Sunday, September 30, 2007

"Justin, You're An Idiot"

I forgot one other little happening in my previous post and I'm too gosh-darned lazy to go back and edit it. So you get a short post with another little story.

We were sorting the calves off of the cows (weaning) in the arena and were just holding the herd while Dad set the gates in the pens. Justin told us that while on a cattle drive earlier that morning, and, well, just read below...

Justin: This morning I was bellowing out all the crazy yells I could think of, and these Corrientes just sit here and look at ya
Me: *laughs* They kind of just stare at you like you're an idiot or something
Justin: *quiet* What?!
Me: I said *repeats*
Justin: Oh! I thought you was calling me an idiot! I mean, I know I am, but dang...

And I have yet to hear the end of that one. I guess he just heard the end of it. The "you're an idiot" part. Like I seriously would just be like, "Justin, you're an idiot!" He told Travis and he pretended to give me the cold shoulder for a while until I offered him candy. See? Just like a little kid! My gosh. I'm not THAT mean.

I think there's a slice of chocolate cake calling my name. "Caitlin! Caitlin! Please! Come eat me! I beg of you!"

Duty calls.

Oh, Travis...

Oh my. I have not visited my own blog in a week. *cringes* Before you guys start throwing tomatoes at me, remember my last post where I mentioned Fall Works? Well last week was stuffed with it and after a long day horseback, you suddenly realize you're creative juices have leaked away. I was too tired to make a good blog post... Today is our first day of rest since Monday! And I hope that this post makes up for my abandoning you guys all week.

I won't bore you with details of what we actually did. We just gathered pastures, drove them over here to the house, sorted off the calves from the cows, then the heifer-calves from the bull-calves. We branded, vaccinated, and ear-marked calves, gave the cows some pour-on to keep the flies off and a black-leg shot. Castrated some of the bull calves. We had no wild cow chases, so nothing was exciting in the actual subject of WORK. But, what was very interesting was the day-help.

Day-hands are guys that just travel around the area and work for different ranches who need them at various times, and get paid by the day. They've been alot of places and usuall trade alot and can be fairly rambunctious. I must say these are the most fun cowboys I have ever been around. Their names are Travis, Justin and GR but I have nicknamed them the 'Three Amigos' as mentioned in my previous post. (Turns out that the Three Amigos is Travis' favorite movie!) I wish I could remember just half the things they did and/or said this week! Travis is the most hilarious one, I just love this guy to death. He is so awesome! So, instead of coming up with something stupid this time, I'll just post some of the Travis-isms that took place this week. Just random ones that come to mind. These are just some stories about what happened....

We were sitting at the dining table one night and he was talking about a stud-horse he knew of and he got to describing how it looked. This is how it went. "His head is so gosh-darned big, it probably wouldn't fit through a common doorway. His neck reaches from about this here table to the door there (it was about 10 feet), and his body is about this big (holds hands about 2 feet apart). He has little tooth-pick legs, and my rear end looks better than his!" That sure enough got a laugh out of us.

I was walking back from the barn to teh house, and he from the pens to the bunkhouse and we passed each other. I didn't say anything or do anything, just kind of looked up at him, and you know what he did? He put his thumbs to his temples, and spread his fingers, almost like a Bullwinkle impression or something. Then he crosses his eyes and sticks out his tongue.

I must say. It is pretty amusing to see a grown man, no, grown cowboy, make this face.

He also has a habit of sticking his tongue out at random times. And he only does it to me! Well, don't I feel special.... I'll just look over at him, and he'll stick his tongue out at me. I'll laugh, and do it too and then he tries to stick his out as far as it will go and makes funny noises.

Another day, we were standing out in the pasture by the trailer, waiting for it to get light. It was me, Daddy, Clint, GR and Travis. Daddy and Clint were talking, so were GR and Travis, and I was just kind of half-listening to both conversations. Suddenly, Travis (who often complains of the cold) stuffed his arms in his vest, so that is looked as if he had none. GR made some comment, and Travis starts walking around like a chicken. Bobbing his head in that way, walking and everything, like a chicken. I about died laughing it was so funny. And then he just leaned back against his horse, arms still in vest, and I started laughing again. He asked what, and I explained that if his hrose happened to shy away, with Travis leaning against him, he would have no arms to catch himself. Then we all laughed....

Justin was walking back to the hydraulic chute from a pen and Travis runs up behind him, and jumps up on Justin! (Travis is also a lot taller than Justin.) He puts his legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders and then Justin just starts bucking around like a bronc would, snorting and everything. Travis takes off his hat and fans with it and yells "heeeaw!" Then Justin made him stop becayse the button on his pants popped off and Travis had to give Justin his belt to borrow so his pants wouldn't fall off right in front of everybody.

Oh dear. That is a mental picture I did not want to have.

Another time at the dinner table. I guess Daddy had split the crew this day and Dave, Larin, Travis, Clint and Tyler were driving some cattle. Larin convinced Clint to sing and everybody said he can really sing- his wife, Tiffany, said people have tried to get him on one of those shows like American Idol, but he won't do it. I want to hear him sing now! Anyway... I guess Travis made Clint promise that when he becomes famous, he can be Clint's stage dancer. Dad asked if he was gonna wear a leather collar with spikes and Travis said, "I hadn't mentioned that one yet but it'd sure go with the costume I had in mind!"

My goodness. Yet another mental image. I am scarred for life!

Yesterday we were branding some calves, dragging them to the fire and such. Well we were waiting for them to bring up the next bunch of calves and Travis just started acting just like a little kid. I mean it was unbelievable! I need to get some pictures of Travis making some of the faces that he did. He crossed his eyes and put on this stupid, stupid, cheesey grin and started jigging around singing "Kumbaa Ja" or however you spell it. He started talking with a stupid accent. "Deese are dee games vee like to plaayyyyyyyy! Vee like to play deese games." Then Justin, Travis and I sat cross legged in the dirt and those two started drawing pictures in the dirt. It was ridiculous! And then Travis drew a donkey and put a "person" on it. Then he said, "I'm going to draw Caitlin now." I cringed. He drew a little person and then he put big tall lines on the head for hair and a big old smile and we all burst out laughing. He surveyed his artwork criticall and then proudly proclaimed, "She's puurrrrty!"

I have never, never, EVER seen a grown cowboy act in such a manner. Not that I mind, not at all! These are the reasons that we love Travis so dearly. There is nobody like him, he makes us all laugh to the point of crying, and he is just so entertaining and likable. Travis has to be one of my favorite people, outside of my family and close friends (like Sara and Hallie) that is.

Yesterday when they were getting ready to leave I was helping them out. GR and I had the following conversation.

