"If I Have To..."

Ya'll know I don't do politics, but tonight I heard something that I just thought I'd share, to show, in general, how the people around here are feeling.

Tonight we had a visit from one of my favorite older farmers. I've known him, well, forever, and he's a man who's opinion I respect.

He's a level headed man, very much you do your thing and I'll do mine, always willing to help a neighbor. The things he believes in though, he'll stand up for.

The talk came around to politics, as it will, and discussing things like Obamacare, and the Tea Party protests...

At one point this man, who has children, and grandchildren, has survived cancer and open heart surgery and joy and loss and a lifetime of work, raised his chin, looked me right in the eye and said "If I have to, to protect my kids and grandkids from living in a socialist regime, I will bear arms, I will go out and fight for my rights and my freedoms. I hope it doesn't come to that, but I'm afraid it will."

The current administration is alienating the very people that this country depends on. I think they'd be wise to keep that in mind in the future, though I doubt they will.

Rain

It's been hectic around here, as usual, and not as inspiring as it could be, and this blog has suffered because of it.

Today, it's raining. We were planning on working cattle today and then looked at the weather and decided to put it off until tomorrow, so I'm using the time to catch up on some housework. Dishes and laundry, yay!... or not.

Progress is being made on my house, and we're reaching the stage where it's going to be more visible all the time, which makes me feel a lot better. The whole fam will be working on different projects over the next little bit, me on the last room of demo (yay, destroying stuff!) Farmmom on the electric and Farmdad on re-framing the wall between the kitchen and bathroom. After that stuff gets done I have a sneaking suspicion I'll be crawling around underneath the house doing plumbing.

I don't believe I've mentioned it here before but a while back Farmmom tore up her knee, requiring surgery. She's doing much better now, but is alternately praising and cursing her physical therapist, which seems to be the way it should be, to me. She comes out of her sessions in a good mood, but he gives her enough of a workout to have her muscles feeling all weak and wobbly afterwords.

He says that Determination is definitely not her problem. I was kind of hurt when I heard that, whenever I act like that they call it "stubborn." Not quite fair, is it?

Confession

I have a confession to make.

I am addicted to Tamora Pierce's books. I know, I know, they're "teen" books, but I fell in love with her writing and her characters years ago and I always want to know what great adventures they'll get up to next.

I've been waiting for Beka Cooper's next tale since I read the first one. She has to be one of my favorite characters from Pierce, along with Daine of course.

Since I've been busy with other things and had figured that Pierce was working on other series along with Beka's tale, I hadn't poked around to find out what was taking so long for the new book. So, the author's note in the back of Bloodhound was the first I'd heard of the brilliant lady's accident and recovery.

I feel kinda bad now for grumbling every time I was in a book store and didn't see the next installment.

Regardless, Bloodhound lives up to the wonderful tale-spinning standard I've come to expect from all of Pierce's books.

Highly recommended.

Words of Advice

Went out dancing with K and a few other friends last night, and it brought home to me that the young men of this world need some advice when it comes to the dance floor.

So, if any of them happen to read this blog, here's a few clues.

Keep your erection to yourself. It's not so much that we're bothered by the fact that we excite you, we actually tend to take that as a compliment. However, we do not want to have the evidence of that excitement rubbed against us on the dance floor, or if we do, we will initiate it. Really. Take a couple of deep breaths and think about dead puppies or something.

An accidental bump is one thing. Pursuing her as she attempts to politely ease away is rude, and kind of creepy. In these situations I usually advise my shyer female friends (the ones that won't dress the offender down verbally) that a quick hip-check to the offending area usually solves the problem one way or another, and offers an object lesson in manners at the same time, without being overt enough to draw too much unwanted attention.

When a young lady is on the dance floor with her girl friends, regardless of how she's shaking it, it is not an open invitation to grab, rub up against, or otherwise have physical contact with her. If you would like to dance with her, join the group politely, if she wants that kind of action, she'll get all up on you. If not, you get to dance with a bunch of girls, and enjoy the views, be happy with that.

Do not touch any posteriors not your own or those of girlfriends or close friends that you're on those kinds of terms with already. Believe me, grabbing some random girl's ass on the dance floor will not make her want to go home with you, and if you grab the wrong ass, you might just get your butt kicked by a girl.

