown Rosemary, and topped with grated parmesan cheese). It was going to be glorious! As I started to pull the pizza stone out of the oven, Hayden exclaims, "Mommy! Look, Turtle is gone!"

In a second, I left the door open and turned away from the oven, hot pizza stone in hand. Knowing that tortoises are climbers, I frantically checked the box and all the corners...nothing. I yelled, "Ahhhh! It's gone!" to which Hayden responded by yelling and running around the dinning room. Just then, the phone rang. While I'm holding the stone in one hand, closing the oven door with my foot, and spinning around searching for the escaped tortoise, Hayden grabbed a ringing cordless phone sitting on the table. He put it up to his ear and said, breathlessly, "Hello, Bob the Builder? Turtle is gone!" Not knowing who was on the other end, I threw the pizza stone down onto the stovetop and grabbed the phone away from Hayden's ear. Checking the caller ID, I realized it was Ben.

"Did you take the tortoise?"

"Yes I did. Relax." He didn't have to say relax, I was instantly relieved.

While driving out to the spot where he found Arichbald Ironhide Turtle, he slammed on the brakes when noticing another wayward tortoise along the dirt farm road. Ben stopped and set Archie down next to the new tortoise, watching to see what would happen. Archie went over and snuggled up to the other tortoise. Together, they sat cozily under a cactus as Ben drove away.

Had Archie found his companion? Maybe it was meant to be.

"So long, Archibald Ironhide Turtle...Fare Thee Well!"

On the Porch

"Hail....no!"

~Photos by Nancy

After cooking dinner, I decided to go outside and take a few pictures of what I've heard refered to by photographers as "the golden hour". It seems that the best natural light for landscape picture-taking happens within one hour after the sunrises and before the sunsets.

Ben was still driving around the farm, so I had few minutes before dinner started. I looked out the french door and it was bright. Yes, there were some billowing clouds in the sky, but from what I could see from inside the house it was sunny and beautiful. I grabbed my camera and trotted outside.

I walked out into the yard and turned to face south. I gasped, since the scene I saw literally took my breath away. I stopped in my tracks, unable to move another step. Black, tormented clouds seemed as though they were on top of me and at any moment were going to come down and swallow up the house. Below, the horizon was gray-ish black as visibility was over-taken by darkness.

I quickly checked the direction of the blowing wind, and was relieved to realize it was south-bound. I still had a sick feeling, so after snapping a few pictures, I frantically started to move. The noisey cattle seemed to be warning me that I only had a few minutes....they were NOT happy cows tonight.

I tore off the patio cushions and nestled my potted herbs, flowers, tomatoes, and agaves against the red brick farm house.

Suddenly and abruptly...the wind stopped...and everything became creepily still. Silence... except for a muffled moan of thunder. I called Ben on the cordless phone dangling on my back pocket, and begged him to come home.

Within minutes the wind kicked up again, only THIS time it was headed north.
"It's coming!" I thought to myself. I watched as a small funnel cloud danced around the farm south of us. It was black and moved quickly. Within a mile it was only a cloud of dust.

When the storm was above our house we watched as clouds of black, grey, and green swirled above us....all in different directions. They were swirling in CIRCLES! They seemed so close, I almost felt as though I could reach up and touch one. I wanted to touch one so badly!

Then, we heard the storm warning. "Nickel-sized hail and 50-MPH wind moving up the center of Cochise County." I quickly directed Hayden inside the house and started to think of a "plan of attack" should we suddenly see a funnel cloud spill down from the sky.

Even now, thunder is shaking the house, eventhough the storm has (mostly) moved on. No hail, yet.

Here are some of the pictures I snached (including the one above). Click to enlarge......

Before...

10 Minutes Later...

"It's coming!"...

Swallowing as it goes...
(doesn't this one look like a vibrant oil painting?)

Sky Cowboys

~Photo by Nancy

Did you know that pilots have their own special maps of the sky?

There is a map that labels the air space areas. We looked at one recently, and since Ben knows what he's looking at when one of those is placed in front of him, we learned some interesting things. Mainly that the area above the farm is considered a MOA (Millitary Operations Area).

We kind of knew that already since we frequently watch the military jets practicing their dog-fighting skills. It's loud, and it's cool. It's especially cool when they practice at night. The flares they set off light up the sky like fireworks.

So what does that mean for planes that are NOT of military nature? It means they have to fly UNDER the MOA, which is 300 or 400 feet off the ground.

I was reminded of this a few days ago when the crop duster flew by our house.

There's one man that does all the crop-dusting in the area. He flies a bright yellow plane. In order to know where he's at from the sky, he uses roads and buildings as his signs. Whenever he's coming to spray, he uses our house as a point of reference. It's sort of like he's stopping by to say "Hi" and "Good Bye". Every time he does it, though, it sounds as though he's going to land on the roof.

