What? Where?

We've got a new President??

Must've missed it.

Seriously though, ya'll know I'm not a political blogger. I tend to avoid things like that because I feel that no matter what I say about politics, someone is going to disagree with me, and they're going to feel very strongly about it.

But, since I've gotten no less than five emails (a record, for anyone who's interested) asking where my "Inauguration post" was... here ya go.

I didn't watch it.

Blah blah blah first black president, voice of change, gun grabber, he promised me a pony. Whatever.

The only thing that happens at the Inauguration is an oath being made (which is valid whether I witness it or not) and a lot of promises that probably won't be kept, no matter what party the new Commander in Cheif is a member of.

As for the black thing, frankly, it doesn't matter if he's white, black, or purple with yellow polka dots. It only matters what he does not what he looks like.

Am I glad that our country has progressed to the point where a black man with a name like Obama got elected? Sure. But, folks, and here's the important part... it was inevitable. Anyone who has ever worried about being politically correct has got to realize that it was bound to happen sooner or later. Same with a woman president, although, god help me, I hope it's not Hillary... that lady scares me.

As for the rhetoric, on both sides of the political spectrum... I don't want to hear it.

He was duly elected. I don't agree with his policies, but that doesn't matter. He's in office, and he's gonna be there for four years, assuming someone doesn't assassinate him.*

The important part of a presidency is not the day the Commander in Cheif is sworn into office, but what he does thereafter.

So the Inauguration, to me, is just a nice little party thrown for the new guy to welcome him to one of the worst jobs in the United States of America. One last nice thing before everyone starts chewing his ass.

As for "Not My President"... unless you've renounced U.S. Citizenship, yeah, he is. So quit whining, man up, and accept that you don't always get your particular flavor of bread and circuses. Some people are beginning to sound like hysterical alzheimers patients.

If you don't agree with him, fine. But throwing a temper tantrum isn't going to change anything, and it makes you look like an idiot.

That's all I've got to say on the matter, and in case you couldn't tell, I'm a little cranky at having to do a political blog at all, but I was asked.



*No, I am not threatening the President. It's simply an observation that as the first black President, and with his stance on certain issues, he's angered a certain nutso segment of the population just by existing. If I were the Secret Service, I'd be highly tempted to give him the code-name "Kenny" just in case.

Packing

There are several things I hate about packing, especially in this situation where I have to decide what goes into storage and what I need to keep with me. The latter category mostly covers clothes and shoes, at this point.

But when doing a really thorough cleaning or packing up everything that you own, you're bound to stumble across some things you thought you lost, or got rid of, that bring up memories. Some of them are good memories. They make you smile and bring you back some small thought that you'd forgotten.

Some of them aren't. Sometimes, you find something that you didn't want to remember.

See, I don't keep an "ex" box. It's always seemed a little dumb to box up the things that you don't want to think about and hide them away somewhere. Either they mean enough to you that you keep them, or they're painful enough that you get rid of them.

Don't get me wrong, I've got things that remind me of my exes. Pictures, trinkets, sometimes just a necklace that I wore that he liked.

I hated packing up my knick knacks, because the knick knacks I had here all had memories attatched. It felt kind of like denying those memories to pack them away and not know when I'd see them again.

Other things, I threw away. Dried flowers. Notes.

Some things I packed away because they're painful now, but I think I'm going to want them later. A couple of pictures, pieces of paper with childish scrawls in marker, paint, and pencil. I'll go back in a year and decide what I'm going to do with them.

I hate packing. Especially alone.

Duct Tape and The Force

You know how they say Duct Tape is like the Force? No? Ok I'll tell you.

"How is duct tape like the force?" (not everyone elevates Duct Tape to the level that we hicks and rednecks do, as far as we're concerned if we've got a roll of duct tape and some smooth wire we can build the space shuttle out of our front yard. It'll have a Dodge logo on the nose...)

"It has a light side, a dark side, and it holds the universe together."

Unfortunately that saying doesn't take into account smartass friends running errands for you.

See, I'm packing up the house, and I needed some tape to reconstruct boxes. I'm also lazy, so I texted SB and asked him to swing by El Marto Del Wal, and get me some duct tape and a sharpie, cause mine got jacked by the old roommate when she moved out. Both the duct tape, and the sharpie.

Must. Label. Boxes. Especially considering that they'll be in storage for a while. I even labeled the packing material on all of my knick knacks.

So anyway, SB runs to Wal Mart for me last night, and comes back and tells me to close my eyes.

Are you suspicious yet? I was.

He hands me a package of two chisel tip sharpies. Cool.

Then he hands me the tape.... And now, I can't even say "Silence is golden, but Duct Tape is silver."

No, I can't. Because that little shit brought me neon flamingo pink Duck brand tape.

No joke:
Pink. Duct. Tape.

It's a crime against humanity. But I'm too lazy to take it back, so I'm using it.

"Didn't they at least have purple??"

"Well, maybe. But that wouldn't have been nearly as entertaining for me."

Smartass.

Argh!

Picture it, Sicily, nineteen forty... oh wait. Wrong story.

Ya'll know that internship I gotta do? The one that I had all lined out, everything but the paperwork done?

They backed out on me. I'm a little screwed right now.

I'm working on finding another place to do it, and the folks I was going to do it with gave me a chance to do some paying work for them, so that's something anyway.