Me: Sometimes I really worry about Travis.
GR: Yeah, me too.
Me: He must have the mentality of a twelve year old.
GR: Yeah, just about.
Me: But then again, I guess it's good that he's a kid at heart.
GR: Yeahhh, wellll, but then people start wondering about you.
Me: Oh, people are gonna wonder about Travis anyhow.
GR: *laughs* You're pretty rough on old Travis!
Me: Am not! People wonder about me, I bet...

GR: Well, no doubt.

GR is the quietest, most mature one of the bunch but I like talking to him, he's still funny and neat to talk to, just in a more... mature... way. =P So then Travis walks up and shakes my shoulders and tries to look mean or something....

Travis: What?! Huh!?! What are you talking about? Huh?!
Me: *laughs* You, Travis
Travis: *calms down and acts relaxed* Oh. Well that's a good topic.

Ohhhhh, Travis. I must worry about him, really. He had a rubber chicken hanging on the back of his trailer. It was bald, had sunglasses, a tattoo that said "MOM" with a heart, a muscle-shirt, and boxer shorts with flames on them. And to add a special touch, Travis had made a noose out of leather string and hung it around the chicken's neck.


Travis also has an amusing habit of breaking out into random songs during the day. Everything from theme songs from the Lion King to that song "we ain't gonna take it, no we ain't gonna take it, no we ain't gonna take it no more". I'm guessing it's called "We Ain't Gonna Take It". I'm brilliant, eh? I was picking on Travis one day by the chute. This is how that conversation went....

Me: Travis, you're not doing that right. Can't you do anything proper?
Travis: I do everything right!
Me: *laughs*
Travis: I'm perfect. Right Justin?
Justin: Yup. Perfect in every way.
Travis: *breaks out into song* Oh Lord it's hard to be humble, when you're perfect in every way. I can't wait to look in the mirror, cause I get better looking each day!

And if you could just hear him sing, you'd be laughing as hard as I did. The way he sings.... He's pretty good, it's just he does it so soulfully and dramatically. I guess you just have to be there...

These are a very select few of the things that went on this week. I laughed so hard... You just have to love them, all three of them. They're coming back in two weeks and I can't wait for another round of it. I'll take notes this time. ;D

Poor Wyatt (my horse) is probably really tired... I rode him 6 days in a row! Oh, well, it was good for him, he's too fat and lazy anyhow. I was unloading him out of the trailer and he was being reluctant and pinning his ears at the horse in front of him so I said, "Oh, come on you hard-headed dummy." Dave was right next to me and says, "Talking to yourself again, Sugar?"

Some of this may not be funny to you, but it's 10 times more hilarious in real life. Really. I would not trade my life for anything, not anything at all. I had the best time this week, just love these guys.

I'll leave you on one more note. Clint is also pretty funny, but I wasn't really working with him this week, wasn't on the same drives and all. But here is a story he told at dinner time. He said they had a neighbor down the road when he was a kid who had a pet raccoon. He said this raccoon loved sleeping in the dirty laundry basket in the bathroom, kind of in front of the toilet. And it would pull the lid on top of itself and always sleep there. Well, the neigbor had his sister-in-law over one time, and while she was sitting on the pot, this little raccoon lifts up the lid, and pokes his little head out. He said the sister in law screamed bloody murder and went running through the house, pants between her legs, racoon on her heels.

Oh, what a sight that would have been to see.

Oh, and by the way. This is only one story. There are many more. Oh, so many more.

Some of them probably not exactly appropriate.

Sunday, September 23, 2007

Work, Work, Work, Work, Work

So it's Sunday. Sunday used to be known as the Sabbath. The day of rest. No work. Just rest. Peace, calm, quiet.

Not anymooooore...

Daddy works all the time. He has to- ranching is not a 9-5, 5 day a week job. It's 24/7. That's just the way it is- and you don't do it for the money, you do it because you love it. I, growing up on a ranch, have learned to live this way. Mom thinks that Labor Day was intended for everybody to work especially hard.

Funny, Mom.

One of these days I am going to write a poem, or essay, or maybe even a book, and call it "Poor, Tortured Soul - Story Of My Life". I am just worked to the bone, I tell you! Worked. To. The bone.

Unload the dish drainer, do the dishes, sweep the floors, pick up the living room, do the laundry, take out the trash, put the cooler in the shed, make up the beds in the bunk-house, pick up sticks in the yard, water the plants, clean the litter-box, vacuum the front room.


So this morning I did all those chores above, fed Mouselet and his sibs, got attacked by Zoey the Invinsible, invented microwave popcorn, eluded the purple-people-eater, and saved a unicorn's life.

Then after lunch I was pretty much lazy. Watched some TV... One of our day-hands for this week, Larin, came at 2:00. The rest are *supposed* to be here by 5:00. So yeah...

Oh! I looked up what baby mice are called! Believe it or not, they can be called pinkies, kittens, or pups. And males are called bucks and females does. Who'd of thunk?! I still think they should be called mouselets.

Another good thing about Fall Works is the fooooood! Delicious yummy food! Main dishes like enchiladas, ribs, brisket, barbeque sandwiches, lasagna, chicken fried steak. Breakfast dishes like biscuits and gravy, pancakes, breakfast pizza, always with side dishes like bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, blueberry muffines and toast, and every day something sweet with breakfast like honey-bun-cake or monkey bread, and always fresh fruit like cantaloupe. Desserts like Missippi Mud Cake, Ice-Cream-Sandwich Dessert, Auntie's Chocolate Cake, and an array of pies-- cherry, pecan, and buttermilk.

Ohhhhh yeahhhhhh..... That is what I'm talking about!

I remember a few years back, Travis (one of the single guys, we call them the 3 Amigos), for the first time ever, tried buttermilk pie at out house.

You'd have thought the fellow had died and gone to heaven.

He claimed it was "the best thing since sliced bread!". It was a pretty big hit with him, so it's always a must-have on the menu whenever he is scheduled to visit.

Thanks for listening to my endless ramblings. Whoever did. =P If you do tune in every now and then, be sure and drop me a comment. I get bored (in case you haven't noticed), and a few comments every now and then do some good.

I'm off to mechanic on my time-travel machine.

There's more to this ridiculous personage than you may think.

Saturday, September 22, 2007


Algebra. Somebody needs only to speak the word and I reply with a grimace and a cringe. Below, are my favorite subjects, in order.

  1. Writing
  2. Literature
  3. German
  4. Vocabulary
  5. Science
  6. History
  7. Algebra

I won't get into all the subjects and why or why not I like them. Algebra is my main complaint this morning. First of all, recall when in one of my earlier posts I mentioned that algebra has the words algie and bra in it and therefore is obviously disgusting, even for one who has never performed equations from it. Also- mathematics are supposed to only involve numbers. Addition, subtraction, multiplication, 1, 79, 1,052, 17! Not "n", "x", or "c". Or pi. What's up with that? I mean, why do they call it pi? It makes no sense. None at all. And whoever came up with it couldn't spell, or perhaps they were never taught the existence of the silent e in English.

