Peace.

There’s a place that I like to go. It’s not a real place, although it started out that way. Years back I spent a week in Yellowstone, camped on Slough Creek, and I fell in love with that place.

It’s peaceful there. Even with dozens of people camped around me, it was peaceful. Birds, chipmunks, deer and bison, and the sound of the water trickling over rounded stones. Elk bugling in the twilight hour, and the scent of pine on the air.

I loved it. I was in Yellowstone with so much to see, so many places to explore, and I spent four days just sitting in my campsite watching the world go by.

I use that memory, when things get bad. I close my eyes, and take a deep breath, and put myself back there, in the opening of my tent. I guess it’s a form of meditation. It’s not exactly a “happy place,” more of a relaxing place. It doesn’t work as well as spending an hour in a pasture surrounded by my horses, but it does buy me time to get there, when everything is going to hell.

And, every once in a while, it just provides a few minutes of peace.

It’s changed. It used to be a straight up memory of the time I spent there. I’d pick a day, or a moment, and just bask in it. Now, when I go there, other things happen. I saw deer, when I was there. A bison crossed the creek and walked by not ten feet from me, as unconcerned as if I’d been a tree stump.

Now, if I think of the evening, I hear the elk, like I did, but I also hear the wolves. I never did hear Yellowstone’s wolves when I was there, although I listened every night. I hear the wolves singing to each other and it doesn’t make me afraid, it makes me feel even more peaceful. I think because that’s the way it should be. The wolves, they belong there. That place belongs to the animals, to nature, far more than it does to man, for all of our building roads and campsites and the thousands of people who go there every year.

With very few exceptions, we leave. The animals are always there. That’s how it should be.

Inside my head I watch a grizzly wander across the meadow across the creek, a cub gamboling around her feet. The sun shines down, the sky is so blue it hurts the eyes to look at it. The trees are a deep, deep green, and the grass is golden and waving in the slightest breeze.

I’m sitting on the ground with my feet in the crystal clear water, resting on a rock polished smooth by unknown decades of flow. My back leans against a fallen tree, bark gone and wood bleached white by the sun. My head tips back and I savor the sensations of the sun warming my body, and the breeze ruffling over my skin, through my hair.

Birds that I don’t know tweet, twitter, and sing in the trees surrounding me, while squirrels and chipmunks chatter back and forth. It smells of life, dirt and growth and animals mingling in my nose. I can’t hear an engine, I don’t smell gasoline, diesel, cleaning products. I can’t see a human being, and I know I won’t, as long as I stay here. I know that people have walked across this creek, crossed the meadow in front of me, but I might as well be the first person ever to see this, for all the impact they’ve left.

I lean back again and let the wild world wash over me, eyes closed. As the sun begins sinking behind the purple mountains, the wolves sing their evening song, lulling me into a deep, peaceful sleep.

I like it here.

Christmas Day

For many, many years, Farmmom and I would go to her sister's house for Christmas Day with that side of the Fam. Farmdad was banned, due to an unfortunate incident with the other sister which involved hypoglycemia, deliberately honey glazed ham, and Farmdad mooing.

Anyway, a couple years ago (I guess it's officially three years ago now) we went up to Aunt L's house for Christmas Day with Grandpa, Aunt L, Aunt M, Uncle D, Aunt P, and the Herd of Cousins, only to be surprised when we arrived.

See, I tended to dread that trip, mostly because the food sucked, but Aunt M would be snarky enough that I'd suffer through two full plates, while she picked at a half a portion of green salad. Aunt M is unfortunate enough to have gotten the other side of the family weight issues. I have to struggle to maintain my weight and keep from losing, and she can't hardly lose at all.

She's also a bitter old harpy. So, she was just as snarky as she could get away with in front of Grandpa, to me and to Farmmom, every year. And, every year, Farmmom would extract a promise from me outside the house to behave myself and not cause waves. So, I ate seconds. And pie. And seconds of pie. It was the only weapon I was allowed....

But, this year, practically as soon as we walked in the door (all the while with me thinking "white its all white I can't touch anything I'll smudge it it's white don't touch....") we realized that something very important had changed.

They had Booze! The aunts and Uncle B, Aunt L's husband, had decided to make it an alcoholic Christmas.

There was apple cider with three different kinds of liqour in it, and Uncle B was in the process of making home made Egg Nog.

I thought... finally! Something to make the day bearable!