I decided that I was going to take pictures. I was laying in bed in my sleepy groggy state early in the morning, when I heard the thundering engine pass by the house. I threw back the covers and jumped out of bed. I scampered around for my glasses, a pair of flip-flops, and my keys. Storming out the door I jumped in the car and headed for field #5.

Did you know that they have little toilet paper-looking markers that they drop out of the plane to keep track of where they have already sprayed? Cleaver.

Have you ever watched these planes maneuver gracefully and effortlessly around in the sky...turning sharply in every direction?

Back and Forth...Up and Down...

It's mesmerizing.

Although, the pig weed that's trying to kill the corn crop probably DOESN'T think it's beautiful.

"The Answer Is Blowing In The Wind"

During summer time in the desert, a little phenomenon happens every day around 5pm. It's called a Monsoon. This is how "flash-flooding" happens. It's when it rains SO much and SO fast that the hard desert ground can't absorb the moisture. It has to go somewhere, so gravity takes over.


Every year in the Phoenix area, we would turn on the 6 o'clock news and see what idiot tried to drive through the flash-floods that evening. It was usually something like a Hummer H2 with shiny rims. An SUV that has never seen dirt, but has commanded the full confidence of it's out-of-town owner who thinks it can drive through anything. Soon he realizes that without a snorkel NOTHING can drive through a street-turned-raging-river with 5 feet of instant water. The helicopters are called...the news arrives...people risk their lives saving the idiots, while we all watch. Fascinating. And it happened almost every evening.

Down here on the farm it's a little different. People down here have been living with the summer monsoons for generations, and some of the trucks actually DO have snorkels because they actually DO drive them off the road. In fact, they're driven OFF road more then ON road. Usually, though, everyone just stays at home when the storm comes.

So what is a Monsoon like?

If you LOVE having water poured on your head out of a bucket,

If you love watching extreme lightening and hearing thunder, or ever thought about being a "storm-chaser",

If you liked the movie "Twister", but didn't care for the tornadoes (since we only rarely get SMALL funnel clouds....sometimes),

If you LOVE being completely FREAKED out by weather,

Then, you will LOVE the monsoon....and you will have the chance to love it every day!

We wake up to a clear sunny sky. (So clear and sunny that I'm going to start working on my tan in the mornings.) It's beautiful. Then, at about 5pm (you can set your watch by it), the sky darkens and the black clouds roll in. The wind gusts start and that is when I take the pillows and cushions off the patio furniture and bring them inside. Last night, the wind blew my hummingbird feeders right off their hooks.

Then, the lightening moves in and starts announcing it's presence....not very subtle! After that, the water pours out of the sky. This only lasts for about 10 minutes before someone up there turns off the switch and the water stops. Instantly. So much water is on the ground now, though, that some people are stranded when the river is washing over their driveways. No worries, though, just wait another 20 minutes and the river will be cross-able.

When I was a little girl, growing up in California and experiencing the "weak" rain storms of the Sierra Nevadas, I always wondered how Noah would have needed an ark after 40 days of rain. It rains, like, every DAY in Seattle. How could a little rain possibly create THAT much water....enough water to cover the entire earth? Even if it WAS 40 days, it still didn't jive.

I understand now.

A forty-day, forty-night Desert Monsoon? Now THAT'S a lot of water!

"Kneady" Women

~Photos by Nancy

Strawberry Jam on fresh "just-baked" bread,

Laughing and snacking on garden tomatoes of red,

Ignoring the phone and letting it ring,

Being with girlfriends and learning new things.

These are a few of my favorite things.

(Okay, it's redundant, but I don't care! It's hard to make sentances tell a story AND rhyme too!)

Anyway....

"Thank You, Shanda and Rayna...for teaching me how to bake bread and for being my friends."

"Do You Feel Lucky....PUNK!"

"Well, yes I do, actually...."

Yesterday was hayden's birthday. He's now 4 years old, and I can't believe how fast time flies!

We made cupcakes together. He poured in the oil, water, and eggs. He put the papers in the pan. He was VERY helpful....and VERY grown-up.

We decorated cupcakes with a few friends and he opened a few presents. It was a good day...but even HE doesn't realize what a lucky charmed day it really was. Let me explain.....

A friend came over to get her hair cut a few weeks ago. She has four sons: all of whom are in Little League. They were having a raffle to earn money for their club.

Before she left, she asked me to buy the tickets...one for each boy.

"Well, how about if I just discount your haircut from what I normally charge people who come to my house and you can just throw in four tickets for me. Even?" She agreed.

Yesterday, I got a call.

Ben answered and after a pause said, "It's for you, Nanc...it's the Little League."

I had forgotten about the raffle and wondered for a second if they had found out I had a little boy and were trying to get new members. It's a small town.

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is Ruth with the town Little League. You entered a drawing a few weeks ago and it looks like you won the grand prize."

"Oh yeah? What is it?"