The other day I was simply furious at my algebra book and just about ready to rip it to pieces and burn each and every individual shred. It would have felt good, oh so good.

What would not have felt so wonderful was when Mom would make me take money out of my own bank account to pay for a new one, to replace the one I attacked with arson.

That would actually be rather painful.

Back on subject. So I was texting Sara and I begged her to come and save me- she replied with "I wish i could! I would come save u if i could drive!" You don't need to drive Sara! Fly over in your spaceship!

What's that? You don't have one? Ohhhh- don't you dare lie to me young lady! I know it's hidden over there- now come save me!

Okay, I think my rant is over now.

We had a total of 18 kittens earlier this year (spring)- we have about 15-20 mature cats hanging around and an extra 10 six-month old kittens that come and attack us whenever we step out the door. They're positively vicious, I tell you. But three of our momma cats got bred again this year- I suspect 4 but I can't find the wild cat's litter, only the tame ones. I suspect they were all bred by a grey & white tabby tom.

I won't waste time telling you about all of them, as I can only really get my hands on one litter. The other two are in places where they can escape from me and therefore I have not grown especially attached to them. But one litter, Jenny's litter, are currently my pride and joy. They are about 4 or 5 weeks old, already crawling all over boxes and play-fighting each other in the shop. One has paticularly stole my heart.

He has a black tail, a black spot on his side, and a black head, and the rest of his body is white. Now, at first, I thought it was a girl, so I named it something not-so-macho. He has a very different look to him than the other 3 kittens from his litter. He has this curious, inquisitive, innocent face that I just can not resist- he looks just like a little mouse, I swear. His little face just imitates that of a baby mouse. So I call him Mouse- like I said, not so macho. But that's okay- it fits him.

Yesterday I was crooning and cuddling the little thing (I guess I'm sucking all the "macho"/"tom-cat-ness" out of him) and calling him, "Baby Mouse". And I got to thinking. What do they call baby mouses? Er, I mean mice. I mean- there are foals for horses, calves for cows, chicks for chickens, puppies for dogs, and kittens for cats. But what do they call baby mice? Mouselets? That's as near as I can guess.

The kittens are sucking their poor mommas dry. I'd better go feed the hungry little monsters.

And cuddle my little Mouselet.

Friday, September 21, 2007

Fall Works

So after that somewhat... sentimental entry, I decided I needed to post something more me. So instead of subjecting you to another boring entry of my terribly ridiculous thoughts, I figured that maybe I would say something about my life.

Ahhh, Fall. The very word stirs my heart and emotions. *cracks up* Okay, so that was a little rich, let's just say that each time this season rolls around, I do an annual gleeful dance. I love Fall- the calendar this year says that this glorious time of year officially begins on September 23rd. Ha! Like I ever listen to the "officials". I can always sense whenever Fall begins- you can smell it. Don't you know that you can smell each of the seasons? Ah, I can. I smell when each season begins. Well, except Summer doesn't have a smell; Spring just, well, it stops. My favorite seasons, in order, are as follows: Fall, Spring/Winter, Summer. Spring and Winter are kind of tied.... I love Fall for the smell that floats on the air and for Fall Works (which I shall explain shortly), for the beautiful weather and just that very gleeful feeling that comes alive inside of me. Fall makes me very happy. Winter- well, I love the cold. I love hot chocolate and curling up under quilts and reading for hours. I love Christmas and snow... Spring is a very cheerful time of year for people- Fall is more laid-back happy, Spring is... happy-happy. Like.... jump-for-joy happy, happy-go-lucky happy.

Haha. Happy. Say that like 10 times nonstop. Funny word. Hap. Ee.

Anyway. And then comes Summer. Blech. I hate Summer- it's hot, it's miserable, I don't like swimming, I get bored in Summer. I don't care about the break from school- school may not be pleasurable, but it's better than being boring.

So back to Fall. Every year, we have something called Fall Works. It's where Daddy hires a cowboy crew and they come and stay anywhere from 1-2 weeks and help us work cattle. We gather all the cattle up, brand, wean, sort, etc. It's alot of fun- half the time I'm confused and don't know what's going on because nobody bothers to tell the poor little girl riding along, completely and utterly lost in her own thoughts. I'm kind of the entertainment- their source of amusement during Fall Works. I'm often told I'm amusing.

Well I'm glad I'm good for something.

This year we will have a crew of about 12. Lemme think here.... Me, Tyler, Daddy, Grandpa, Clint. Then the crew we are hiring- 3 single guys, Travis, GR, and Justin. Then there is Dave, the horse-trader. That's 9. Maybe Keith, some guy who may end up working here and living at headquarters, a possible 10. Who else? Hmmm... I can't think. (Surprise, surprise.) Anyway... about a dozen fellows probably.

I'd like to sit here and tell you about all that goes on during Fall Works, but I think it'll be much better to blog about it as it happens. On Sunday the fellows are coming in- I'll be sure and start then and every day I'll try and drag my tired butt into the computer and chair and urge my stiff fingers to type out the day's events.

Haha, but there was something funny that happened a few years ago, about 10 months after we moved here. It was the first time working around the "3 Bachelors" as we call them aka Travis, GR and Justin. My friend, Hallie, was also here, with her brother, Cody, her dad, Chuck, and mom Beth. They came down to visit and help us with the Works. She has this loooong beautiful red (naturally!) hair. I told her once I wanted to cut it off and glue it to my own head, when Iw as like 10. She thought that was paticularly funny...

Me? Funny? Nawww... I'm just soooo serious.

So when she was down, she was telling me how once her Mom took a wire hanger, removed the bottom cardboard part, pulled out the side wires, and pushed them through two braids. That were on her head. From her hair. That they braided. Oh, you knew what I meant! Anyway, when they did that, it made the braids stick out like Pippy Longstocking! So we did it again with a hanger we had handy, but we didn't take of the actual hanger part, so it was sticking out of the top of her head. I had just taken a picture and we were admiring it (she still had the hanger in her hair) while walking into the dining room... And we weren't paying much attention. We look up and- errrr. There stood Travis. With Justin right behind him. His face was.... of pure horror. Finally he stutters, "Whooo-oaaa-aaa!" Hallie screams, turns and runs and begins ripping at the hanger in her hair. Justin is going, "What? What? WHAT?" cause he couldn't see what Travis was laughing about because the guy is so dang tall and lanky. We were laughing about that for DAYS...

