Cabin Mama

Humor and woodsy wisdom by Laura Lollar

Stories

Are you a Cabin Mama too?

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Whether you grew up in a cabin, adopted one as you got older or relish the lifestyle that comes with cabin living, you can be a Cabin Mama too!

You’ll know you’re a Cabin Mama too if you…

  • relish living in the woods,
  • enjoy wood smoke and campfire smells on your clothes,
  • have a love/hate relationship with squirrels,
  • love the looks of knotty pine,
  • use pine cone fire starters,
  • jealously guard your stacks of firewood,
  • can cook over an open fire,
  • love the smell of bacon and hash,
  • collect old wool army blankets,
  • have used kerosene lamps,
  • love wildflower bouquets and wild strawberries,
  • frequently engage in sing-a-longs,
  • savor coffee on the deck or porch,
  • trade plants with neighbors,
  • host hunting parties and camp reunions,
  • collect old hats and coats people left behind,
  • have been known to use an outhouse,
  • pump water at the well,
  • enjoy the iris and daffodils Gramma planted,
  • can skip makeup altogether,
  • get up early to see deer in the front grove,
  • are used to living with a wide variety of indoor insects,
  • love the scent of pine trees.

Yes, we’re all Cabin Mama’s at heart. I wish you many years of loving and living and making memories in your charming abode!

I’d love to hear what you love about cabins, the woods and being a Cabin Mama too.

Please send me a note so we can add to this list.

Warmly, Laura

Lollypop Farm

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In Rochester NY where I grew up, the local branch of the Humane Society was affectionately known as Lollypop Farm. We kids loved to visit there because it had a barnyard with goats and sheep we could feed and pet. It was where you went to adopt an animal. It was also where you took the pets you could not keep. We always wondered about Lollypop Farm. Did all the pets there get adopted? Mom and Dad said they did.

There were six of us kids. At one point, Mom and Dad had five under five. We didn’t have a lot of pets ‘cause my folks had their hands full as it was. But with enough pleading, a few critters found their way into our home. I never got the pony I wanted, but we scored with a few smaller animals.

Mugsy was my brother Eric’s apricot poodle. He was cute, cuddly and very portable. We took Mugsy with us on our trip to Cape Cod in a big Winnebago motor home. He liked to lay on the long, wide dashboard and survey the countryside. When my Dad made a turn, Mugsy slid smoothly across the vinyl dash to the driver’s side. 

But Mugsy didn’t like to be left behind. Mom would come home from grocery shopping and find that sweet little dog on their bed getting far too frisky with her decorative pillows. The last straw was when he wet all over Mom’s brand new living room drapes.

Mugsy went to Lollypop Farm.

Trixie was the cat from hell. She was super hyper from the moment we brought her home. She’d run loops around the tops of our living room furniture. She had wild eyes and would show her sharp teeth when she panted.  We were all afraid of her. My youngest brother still sports a scar down his face from that demon cat. 

Trixie went to Lollypop Farm.

I had a big, beautiful white male rabbit. We kept him in a fenced spot in the backyard in the summer. In the winter he stayed in the garage in a cage. He would get so excited to see us! If we walked close to his cage, he’d run around in circles and display his manliness. That didn’t bode well for the bottom of my Dad’s dress pants. 

It wasn’t long before the rabbit went to Lollypop Farm too.

My brother Paul’s long haired guinea pig was so funny! We called him Jerry and he looked like a little mop on batteries. He was black with streaks of caramel colored hair that reached to the ground. We’d put him on the floor in the middle of the kitchen just to watch him scurry to the corner and hide under the cabinets. He made us laugh!

Jerry’s cage was in a basement room where Mom worked on her crafts. After church one day we all came home to find him stretched out in his cage. My brother said, “Mom, something is wrong with Jerry. He doesn’t look too good. And he’s not moving.” We soon held a burial ceremony for Jerry and laid him to rest somewhere in the back yard. 

Months later, Mom was in her craft room spray painting one of her creations and she noticed a warning on the side of the can. “May harm small animals.” She felt terrible. Poor Jerry never made it to Lollipop Farm.

My parents are very compassionate people. Truly. They love animals. My Mom keeps the birds fat and happy. She stuffs peanut butter into the holes Dad drilled into a birch log and she hangs it under the front porch. But Mom and Dad both battle with the squirrels. They’ve tried every which way to keep them out of the bird feeders and the flower pots. Dad finally took drastic measures and bought a cage. Once it caught a mad-as-a-wet-hen victim, he’d relocate it to the park at the end of their street. For every squirrel he moved to the park, four or five new ones appeared back up at the house. One squirrel nested in a spruce outside their back patio door, so now they have a whole “fam damily” of squirrels.

Next stop – Lollypop Farm!

The Engineer’s Wife

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I married an engineer.

