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....
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Well, Then.
I know I haven't been posting a lot, and that most of my posts haven't been up to my usual (admittedly meager) standards. I sincerely apologize to everyone who reads this blog regularly. I know ya'll understand that things have been happening on the other side of the computer screen, and I appreciate your support and patience, believe me.
You know the bare bones of what's been happening, but that doesn't really explain why things have been so... blah... around here. It wasn't until I realized that I was embarrassed about parts of it, when I have no reason to be, that I decided to go ahead and flesh the story out a bit. Not only to explain the flat writing, but perhaps to help myself move past certain aspects, as well.
See, my boyfriend, the man I loved, dumped me. Broke up. Left me. Tossed my happy ass to the curb.
Believe me, I've had plenty of time to think of all of the euphemisms.
Bottom line, I was crushed. Still am pretty crumpled. And, of course, this happened right in the middle of the whole "Surprise! Grandpa's Dying!" adjustment period.
Oh, didn't I mention that? Yeah, he came over to my house the night that we brought Grandpa home (his home) to hospice care, after listening to me fret, worry, stress, and generally lose my damn mind over the whole thing for a week, and dumped me.
If I could hate him for anything, it would be that.
But, that's one of the worst parts about this break up. Not only is it the first time I've been dumped (really, am I that fabulous that I'm always the one to call it off? Nah, I think I just get annoyed/bored easily...) but it came out of the blue, as far as I was concerned.
I thought things were ok. I knew there was a bit of strain on the relationship... neither one of us had a lot of free time, and I'd spent a week hitting what classes I felt I couldn't miss and skipping out on the rest to drive an hour to the hospital to be with Grandpa, handle family members, and generally provide the small amount of comic relief I could manage. But, he hadn't said anything. He hadn't complained, hadn't said I was spending too much time away (which probably would have started a fight at that point).... nothing.
Until that night. I'd just left Grandpa's, seeing him safely settled back in his home, and texted him, asking if he had plans or if I could come over. I missed him, I said.
It had really hit me that night, seeing Grandpa laying in a hospital bed in his own home. He was leaving us, and the only thing I could do for him was be there, help out what I could, and most importantly, not mourn him yet. At least not in front of him. I really needed a little emotional support. A little time with the good things in my life, to remind me that it wasn't all death.
So, when he said he'd come over to my house, I snuggled deeper into his coat (which I'd been wearing all week, yes I'm one of those weirdos) and felt better immediately.
That is, until he walked in. He was serious, too grim. I went to the door and wrapped my arms around him and he hugged me, and I felt a little better. Until he told me I needed to sit down.
(Do you see the rollercoaster here? Cause it was one hell of a ride, at the time.)
He started talking. He said the kids felt like they weren't getting enough time with him, that we had a lot in common, but there was a lot we didn't. He said other things, but I didn't hear them. I was hearing the one thing in the world that he wasn't saying, the one thing in the world that could break me right then.
I stopped him, and asked a question. I asked him, flat out, if he was breaking up with me. He at least had the integrity and the balls to finally flat out say yes.
I think it took a moment for it to hit me. When it did, all I could think to say was "I'm not going to beg." I don't know why I said it, other than the fact that I really, really wanted to. I wanted to cry, scream, crawl on my knees and beg him to take it back.
Instead, I got up, walked outside to my car, grabbed his coat, and turned around. I hadn't heard him follow me, so when I realized he was there I nearly punched him in the face with his own jacket trying to give it to him.
"Just so you know, this is the only thing that has gotten me through this last week. This and knowing I had you."
He left, after that. I went inside, shut the door, and collapsed. I literally fell to the floor. Once my knees broke, so did my control. I cried, screamed, sobbed, and generally scared the shit out of my dog for a good forty five minutes before I was coherent enough to call Farmmom. And that, folks, considering the kind of relationship Farmmom and I have, wasn't that coherent. I remember having to repeat myself at least three times, because she couldn't understand me.
And, I don't know if it's a character flaw, or a virtue, but the instant the phone started ringing I regretted calling. Not because I didn't want to talk to her, but because she was staying with Grandpa. I didn't want to add to her stress. But, I knew that once the phone started ringing, if I hung up, she'd call back.
Practicality kicked in when I realized that I couldn't make myself sound calm enough between hanging up the phone and her calling back to play it off as meaning to call someone else. Otherwise, I would have.
She was shocked, concerned, and finally pissed. She wanted to kill him, on my behalf. I just wanted him to come back and say it was all a bad joke.
That night, all of the stress, all of the anticipated pain from Grandpa's situation, all of the emotions of the break up... I couldn't control any of it. I couldn't get ahold of myself. I don't cry like that. Ten minutes of vigorous sobbing, sure. I think every woman, and some men, know the value of a good cry. I'm just more "male" than most girls, in that I never, ever cry in front of people.
That night, I couldn't stop. I vascilated between sobbing, and sitting there staring at the walls, not even realizing I was still crying until I tasted the tears. I lost time. One moment I'd be sitting in my recliner, and the next I'd be on the floor in a little ball, with no idea how I got there. I cried until I was sick.
