New Sewing Machines!

I love woodworking and especially refinishing old furniture.  Its very tactile.  The progression, the change and the results are very visible.  It is a great way for me to relieve stress.  That, and I get to play with power tools.  Its something that I absolutely love. 

My dad went to an auction recently and bought several large, crucial woodworking tools for me.  Enough to fill an entire two-wheeled trailer.  Mom and Dad brought them up to me a few weekends ago.  As we were unloading them I may have perhaps acted a bit giddy.  Walking on sunshine.  On cloud nine.  My mom just couldn't understand it and voiced her concerns. 

I believe it was my dad who finally said, "Pretend they're like sewing machines."  This immediately changed her tune. 

"Oooooooh!  You got new toys!" she cried.

Not even close, Mom.  Way cooler.  But thanks for trying. 

Reality Check

I have this image in my mind of the perfect yard, somewhat of a cross between the Ponderosa on "Bonanza" and the yard on "The Brady Bunch" (even if that was astro-turf).  I'd love it if my yard could rank among these, expertly landscaped and beautifully manicured.

I've even worked out some rough sketches of how and where I'd like to create some lovely rock-gardeny type spots in our yard next to the road.  I can see it now.  Some taller sunflowers in the back, maybe some hollyhocks scattered in too.  Perhaps on the left hand side there would be a tall rock with our brand on it.  Lower down I'd have wildflowers scattered around in and amongst the rocks, and at the very bottom I'd have sweet potato vines that cascaded over the small, 6-inch tall rock retaining wall.  Sounds lovely, right?

Lets review.

In the past twelve months......

*A cattle truck has backed the entire length of the truck and trailer along my mailbox, scratching the rig and swiveling my mailbox.

*A hired man has backed into my mailbox, and now you have to reach waaaaaaay out of your vehicle window to grab the mail.

* Cattle trucks drive through my yard and driveway to turn around and back into the pens to load cattle.

* Pickups and trailers get parked across my entire yard to create 'wings' and temporary fencing strategies for keeping cattle out of my yard when we're driving them.

* Horses run through my yard during shipping season more than grasshoppers do the entire rest of the year.

* There are enough bones in my yard to re-assemble several sorts of Frankenstein-type calves.

* .....Annnnnnnnnd finally, this morning when calves were shipped from our place and for the third time this season I had two hundred or so calves running through my yard, I finally conceded that perhaps I should give up my dream of ever having a nice yard, complete with an attractive, functioning mailbox, astro-turf and all... Sigh....

Horses in Heaven

I have a buddy, Cash, who is six years old and after Friday's events I think that he's got everything in life pretty well figured out.  Better than myself at least. 

Cash walked up to my desk and got a piece of candy (yeah, I got a J-O-B, but more on that another day). 

Me: Hey, Cash-man, what have you been up to today?

Cash: Eh, not much.  My grandma died today. 

Okay, think about a low-key way to talk through this so he doesn't start crying.

Me: I heard, Bud, and I'm really sorry.  But think about it - your Grandma gets to hang out in heaven now and that's pretty cool, right?

Cash: Yeah, and she's not hurting anymore.  That's cool too. 

Okay, maybe I'm going to be the one that starts to bawl like a baby.

Me: Hey, Cash, I've got a grandma in heaven too.  Do you think that maybe your grandma and one of my grandmas is up there, hanging out and playing and just having a big ol' party?

Cash: Yeah, probably so.  And my dad's got a horse up there too, so they're probably riding too. 

....And cue the waterworks.



Did I mention that Cash is a pretty cool kid?  And, for the record, my dad's got some horses up there too.

Real Housewives of Greenwood County Episode #468

This episode features a montage highlighting the wonderful, romantic relationship that exists between a rancher and his wife.

*Wes waits till mid-July, mid-afternoon to finish clipping some fence.  Watch as he drops Anna off in the middle of nowhere with a half empty bottle of water, a 5 gallon bucket of clips and a pair of pliers.  Watch her scream obscenities as he drives away and tells her not to come home till she's completely done.