Then I realized how heavily they'd been into the Special Grown Up Cider. And decided to sit back and enjoy the show.

Of course they offered myself, and Farmmom, a libation. We politely declined on the grounds that we had a three hour drive home, cops everywhere ya know.

Then they offered some to my sixteen year old cousin... Who was playing Chauffer that day for Grandpa.

She was wise enough to decline.

Bout then the Eggnog was remembered. When Uncle B went to check on it, he discovered that he'd left it on the heat too long... it was about the consistency of oatmeal.

Aunt M insisted on trying it anyway, so in went the rum, and into a glass.

Less than five minutes later she's wandering around with a glass of oatmeal-nog and a spoon, happy as a clam.

That was about it for entertainment, until we got to the table. Aunt L has this long formal dining table... in white marble... so we were fairly spread out. Uncle B got the head of the table, Grandpa got the foot. Uncle B was bracketed by Aunt L and Aunt M.

Somewhere between pass the potatoes and 'scuse my belch, Aunt M leaned over and started extolling the virtues of Salt and Pepper haired men... while running her fingers through her sister's husband's hair. At the dinner table. While murmuring "Oh, so sexy..."

I snorted. I looked at Farmmom, beseaching. She squeezed her eyes shut, wrinked up her forehead, and nodded.

She says that the grin that came over my face at that moment looked like a portal into Snark Hell.

Well, maybe. But after howmany years of having to promise to keep my snark locked behind my teeth (and as a result saying a total of about twelve words in the entire day most times) it was frankly a relief to let it out.

Still, it was a family affair, and Grandpa was there, so I confined myself to a single comment.

"You know, I think that end of the table might just have had a little bit too much of the Christmas Spirits."

Grandpa choked on his mashed potatoes. Farmmom nearly snorted peas.

Aunt M merely looked down her nose at me, wavering as she attempted to decide which one of me to snob at, and said "You can never have too much Christmas Spirit."

Well. So much for one comment.

"There was an S on the end of that for a reason," I said. She couldn't seem to decide whether or not to be offended.

Meanwhile Grandpa stopped even pretending to eat, and Farmmom was preparing to carefully move her plate to one side so that she could perform a headdesk maneuver on the marble table. Probably regretting giving me the go ahead. Grandpa, sitting right next to me, was shaking, and for a moment I wondered if I'd crossed the line.

Then he snorted a bit, trying to hold in laughter, and I knew it was all good.

All in all, I gotta say, the food was better than normal, the company was far more entertaining than usual...

Yeah, it was the best Christmas Day I ever spent at Aunt L's.

Obligatory Gift-List

Well. Paper has been shredded, tossed, carefully searched for dropped small gifts, and stuffed into trash bags. Boxes have been opened, broken down, and bagged.

For a while there, with everyone opening presents in Mamaw's living room, it looked like Santa crapped everywhere.

I'm pretty proud of my gift choices this year, I didn't get a single "oh, gee... thanks."

As a matter of fact I got several "wow, I love it" and "ooohhh"s along with one actual squeal. Which was pretty damn impressive considering Farmmom has a cold and can't hardly talk, let alone squeal.

Mamaw loved her bronze statue of a rearing filly, and Step-Grandpa was very pleased with his super fuzzy warm blanket.

Brother got what he asked for, and sister in law went "ooo pretty" over the necklace that Farmmom and I went together on.

I won the bet on who's gift Eldest Nephew would play with first (I cheated, I got him the Hulk Hands that make noises when you hit something with them.)

Youngest Nephew enjoyed opening packages so much he was trying to steal everyone else's.

Farmmom squealed over the Ostrich Attack shirt I got her from AD's Zazzle store... Farmdad said "Yes!" when he opened his.

Brother and Sis in Law made out like bandits with a Wii system and a bunch of games and controllers.

Me? Well, the best gift was watching everyone open their stuff, but frankly, I made out like a bandit too.

Since I was playing "santa" and delivering everyone their gifts, I was the last to finish opening mine. I was in a bit of a hurry, so I didn't take as much note of the tags as I probably should have.

I got those shoes I mentioned before (which SB promptly called Hooker Heels... so I hit him with one.... his fam was putting off all the holiday celebrating until this weekend, so I invited him to ours. A person ought to have a real Christmas dinner on Christmas Eve or day, and I'm just nice like that.)

I got a new pair of Eeyore PJ's.... fuzzy ones. What can I say, I'm addicted to PJ's and Eeyore is just too cute.