"A 42-inch plasma TV."

("YAAHOOOO!!!")

This is the part where I started jumping up and down, while running around the house, yelling,

"I WON A TV...I WON A PLASMA!"

I decided that since we already have a 52-inch plasma for our family room, AND considering the fact that it was drawn on Hayden's birthday, the plasma will go in the playroom. Irish family....Irish name....Hayden's my lucky star.

Bobbing For Ice Cubes

Jack is one of the most spoiled farm dogs in this area.....and has NO idea!

On a farm, dogs work. Their shelter is the porch, and they sleep on the ground. I'm actually going to the feed store in town this week to get vaccinations for Jack. I never thought in a million years that I would be the one giving my dogs their shots, but we live on a farm now, and that's just what you do.

Farm animals do NOT come into the house, they don't get dressed up for Halloween, and they definately don't get to have ice cubes in their water! Jack doesn't come in the house, nor does he have a costume for Halloween, but he DOES get ice cubes in his water.

Although this place will NEVER get as hot as Phoenix (and I make sure I give thanks in my prayers for that everyday) it IS, afterall, summertime. I felt sorry for Jack being outside in the 90-degree weather, wearing his fur coat, while I came in and out of the air-conditioned house. I decided to give him a treat. I came out with a glass full of fresh ice from the freezer and placed them into his water bowl.

He came over for a drink. First he touched his nose on one and it bobbed down into the water. Then he did it again, harder, and the ice cube went all the way down to the bottom before it bounced back up. He realized they were cold, so he started licking them until his tongue got chilly. He started playing: pushing them to the bottom of his bowl with his nose and sticking half his face into the water. I think this may have been the first time he realized he couldn't breathe underwater, because he kept coming up and sneezing. It was comical to watch and I laughed from my air-conditioned spot, just inside the french doors.

Now, I bring him ice cubes twice a day. He plays with them in the bowl before grabbing them one by one and chasing them around on the concrete sidewalk. Before they melt completely, he chews them up like a piece of hard candy.

Jack also likes corn-on-the-cob. Since I have thumbs and he doesn't, I hold it for him and he eats it until it's clean. Then, I throw it into his bowl and he chews on the cob like it's a bone.

Ben and I are going on a vacation this summer. I can only imagine what it will be like to instruct whoever will be feeding Jack for us while we're gone.

"All of his toys go in this pot, there's corn in the fridge, his dry food is over there.....Oh yeah! and he likes to have ice cubes in his water!"

(Oh, and by the way....our dog will not be sleeping on the ground for much longer-eventhough he DOES sleep on an old sleeping bag. We are building him a dog house next week. I have already chosen the elevation and color scheme....Spoiled dog!)

'Hoot' Do You Think YOU Are!

~Photo by Nancy

During World War II, the land that this farm now sits on was a military air training base. Rumor has it that there are secret tunnels and bunkers running under this farm, but nobody knows how to access them. Every once in a while we see noticeably uneven ground and wonder if that is where one of the bunkers are. If we could find the access, imagine what we would find down there. That's it.....call Geraldo!

There are also a few left-over Quonset Huts. Quonset Huts were used as housing and they can withstand ANYTHING. If there were a sudden tornado, I'm running for the Quonsets....even if they ARE over 60 years old. (By the way, I've asked....and everyone keeps reassuring me we have too many mountains for tornados.) You still see the design everywhere in farm country because they really ARE so durable, especially in extreme wind and weather.

Since my dad and uncles are all veterans of WWII, I've always been interested in that era. I decided to go exploring the Quonsets.




I pranced right up to the door and through it as though I didn't even think of the fact there could be scary things living in it. It's been vacant for a very long time. I walked in as though I owned the place and yelled back to Ben, "It's really dirty!"

Just then, there was a lound thundering noise and wind seeming to swirl around the room. I didn't know what was going on or how to react until an enormous feathered wing slapped me in the face and blew my hair into my eyes.

When I was in my college Psychology class, I remember studying the natural "Fight or Flight" instinct. Today, MY brain chose "flight" and I went screaming back out the door, holding my camera in my left hand, slapping myself on the head with my right, and sort of jumping, skipping, AND running all at the same time. As soon as I got a few feet out the door, I came back to my senses and realized, "I want a picture!" So I stopped, turned around, and ran back in.

There, I came face to face with a HUGE barn owl who is the current resident of the vacant Quonset. His big eyes seemed to look at me and say, "Couldn't you KNOCK first....you almost gave me a heart-attack!" I wanted to say "Oh yeah, well DITTO!" But I decided talking to owls would not improve the conflict OR make me feel any better.

The Quonset Hut was like a history lesson. Very cool. The smallest doorknobs, toilets, sinks, and stove I've ever seen. After a little time passes, I may return and try to make friends with the owl. I think a mouse may be a nice peace offering/house warming gift.

What do you think?