You’re talking to a woman who doesn’t balance her checkbook, goes by the rule “good enough IS enough” and cooks by the seat of her pants. As my former boss knows all too well, the term “planning” is anathema to me. Risk assessment is a phrase I’ve never much dwelled on. Project management scares me silly and “measure twice, cut once” is a lesson I still haven’t learned.

Enter my wonderful husband, Doug.

He balances his checkbook to the penny, glories in the magic of spreadsheets, color codes his calendar and keeps emails longer than I’ve kept tax records.

I’ve learned a lot in the four short years we’ve been married.

For example: it’s “soil” not dirt; it’s “concrete” not cement; and it’s “fuel” not gas.

I’ve grown used to pillow-talk on Subsurface Utility Engineering, foundation design, reinforced concrete slab, erosion control BMP (best management practices), traffic control device spacing and signal timing.

Oooo, baby! Whisper it to me slowly!

When we read in bed, I’m absorbed in Jerry Jenkins’ Left Behind books. Doug is knee deep in Reinforced Concrete Design.

We have baggies of “soil” all over the house and a jar of dirt and water measuring the separation of clay and sand. The official name is “Sediment Suspension Test” in case you were wondering. The jar sits among other decorative items on our fireplace mantle. While Doug observes sediment layers measured in centimeters, I see an image of snow covered sage bushes.

He’s planning a leach field for our future home and texts me love notes of holes in the ground with protruding measuring implements. Last year for Christmas I got him the Survey Linker Rod he asked for. I call it a BMS – Big Measuring Stick.

Our dinner conversations are all about perc tests and clay deposits.

The garage is now organized with every rake and shovel and broom in their own special spot. A tennis ball hangs to indicate the exact spot to park the car. Tools nest in drawers according to size and function.

When I hang a picture on the wall, it’s a hit or miss process. He’ll measure from stem to stern (he’s a Navy guy) to find the right place for the nail. I marvel at how he only needs one hole to do the job right.

Yet, I’m the fussy one when it comes to loading the dishwasher. I re-arrange to get maximum cleanliness. And God help anyone who puts plates in the wrong spot. I’m sensitive to water flow and soap dispersion, ya know.

Together we make a great pair. We poke fun at our quirks and find plenty to laugh about. I love his wit and sense of humor. He puts up with my penchant to collect books, boxes and old furniture.

I call him “Cookie Monster” ‘cause he sneaks out of bed at night to raid the pantry. He calls me “Blondie” although these days, it’s more a pet name than a fact.

We’re lucky we found each other. And he’s the best Cabin Dude this Cabin Mama could ever have hoped for!

Horse Crazy Girl Finally Gets a Pony

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How many of us will admit to being a little horse crazy as a kid? When I was a young ‘un, I lined the shelves in my bedroom with lots of little plastic horse statues, hoping one day I’d get to own a real one.

When my parents took us six kids to a winter festival, we sat on a sled with hay bales pulled by a team of huge draft horses. I remember telling my mom, “I love the smell of horses!”

My sisters and I would pretend to be Palominos, Appaloosas, Arabians and Mustangs. We’d run through the woods, whinnying and pawing the air with our “hooves” to prove just how wild and untamed we really were.

I dreamed of having an office one day like Wilbur on TV. His horse, Mr. Ed, would hang his head over the stall door that separated the barn from the architect’s place of business. Ah, the best of both worlds!

Then I grew up. I rode whenever a chance occurred, took a few riding lessons and vowed one day I’d have my own horse. But the time never came. I got married and the kids came along, which took most of our resources to keep up with. And later on when I bought the cabin, there wasn’t enough room to board a horse on that little spot in the woods.

But Doug had owned a horse. And he had built himself a small barn to keep “Sunny” in.

So early on in our dating adventures, he invited me over for dinner and gave me a tour of the place. He had a saddle in the basement, horse blankets on a stand and ropes on the wall, just like a real cowboy!

He even called me “Darlin’” with that country kind of drawl. (Every time he calls me “Darlin” it gives me goosebumps!)

But there was more! “C’mon out to the barn,” he said. “I’ve got something to show you.” 

He slid open the door and sunshine streamed across the dirt floor to the hay bales stacked against the rough wooden panels.

“I know you’ve been hankerin’ for a horse, so I got you one.”

And there it was, with sunlight bathing its long brown mane and a white blaze across its forehead. It stood there placid, silent and serene and stared deep into my eyes.

My very own stick pony!

He urged me to take it for a ride, but I knew I was too much of a novice to do it justice. So I just took it home and it shares my office. Just like Wilbur and Mr. Ed!

Big Beautiful Birthday Surprise

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I was beginning to learn that Doug had a great sense of humor and was also good at springing surprises on me. My birthday was no exception.

As the date approached, I coyly let him know I didn’t have any plans for that night. Being the gentleman he was he said, “Well, of course we’re going to have to celebrate! How about supper out that. Night?” And I said yes with a smile.

