Blargh

Dunno what it is today but I've felt like crud all day.

Blog topics are fermenting, but I just don't have the attention span to put them down right now.

Soon.

Drama, Drama, Drama!

So, as part of our Intro to Riding Instruction class, we had to do an Event Planning exercise. Which is only there so that the instructors have a little slave labor during the annual FFA Judging competition.

Anyway, the whole class was assigned tasks and I was voluntold to be on the cleaning crew/all around gofer.

"Do we need to dress up for this?"

"No, you'll be behind the scenes, just look like a human."

I can do that.

Show up this morning, early, to clean up around the barn so that people can be impressed. Only to discover that no one has swept either of the tie racks all semester.

Ugh. So spend about an hour longer than I had planned (somehow, I became the leader of the barn monkeys) shoveling blow dirt off of the cement and sweeping up months worth of detritus, after three of the people who were supposed to be on cleanup crew simply failed to show, and one declared "I have to show my horse in this thing," and left. Mind, this was an hour and a half before the show was to start. I could have understood "hey I have to kick out on this early cause I gotta get ready" but this girl left the barn. I think she went and got breakfast.

Then haul chairs and tables, finish that just as the buses were heading our way, only to be told "Um, we need you presentable. Like... now."

Standard rule for any of you who don't know, for any western event, is that anyone who will be in the arena must wear a long sleeved western shirt. If a hat is worn it must be a cowboy hat.

Except that I had been told I didn't need to be attired that way, so I had shown up in a t-shirt and hoodie, with my hair in a pony tail and a ball cap on. And all of my western wear was... you guessed it... at the Old Homestead, forty five minutes of drive time plus a thirty minute road construction wait away.

So, I booked it to El Marto Del Wal and snagged me a tank top, some makeup to hide the fact that I haven't slept right in... a while... and a hair brush and clip.

I had hat hair, people, something had to be done and a bun in a clip was as good as it was gonna get.

Then across the highway to the western wear, tack, feed, tool and tire store, where, miracle of miracles, they were having a clearance sale. Snagged two western shirts because I didn't have time to try them on and I wasn't sure if the one I really liked was going to fit right, and off to the Stop N Rob to change in the bathroom and snag myself some form of caffeine.

Ya'll, went from grubby barn monkey to semi-presentable (by my standards... I think I did damn good for the tools I had, but I'd have been happier to get a call at five in the morning saying "hey we're gonna need you up front") with all of that running around, in thirty minutes.

I'm nothing, if not efficient.

I then proceeded to run my puppy butt off for the rest of the day, picking up the slack where people decided to stand around with their thumb up their butt instead of being useful.

Next time I get told I won't need to be lookin good, while I'm that far from home... I'm bringing what I need anyway.

Vicious Circle

I have failed to link this, mostly because I've been too busy laughing my skinny white butt off.

Alan, over at Snarkybytes has put together a podcast with some of the folks from the Gunblogger Conspiracy and they are rolling right along.

Head on over to Vicious Circle and check it out.

They're not slick, they're not perfect, but by gawd they are amusing as all get out.

Rasslin

The gym at my old highschool was roaring today. Big mats, one white and one red, were spread across the rubberized floor that's only six years past it's recommended replacement date, children of most ages were dressed in tiny little singlets and parents and grandparents were hollering and cheering their heads off.

That's right, it's Peewee Wrestling time.

Farm Bro and Sis In Law, in the time honored style of parents everywhere, decided that it was time for Eldest Nephew to get involved in sports.

Farm Bro did Peewee Wrestling, and had a fine time, and Eldest Nephew is a natural at rolling around on the floor grappling with someone, so Peewee Wrestling it was. Besides, Peewee Wrestling was about to start when Sis In Law got the idea in her head.

Today was his first meet, and while he was up against a little monster in his first match (ok, so the kid wasn't a monster, he just had more experience and E.N. was a bit distracted with all the noise and hullabaloo) and got pinned in thirteen seconds, his second match was a thing to behold.

They faced off, E.N. in red, his opponent in blue. The whistle blew and it was on like Donkey Kong!

Ya'll, it looked like a red and blue pinwheel across that mat as they rolled over and over and over. Just log rollin over each other...

No pin, and they tied on points, so they had to do a tie-breaker... Of course, they didn't figure that out and the boys thought they were done, so E.N. sort of lost the momentum, and got pinned in the tie breaker, but by gawd he went down trying!

Farm Bro and Sis In Law were helping out... SIL was keeping scores and Farm Bro was timing.... But, it being small town Peewee Wrestling, E.N. wrestled on their mat both times.

SIL managed to keep it pretty well together, but FarmBro was on the mat waving the foam bat that they gave him to tap the ref with when time was up around and beating the mat with it...

Which says nothing about Farmmom and I... Each kid gets to have two people at the mat when they're wrestling, which meant that since Farm Bro and SIL were both technically staff today, Farmmom and I got to get up to the mat and cheer the munchkin on.

Ya'll... I thought Farmmom was going to crawl out on that mat and hold the other kid down so E.N. could pin him, a couple of times. Both of us were hollering and cheering and pounding on the mat... We looked like crazy people.

Which actually means we looked like every other family member at mat-side.

Munchkin fell into a great weight class this time... there were only three of them in it, so he was guaranteed a medal... It helped sooth his injured pride, from getting pinned so quick his first match, and that bronze looks pretty darned shiney at that age.

After his second match everyone made much of him and folks across the gym thought he'd won... and he did, in every way that counts. He had fun, he tried hard, and he gave the other kid a sportsmanlike hug at the end of the match.

Hey, they're six.

Next weekend he travels, and I wish his parents much luck keeping him and Younger Nephew under control in a new place.