That Friday, I texted him that I had the things he'd left at my house together, and I'd like to do the dreaded shit-swap as soon as possible. I was hoping to do it Saturday, since Sunday was my day to sit with Grandpa.
Of course, that couldn't happen. It had to happen Sunday morning. And, it had to happen at his house. I dreaded it even more.
See, he hadn't just taken himself away from me. He took the kids, too.
When I knocked on his door I could hear them playing. When he opened it, Youngest Child came running to give me a hug, yelling my name, and then towed me by the hand to his bedroom to show me his new toys.
The hardest thing I have ever done in my life was telling that beautiful child that I had to leave.
The ex's only comment inside the house was "I thought you'd call, I've got your stuff in my car."
He followed me outside, I got my stuff, and started to get in my car. I couldn't look at him, I was afraid I'd break if I did, so when I realized he was still standing there, I stopped, stared hard at a spot on the pavement, and asked, "Was there something else you wanted to say?"
"No..." he said, and I managed to look at him long enough to realize that he was staring at the trunk of the car next to mine, just standing there. "No."
So I got in my car, and I left. I made it to the corner before I started crying. I'm not sure how I made it home without getting into an accident. When I got there, I walked into the house, flopped down on the couch, and stayed there until my wonderful dog came to check on me.
See, Noel knows my moods, just like any dog. She is, however, the most responsive dog I've ever met. When she came to check on me, I wasn't even crying, I was just laying there. She jumped up and curled up against the back of my legs, trying to comfort me. The next thing I knew, she was laying on top of me, shaking. That broke me out of it enough to get a handle on myself before I had to be at Grandpa's to relieve The Aunt.
I didn't tell Grandpa. I didn't know how, for one thing. He was so happy for me when he saw how happy I was just talking about CM, and he'd met Eldest Daughter and fallen instantly in love with her, just like everyone else.
I couldn't bear to have him worrying about me at that point. He was dying, fast. If he didn't need to see me sad over that, he really didn't need to worry that the man who had made me so happy had broken my heart.
I felt guilty about it at the time, and I feel guilty about it now. But I wouldn't change my decision. The last time I talked to Grandpa I left him with a smile, in spite of having to feed him pill after pill, just to keep him comfortable, in spite of everything that was going on. The last time he saw me, I made him laugh.
I'll keep the guilt.
When Grandpa died, the seat beside me at the funeral wasn't filled by the man who had said he loved me. It was filled with my best friend and confidant since second grade, who stepped up during that horrible time and kept me from going completely ballistic. Literally. She actually held me down in the pew at the funeral, to keep me from climbing two rows up and beating the hell out of relatives.
Thanksgiving sucked. I managed to keep it at bay until we sat down to eat, but it was the wrong table. We were going to have Thanksgiving dinner at Grandpa's this year, and CM was going to come to finally meet Grandpa.
This whole thing would be a lot easier if I could bring myself to hate the ex. Or, if I knew what actually went wrong. All the stuff he said that night still adds up to "I just don't love you anymore" inside my head.
Thanks to some good friends who are, amazingly, endlessly willing to listen to me whine, and great friends who not only listen to me whine, but are determined not to let me wallow too much, I'm still kicking. It still sucker punches me, don't get me wrong. I still tense every time I see a red car, and if I'm sleeping and my cell phone beeps with a text message, my heart beats faster.
But, I'm getting better every day. I miss Grandpa. I miss the ex. I miss the good mood I used to have, just from thinking about him, and the dumbass grin that crossed my face every time I saw him.
But I know, in my own mind, and in my heart, that the only male I need in my life has four legs and wears a saddle.
Everything else is just details.
You know the bare bones of what's been happening, but that doesn't really explain why things have been so... blah... around here. It wasn't until I realized that I was embarrassed about parts of it, when I have no reason to be, that I decided to go ahead and flesh the story out a bit. Not only to explain the flat writing, but perhaps to help myself move past certain aspects, as well.
See, my boyfriend, the man I loved, dumped me. Broke up. Left me. Tossed my happy ass to the curb.
Believe me, I've had plenty of time to think of all of the euphemisms.
Bottom line, I was crushed. Still am pretty crumpled. And, of course, this happened right in the middle of the whole "Surprise! Grandpa's Dying!" adjustment period.
Oh, didn't I mention that? Yeah, he came over to my house the night that we brought Grandpa home (his home) to hospice care, after listening to me fret, worry, stress, and generally lose my damn mind over the whole thing for a week, and dumped me.
If I could hate him for anything, it would be that.
But, that's one of the worst parts about this break up. Not only is it the first time I've been dumped (really, am I that fabulous that I'm always the one to call it off? Nah, I think I just get annoyed/bored easily...) but it came out of the blue, as far as I was concerned.