He arrived at the house to pick me up with a long narrow box wrapped in birthday paper and urged me to open it before we went out. What could it be? I imagined all kinds of exciting things. I tore open the wrappings and pulled back the tissue paper to find…

…a grill brush!

“You said the wildfire burned the barbecue grill, so I thought I’d get you a brush for when you get a new grill,” he explained. I didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t at all what I’d expected. Visions of a vacuum cleaner, skillet and stepladder for Christmas danced through my head.

But my momma taught me to be polite. No. Matter. What. So I recovered from my surprise and thanked him profusely. “It’s perfect,” I said. “Just what I’ll be needing!”

Then out we went, down the steps and towards his truck. He opened the door for me as he always did, but stopped me in mid-step.

“Wait just a minute, let me get that out of your way,” he said, referring to a big propane gas bottle on the floorboard in front of my seat. “Let me put it in the back of the truck — along with the REST of your present.”

He led me around to the bed of the truck and opened the cab topper to reveal a HUGE box. Inside the box was — you guessed it —a grill! A big, bright, shiny brand new grill!

I couldn’t contain myself! I was so floored by his generosity that I jumped right up and gave him a big kiss. I almost knocked him over and think I surprised him as much as he had surprised me! My gosh, I would never have expected that kind of a gift. We’d only been dating a month or so.

I was just glowing as we went in for dinner. It was a wonderful evening. We talked, laughed, held hands — the typical lovey dovey stuff you do when you’re dating. (I wasn’t even tempted to nudge his glass away from the edge of the table or cut up his steak, like I do with my kids!)

Then he looked deep into my eyes and said, “Laurie (my family calls me Laurie), do you think it’s possible for two people to know it’s right so soon in the relationship?” I sucked in my breath and thought, “Wow! Did I just hear what I thought I heard?”

But he was sincere. There was no joking around with that question. “Yes,” I said. “I’ve heard of people who have only known each other a few weeks who knew it was the real thing. And they’ve lasted. I do think it’s possible.” Goosebumps came over me and I thought, maybe this IS the real thing!

A full moon was out by the time we got back to my place. We sat on the front porch under its light and talked for hours. I decided to share some of my “backstory” so I wouldn’t be wasting my time (or his) should he learn something later that would change his mind. I was nervous as I told him more of my past, health issues and responsibilities, but he pulled my feet up onto his lap, leaned forward and said, “Is that all ya got?”

My gosh, this man was a saint. Not that I’m an ax murderer or anything, but we’ve all got baggage. I had decided not to hide anything, so if he stuck around it was because he really loved me, warts and all.

I was getting the sense he really did!

But that wasn’t all. There were more surprises to come!

How I Met the Man of My Dreams

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I wasn’t looking. And despite my sister’s encouragement, I wasn’t eager to meet the guy she kept saying was a very nice man. She’d worked with him for decades and had even showed me his Facebook Page. Nice smile. Good looking guy. But I’d gotten used to being on my own lo’ those many years and frankly didn’t want the drama.

Then she invited me to a Military Appreciation Day concert. Mom, Dad and my sister were planning to go. She added, “Oh and Doug’s coming too.”

Great. Pressure. “Okay but just don’t make me sit next to him”I said. I didn’t want a setup. I’d been in the new house just a few years after the wildfire burned my old one down and was happy to have some peace in my life. But just in case, I brought along my best friend too – for protection ya know.

We all met for a bite to eat before the concert and I noticed how nice he was to my Mom. He was great fun to talk with, we had some things in common and I liked the stories he told.

The concert was wonderful. I sat way at the end of the row and he sat way at the other end next to my sister. After it was over, he gave me his business card and I gave him mine.

My sister told me that as he walked her out to her car, Doug mentioned he liked our family a lot. “Your Mom and Dad are great. Your sister was nice.” Then he added, “But I REALLY liked your sister Laurie!”

The next day we exchanged a polite, “Nice to meet you” email and then, well, then there was nothing. A month passed, so I went about my business, until out of the blue I got a text. 

“Would you like to have supper with me sometime?” I said yes and within a minute he extended the invite. “How about this coming Monday?” He asked. The guy didn’t waste much time firming things up.

So we had dinner — once, twice, three times. He came to my house and I went to his. Before we knew it, we were a couple. It was gradual, but it was clear there was something there of substance. We got along well. He made me laugh. I shared all my baggage early on, thinking it was best to get it out there so there weren’t any surprises. He did the same. He asked me questions about my likes, dislikes, my life and my driving record. (He’s an engineer, after all.)

There were regular emails with links to romantic songs on YouTube and texts of “sweet nothings” that gave me the goosebumps. I loved being pursued and I swear there were days I couldn’t concentrate on work. At. All.

It was wonderful to finally meet someone who seemed to be as enthralled with me as I was with him. Truly, the sun shone brighter and the sky seemed bluer. Life was good!

Then my birthday came around. Wait till you hear what happened next!

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