*In the middle of winter, Wes sits in his warm and cozy feed pickup and drives through a pasture at a slow crawl through the snow and sleet.  Where is Anna?  She's outside of the pickup on the very top of a stack of small square-bales of hay on the bed of the pickup.  She cuts the strings and flakes out each bale to the hungry cows.  When she is all done, watch as she yells around the cake feeder to the cab of the pickup, asking Wes to stop and let her in the warm cab.  Watch as that doesn't grab his attention and she beats on the metal cake feeder instead.  When that doesn't get a response from him either, watch her jump off the bed and begin to run next to the passenger window and beat on it, pleading with her husband to let her in the warm cab.  Wes finally gets off the phone, turns to the window and sees through the sleet on the window that a shadowy figure is jumping/running next to his feed pickup.  When he finally stops and allows his beloved to enter the pickup he simply states, "Well, why didn't you just say something?"  Watch as an exasperated Anna tries to flail her frozen arms at him. 


Someday soon we'll try to have this episode out on DVD for your viewing pleasure - don't miss it!

I pray like a Lutheran and I'm proud of it!

I was recently asked to give the welcome and invocation at an evening event.  No problem, right?  I stood in front of the 120 attendees and thanked them for coming, their support of our program, blah, blah, blah.  I then asked them to bow their heads while I prayed.








There was a very long pause.






At that moment it occurred to me that I had just pulled a very stupid move.

We don't say prayers out loud unless they begin..."Come Lord Jesus, be our guest..."
Don't worry, I prayed as best as I could on the spot and included blessings for all the major things that people normally included.  Health, kids, safe travels, rain.  It just wasn't necessarily my best impromptu moment.  

At this moment I bet that Lutherans are laughing and everyone else is saying "I don't get it."


And after reading that last line all Lutherans will say "This is most certainly true."

Again, all you Methodists, Baptists and Pentacostals didn't get that last joke either.  

A Plethora of Possibilites

I have no trouble recalling the crazy events of my life, they seem to happen upon me like raindrops on a palm tree in a hurricane.  (Like the analogy? I'm on a roll this morning!)

The biggest conundrum I face right now is the appropriate title for this morning's events.  Let's look at some options:

Why I Looked Like a Ninja Warrior-Bandit This Morning

Thank Goodness We Don't Have Neighbors

I Hope That Smell Leaves Soon

Orange Juice: Smooth Going Down AND Back Up!

Are you starting to get the feeling that "stellar" is not one of the top ten ways I would describe my morning?  You're so clever, nothing gets by you...  Let me start at the beginning, (a very good place to start).  Sorry, I couldn't resist breaking out into song.  And no, I haven't been drinking.

We found a skunk laying dead in our road yesterday morning.  Normally this wouldn't be a huge cause for concern but our neighbors only six miles down the road had a rabid skunk at their place early in the spring and now everyone is a little gun shy.  I didn't have time to haul him to the vet for testing yesterday.  I simply, absolutely, DID NOT.  Keep that in mind for the rest of this story and don't hold my crazy schedule against me.

I asked Wesley to bag him up and leave him somewhere where the girls could not get to him for the day.  He did exactly as I asked him and placed the skunk in a Glad trash bag (odor shield, yeah right) and placed the bag inside a closed area on the north end of our shed.  I really didn't think much about the skunk after I left the house yesterday morning.

Yesterday night when I got home after my meeting at 11pm, I got out of the car and IMMEDIATELY was reminded about our skunk problem.  It smelled absolutely delectable.... if you have the taste buds of a vulture. 

Anyhow, I'm going to try to rush through some of the 'yummy' details.  Did you know that after only 24 hours in intense heat, a skunk's body will start to decompose enough to make it squishy and drip 'juice' (for lack of a more proper term) out of the bag.  This meant that I couldn't place the trash sack in the car - obviously.  Also, the stench was so powerful that I had to place a jacket (black) over my nose and mouth, wrap the arms of the jacket around the back of my head, crisscross over to the front and tie a huge knot directly over my mouth, effectively gagging myself and blocking the majority of the smell.  (Cue the "why I looked like a ninja warrior-bandit."  Not that I've seen a lot of those, but I'm guessing.)  Notice I said majority of the smell was blocked, but not all.  Thus the part about orange juice going down AND up smoothly.  I know, I know, TMI. 