I thought things were ok. I knew there was a bit of strain on the relationship... neither one of us had a lot of free time, and I'd spent a week hitting what classes I felt I couldn't miss and skipping out on the rest to drive an hour to the hospital to be with Grandpa, handle family members, and generally provide the small amount of comic relief I could manage. But, he hadn't said anything. He hadn't complained, hadn't said I was spending too much time away (which probably would have started a fight at that point).... nothing.
Until that night. I'd just left Grandpa's, seeing him safely settled back in his home, and texted him, asking if he had plans or if I could come over. I missed him, I said.
It had really hit me that night, seeing Grandpa laying in a hospital bed in his own home. He was leaving us, and the only thing I could do for him was be there, help out what I could, and most importantly, not mourn him yet. At least not in front of him. I really needed a little emotional support. A little time with the good things in my life, to remind me that it wasn't all death.
So, when he said he'd come over to my house, I snuggled deeper into his coat (which I'd been wearing all week, yes I'm one of those weirdos) and felt better immediately.
That is, until he walked in. He was serious, too grim. I went to the door and wrapped my arms around him and he hugged me, and I felt a little better. Until he told me I needed to sit down.
(Do you see the rollercoaster here? Cause it was one hell of a ride, at the time.)
He started talking. He said the kids felt like they weren't getting enough time with him, that we had a lot in common, but there was a lot we didn't. He said other things, but I didn't hear them. I was hearing the one thing in the world that he wasn't saying, the one thing in the world that could break me right then.
I stopped him, and asked a question. I asked him, flat out, if he was breaking up with me. He at least had the integrity and the balls to finally flat out say yes.
I think it took a moment for it to hit me. When it did, all I could think to say was "I'm not going to beg." I don't know why I said it, other than the fact that I really, really wanted to. I wanted to cry, scream, crawl on my knees and beg him to take it back.
Instead, I got up, walked outside to my car, grabbed his coat, and turned around. I hadn't heard him follow me, so when I realized he was there I nearly punched him in the face with his own jacket trying to give it to him.
"Just so you know, this is the only thing that has gotten me through this last week. This and knowing I had you."
He left, after that. I went inside, shut the door, and collapsed. I literally fell to the floor. Once my knees broke, so did my control. I cried, screamed, sobbed, and generally scared the shit out of my dog for a good forty five minutes before I was coherent enough to call Farmmom. And that, folks, considering the kind of relationship Farmmom and I have, wasn't that coherent. I remember having to repeat myself at least three times, because she couldn't understand me.
And, I don't know if it's a character flaw, or a virtue, but the instant the phone started ringing I regretted calling. Not because I didn't want to talk to her, but because she was staying with Grandpa. I didn't want to add to her stress. But, I knew that once the phone started ringing, if I hung up, she'd call back.
Practicality kicked in when I realized that I couldn't make myself sound calm enough between hanging up the phone and her calling back to play it off as meaning to call someone else. Otherwise, I would have.
She was shocked, concerned, and finally pissed. She wanted to kill him, on my behalf. I just wanted him to come back and say it was all a bad joke.
That night, all of the stress, all of the anticipated pain from Grandpa's situation, all of the emotions of the break up... I couldn't control any of it. I couldn't get ahold of myself. I don't cry like that. Ten minutes of vigorous sobbing, sure. I think every woman, and some men, know the value of a good cry. I'm just more "male" than most girls, in that I never, ever cry in front of people.
That night, I couldn't stop. I vascilated between sobbing, and sitting there staring at the walls, not even realizing I was still crying until I tasted the tears. I lost time. One moment I'd be sitting in my recliner, and the next I'd be on the floor in a little ball, with no idea how I got there. I cried until I was sick.
That Friday, I texted him that I had the things he'd left at my house together, and I'd like to do the dreaded shit-swap as soon as possible. I was hoping to do it Saturday, since Sunday was my day to sit with Grandpa.
Of course, that couldn't happen. It had to happen Sunday morning. And, it had to happen at his house. I dreaded it even more.
See, he hadn't just taken himself away from me. He took the kids, too.
When I knocked on his door I could hear them playing. When he opened it, Youngest Child came running to give me a hug, yelling my name, and then towed me by the hand to his bedroom to show me his new toys.
The hardest thing I have ever done in my life was telling that beautiful child that I had to leave.
The ex's only comment inside the house was "I thought you'd call, I've got your stuff in my car."
He followed me outside, I got my stuff, and started to get in my car. I couldn't look at him, I was afraid I'd break if I did, so when I realized he was still standing there, I stopped, stared hard at a spot on the pavement, and asked, "Was there something else you wanted to say?"
"No..." he said, and I managed to look at him long enough to realize that he was staring at the trunk of the car next to mine, just standing there. "No."
So I got in my car, and I left. I made it to the corner before I started crying. I'm not sure how I made it home without getting into an accident. When I got there, I walked into the house, flopped down on the couch, and stayed there until my wonderful dog came to check on me.