I had to offer to remove a hand last night because one young man decided that he needed to slap my behind while we each were dancing with different people. I think the sweet smile I gave him after I told him the next time that hand touched me I was keeping it worried him a bit.

If a girl is dancing only with her girl friends and the guy she came with, and he is not her boyfriend, that means she's shy. She may well accept an invitation to dance, and will enjoy the dance, as long as you keep your hands to yourself or in their designated areas, depending on the type of dance. If it's booty-shaking hip-hoppy type stuff, and you put a hand on her waist and she moves away, then keep your hands to yourself. If you're two-stepping, remember that the lower back does not include anything south of the waistband.

Also, if she's a bit touch-shy, give her some space. Young ladies who are not accustomed to the two-step may take that body-close hold as something entirely other than the best way to keep from stepping on each others feet or running into other dancers. A couple of inches should suffice, but if she's leaning back give her more room.

Manners are just as important on the dance floor as anywhere else in life, and a gentleman who approaches a lady and asks her politely for a dance scores way more points than a guy who just jumps in.

My favorite words to hear when I'm out dancing are "would you care to dance?" or even better, "may I have this dance?" (Note: extra points if you extend a hand to help her out of her chair. It's not that we need the help, it's just the gentlemanly thing to do.)

Unless I'm dead tired, or leaving, I will accept any polite invitation to dance, and most of the girls I know are the same way.

Keep these small reminders in mind and you'll do well on the dance floor, and certainly get to dance with more ladies than the young men who fail to follow these simple guidelines.

Review: Firepit

I've been eyeballing firepits for over a year now, pondering whether it was worth the money to buy one. I love a good fire, and can't always count on babysitting the nephews at Bro and Sis In Law's to enjoy one when I get the urge.

Mamaw and I saw this one at El Marto Del Wal the other day, marked down a bit as they prepare to clean out the summer themed seasonal items. The price was decent and we thought we'd try it.

Had a bit of trouble putting it together, but nothing a good ol' dose of RTFM wouldn't cure... turns out you need to attach the smaller support ring inside of the cast iron legs before you tighten the bolts that hold the leg to the larger base ring that the bowl sits in, or the smaller ring won't reach. Who knew?

This particular model is made by Better Homes, which isn't mentioned on the Wally-World website, and is one of the smaller ones I've seen, but it's plenty big enough to get a cheery little fire going.

I would have preferred if the log grate had crossed grating instead of just the one set of bars, but it's perfectly serviceable as is.

I was worried about the pups getting singed walking by, and the bowl might heat further if the fire were burning longer than we have been, but so far, the edge of the bowl is getting just warm, not hot.

It's light and easily portable- don't let the description fool you, the only bit that's cast iron is the legs, everything else is light weight, so you don't have to struggle to move it if you decide you want to take it somewhere.

We have a bunch of old cedar fenceposts that are no longer sturdy enough to use for fencing but which, once I cut them into smaller chunks, will be fantastic for the fire pit. That part made Farmmom extremely happy, since they're currently lying in a pile in the pasture.

It made me extremely happy as well since cedar is one of the more aromatic burning woods.

If you're looking for a big roaring fire, this is not the pit for you, I would recommend getting one of the deeper ones, but for a cheery little fire it's grade A, and reasonably priced.

Relax!

I've been getting fairly stressed out about my house lately, what with every time I turn around there being another thing that needs done before we can move forward with it.

For example, the wall between the kitchen and the bathroom. It seemed fine, until we got all of the drywall and lath down, and discovered that not only was it not fine, it's not attached to anything at the top, and was a cobbled together crazy thing. So out that came.

On the electrical front I had a battle of wills that I lost, for once. Me versus the hundred-or-so year old oak framing of the wall that the breaker box is on. See, we ran out of places to run our wire down, and had to make a new hole to go through. So, I climbed my skinny butt up through the access hole in the bedroom (which is not much wider than I am) and picked my way across the house on the rafters, crawled through an access hole through the original roof into the first addition (the office) that is only about knee height on me, and went to work.

Two inches or so was fairly easy, considering the age of the wood. Then I hit the two-by stuff that had been being compressed since the place was built. Might as well have been trying to drill through iron with a toothpick.

I gave up rather than break a drill, because I recognized the level of frustration and determination I was reaching, and well, it wasn't my drill. Farmdad got up there later and got it knocked through. He agreed that it was some pretty hard stuff and commented that I just didn't have the technique.