So the following day, we had driven up to a set of pens in a few rigs. Dave, I think, had driven me and Hallie in this really old Ford- the thing is, the doors only open from the outside, not the inside, so you have to reach out and open it. Well, Hallie was sitting by the window and was trying to get it but couldn't. So I clambered over her and was half-hanging out the window. Travis turns around... gawks... and then shakes his head, saying, "I don't even want to know." Hallie and I laugh, and he turns back around a few seconds later and adds, "Yesterday Pippy Longstocking, today Dukes of Hazzard!" Then we totally cracked up.

Later, after we had finished whatever we were doing at the pens, we had to get back in the truck. Travis was lounging on the flat-bed, as I recall. I looked up in the window, and shook my head. "Travis," I said, "I don't think I'm agile enough to jump back inside." Pause. Then Travis says, "Agile. Wow- that's a big word." Which sent me into fits of laughter because it's all of 5 letters.

Goodness. We still laugh about that. Among other things. I hope we have some more amusing episodes this year.

Some Insightful Thoughts

Again, do not inquire as to how I come up with these things. It just happens. This one was probably more of God's intentions to help me. I've been having a somewhat difficult time with my Faith... It doesn't seem like my relationship with Christ is going anywhere. But I'm working on it; let's not get into all of that. Having that said, I had a dream last night about stumbling through a messy room (don't know why... it's not like my room is ever dirty!) and this morning, thinking about that dream, a comparison popped into my head.

Dark, messy rooms are like the lives of some of us. We're stumbling blindly through the darkness, tripping over shoes and dirty pants and shoe boxes (obstacles in life), frustrated and not knowing what to do. So we begin to yearn for light (His light) but cannot find it. Finally, we discover the light-switch, and turn it on (turning on our relationship/connection with Christ) and the room is flooded with light (His love and glory), which comforts us immensely. But the light is weak... we still have difficulty seeing. And whose problem is that? It is ours because we, as humans with stupid, stubborn mentalities, refuse to see. We have begun to see, but we have not yet. So we search for other sources of light... God's love comes not only from that one little light, but from everywhere- both inside, and in the outside world. We open the curtains and more sunshine (His light) floods into the room. At last- we can see! But what do we do about all of the shoe-boxes and dirty clothes (obstacles)? Well, if our room is dirty- we can always clean it up. But in life, you cannot simply pick up and toss away obstacles in our life. But, you can clean up your life in another way- life's obstacles are unavoidable. Most of your mistakes aren't- you can pick up your life. Lies, cheating, dirty thoughts, and many other sins can be picked up and boxed away, stored in the closet, away from what is right. But, like a room, even if you clean up your life, it will become dirty again. There is always cleaning up to do... We are never perfect.

I don't know if I explained that as well as I wanted to or not. But I tried- just something to think about I guess.'

I just finished reading "Anne Frank- The Diary of A Young Girl" for Literature in school. Well worth the read. Her entries are so eloquent- her dream was to become a well-known writer. Maybe she felt like she never achieved her dream, but she did. This book really touched me- it ws a great read. It ended on an entry that made me think; it talked about how noble and splendid the world's people would be if, at the end of each day, we all would think about what happened during the course of our day. If we thought about the bad things we did, and made it our goal to not commit those things the next day. And then, of course, you will soon become a better person. Anne Frank was a good person in herself; it is sad, though. I'm not sure she was ever, truly happy during her short life. How she was always ridiculed and cut down during hiding, always sad and angry inside, always hiding some of her character. And it simply infuriates me, the fate of all those Jews. How can people do that? Before I go into a rampage about that, I should stop.

So I have had a few moments of sincerity. See? I can be serious sometimes! And sometimes I am just plain silly. But that's okay, I suppose.

Oh, and in that dream about stumbling through a messy room (which totally had to be somebody elses, cause like I said, my room is always spick and span *the air becomes thick with sarcasm*) I kept hearing somebody chanting a silly joky, and then little kids laughing, outside the room. It was weird...

Knock knock!
Who's there?
Dwayne who?
Dwayne the bathtub, I'm dwowning!

Hahahaha! Teeheehee! *giggle*

Knock Knock!
Who's there......

*shakes head* Get! Out! Of! My head!

Dwayne the bathtub, I'm dwowning! Teehee....

Thursday, September 20, 2007


So I guess I'm just gonna ramble on about trucks. I guess that's just what I'm thinking about right now...

I really don't know anything about trucks, to start with. I don't know anything about what kind of tires or engine are the best, natta. But, I do have opinions on them. Maybe they aren't justified opinions based on vital properties (I have no idea what I just said, but it sounded cool) but, I do tend to lean towards certain vehicles.

Oh, that's another thing. I hate cars. No cars for me. I'd rather not drive at all than drive in a car. Blech.

Sorry for being so predjudiced/judmental. But I really hate cars.

I really am a Ford & Dodge kind of gal. I love these vehicles, I've always grown up around Fords and some Chevys. I don't like Chevys- like I said, I don't know anything about if they are are a good truck or not. I'm sure they are; Daddy uses a Chevy as his ranch vehicle and it's smooth and he says it pulls a trailer better than any Ford he's ever drove, and I like driving it. But, you do want a truck that's easy on the eye, no? Looks aren't everything, so true... But they do count! That's why I don't like te Chevys, personally, I don't care for their looks, except for the newer Silverado models. I could stand to drive that. But really, especially for a first truck, I don't much care. So long as it runs!

I know, what you're thinking Mom. "Quit talking about driving vehicles! You're only 14!

Hey- a girl can dream, can't she?

I told her about my "dream truck", her and Tyler, yesterday and I was scoffed at, by Tyler mostly. A dark red/maroon King Ranch 4-door Ford.

Ohhhhh yessss.

Tyler went on about how they are so incredibly expensive, and the extra money is only for the inner luxuries.

Yeah. So? If I ever get rich (big IF there, but miracles can happen!), that truck has my name on it. But, by then, they'll probably have something bigger and better out there. I'll keep you updated.

And there is always something out there and you are going to want more. It's kind of funny really- people will buy new $40,000 or $50,000 truck, car, whatever, and just show it off and brag about it and just love this vehicle. 10 months later- it's just sooooooo last year. And they go buy the latest trend. That's actually the same with everything- fashion mostly. One year the relaxed fit jeans are in, next year it's the tight jeans, one year the bell-bottoms are in, next year it's straight-leg. It's a marketing ploy to get people to spend more money. A trap that I refuse to fall into. What is the point? Why not just wear what you like, what is comfortable and what is your style, not everybody elses. Really, everybody, you look totally stupid wearing totally new and different styles every 2 months. It's senseless. Your spending money needlessly.

Let's end this little piece of conversation before I launch into a rant about our stupid, stupid society.