See, Noel knows my moods, just like any dog. She is, however, the most responsive dog I've ever met. When she came to check on me, I wasn't even crying, I was just laying there. She jumped up and curled up against the back of my legs, trying to comfort me. The next thing I knew, she was laying on top of me, shaking. That broke me out of it enough to get a handle on myself before I had to be at Grandpa's to relieve The Aunt.
I didn't tell Grandpa. I didn't know how, for one thing. He was so happy for me when he saw how happy I was just talking about CM, and he'd met Eldest Daughter and fallen instantly in love with her, just like everyone else.
I couldn't bear to have him worrying about me at that point. He was dying, fast. If he didn't need to see me sad over that, he really didn't need to worry that the man who had made me so happy had broken my heart.
I felt guilty about it at the time, and I feel guilty about it now. But I wouldn't change my decision. The last time I talked to Grandpa I left him with a smile, in spite of having to feed him pill after pill, just to keep him comfortable, in spite of everything that was going on. The last time he saw me, I made him laugh.
I'll keep the guilt.
When Grandpa died, the seat beside me at the funeral wasn't filled by the man who had said he loved me. It was filled with my best friend and confidant since second grade, who stepped up during that horrible time and kept me from going completely ballistic. Literally. She actually held me down in the pew at the funeral, to keep me from climbing two rows up and beating the hell out of relatives.
Thanksgiving sucked. I managed to keep it at bay until we sat down to eat, but it was the wrong table. We were going to have Thanksgiving dinner at Grandpa's this year, and CM was going to come to finally meet Grandpa.
This whole thing would be a lot easier if I could bring myself to hate the ex. Or, if I knew what actually went wrong. All the stuff he said that night still adds up to "I just don't love you anymore" inside my head.
Thanks to some good friends who are, amazingly, endlessly willing to listen to me whine, and great friends who not only listen to me whine, but are determined not to let me wallow too much, I'm still kicking. It still sucker punches me, don't get me wrong. I still tense every time I see a red car, and if I'm sleeping and my cell phone beeps with a text message, my heart beats faster.
But, I'm getting better every day. I miss Grandpa. I miss the ex. I miss the good mood I used to have, just from thinking about him, and the dumbass grin that crossed my face every time I saw him.
But I know, in my own mind, and in my heart, that the only male I need in my life has four legs and wears a saddle.
Everything else is just details.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Stolen Memery
I stole this from Holly, because it looked like fun. Ya'll enjoy finding out a little more about me.
1. Started your own blog.
2. Slept under the stars.
3. Played in a band. (Does jamming with them when you're 12 count?)
4. Visited Hawaii.
5. Watched a meteor shower.
6. Given more than you can afford to charity.
7. Been to Disneyland.
8. Climbed a mountain.
9. Held a praying mantis.
10. Sang a solo.
11. Bungee jumped.
12. Visited Paris.
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea.
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch. (Writing? I'm not counting this one...)
15. Adopted a child.
16. Had food poisoning.
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty.
18. Grown your own vegetables.
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France.
20. Slept on an overnight train.
21. Had a pillow fight. (And an ice fight, and popcorn fights, and and and...)
22. Hitch hiked.
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill.
24. Built a snow fort.
25. Held a lamb.
26. Gone skinny dipping.
27. Run a Marathon.
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice. (Does the Venetian in Vegas Count?)
29. Seen a total eclipse.
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset.
31. Hit a home run.
32. Been on a cruise.
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person.
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors. (Locally, yes. Globally, No.)
35. Seen an Amish community.
36. Taught yourself a new language.
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied.
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person.
39. Gone rock climbing.
40. Seen Michelangelo's David. (Not in person, but in lots and lots of pictures)
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt.
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant.
44. Visited Africa.
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight.
46. Been transported in an ambulance.
47. Had your portrait painted (drawn.)
48. Gone deep sea fishing.
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person.
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris.
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling.
52. Kissed in the rain.
53. Played in the mud.
54. Gone to a drive-in theater.
55. Been in a movie. (Hi-Lo Country. I was roped by Billy Crudup on set.. I tell ya'll that one later)
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business.
58. Taken a martial arts class.
59. Visited Russia.
60. Served at a soup kitchen.
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies.
62. Gone whale watching.
63. Got flowers for no reason.
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma. (They won't let me, I too skinny.)
65. Gone sky diving.
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp.
67. Bounced a check.
68. Flown in a helicopter.
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial.
71. Eaten Caviar. (The only eggs I want come from a chicken butt, as my brother put it when he discovered that fact. He was quite disturbed... course, he was two, so yeah...)
72. Pieced a quilt.
73. Stood in Times Square.
74. Toured the Everglades.
75. Been fired from a job.
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London.
77. Broken a bone.
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle.
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person.
80. Published a book. (I'm workin on it, I'm workin on it!)
81. Visited the Vatican.
82. Bought a brand new car.
83. Walked in Jerusalem.
84. Had your picture in the newspaper.(A few times, actually.)
85. Read the entire Bible.
86. Visited the White House.
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating.