I got a wall to car plug converter... which is auspicious since I left my wall charger for my phone at my house, and had to borrow Mamaw's converter Monday night.

Bro and Sis in Law got me a smore's kit in the cutest little paint can, and the traditional bag of good coffee, although this time it was Dunkin Doughnuts, rather than Starbucks.

Between Mamaw and the Farmparents I got pretty much every kitchen accessory I've asked for in the last two years. A Kitchen Aid mixer (oh how I love thee, let me count the ways...) and a fancy Magic Bullet blender... the one with the juicer and all that.... and I won't have any place to put them for a couple of months yet!

And, a gorgeous dreamcatcher, standing instead of the traditional hanging, with a wolf motif on the base.

Mamaw also gave me the spiffy new laptop that I'm now in the process of configuring, and am posting on. My old one, the hinge for the screen is broken. I never know if this time closing it or opening it will be the time the whole danged screen just falls off. With the new laptop I can set it up so that the old one is a stationary unit, and just leave it open.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go pet my presents some more.... hehehe.

'Tis The Night Before Christmas... Eve....

And all through the house,
Not a dog is stirring,
Though the cat stares at a mouse.

Thermal socks are slung over the radiator with care,
In hopes that come morning toasty toes will be there.

Farmmom and Pop are all snug in their bed,
While visions of Hawaii surely dance in their heads.

And I in my sweater, and Noel wide awake,
Are waiting so patiently for the pumpkin custard to bake.

Tomorrow we'll feast, and open our gifts,
For tonight I have pups, and my hefty cat Ziff.

All in all it was good, a real family tradition,
Farmmom and I, at the table a-dishin.

Recalling years past and the way things have changed,
Telling tales on each other, and friends... best not named.

No hot mulled wine, no hard apple cider,
We're crazy enough, we couldn't be tighter.

Tomorrow is time for the Fam and those things,
Tonight was for us, and the joy that that brings.

The nephews will reach for their gifts full of glee,
Seeing their faces is the best part for me.

We'll eat and we'll laugh, and all will be well,
What will come in the new year, only time will tell.

I fear I must leave you, for I'm out of rhymes,
But I'll wish you much joy, and the best of times.


Merry Christmas, everyone!

Wow. I'm a Weirdo... TV Edition

We all know that I'm a bit... odd. Especially those folks that have known me in an "online" sense for years (Yes, I'm talking about you, Josh) and those who know me on the other side of the computer screen.

(A while back I was actually approached in the real world by someone who reads my blog and knows who I am. She's an acquaintance of Mamaw's, but she complimented me on my scribblings and made a point to tell me that she read. I'd like to thank her, cause that just blew my mind at a time when my mind needed blowing.... or something along those lines that doesn't sound quite so dirty...)

My lust for all things electronic and nifty, paired with my at times overwhelming urges to be, literally, in the middle of nowhere.

My lack of interest, and frankly skill, at the girly arts of hair and makeup, paired with an unfortunate yen for snazzy shoes that then stare forlornly at me from the bottom of my closet as I yet again pull on a pair of work or "cowboy" type boots.

Odd. That's me.

But, some of the greatest examples of my weirdness come blaring out of the TV screen... Here's some examples:

1. I love Bones, House, ER, CSI: Miami (it's all about waiting for that moment when Horatio gives his dramatic pause, usually paired with either putting on or taking off his sunglasses.)

2. Farmmom and I were entirely addicted to Gilmore Girls. Like, every Tuesday night, and later Wednesday night, without fail, no matter where we were, whether we were together or not, we would sit down and watch. If we were apart, we could sometimes refrain from calling until after the show to go "Oh. My. God... can you believe what Jess did??"

Farmdad learned quickly to pretend to be invisible for an hour. We would discuss the show when it wasn't on, and speculate about what would happen next. Obscure references were made. Quotes are still thrown around. We have the first four seasons on DVD.

We threw a farewell party the night of the series finale. We cried.

3. I'm often caught by odd "informational" shows. I've seen how they make sink drains, pencils, M&M's and Airplanes. I've watched as the most boring people in the world, assisted by people with a little more skill in presentation, show me tombs of rulers long gone, theorize about who was banging who four thousand years ago, and somehow... wow... find entire countries that are only obliquely mentioned in any known recorded history.

4. I've banned myself from watching Animal Planet. I don't always succeed in my determination not to tune to that channel, but I try. Animal Cops invariably pisses me off and makes me cry, no matter what city they're in. And it's always on.