Meanwhile, packing must be done, phone calls must be made, and I'm only going slightly out of my mind. Which could easily be pushed over into totally out of my mind if one more thing goes wrong....

'Scuse the absence of posts for a while folks, real life is calling and I can't afford to let the machine pick up....

Edit: Called in to Marilyn to let her know things went down the toilet. Her response? "Well shit. Start bugging other people, I guess, and keep me updated." "Already bugging other people, waiting on return phone calls." "Well there ya go then. Good luck!"

Yet another reason why I love that woman. She's supremely confident that I'll find someone who wants my skinny ass around for a couple of months playing with their ponies.

Run, Forest, RUN!

Wow, it's been busy since the last time I posted.

Ok, Saturday didn't work out quite the way I'd planned. Miss Etta and I did move calves into the alley, but we didn't get to sort them. Then, we loaded up and went to rescue two cows that had been off calving somewhere in the gulleys and ravines of the pasture where the windmill died when we moved all the other cows across the road to the pasture where the windmill still works.

Me and Etta vs two cows that were fairly skittish due to being all by themselves. It went fairly smoothly, cept for a couple of glitches.

Glitch one, when we pulled up to the pasture the cows were right at the gate that's straight across the road from one of the gates into the other pasture. That was actually a good thing, until we unloaded Etta, and then they hightailed it for the back of beyond while I was still trying to get miss Etta straightened out.

Glitch two, in that pasture we have three horses that Etta doesn't know, two mares and Dusty. Dusty is a gorgeous, pure white, baby blue eyed tank of a horse... and we never had him cut. He's not fertile, because he didn't drop right, but he's convinced of his own studlyness. So, when he and the mares came to investigate the new horse... I got my happy butt off.

I let em sniff noses and say hi, and then shooed Dusty away, which killed his giant white puppydog soul, and got back on Etta and took off after the cows. Luckily, Farmmom and Farmdad had come through the other gate and headed them off at the windmill, so I didn't have to traipse them through the whole pasture. Once I got over there everything went smooth as butter. Etta really wanted to go visit the other horses, but she did what I asked, so she got an atta girl when we were done.

Monday, we went to Amarillo, TX, to buy stuff for the remodeling of a house for me. I got to pick out all the bathroom stuff (minus the tub, which we already have... I loves me a cast-iron tub) and flooring for the living and dining rooms, bedroom, and bathroom. We got a hell of a deal at Home Depot on the carpet (like, ten dollars less per square yard than that carpet normally is) so we got both the living room and the bedroom, pad and all, for about four hundred bucks per room. The trip took all day, of course, and I didn't slow down much until I got all of the design elements picked out. Then it was waiting on Home Depot to find the insulation that we needed and load the drywall.

Yesterday, it was taking calves to the sale. I took the elder Farmdog along with, and she did really well, considering her natural protective bent, the number of strangers, and the strange surroundings. She hasn't been to the sale with me before, and she spent a few minutes worried about everything. Once she chilled out a bit she just wanted to go say hi to everyone there, and she really wanted to go down and find out what all them critters were hollering about.

Imagine, if you will, a medium sized pit mix dog, with the attendant "intense stare" sitting between her mistress's feet, her head on the back of the chair in front of her, watching cattle go around and around. It was fairly entertaining, and I caught a couple of people giggling at her when they'd run a cow out, and a calf in, because she'd change her entire body posture from "I think I can catch it" to "oh it's a baby" and start wagging her whole body.

She's odd, but she's a good girl.

Anywho, this is the first time I've been in front of the computer for any length of time since Saturday morning.

The rest of this week, well, I've got to get my rent paid for this month, and get some packing done at some point for the move home, meet with the folks I'm doing my internship with (a horse rescue here in town, that also does Mustang adoptions and gives riding lessons to kiddies on the weekends) and possibly go on a road trip with them to do a pick up of a horse.

It's barely January, and I'm already behind!

Sorting Calves

There is a distinct possibility that I might get my butt tossed today.

We're gonna be sorting calves off... keepers, and ones to sell. Since I'm here, and have the opportunity, and we have plenty of time, I'm gonna hop on Etta and see if I can get her started sorting.

She's quick, she's smart, and she really does seem to enjoy pushing the cattle around (unless they don't respect her authority and she has to reach out and bite one on the top of the tail because it won't move it's furry little butt...) so if she decides to "turn on"... she might go one way, and leave me hanging in mid air like Wile E Coyote.

And if that happens, I'm gonna be doing a happy dance before I ever hit the ground.....

Wish me luck!

Next New Year's

Well, my "BFF" and I were very disappointed this year. We didn't get to spend New Year's Eve together, and she had to work. Drawing blood for DUI's. In Colorado Springs.

She was swamped.

So, while we were chatting last night, texting, we decided that we are going to save up all year, and go somewhere next New Year's Eve.

We're pondering Vegas. If we book early enough it ought to be cheap, and it's far enough away that no one will expect us to rush back for minor crises.

I'd be hollering for Hawaii, but I think we'd have to plan two years in advance to save up for that one....

We'll see what we can come up with, as far as saving, but we're going away somewhere... and, BFF being BFF (my sister, confidant, hairstylist, fashion consultant and emotional crutch... and very much a girly girl) we'll be going somewhere "civilized."

And, preferably, with an enormous supply of alcohol....