88. Had chickenpox.
89. Saved someone’s life.
90. Sat on a jury. (They keep sending me jury duty, and then canceling the trial.)
91. Met someone famous. (Sam Elliot, Billy Crudup, Patricia Arquette, and Woody Harrelson were all on that set I mentioned earlier.)
92. Joined a book club.
93. Lost a loved one.
94. Had a baby. (Not yet, thank god.)
95. Seen the Alamo in person.
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake.
97. Been involved in a law suit.
98. Owned a cell phone.
99. Been stung by a bee.
100. Read an entire book in one day. (Many, many books have been read in one day at my house....)
1. Started your own blog.
2. Slept under the stars.
3. Played in a band. (Does jamming with them when you're 12 count?)
4. Visited Hawaii.
5. Watched a meteor shower.
6. Given more than you can afford to charity.
7. Been to Disneyland.
8. Climbed a mountain.
9. Held a praying mantis.
10. Sang a solo.
11. Bungee jumped.
12. Visited Paris.
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea.
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch. (Writing? I'm not counting this one...)
15. Adopted a child.
16. Had food poisoning.
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty.
18. Grown your own vegetables.
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France.
20. Slept on an overnight train.
21. Had a pillow fight. (And an ice fight, and popcorn fights, and and and...)
22. Hitch hiked.
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill.
24. Built a snow fort.
25. Held a lamb.
26. Gone skinny dipping.
27. Run a Marathon.
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice. (Does the Venetian in Vegas Count?)
29. Seen a total eclipse.
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset.
31. Hit a home run.
32. Been on a cruise.
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person.
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors. (Locally, yes. Globally, No.)
35. Seen an Amish community.
36. Taught yourself a new language.
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied.
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person.
39. Gone rock climbing.
40. Seen Michelangelo's David. (Not in person, but in lots and lots of pictures)
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt.
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant.
44. Visited Africa.
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight.
46. Been transported in an ambulance.
47. Had your portrait painted (drawn.)
48. Gone deep sea fishing.
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person.
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris.
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling.
52. Kissed in the rain.
53. Played in the mud.
54. Gone to a drive-in theater.
55. Been in a movie. (Hi-Lo Country. I was roped by Billy Crudup on set.. I tell ya'll that one later)
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business.
58. Taken a martial arts class.
59. Visited Russia.
60. Served at a soup kitchen.
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies.
62. Gone whale watching.
63. Got flowers for no reason.
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma. (They won't let me, I too skinny.)
65. Gone sky diving.
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp.
67. Bounced a check.
68. Flown in a helicopter.
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial.
71. Eaten Caviar. (The only eggs I want come from a chicken butt, as my brother put it when he discovered that fact. He was quite disturbed... course, he was two, so yeah...)
72. Pieced a quilt.
73. Stood in Times Square.
74. Toured the Everglades.
75. Been fired from a job.
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London.
77. Broken a bone.
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle.
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person.
80. Published a book. (I'm workin on it, I'm workin on it!)
81. Visited the Vatican.
82. Bought a brand new car.
83. Walked in Jerusalem.
84. Had your picture in the newspaper.(A few times, actually.)
85. Read the entire Bible.
86. Visited the White House.
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating.
88. Had chickenpox.
89. Saved someone’s life.
90. Sat on a jury. (They keep sending me jury duty, and then canceling the trial.)
91. Met someone famous. (Sam Elliot, Billy Crudup, Patricia Arquette, and Woody Harrelson were all on that set I mentioned earlier.)
92. Joined a book club.
93. Lost a loved one.
94. Had a baby. (Not yet, thank god.)
95. Seen the Alamo in person.
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake.
97. Been involved in a law suit.
98. Owned a cell phone.
99. Been stung by a bee.
100. Read an entire book in one day. (Many, many books have been read in one day at my house....)
Friday, December 12, 2008
What The?!?
Last weekend, we had to move the cows and sort off the calves. Of course, Monkey didn't want caught. It took longer to catch his silly butt than it did to move the cows from the pasture they were at to the corrals.
'Course, all the running he did probably saved me some bruises, when I did get on him. Big boy was pretty wound...
And, as it usually goes, the horse that's supposedly the hardest to catch, that you don't want that day, is the one that's right in your back pocket.
Finally got Monkey in the alley and he gave up, got him saddled and lunged him a bit, and then decided to have Farmdad hold on to him while I got on.
What? I hadn't ridden him in several months, and he was fresh as hell. I figured he was gonna blow and I haven't had much practice with the vertical stuff lately. I wanted a fighting chance, at least a chance to get my butt set in the saddle good before he blew.
The worries were for naught, though, he didn't splode on me. He wasn't being nice, but he didn't blow. And, once we got to the cows, he just got excited to play.
The delay catching his sorry butt was enough to make us late, though, so we just got the herd to the corrals on Saturday.
Got up Sunday morning, went and caught the horses (a much easier prospect considering we just threw em in a small pen Saturday night) and got the calves sorted off. We'd tied the horses to the trailer, which was just sitting on the block. No biggie, except SB's mare went to sleep, and when he walked up to her when it was time to saddle up she woke up rather abruptly, and pulled the trailer off the block.