Back to trucks. Tyler's been wanting one for a while, but we just started actually shopping around on Tuesday. We went to a place to look at some- we're getting a used vehicle, duh. Even if he is almost 17, his first truck is no way gonna be new. He went for two test drives- the first was in a nice truck. One of those F-150s ya know? You see then everywhere now'a'days... This one was kind of grey-ish-silver, 2006 model, extended cab, had 31,000 miles on it, and they were asking $21,000 for it. I liked this vehicle. I loved the body style but Tyler thought the interior was too similar to a "space-ship" ((?!?!)) and it was "too sensitive" ((?!?!)) and he just didn't like it I guess. He rather liked the white Chevy, 2004, 42,000 miles, dreary black interior with tinted windows, extended cab, $18,000. Oh, well.

Ya know what I'm gonna drive when I turn 16? Bwahaha... Sure I like those nice big 4-door 250/350 Fords or even some of those Dodge Rams, I also really like those Toyota Tundras. But ya know, what are the odds of me getting a vehicle like that for my first truck? I guess I could buy it used, but as much as I love these great big, hot trucks... I'm also a big fan of old junkies. I love old-model trucks. And we happen we happen to have one sitting riiiiight in front of the house.

Forgot what model it is. It ish blue with a silver stripe down the side, extended cab, long bed, I think it's 4x4, diesel. It's got a few dents, the paint is wearing off, and the upholstery inside is adorning a few strips of duct tape... But it still runs! Well, kind of. Daddy says it needs a good bit of work, but I don't care about the body work, just so long as I can drive safely in it.

Personally, I love this truck to pieces. It guzzles gas like an ungrateful monster- 8-10 miles to the gallon. Now, before I go one, you may want to pick your jaw up off the ground and re-attach it. There you go. See- the truck will be freeeee! Freeee! FREE! And when you really think about it, for as long as I'll be driving this truck, when you consider how much even a nice used vehicle would cost, it'll be cheaper. All I have to pay is the gas- and it's not like I'm driving to town every day. Maybe more like once a week, if that, when I get my license. But with a new truck- well, there is payments to start with, plus gas, so in the long run, this old gaz-guzzler will save me alot of money.

Well, the cat is screaming for her supper. *shakes head* Ungrateful little monster... it's not even 3:30! *sigh*

The slave must go tend to the O' Mighty Feline.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Tiffany & Clint Arrive

Tiffany & Clint are moved in! They were supposed to arrive about 2:00 or 3:00 this afternoon but they had all kind of heck getting here. They ran into a really bad rainstorm and had 2 flats! So they got here about 5:40 and we took them over to North Camp. Tiffany loved the house! Clint didn't say much... I don't think it really matters to him, lol, he's probably lived in all kinds of dumpy places. So we unloaded their 4 horses while their 3 dogs frolicked with glee. There is a blue heeler (mix I think) by the name of (you'll never guess!) Blue. Then there is a black lab and a border collie... both are Abbie. Eh? One was given to them. So then Clint commented on something I hadn't even noticed, haha. On one of the rigs (they drove up in a niiiice truck- a dark blue 3500 dually Silveradado, and then they had like a semi-rig cab pulling another horse trailer) had a cow skull, with horns of course. The best part was that there were circular reflectors inserted into the eye sockets, and Clint said that the whole thing lit up when you turned the lights on! Oh, man, I want to see that! Haha, I totally have to fix me something like that when I get my own horse trailer. It was his Dad's rig, the semi and aluminum horse trailer and all, Clint said he was an "interesting character". His dad is coming this Friday, aka day after tomorrow, to pick up his rig, I wanna meet him!

So we helped them unload all their stuff. It was amazing- they have three beds. They've only been married for 1 month, but they lived together for 2 years before that too. I don't know what the heck they need three beds for though. There was a Queen, a double and a twin. They also have like 6 coffee/bedside tables and just lots of little doo-dads. They fit it all into two horse trailers though. We were walking back from the barn to show them the house and start unloading when this little piece of dialogue happened.

Daddy: "So I guess if it rained your stuff...?"
Clint: "Oh, yeah, it's wet as hell."

Made us all laugh, haha. But a good bit of their stuff really was pretty wet- one of their mattresses was sopping wet, and we had to be careful picking up cardboard boxes. I dropped one full of crackers and peanut butter, and after that we were a little more careful.

One of the first things we unloaded was one of like 4 mirrors. Dad was suspicious it was broken and Clint said, "I sure hope not- I'd sure hate to have 7 years bad luck."

Maybe only 2 years. It was just a corner.

So when we finished with that we pretty much just went on our way. Tyler wasn't with us because he had to change his guitar lesson last minute, to work for his teacher, and they made it today, this evening, instead of tomorrow. So he was in town doing that and shopping for a vehicle. We got back to the house, then Mom and I went back to the camp with a frozen pizza, some paper plates & napkins, a jug of water and a cooler with 6 beers. Our water is terrible, so if they wanted to make coffee in the morning they should use some good stuff. Then we brought some of the real good stuff (atleast to the grown ups- the mere smell of alchohol makes me nauseous) and of course pizza. Mmmmm. They thanked us and we went back home.

Just thought I'd mention that. We're all ecstatic about them being here- Daddy really really really likes Clint and Tiffany too, says they just feel right. Momma likes them, I really do, I don't think Tyler really much cares. They're just great people- I hope they like it here. They're Christians, Clint is witty and Tiffany is just really nice. They're so down-home and I'm so glad God sent them to us.

So yeah, you're thinking, "What's wrong with her? She didn't write anything funny or stupid!" Boring title. Useless post. Well here's something that made Mom laugh today. I was doing my German and the lady on the computer program said, in this terribly annoying robotic voice, "ein gelbe bananen" which means "the yellow bananas". So this was my response.

"Aren't bananas usually purple? Hmmm... sometimes they're fuschia too."

Sarcastic. Ridiculous. Random.

Welcome to the inner workings of my brain.

Stuff... Nothing Important

Hola, peoples! Wow I haven't written in like 3 days... *gasp* I just kind of never took the time. *hugs blog* I missed you!

Not alot has happened between now and then. *thinks hard* Ouch! That hurt... So I guess Sara, oh blessed soul, has taught me how to burn CDs and I am so addicted, haha! I downloaded LimeWire and have so far downloaded 2 CDs. One is George Strait, just alot of his older songs that I loooove. The other is a Christian CD, mostly rock/contemporary, with a few praise & worship. The problem is, I got confused and burned two of the songs twice, and I didn't listen to some of the songs and just downloaded them (yeah, so I was having a blonde day) and I don't really care for them. There's 8 songs I think on it, so I have been searching for songs I really liek on LimeWire until I found 15 songs I really like and the CD is downloading as I type. There are a few certain bands/artists in the Christian genre I just love; Thousand Foot Krutch, Kutless, Hawk Nelson, and Matthew West. Yay! Me ish happy. Me likes the songs.

