Peace offering

I have written before about the girls providing a 'peace offering' after doing something that they know is wrong. 

Example: Moving Wesley's work boots from their place near the back door in the shop to somewhere out in the yard.  Big no-no. 

Laurie knew that she had screwed up the other morning and obviously tried her hardest to make it up to Wesley. 

This has got to be one of the biggest, best peace offerings in the history of mankind. 

That's right, she dug through the dead pile until she found the longest legbone possible.  The poor dear was so proud of herself. 

And Wesley forgave her. 

The End.

Birthday woes

For Wesley's birthday a few weeks ago we decided to drive to Wichita with some friends and eat supper.  The prospect of going to a big town excited me - I could run errands!  During the week leading up to our Friday night escapade I worked diligently on my "town list."  There was nothing ridiculous, frivolous or outlandish that I was needing, but the list was fairly lengthy. 

Yes, this was my idea of excitement on a Friday night.  Eating at the Olive Garden and shopping for work jeans for Wesley, plus a little yarn to feed my crocheting addiction, plus a whole host of other to-do's that I won't bore you with. 

We all decided to meet at our house.  Actually, "we" didn't decide on anything.  Our buddy Cody insisted that we meet at our house that afternoon which meant that there was considerable backtracking for him and his wife, Ashley.  This caused major grumbling on my part about the ridiculous nature of his entire gender and the fact that I can't believe it is mostly men that run the world and this is why the world is running into the ground.  You know, typical grumbles. 

I dutifully made sure that Wesley and I were showered and ready at the appropriate time, patiently ready and waiting with my shopping list and purse in hand. 

About that time I watched as a white stretch limousine slowly crawled down our dirt road, pulled into our rock driveway and parked next to a pile of the girls' chew-toy bones. 

Hmm.

I'll admit, part of me was incredibly elated, and the other part of me debated on whether or not I should give up on my dreams of running any errands that evening.  This was more of a struggle than I should probably admit, but I ended up placing the list back on our fridge and lamenting to myself that I could live another week without yarn.  ....Sigh....

So, to tie up loose ends on this story.... Cody has a friend that owns a limo.  The one that we took out that night, in fact.  Duh.  No one, not even Cody's wife Ashley knew what was going on, so Cody wanted to surprise all of us and see the look on our faces when the limo pulled into our drive.  It was pretty awesome, I'll admit. 

No errand-running occurred that night, much to my chagrin, but I did get over it. 

As we were slowly crawling down our dirt road in the limo, trying not to get a flat on our way to the highway, Wesley noticed three semi-loads of cattle heading towards our house to unload.  We had the limo pull over to the side of the road and Wesley stepped out into the middle of the road so the trucks would actually stop and talk to us so Wesley could tell them where to unload.  We were pretty sure they wouldn't stop and chit chat to folks in a limo like they usually do when we are in a feed pickup.  The truck drivers had a good laugh at our highly unusual ride. 

Kitchen DIY

Do you have a friend that is expecting (besides me)?  Do you feel like acting like you're being really helpful but you also want to squeeze a joke in there somewhere too?  Fear not my friends, I have the solution for you.  True, I did this one to myself, but I can't wait till I know someone that gets preggo and I will totally do this to them. 

This pregnancy has been less than idyllic for me.  I am not one that floats around with some sort of ethereal glow about me.  I have the energy of a sloth.  I puke lots.  My back hurts.  And my poor husband gets to put up with this every day. 

It is well known that W does NOT perform projects inside the house.  Actually, that's being generous.  W does not perform projects within a 50 yard radius of our house.  This is my territory.  In my preggo brain genius-ness the other day, I decided the next time I had energy I was going to install new kitchen cabinet hardware and child safety locks on all the cabinet doors.  You read that right, child safety locks for a kid weighs approximately 1 1/2 pounds and is 8-9 inches long, and is currently still housed in my womb.  Because, ya know, I'm in "the family way." 

So the next time you need a giggle, find a friend that is preggers.  Offer to be really helpful and install child safety locks on all their cabinet doors.  While you're at it, place a hidden camera somewhere.  Or, don't even hide it.  With your friend's preggo brain she probably won't even notice it setting on top of the microwave in plain sight.  Grab a bowl of popcorn and laugh hysterically every time she walks to any lower cabinet and automatically jerks on the handle.  Watch as she jerks again, just for good measure and then grimaces because she installed child safety locks almost four months before the kid hits the ground, another six months before the kid starts to crawl, and another 1-2 months before they even think of opening a cabinet.  So, just to recap the math, that's approximately 1 year early folks.  I really can't wait for someone to tell me they're expecting now.  I can't wait to spread the joy. 

Lovey Dovey

There are many days when I would probably kill my husband if it weren't for the fact that I'm pregnant.  I'm the one with the preggo brain, so I should be the one with a free pass to say whatever I want, right?  Instead, I'm finding that Wesley says the darndest things these days.  I usually know what he means, it's just that there are probably a hundred ways that he could say it more tactfully. 

Example:
Every morning I get out of bed, puke, and then re-enter the room to show W my belly and we can see if there was any growth over the previous 24 hours.  This morning was no different.  I walked into the room and heard, "Side profile!"  So I took my obligatory stance alongside the wall like a prisoner lines up for a mug shot and showed him my belly.  (I don't think prisoners do that part though.) 

I looked at Wesley and quite seriously said, "I don't think I grew any.  I'm feeling pretty gaunt this morning." 

To which my beloved replied, "Trust me, you do not look gaunt this morning.  Not even close." 

I know what he meant, but it doesn't mean that I didn't scan the room for a blunt object to beat him with either. 

Please, sir. I want some more.

As I walked down the road last evening, whistling along to myself, carrying a cup o' sugar, it occurred to me that this might be a touch odd. 



Well, maybe not odd, but more like nostalgic Americana that everyone knows about but no one actually ever does. You know, the whole "borrow a cup of sugar from your neighbor" thing.  Most folks will probably go with odd, but I'm sticking with the whole Americana vibe.  

I was in the middle of baking cookies for Wesley's birthday and realized that I didn't have any brown sugar.  Thank goodness for the grocery store just down the road known as Grandma Curry's.  The woman lives by herself and never fails to have a completely stocked fridge ready and waiting to feed an army of 50 at any time. 

As I was walking down the road, carrying my cup o' brown sugar, I also was thankful for another thing.  Daily, for one reason or another, I am very glad that hardly anyone ever drives down our road. 

Oh the horror!

Can you imagine how embarrasing it would be to realize that you forgot to change out of your chore shoes after feeding the bucket calf and now you're destined to spend the rest of your day at work in a less than perfectly coordinated ensemble?   

Side note: I'm not sure I've ever worn a perfectly coordinated ensemble, but that's not the point.  Today could have been the day!

Number of people that I'm guessing will recognize/care about my fashion faux pas: 0. 

Ah, the life of a rancher's wife.  A free pass to smell like manure all day, even in the office.