Got saddled, and I went to warming Monkey up while the other three (Farmmom on Etta, Sparky on mom's new mare, and SB on his mare) pulled the cows out of the corral. He did pretty good on the warm up, and we went to moving cows. Since it was only Etta's second day on cows, and the new mare's second day on cows with us, we let Farmmom and Sparky trail, and Monkey and I and SB and his mare took the wings.
All went pretty well, the cows only halfheartedly trying to turn back, until we got to the fenceline of the pasture we were putting them in. Then, they thought it was a really good idea to take off across the field across the road.
Monkey and I had just gone from about halfway back in the herd to the front to block off one cow that was taking a field trip, and I looked back to see that the rest of the herd had taken it into their heads to go see what exactly was in that field.
Now, right where we were at, the ditches are pretty steep, so every time you have to cross the road, it's sloooowww walk down so that your horse can find his footing, and then run like hell up the other side. So I turned Monkey around, which he didn't really understand, until he saw the cows going the direction we'd been blocking them from. Then he was ready to go. I kicked him up, and he gave me the nice, relaxed lope that I'd spent so long cultivating in the arena. So, I touched him again, and I swear ya'll, you could see the lightbulb come on over his head.
"Oh, we're not in the arena... I can run!"
So my big pretty boy (I think I pretty much inherited him this weekend, at least until he's more finished, cause Farmmom fell in love with Etta) took off like a striped assed ape. The cows saw him coming from one side, and Farmmom and Etta from the other, and decided that they might just want to go back to the road. After that it was pretty much a nice turn into the pasture, but as soon as they got inside they headed back south. No biggie, except that we had to take them to the windmill and show them where water was.
Farmmom and Etta stayed behind while Sparky, SB and I went to get the cows from the south end of the pasture and bring em back north, and Mamaw finally got the chance to ride her girl.
Of course, taking the cows to the windmill was another interesting prospect, since this pasture is the one we've got the last of the old bloodline in, including Dusty, the big as a tank pure white baby blue eyed stud horse. He dropped in a flank, so we don't get babies out of him, but we left him a stud cause he takes good care of the two mares we've got in there with him. Neither one is rideable, Roanie is too old, and Muffin, my buckskin mare, got a tendon cut when she was a foal, and isn't sound.
But, Dusty doesn't like any other males. Even if they're cut. And SB's mare just happened to be in heat. So, I hopped off Monkey as soon as Dusty got curious and started over to say hi, and SB stepped off his mare cause he really didn't feel like having Dusty try to mount while he was on her. When Dusty started pushing the issue, I handed Monkey's rein to SB and chased him off.
Which entertained SB to no end since Dusty is a big baby most days. Even when the mares are cycling he'll come right up to a person on the off chance that they've got grain. Can't halter, lead, or ride him, but he'll follow you around like a puppy dog.
Once I got Dusty deterred, we mounted back up and headed back for the gate. Once the question of whether to ride the horses back or get the trailer and load them was settled (ride, of course!) I discovered a gap in Monkey's education so far.
See... I've never actually ridden him away from the cattle. It's just always worked out that we had the trailer there, and we'd just load him up and haul him home.
He was still saddled, I was still on, by god we were supposed to go push the cows around!
So, he tried to turn around and go back. When I wouldn't let him do that, he figured he was in trouble, so he started backing up. When we bought him, he hated backing. So, when he didn't want to do something in the arena, I'd make him back up, until he figured the thing I'd asked him to do was a lot easier than what I made him do instead. As a result, Monkey can go backwards danged near as fast as he can go forward.
So, back we went. Down one side of the ditch, back up the other side, across the road, back down the ditch.....
Straight into the neighbor's electric fence.
No joke. When his butt hit that fence he kind of stood up a little, just enough to let it slide down to the curve of his stifle, and then he sat on it. Just kind of squatted down and leaned back into that smooth wire.
He was getting shocked, I could feel him twitch every time, but he sat there until I picked up the whuppin tool I'd hung on my saddle horn (just in case... I follow the boy scout motto, and at times, all it takes for Monkey to behave is to see me pick up something in my right hand... Since I had the roping reins on him, I couldn't use the end of my rein, so I brought a tool.)
And that took a few shocks from the fence cause I was holding rein in both hands, short as I could get it, and plumb up by his ears. I didn't want him to back up anymore, so I was trying to urge him forward when he hit the fence, but if he blew like I expected him to when that fence hit him, I definitely wanted both hands to keep his head.
SB kept his mare walking, while he turned around in the saddle to watch Monkey and I have our little discussion. He figured I was going to get my ass canned, and he'd have to go catch the big idiot.
I tell ya folks, I have never had a horse even brush an electric fence and not get fairly upset about it. And, this is the horse that if he catches a toe on a smooth wire that's loose and laying on the ground acts like a snake just reared up and bit him on the nose. But he just sat right down on that damn fence and wasn't moving until I picked up that over & under and waved it where he could see.