Today, I only managed to keep Younger Nephew settled down by dint of bribes of candy and chips.

And, of course, squeezins.

Snow!

It's a four letter word around our place, but in this case we need the moisture enough to overlook the icky coldness of it.

Especially since it obliged us quite well by most of it vanishing in the course of the day.

I won't hazard a guess at how much snow the Old Homestead got... it was everywhere from half an inch of bare ice to four foot drifts, and that was just on the front porch.

One news service ventured an estimate at 21 inches. Looking out the window now, we might have that much where the front end loaders piled it up.

Gotta love a fast turnaround!

Tea

While in Big Town for classes yesterday, I hunted, and searched, and looked, and searched, and hunted.... for a kettle.

Finally found one, and was very happy as mine is packed, if I remember correctly, in the third or fourth box on the bottom row of a stack of four, in the trailer.

I like tea, more and more all the time. I've always enjoyed a nice cup of hot tea on a winter's afternoon, and while I'm a huge proponent of coffee for morning wake-up, I'm coming to realize that while I'm quitting smoking, perhaps I need to break that habit as well. Mostly because it was always coffee and a cigarette, and it's been taking twice as much coffee to beat the morning growlys into submission. More, if I didn't get much sleep the night before.

I swear to whatever deity you care to name, if I ever get off of these damn patches (I'm on step three, now, because, well, I'm butch like that, and pushing it) I'm going to burn the boxes and dance around them. After shooting them. And stabbing them.

Seriously, I hate these things.

Anyway, tea. I like tea, and while it's possible to make tea by putting a cup of water in the microwave and heating it and then putting the tea bag in the cup, I can taste a difference between that method, and putting water in a kettle, heating it on the stove, and pouring the was-boiling-just-a-second-ago water over the bag.

I am nowhere near schooled enough in tea-fu to make tea with loose leaves, although the Safeway in Big Town offers tins of Twinnings loose tea leaves in a couple of varieties. Not to mention I don't have a proper tea pot, which seems to me to be a necessity if you're going to make tea the "proper" way.

Anyway, there's something about the sound of the water beginning to bubble in the kettle, as I putter around the kitchen, and the sound of the low groan from the whistle just before it actually whistles, that's soothing to me. And, soothing has been a rare and precious commodity around me for a couple of weeks now.

So, I found a kettle, and I bought some tea. Store brand Earl Gray because otherwise I'm going to drink all of Mamaw's fancy Earl Grayer tea, from The Republic Of Tea. That stuff is gooood. Also, a store brand orange spice tea, because it smelled good through the cellophane... which is the same reason I first tried Earl Gray. And, a Twinnings variety pack, with their Earl Gray, Lady Gray, English Breakfast, and Irish Breakfast teas.

The Twinnings Irish Breakfast blend is quite good, if you're wondering. I haven't tried the others, yet.

But, I have tea. The ritual of making the tea, and sitting staring at the wall thinking about things, cradling a cup of tea and idly swirling a spoon through it.... it's relaxing. Slouching down in a comfy chair with the cup cradled in my hands, the warmth begins to radiate up my arms... and as I sip the warmth starts radiating through my chest, relaxing muscles and cleansing stress.

It's a hot, luxurious bath, in a cup, in some ways. I'm still exploring the different varieties, and figuring out my favorites.

So, what are your favorite teas? And, is there really a difference between loose-leaf and bag brewing?

And Now, For Something Completely Different....

Tactical Dating

If you carry concealed you pick up certain habits, no matter who you are.... or at least you should.

Things like making sure your cover garment hasn't ridden up, a casual tug on the hem as you climb out of a car. Or maybe a rolling shrug to settle your shoulder holster a little better.

One of my personal biggest things, is making sure that my draw isn't blocked. I don't lean against doorways on my right shoulder, I'll angle my left side towards what I'm looking at, or I'll simply stand a couple paces further back so that I'm not hemmed in with people.

It's not something I think about, unless I get in a situation where I can't keep my draw from being blocked. Crowded elevators, things like that... but in the dating world, it can become an issue.

Guys, whether you carry or not, if you're on a date with a girl who does, be conscious of your lady's requirements. The most annoying thing I've ever had happen on a date isn't him blowing his nose on the table cloth or trying to grab my ass on the way into the movie theater.

It's a man who carries himself consistently interfering with my draw arm. Hovering on my right side, trying to hold my right hand, trying to put his arm around my waist... I carry SOB so arm around the waist has to be in a pretty specific position before I can draw smoothly.

Come on, guys, you know better than that. How would you like it if the girl you were dating constantly hung on your gun hand in public in spite of your asking her not to?

If you're both right handed, it's not a total loss, your right hand in the small of her back or under her elbow is a gallant way to guide her through a doorway or give physical flirting, without having to compromise your draw or hers, as long as your hand isn't on her gun.

A steady who carries will gladly practice with you if you simply must put your arm around her waist. Discuss with her which way will work better, and one of you simply take one or two steps forward or backward, if the fecal matter collides with the oscillating rotating air circulation device. Stepping to the side is acceptable as well, but in my experience people are far more coordinated stepping back than stepping to the side. You and your sweetheart make the choice on what works best for you.

Hell, do drills while you're out. Pick a trigger word, and when either of you say the trigger word, you jump apart. If you want to do full drill, you might want to pick a secluded area to take a stroll in, so that you don't frighten unsuspecting passers by.

But remember, a gentleman is always aware of his date's draw clearance.

And while I'm at it, guys, we need to work out some arrangement about who gets the seat facing the door. I've learned not to argue about it for the most part, and how to position myself so that I can at least see in the peripheral, but it still gives me the creepy crawlies.....