5. HBO is the debil when it comes to wasting time when I really should be doing something constructive. Taxicab Confessions... just... wow. Cathouse... again wow. Seriously, I don't think I could manage being a prostitute myself, but that show always makes a little part of me want to try it. Real Sex... just flat out fucking fascinates me. Forget Skinemax for late night naughtyvision, HBO takes it to a whole new level. Sometimes, a very creepy level....

6. True Blood gets a whole number to itself. I started watching because I love the Sookie Stackhouse books. I kept watching, in spite of being able to sit in my recliner and tell myself what was going to happen next, because it just rawks.

7. Deadwood. 'Nuff Said.

8. I can sing the entire theme song for the Wonderpets. In fact, it's an earworm that never quite goes away.

9. Infomercials. I never buy anything, but I can't resist seeing what crap they're trying to sell now.

10. Food Network. In spite of the fact that I can't find half of the ingredients of the things that I really want to try, and at least half of the things I see on there make me go "waitaminute... what?" I can't resist. Alton Brown can give me tunnel vision in ten seconds flat.

I think that's enough for now. Add in the fact that I bounce between all of these things, and more, with no coherent pattern (Real Sex to Gilmore Girls reruns to Bones to Wonderpets to Food Network to.... you get the picture) and it's just another layer to my sometimes borderline crazyness.

Ahhh, Holidays

It's that time of year again, when people put up trees, trim them with care, adorn their houses with greenery and lights....

A miserable time of year.

Don't get me wrong, I love the holidays. Time with the family, finding the perfect gifts, the anticipation, waiting to find out what is in the pretty packages.... (shut up, Farm Family. I'll tell that story when I'm damn good and ready.)

Not to mention the beautiful decorations and scent of evergreen everywhere....

There's just one teensy little problem.

I'm violently allergic to "real" evergreen plants, when they start to dry out.

I don't mean stuffed up nose, sneezing, sinus headache kind of allergic. I mean, the last time we had a real tree, Farmmom darn near hauled me to the ER, cause I was one sick little kid.

Every year since then, I've been a little sad when we put up the tree. I love the smell of a real tree, to the point that when Farmmom and I were in Yellowstone, I literally rolled down the window and hung my head out as we entered the forest lanes.

No joke.

Unfortunately, I'm allergic enough that it's a situation where I'm absolutely miserable. Like, so much snot running down the back of my throat that I puke, eyes swollen nearly shut, sneezing hard enough I'm pretty sure my brain is getting bruised from the whiplash, coughing wheezing wanna die now kind of miserable.

Of course, 90% of the world has real trees, and real wreaths on the door, and in extreme cases, real garlands along the eves of their homes.

Including my high school.

For some reason, no matter how many phone calls Farmmom made, doctors notes I took in, or days I spent skipping classes to sit in the principal's office hacking up a lung, they never got the picture.

Every year they would have a real tree in the foyer/lobby area, which I had to walk through to get to classes, and which is where we were required to go during our "brunch."

The first week or so would be ok. They'd keep the tree well watered, take real good care of it, and I'd only get mildly stuffed up. As time went on, though, the caretakers of the tree would start to slack, and it would start to dry out. And I would get progressively sicker.

On the bright side, I usually got to start my Christmas Break a few days early.

Anyway, when we were shopping last week, Sam's Club had a display of wreaths, and I just had to smell them. I told you, I love the smell. I think it's genetic, this unhealthy draw towards things that you're horribly allergic to. Farmmom can lick her fingers after touching a slice of cantaloupe and break out in hives all over, but she loves cantaloupe. Every summer Farmdad gets stuffed with it, because she'll buy it and cut it up just so she can smell it.

So, Tuesday I got a little stuffed up. Apparently the wreaths weren't quite as fresh as the sign claimed... I can live with that, though.

Unfortunately, I think my neighbors have a real tree. Today, I've been sneezing, and had a bit of a headache, with itchy eyes and the various little signs that I recall from my highschool days.

Luckily, I'm going back to the Old Homestead tomorrow, so it should clear up ok.

I've been trying for the last few years to convince the Farm Family to buy one of those potted trees, and try it. I figure, it's a live tree, it's not going to dry out, which is the stage where I have real problems, it should be ok, right? They keep telling me no... I don't see why not, though. If I'm wrong, I'm the one who will be miserable.

'Course, if they're right, they'll have to put up with my whiny ass, so I guess they have a say in it.....