We have somebody hired for the position! As you may recall, I have mentioned that Daddy has been managing this ranch by himself for quite a while now. Grandpa has been a great deal of help, however, with feeding and keeping up the water and some such things. But it really is time that we get one of these positions filled. We have two houses to put somebody in. A dumpy old trailer house that would be much nicer crammed into the earth with a much nicer house planted right atop of it. There was an old house at the camp job, North Camp, that deserved the same fate. However, we only placed a new house just to the side of it and will use the older quarters for storage. The new house is something called a Ready Built house and is made at a factory, then hauled (in our case, in one piece) to the site where the place it. Similar to a trailer house- but much, much, much nicer. This house is simply gorgeous- it is small, I will admit. The rooms are atleast- utility/mud room, kitchen, dining, living 3 bed and 2 bath. It has beautiful granite counter tops and tile in the bathrooms and real hard wood floors and a dish washer! Oh, my. How I often dream of a dishwasher. Mummy's reply to my plead for such a thing is, "Oh, but we already have one. You!"

Hahaha very funny, Mom.

Anyway. It's a nice house. There is a couple that came for an interview- Clint and Tiffany. Just the greatest people- they are 25 and 26 and have been married for all of 1 month. They just seem terriffic and are moving in today. Hallelujah!

The original plan was for them to move into the dumpy little trailer house here at headquarters. There are advantages and disadvantages to both being at a camp job or at headquarters. But this trailer house needs some work and we were gonna have a carpenter come out and fix it up and then we would paint and steam clean the carpet and scrub the kitchen, etc and it would be fine. But the carpenter didn't make it in time so they are going to take residence at this beautiful North Camp house, which is perfectly fine because we don't have anybody set up to go over there anyway. But we are still looking to put either a single guy, couple, or small family in the trailer house. In about 2 more years we'll put a new house there too.

By the way, our house is 100 years old.

And crooked.

And Tiffany and Clint have been married a month and are moving into a fabulous, brand-spankin'-new house.

Can we say jealous?!

So anyway. That's about all that has been going on. I'm reading Diary of Anne Frank right now for Literature in school. I dread to continue it because I am quite aware of what happens in the end. Such a tragic period in history. *sigh*

Well, nobody wants to end on a sad note. So I will mention the two hideous scratches adorning my cheek as of now. The other day (17th?) Zoey was following me around the house and being rather obnoxious, so I figured maybe she wanted to cuddle. She was resting peacefully in my loving arms, I rubbing her belly and telling her just what a sweet little thing she is when REEEAWRR! Like a ferocious little lion she screams and slaps me across the face with her paw, which is usually sweet and soft but is not quite so much when the claws are EXTENDED. Yes, it hurt. They stung. They scratched. I shall be known as scar face for the remaider of my life time. Poor me. I shall go now, with the knowledge that my readers pity me.

Err.... don't you pity me?


Sunday, September 16, 2007

O What A Beautiful Morning...

Ugh. I slept in this morning. Big time. I'm talking 9:15 am here people! I just don't have good days when I sleep in. I feel tired all day, crabby, lazy and unmotivated to any thing at all. When I wake up early though, we're talking anywhere from 5:30 to 6:20, I'm in a good mood all day. Okay, for the most part.

So I'm tempermental! I can't be in a good mood all day. Get over it!

So I wake up this morning, stumble into the bathroom, already snappish and angry because my hair is frizzy and sticking to my face and I am mumbling a string of childish words like "stupid-head hair, lame-butt hair..." that I learned from my best friend's 8 year old brother, minus the "hair" parts. I tripped over the rug on the way to the bathroom, and slammed my hand in the linen closet door. Not a good way to start out the morning. So I wash my face and such as and step out and back into my room where I stand staring blankly at the wall, very disoriented, wondering what I should do next.

WAKE UP CAITLIN! (something I'm not very good at) Get dressed, eat breakfast, start the laundry, clean the kitchen, sweep the dining room, feed the cat- where is the cat?

It takes me a couple of hours to wake up- allow me this time frame before you expect for my brain to become fully functional.

Oh, wow, I just spend several minutes laughing hard. Fully functional? ME? Now there's a joke...

Dad walks in the house- I'll mention right here that he always does this! The one day I sleep in out of so many morning of getting up at about 5:30, he has to walk in just the minute I wake up. Why couldn't he walk in like half an hour later when I am out of my pajamas, the groggy look on my face is replaced with one that is actually.... I dunno. Awake? Till I've had my breakfast, and have started the numerous chores awaiting me.


So he walks in, proclaims that the "lazy hunters are already gone and I just woke up", and asks "so what did you do all night?"

Ummm. Sleep?

My Momma and I may have spent countless hours cleaning and cooking and cleaning and baking and cleaning and doing laundry and cleaning, and not two minutes after we sit down to watch TV, get on the computer, read or play a card game, Daddy walks in dripping sweat, gives us one of those looks, and then we feel totally offended. It never fails.

My Daddy is the last of a rare breed in many ways, but I shall state two right here. One is his honestly- his undying hoensty. I seriously, seriously doubt my Daddy has ever, ever, ever told a lie in his entire life. Well, okay, so maybe he blamed something on his little brother when he was 8, but you know what I mean. He just doesn't lie, and his morals are just so strong. The next... well, I got two words for you.


He's up at 5:00, outside by 6:00, comes in maybe once in the morning to drop off the mail he picked up, make a phone call, get a drink of tea, but this lasts all of 5 minutes then he's out again. In for lunch for an hour (if that), then out again, in the afternoon for like 10 minutes, out again, and finally comes in at night around 7:00. He works very hard- he takes care of a 128,000 acre ranch with 1400 head of cattle, I mean come on. There's alot of upkeep to ranching- fixing fence, fixing leaks, working on storage tanks, keeping up with the water, mechanic-ing on the ranch trucks, not to mention just general livestock upkeep.

So you can imagine how puny I feel when it's 9:15 and I am wandering aimlessly around my room in my nightshirt.

Daddy leaves, I get dressed, eat a yogurt, and realize the blogging part of my brain is now somewhat intact and that maybe while the initiative still exists I should sit down and blog. I didn't know what about- but I was gonna do it. I was on a mission! bore you with my tiresless rambling...

But I have a new mission now. Cleaning the house.

Oh, joy.

Saturday, September 15, 2007

BlahBlahBlah-- Blogger's Block

So we had the hunters arrive yesterday. Shortly after noon (around 1:00 or so) they arrived- all 10 of them. DK and I guess 2 of his sons and then some other guys and their support dudes, which basically mean they came on a hunt and they aren't going to hunt. Isn't the purpose of a hunt... to hunt? What's really cool this time though is that there is some sort of organization that sponsors wounded war veterans from overseas to come on these hunts, so I guess that means they supply the permit and maybe even the ammo, I'm not sure. We have two of them here, one who hurt his back a little and has post traumatic stress disorder. And the other guy was really hurt, blown up by a bomb to put a long story short. They have some kind of major surgery where you injur your intestine, and it dies so they have to remove that part. Well he has had 5 of those surgeries, and has had 70% of his intestines removed. He has been eating via a feeding tube that comes out of his arm and ate solid food for the first time in months yesterday; I guess afterwards he didn't feel too good.