Since I couldn't put the bag-o-dead skunk in the vehicle, I had to throw it on the roof rack and take dirt roads 25 miles into town.  I had made it alllllllmost the entire way into town when I met an oncoming semi.  The force of the rushing wind as he passed by me caused the sack to fly off the roof of the jeep and land in the middle of the road.  I calmly (yeah, right) placed my jacket over my nose and mouth again, jumped out of the car, threw the sack back onto the top of the car, and jumped back into the car before it was necessary to attempt to take another breath of air. 

Now the reallllly great part.  The vet clinic is on the northeast part of town.... right next to the high school.  On my way to the vet clinic I ran into a gang of high school and junior high aged girls on their bikes, calmly riding home from morning weight-lifting classes.  Needless to say, I didn't make any friends there.  I also met Larry, an acquaintance that is running for state representative, at the corner next to the vet clinic.  You could certainly tell that it is an election year and he wanted my vote.  Even though his windows were rolled down and his eyes appeared to be watering profusely, he still smiled and gave me a friendly wave as I drove by. 

I wonder how normal people live their lives...

Farenheit 451 (approximate heat index)

Its hot here.  Freakin' hot.  Its our first day over 100 degrees and it never feels like something that should be celebrated.  You can always tell when the weather gets this warm and its so unbearably hot that animals will do most anything you want them to, just to get it over, done with, and out of the blasted heat. 

I was reminded of this just a few moments ago.  All of us (Wesley, myself, Loop and Laurie) have been outside all day (baling, swathing, basking, and digging up my flower beds.  In that order.).  As I mentioned before, its freakin' hot.  (Sorry for using that word so much, Grandma, but it just is.)  I finally got to the house and was ready to walk into the kitchen door with the two girls close behind.  We have a rule that they must not burst through the doors, rather, they must sit on their bottoms and show their manners before being allowed inside the house.  Normally I have to remind them of this rule.  Today, I grabbed the doorknob and turned around to remind them gently, "manners," but both girls were thinking ahead.  Not only were they sitting down, they had sprawled out with everything from their chin to the tip of their tail on the floor.  Heat, apparently, makes you mind your manners. 

Now for a Golden Girls moment: Picture it- Sumner County, Kansas, circa 1998.  (I always love it when Sophia says that.)

I was around 14 years old and my dad had gotten a pair of huge paint geldings to break for some friends one summer.  We had worked with them several times and they always had abounding energy.... if you get my drift.  One hot day in July, much like today, Dad and I hooked up Nub and Bub to a disc and he sent me out in the field with them.  Normally "whoa" was a word that they didn't respond to heartily, but on that day I remember that I barely had to begin the "wh..." and they were already at a dead stop.  Apparently, heat makes you mind your manners. 

I finally made it back to my grandad's yard late in the afternoon.  It probably wasn't more than 45 minutes that I was out in the field with the team but it felt more like an eternity.  All three of us were quite tired and dripping with sweat when we parked it under a shade tree by the breeding stall in Grandad's yard.  Dad was there waiting for me.  I remember my grandad trotting over from his house at a pretty brisk pace, asking if we were going to be there for a minute.  I also remember thinking that he was crazy - I didn't have energy to move another inch. 

He trotted back across the yard to his garden and returned with a watermelon.  We - Grandad, Dad and I, cut into that watermelon and it was the most juicy, refreshing thing I had ever eaten in the world.  I remember the juice running all down my chin and how great that sticky juice felt running down my neck and chest.  I didn't care how gross and sticky I was getting.  It was cool and it was good.  The three of us didn't, and still don't, hang out all that much all together at one time.  That afternoon was one of the most perfect memories I have of us all together. 

Its funny what triggers my memory.  Today, seeing how our girls didn't want to fight the heat and minded their manners before even being asked really set me back about 14 years today, thinking about that team and watermelon with Dad and Grandad.  I don't mind the heat so much when I think back to that afternoon...