*shakes head* He sure didn't try to back his way out of riding away from the cows again, though.
'Course, all the running he did probably saved me some bruises, when I did get on him. Big boy was pretty wound...
And, as it usually goes, the horse that's supposedly the hardest to catch, that you don't want that day, is the one that's right in your back pocket.
Finally got Monkey in the alley and he gave up, got him saddled and lunged him a bit, and then decided to have Farmdad hold on to him while I got on.
What? I hadn't ridden him in several months, and he was fresh as hell. I figured he was gonna blow and I haven't had much practice with the vertical stuff lately. I wanted a fighting chance, at least a chance to get my butt set in the saddle good before he blew.
The worries were for naught, though, he didn't splode on me. He wasn't being nice, but he didn't blow. And, once we got to the cows, he just got excited to play.
The delay catching his sorry butt was enough to make us late, though, so we just got the herd to the corrals on Saturday.
Got up Sunday morning, went and caught the horses (a much easier prospect considering we just threw em in a small pen Saturday night) and got the calves sorted off. We'd tied the horses to the trailer, which was just sitting on the block. No biggie, except SB's mare went to sleep, and when he walked up to her when it was time to saddle up she woke up rather abruptly, and pulled the trailer off the block.
Got saddled, and I went to warming Monkey up while the other three (Farmmom on Etta, Sparky on mom's new mare, and SB on his mare) pulled the cows out of the corral. He did pretty good on the warm up, and we went to moving cows. Since it was only Etta's second day on cows, and the new mare's second day on cows with us, we let Farmmom and Sparky trail, and Monkey and I and SB and his mare took the wings.
All went pretty well, the cows only halfheartedly trying to turn back, until we got to the fenceline of the pasture we were putting them in. Then, they thought it was a really good idea to take off across the field across the road.
Monkey and I had just gone from about halfway back in the herd to the front to block off one cow that was taking a field trip, and I looked back to see that the rest of the herd had taken it into their heads to go see what exactly was in that field.
Now, right where we were at, the ditches are pretty steep, so every time you have to cross the road, it's sloooowww walk down so that your horse can find his footing, and then run like hell up the other side. So I turned Monkey around, which he didn't really understand, until he saw the cows going the direction we'd been blocking them from. Then he was ready to go. I kicked him up, and he gave me the nice, relaxed lope that I'd spent so long cultivating in the arena. So, I touched him again, and I swear ya'll, you could see the lightbulb come on over his head.
"Oh, we're not in the arena... I can run!"
So my big pretty boy (I think I pretty much inherited him this weekend, at least until he's more finished, cause Farmmom fell in love with Etta) took off like a striped assed ape. The cows saw him coming from one side, and Farmmom and Etta from the other, and decided that they might just want to go back to the road. After that it was pretty much a nice turn into the pasture, but as soon as they got inside they headed back south. No biggie, except that we had to take them to the windmill and show them where water was.
Farmmom and Etta stayed behind while Sparky, SB and I went to get the cows from the south end of the pasture and bring em back north, and Mamaw finally got the chance to ride her girl.
Of course, taking the cows to the windmill was another interesting prospect, since this pasture is the one we've got the last of the old bloodline in, including Dusty, the big as a tank pure white baby blue eyed stud horse. He dropped in a flank, so we don't get babies out of him, but we left him a stud cause he takes good care of the two mares we've got in there with him. Neither one is rideable, Roanie is too old, and Muffin, my buckskin mare, got a tendon cut when she was a foal, and isn't sound.
But, Dusty doesn't like any other males. Even if they're cut. And SB's mare just happened to be in heat. So, I hopped off Monkey as soon as Dusty got curious and started over to say hi, and SB stepped off his mare cause he really didn't feel like having Dusty try to mount while he was on her. When Dusty started pushing the issue, I handed Monkey's rein to SB and chased him off.
Which entertained SB to no end since Dusty is a big baby most days. Even when the mares are cycling he'll come right up to a person on the off chance that they've got grain. Can't halter, lead, or ride him, but he'll follow you around like a puppy dog.
Once I got Dusty deterred, we mounted back up and headed back for the gate. Once the question of whether to ride the horses back or get the trailer and load them was settled (ride, of course!) I discovered a gap in Monkey's education so far.
See... I've never actually ridden him away from the cattle. It's just always worked out that we had the trailer there, and we'd just load him up and haul him home.
He was still saddled, I was still on, by god we were supposed to go push the cows around!
So, he tried to turn around and go back. When I wouldn't let him do that, he figured he was in trouble, so he started backing up. When we bought him, he hated backing. So, when he didn't want to do something in the arena, I'd make him back up, until he figured the thing I'd asked him to do was a lot easier than what I made him do instead. As a result, Monkey can go backwards danged near as fast as he can go forward.
So, back we went. Down one side of the ditch, back up the other side, across the road, back down the ditch.....
Straight into the neighbor's electric fence.