Like I said, they had 10 hunters, errrr, people down here. They got 5 bucks, and they all-in-all had 5 permits, so that worked out well. There is a 'kid' here, I can't remember his name, that is Tyler's age, 16, he got one. I haven't seen him this year, but I did last year I know he is here.

Tyler will be absent for all of this weekend. He got an offer from a txedermist in town who is also our friend, along with his whole family. Antelope season lasts only one weekend, since they're so easily hunted. We have hundreds of them on the ranch, you can't hardly spend ahlf an hour outside without spotting them. Most people get theirs pretty early.

This afternoon the dudes plugged up our sewer. We don't have a sewer system- instead our sewage is pumped into a cistern, aka a used-to-be water storage tank. It's a big concrete block outside my window with seriously disrupts the beautiful scenery of trash can barrels, dilapidated chick coop, and rickety, leaning fences. We have to pump out all the sewage via a portable motor about once a month. Imagine this- 10 guys, one bathroom. Not to mention these ten guys have been eating lots of barbeque (ribs, drumsticks, grilled corn) and lots and lots of beer.


So I told you we got brand new floors put in the bunkhouse, and it looks rather stunning. For a bunkhouse, that is. Well now our brand new, gorgeous floors in the bathroom are saturated in sewage water. The toilet (that Mummy scrubbed for an hour until it was sparkling clean) overflowed. And won't flush. So they had to pump it all out and voila it is now back in working order.

Good ole Daddy.

There was a bit of a downer to the weekend for these hunters and their tag-alongs. This morning, one of the groups shot two antelope. They had just driven up to the kill site, when a game warden shows up. (These guys are on constant patrol all of antelope weekend.) He pointed out that they didn't have the tags on the antelope yet- of course not, they had yet to touch the critters! He checked over the licenses and noted that they didn't have a $4.00 stamp on there that is something called a "habitat access stamp". So he fined these guys.

Remember the program I mentioned for wounded veterans- he fined those guys. And he didn't fine any of the other hunters, only the veterans. They said, we are in a program that allowed us to come here and we are wounded veterans. Ya know his reply? "So am I."
They said this warden was young, real young, I guess as in 20 years old young. He was apparantly a bit of a jerk as well.

DK or somebody from the group had called in to the Game & Fish place in town, because they ahd to get local permits/licenses and the such. They had gotten it all staightened out and DK added, "Are you sure we don't need anything else? We want to make sure these guys are covered." The dude on the other end of the line was like, "Yeah, that's all you need."

Uh-huh. Apparantly not.

What ticks me off, is that it was the wounded veterans and none of the other guys! And they hadn't been told they need this little $4.00 stamp. So that's a whole big stink, but DK is very legally knowledgable, that's his whole life/business, so he'll get it all worked out.

So I know, this entry has been a little boring. I mean, I told you all about the hunting and such as, but there wasn't anything paticularly interesting. But, I seemed to have temporarily misplaced my "bloggability". Blogger's block I guess you could say. No worries, by tomorrow, or if you're lucky, sometime sooner, I'll have something stupid to say. Gotta keep you guys entertained, ya know.

Friday, September 14, 2007

I'm Such A Cinderella...

Cinderella. The nobel tale of a girl who is used as personal slave for her wicked step-sisters and step-mother, who is constantly verbally beaten down, with no friends and no social life. And then, one miraculous evening, she is granted several hours at a grand ball where she meets her glorious prince. She loses her glass shoe at this grand ball, and the prince begins a desperate search for the foot that fits it. He finds Cinderella- blah, blah, blah, blah, blah-- happily ever after.

Okay, so maybe I'm not so much of a Cinderella as I originally thought. But, sometimes I do feel like it. I have great parents and a great life, but I love to exaggerate, sarcasm is my best friend, and drama is my gift.

But I think everybody feels like a Cinderella at some point in their life. It just seems like the chores and tasks are endless. I mean, laundry alone can be seperated into several different tasks. Sort the laundry, wash the laundry, fold the laundry, and then find some drawer with just enough room to stuff the laundry inside. Cleaning the kitchen itself can also be dissected into many different chores; sweep the floor, scrub the stove, wipe down the counters, put away all and any food, unload the dish drainer, wash the dishes, clean the sink. There's trash; kitchen trash, office trash, bedroom trash, bathroom trash. The living room is a horror to clean-- vacuum, dust the piano and TV, rub lemon oil into the 3 coffee tables, vacuum under the cushions, put all glasses, plates and bowls in the kitchen (there ya go, the kitchen is now dirty again), pick up all the cat toys, shoes/boots and dirty socks. Blech. Then there's just your ormal, everyday tidying up, sweeping the dining room, putting all the magazines into a single stack instead of them being scattered all around the house, it's just. so. tiring.

I just got in from cleaning the bunk-house. For those of you who don't know, I'll fill you in. A bunk-house is where the cowboy crew bunks when they come to help us work cattle. Ours used to be a hired hand's house, so it's pretty big, but not near as nice as our small one back in Texas. This one has 3 bedrooms with 2 beds each, making 6 beds. A nice living room with 2 couches, a chair, a rug and 2 tables complete with several maps of the ranch and pastures. A full bathroom, dining room, and kitchen complete with washing and drying machine, fridge and stove. So we are having hunters out here (I warned you PETA people) to hunt antelope. There's gonna be like 10 people. DK, Dad's boss and owner of the ranch and one other ranch, lets his sons come out here and his sons' friends and some other hunters. Antelope season is only one weekend, since they are so easy to hunt. We have hundreds of antelope here, really, you see them every single day. So sinec the boss is coming down (he rarely does) we are cleaning up the bunk-house.

We just got new floors put in there- congoleum. They don't have linoleum anymore (which is what is in this 100 year old house that we live in) so they put in congoleum. Just a sort of white with brownish flecks. This went in the bathroom, living room, kitchen, dining room, and hall. We got some commercial-grade carpet (brownish so dirt and stuff isn't as noticable) and put that in all the bedrooms.

Cleaning the bunkhouse included sweeping, vacuumed, re-installing the toilet, washer and dryer, and stove. Moving all the furniture back where it belonged, scrubbing the base-boards, fridge, counters, sink, stove, dining table. Also scrubbing the toilet, bathroom counter and bath until within half an inch of it's life. Washing windows and alllll of the bedding and then making up all the beds all over again.

I tell you, these must be some real special hunters.