Thanks, pop.

I didn't realize just how stressed out I was till I actually got away and went riding for an entire afternoon. When I came back I looked at my house and instead of mourning, I thought, "Hey, that kitchen is going to be pretty nifty with the cabinets we looked at. It'll take a while, but we'll get there."

And my kitchen is going to be pretty nifty. Or at least I think so. The things available in cabinetry these days are much more geared towards organization and maximizing what storage space you have than they used to be, and that's a godsend, because I may be going to have the most square footage in my kitchen in the family, but it's still a tiny kitchen, and as it stands the house has zip for storage.

Which isn't all that surprising considering it was originally built in the 1900's as a lawyers office, expanded on that theme, and only in the '60's (I think, I could be a bit off on that) were the kitchen and bathroom added in a lean-to sort of fashion on the back of the house.

We've framed in a useable size closet in the bedroom (not as big as I might have dreamed but as big as we can feasibly make it considering we're stealing square footage from the bathroom and still have to fit my loverly cast-iron tub, a vanity, potty, and stack washer and dryer in there) and I plan to use the office as an office slash tack room. It will wear a third hat as a spare bedroom at need, probably with a futon rather than an actual bed in there, just for space reasons.

Cause folks, I love my friends and I want to have a place for them to stay, but I am not giving up the antique oak sherrif's desk. Just ain't happenin'.

We still have a long way to go before it's done, but if fate allows, it will be put back together enough that I can move in (bedroom and bathroom finished, anyway) soon.

There's plenty to be done, and a lot of sweat and elbow grease to get there, but when it's finished, it's going to be fabulous.

It's amazing what an afternoon on horseback can do for my outlook on life. I gotta remember to take a dose of my furry, four-legged blood pressure medication more often!

An Excellent Day

Yesterday I went with a new friend, K, to the canyons for some trail riding. When I'm by myself I generally just wander around and spot all my favorite interesting things, take a bit of a break in some shade, and take it pretty easy. Since K had never been there, I decided we should do a bit of the wandering and then actually follow the trails like you're supposed to.

It's literally been years since I've done the actual trails out there, and I had forgotten a few spots where it gets pretty narrow or steep, but it was a good ride.

I took Monkey and Rebel, figuring I didn't know what K's skill level really was, so I'd put her on my big reliable boy Rebel, and Monkey needed the exercise, since I hadn't had a chance to ride him much at all for a while.

Because Monkey is such a scaredy pants so much of the time, and it was a new place, I kind of expected him to be a little crazy, so I was prepared for a good battle most of the way through, but he did fantastic! My smart boy even started spotting the trail markers himself in places where the horseback trail hasn't been used much and has gotten overgrown, and heading for them.

He was as willing as I could have asked for to go up the slopes and down the hills, and started paying a lot more attention to where he put his feet after he had a couple of minor slips, which is great, because he's the only horse I know who can trip over an imaginary line on the ground.

We had one moment that was a bit hairy for both of them, riding along the trail with steep sides on either side, and a two foot drop to the right of the trail for a sometimes-watercourse. A whitetail buck came out of a couple of trees to our left about thirty feet up the rock-strewn slope, clattered down to the bottom, and took off up the other side, about ten feet in front of Monkey who was leading the way. I can't blame them for being startled, I was startled too! But Monkey gathered all of his courage and went on down the trail once the noise had stopped, although he kept a weather eye out for any more potentially carnivorous deer.

It was a great ride all the way around, we spent about four hours out there, even after our departure got delayed till around noon. Monkey got a little bit footsore from all the rocks, but nothing major, in spite of his playing it up for sympathy.

There's just something about the weather-worn rock formations and hidden natural beauties out there that make me love the canyons more every time I go. It's a whole world that most people would never guess is out here on the flatlands, and when you get down into them, it's like the rest of the world just goes away. The feeling of my horse's muscles working beneath me as he picks his way up or down a slope and the way he seems to enjoy the views just as much as I do. Standing at the top of the trail out of the canyon proper looking back and seeing all of the beauty and history spread out beneath me, it's like I'm in another time.

Maybe next time K and I will hit Picketwire canyon. It's more of a drive to get there, but I've never been, and I've always wanted a bit of an excuse to go explore.