No joke. When his butt hit that fence he kind of stood up a little, just enough to let it slide down to the curve of his stifle, and then he sat on it. Just kind of squatted down and leaned back into that smooth wire.
He was getting shocked, I could feel him twitch every time, but he sat there until I picked up the whuppin tool I'd hung on my saddle horn (just in case... I follow the boy scout motto, and at times, all it takes for Monkey to behave is to see me pick up something in my right hand... Since I had the roping reins on him, I couldn't use the end of my rein, so I brought a tool.)
And that took a few shocks from the fence cause I was holding rein in both hands, short as I could get it, and plumb up by his ears. I didn't want him to back up anymore, so I was trying to urge him forward when he hit the fence, but if he blew like I expected him to when that fence hit him, I definitely wanted both hands to keep his head.
SB kept his mare walking, while he turned around in the saddle to watch Monkey and I have our little discussion. He figured I was going to get my ass canned, and he'd have to go catch the big idiot.
I tell ya folks, I have never had a horse even brush an electric fence and not get fairly upset about it. And, this is the horse that if he catches a toe on a smooth wire that's loose and laying on the ground acts like a snake just reared up and bit him on the nose. But he just sat right down on that damn fence and wasn't moving until I picked up that over & under and waved it where he could see.
*shakes head* He sure didn't try to back his way out of riding away from the cows again, though.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Whew
Preparing for the Ever Dreaded Finals, catching up on things that I missed when I was helping with grandpa, and friends have really sucked up the time.
I promise, it won't be this way forever. Finals are next week, friends, well, I'm keeping them around, cause they're fun.
I.E. Last night when Sparky, SB (you haven't heard about him... he's from the next town over, and while we haven't hung in a while since he's been at the college we have been. It's a taste of home..) and I hung out and had a few beers. I didn't realize how much I missed the people I used to hang out with until SB said something smartassed, I poked him in the ribs and it turned into a battle of epic proportions.
No one has had the guts to try to wrestle with me in a while. I have sharp elbows, and I'm slippery.
Fun was had by all, including Sparky, who stayed out of the line of fire and made comments like "doesn't that hurt?" "how do you bend like that?" and "don't you choke drinking beer when you're upside down?"
Not to mention "Jeez, that looked like it hurt!"
Ahh, memories.
I promise, it won't be this way forever. Finals are next week, friends, well, I'm keeping them around, cause they're fun.
I.E. Last night when Sparky, SB (you haven't heard about him... he's from the next town over, and while we haven't hung in a while since he's been at the college we have been. It's a taste of home..) and I hung out and had a few beers. I didn't realize how much I missed the people I used to hang out with until SB said something smartassed, I poked him in the ribs and it turned into a battle of epic proportions.
No one has had the guts to try to wrestle with me in a while. I have sharp elbows, and I'm slippery.
Fun was had by all, including Sparky, who stayed out of the line of fire and made comments like "doesn't that hurt?" "how do you bend like that?" and "don't you choke drinking beer when you're upside down?"
Not to mention "Jeez, that looked like it hurt!"
Ahh, memories.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Ugh
Have you ever had one of those times when you just get slapped upside the head with sorrow, or grief, or depression? You know, things have happened, but you're dealing, and then all of a sudden the dumbest thing reminds you and it's like a punch to the gut, and then for a couple of hours, or days, you can't get it out of your head.
Those times suck.
Sorry for the lack of posts lately. I have one brewing about Black Friday but today I feel like crap so it'll have to be later than I'd planned.
Those times suck.
Sorry for the lack of posts lately. I have one brewing about Black Friday but today I feel like crap so it'll have to be later than I'd planned.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Say a Prayer
This was the scene across the street from Mamaw's house in the wee hours of Friday morning. A week ago, this building was a Mexican food restaurant, and home to some close friends. Farmdad traded salsa recipes with Rocky, Mamaw and Pam traded entire meals, Jazz provided teenage entertainment for everyone, and everyone traded jokes, stories, and general good times. These people were good friends to many in the community, good people. Rocky and Pam were always willing to help out their neighbors, and they always had a smile for a stranger.
The Volunteer fire departments of five towns and two counties fought for hours, not to save the wooden building, there was no way, but to save the homes around it, including Mamaw's. The local police went door to door waking neighbors and evacuating them, going so far as to move vehicles for them, in conditions that can only be described as hellish.
The fire burned so hot that it broke glass, and melted paint on the fire engines. They say that the fire sucked all the oxygen out of the area to the point that this truck wouldn't start so that they could move it. The firemen had to take a hack saw to the hose to get it off the truck.
People watched this scene Friday night, not knowing if their friends had gotten out. Four people were in the house, one made it out alive. I don't usually ask this kind of stuff, but please, if you pray, say a prayer for the friends and family of Rocky, Pam, and Jazz. And please, say a special prayer for Pam's mother, who survived the fire, but lost her family.
There are few people in this world with the kind of heart and generosity shown by this family, and their deaths mean a true loss to this community.
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