What's Been Happening?

So, I've gotten a couple of emails since the last post (and by the way, thank you to everyone for your kind words and support... I feel amazingly blessed that people out there on the intarwebz not only give a hoot about my little blog but come out in droves just to give me a figurative hug when I'm down) wondering what's up.

So, lets take this week... Friday, I took my last final, found out what I'd gotten on my other final (passed the class, with a B, this makes me happy) picked up a suitcase, the Dawgs (oh, yeah, I got a new pup... a six month old male miniature schnauser... he's thick as a post but cute as a button) and hit Safeway because they had Pepsi products buy two get three free. Picked up ten twelve-packs of Mountain Dew for Mamaw, stuffed them in the trunk, and headed for the Old Homestead.

Got here in time to watch round nine of the NFR on the big screen, with Mamaw, Bill, and SB (who wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to watch bull riding on a fifty inch hi def) with much hooting and hollering by myself and SB.

Saturday I replaced/repaired the plastic on Mamaw's windows, which turned into an all day ordeal, since nothing wanted to go right. Saturday night we watched round ten of the NFR, which SB missed because his ex gf showed up begging him to take her back and he couldn't get loose.

Sunday, it was cold and nasty out so I decided to stay over one more day and go back to my house Monday. So, I puttered around the house for Mamaw and got some stuff done here. Monday, I puttered some more, and we decided to go Christmas Shopping Tuesday, so I figured there was no point in hauling the dogs home just to leave them shut up in the house all day, when I could stay one more night and they could play in a big yard all day instead. That night, SB and I went out to drive around and look at the Christmas Lights and talk.

(I swear, I need to carry a 2X4 around with "I'm not ugly" on one side and "I'm a good person who deserves to be happy" on the other. That boy has no self esteem, and maybe if I beat him over the head with it enough he'd get the picture.)

Tuesday. Yikes. We got all the shopping done (I swear every year that I'm going to start my shopping in June, and I never do....) but it was still a long day. I can't even brag about the perfect gifts I got people, cause they all read my blog!

So, Wednesday. I was going to go home Wednesday, but about twenty minutes before I was going to get my stuff together and get on the road, I got a phone call from one of the neighbors out in the country... the cows were out. So were the horses.

I spent all afternoon yesterday pushing cows around and making my horse, and SB's horse, mad. Farmmom got there to check the cows in good time to push some that I'd cut off on my way in... they were headed for Kansas, so I got them pushed onto the neighbor's wheat, figured they'd stay for a while, and went to get the horses since I didn't know where they were. I was planning on calling Mamaw and having her bring my tack out so I could get them with a horse rather than driving over the wheat.

Farmmom saw em on her way by so she started easing them towards our place as I was getting the ponies in the corrall... I'd discovered that the entire south side of the fence was down, so at least I had somewhere to take them in. Luckily, our ponies like people and figure that they usually get treats when they follow the pickup, so I just had to drive into the corrall and shut the gate.

Of course, when Monkey and Sis (SB's mare) saw that we were pushing calves around without them, they got cranky. That's their job... The other horses were milling around, wanting the out gate cause they like their pasture... Monkey and Sis were cutting a calf off together and taking it hither and yon in the big pen. They work well together...

So we got the calves all in, got the fence fixed, water re-arranged so that we could leave the cattle in the big pen and water the horses in one of the smaller ones, the tank heater replaced and the float cleaned on the tank in the big pen, and the other cows checked.

By then, it was dark.

To top the whole day off, on the way back into town, a german sheperd ran out about five feet in front of the pickup, stopped and looked at me. On the highway. No more doggie. No more right turn signal on Mamaw's pickup. Lovely recurring flash of the thump doggie made when the pickup hit him.

When I went to the house he belonged to, they basically said "It's ok, he's dumb, he's from Texas."

Ate dinner, and got a txt from SB so I went over to his house to lend an ear for a few hours. Came back to Mamaw's and went to bed.

And that's just since Friday!

Still have present wrapping to do, and packing. I'm moving back to the Old Homestead, since I'm planning on doing my internship down here, and there's no point in driving that much, or paying rent when I'm not there. So, much to do yet, including planning New Years, cause old friends will hopefully be in town.

I do know that I got a kickass pair of shoes for Christmas (since I picked them out) so I'll have great attitude shoes to wear for New Years. Yes, I do wear something other than boots, it just doesn't happen very often....