Do you see now why I claim to be such a Cinderella? You know what Mom said as soon as I got up to help at 6:30? She said "We'll go clean over there, it won't take us long, and then you can have breakfast."

At 9:30, I finally had a 4 oz yogurt.

I just brought her a trash bag but it wasn't the right size. I think I'mw earing a path from teh bunkhouse to the house bringing cleaning fluid, soap, tash bags, vacuum, cleaner, sponge, air freshener, toilet seal.

I despise cleaning.

No, wait...

I hate cleaning.

With a passion. A deep, burning passion of contempt.

I'm gonna go hit something now. Really hard.


Everybody hears those weird phrases every now and then that make your jaw drop and cause you to squeak, "WHAT?" You know, the stuff that is totally out of the ordinary that you always end up laughing about. For people with little kids it's stuff like, "Don't put chocolate milk down your pants," or "Don't lock your baby brother in the cupboard," or "Why are you throwing macaroni and cheese at the ceiling?" You know- that kind of stuff. Well we have our own weird phrases, or atleast I do...

The nuts are bloody. Nobody freak out- the almond isn't leaking blood. Living on a ranch, we eat something sometimes known as "Rocky Mountain Oysters" or "Calf Fries". Basically, they are the nuts from a calf. Oh, and if you're from the PETA or something like that, you might as well abandon this blog right now. Back on subject- it's not as gross as so many people think. It doesn't touch anything gross, it's just MEAT. Think of them as... chicken nuggets! Like what you get from McDonald's. I mean, you eat meat that comes from a cow's butt, right? The "haunches" aka butt. This is no different- it touches nothing nasty, just like haunch meat doesn't, it's just around that area. So we were eating some calf fries one time and they weren't cooked all the way through and somebody mentioned they were bloody. However, upon reading that, it must have given a few of you a bit of confusion...

He pooped on my plate! Like the above phrase, this is not what it sounds like. I was unloading dishes one day and this furry little happy-go-lucky moth flew over my plate and dropped a little something on it. Totally gross. Ugh. Made Mom laugh though...

Sorry! I didn't mean to Scrubbing Bubble you! Okay, so this is what it sounds like. I was taking the bottle of Scrubbing Bubbles over to the bunkhouse (we were cleaning it this morning) and it was kind of fizzing out of the spray-thingy-majiggaly-bob. So I kind of knocked it on the fence but that didn't work so I sprayed it... And I accidentally Scrubbing Bubbled the kitty. Ooops. Now she's lemon fresh!

That's about all I can come up with right now. I subjected you to that totally pointless entry because I really have nothing more to say. I'm kind of running dry of subjects right now... Hmmm...

Oh wait, weird thought! Just popped into my head! Aren't you lucky?

Sara and I have been having difficulties texting lately. Her phone isn't recieving messages until anywhere from 10 minutes to 2 hours after I send them. I have perfect service, and she has okay service, but it shouldn't be that late. Mom said that there are lots of other electric waves and stuff going through the air.

Oh, yeah. So my message is just flying through the air on it's way to Sara's when whoops! it bumps into Sender: Jean / To: Carl. And they get to chatting, since they're old friends and all.

My Message: Oh, hi, Jean to Carl!
Other Message: Caitlin to Sara! Nice to see you again. What's been going on?
My Message: Oh, Caitlin has been using me so hard. I'm constantly carrying messages.
Other Message: I know the feeling! What have you got in there?
My Message: Ummm... It says "So when r u leaving 4 church?" How about yours?
Other Message: "Did u ever get that report finished?"
My Message: Ah. These people, they are texting nonstop...

Yeah, so maybe that explains like a 5 minute delay. But what about an hour? How do you explain that? Oh, wait. Maybe I know.


Maybe they went to have coffee. =P

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Hysterical Hysteria

Have ya'll ever heard of this game by the name of "Dutch Blitz"? It's a card name, and there's four decks, each with a different colored symbol on the back to keep them seperate. Like a green pump, blue plow, yellow bucket, and red... er, something or other, I can't remember. And each deck has 1-10 in each color category, green, blue, yellow and red. They are also marked with boys or girls on the front. You have different piles of cards- wood piles, blitz piles, post piles and Dutch piles. Can you already see how complicated this is? I got it for my birthday in July and it took us forever to figure it out, but not that we know how it works, it's very easy and lots of fun. We always play atleast one game every day- it's extremely addicting.

However, there should be a warning label on the package.

CAUTION: In some cases may cause uncontrollable, ridiculous laughter and endless hysteria.

No joke people. I don't know what does it, but Mom and I get into these laughing fits that just aren't funny. Really! It has some kind of magic dust sprinkled on the cards that make you say stupid things that would normally be ignored, but in the presence of Blitz cards, makes the other player(s) burst out into laughter.

And I'm not talking giggles and chuckles, people. I'm talking the kind of laughter where you just can't breathe and you're afraid you're gonna hyperventilate and it just hurts so bad. Can you rupture your gut laughing? Sometimes it sure feels like it... It's like getting the wind knocked out of you, your trying to suck in air but your airway it blocked. It's kind of scary, and so you stop laughing and nearly choke yourself gulping air.

I wonder if this kind of hysterical laughing builds up your abs. Those are the muscles you use, right? Atleast, that's where it hurts...

Have you ever been with a group of friends and you all get to laughing, or even one friend? And you kind of don't want to laugh because your friend(s) has one of those pretty, proper laughs that doesn't sound gross? Yeah... I have that kind of laugh that makes people go "Please! Stop!". It's like a mix of grunting, guffaws, snorts and little hiccup-like-things thrown in with a dash of Goofy (from Disney channel) laugh. It sounds like a wild hog fight or something. It's not pretty, and it's not proper.

And occasionally you get to where you're not even laughing. You don't know what it is because but these weird noises that are unknown to the human world are escaping your mouth like some weird alien language. It's not even laughter... It's like, hysterical hysteria. There. That's as bad as it gets, people. Not uncontrollable laughter. You know something is wrong when hysteria has taken complete control over your whole body, and your convulsing on the floor praying for oxygen.

And sometimes you get into these giggly modes where you just laugh at everything. This happened once when we were playing Dutch Blitz. We had just been laughing about something, can't remember what, and I realized the kitten was on the table. So I got up and picked her up off the table...

Me: Zoey, get your fat butt off the table! *picks up kitten*
Zoey: reawwwwrrrrr
Me: Well you are! Fat, that is.
Zoey: reeeeeeyrrryrrrr
Me: Okay, fine, you're curvy
Zoey: meurrr
Mom: *bursts into hysterical fits of laughter*
Me: Okay! Fine! Skinny! As a stick!
Zoey: *relaxes* merr-ur (better!)

Apparantly, it was the whole telling the cat she had curves that set off the laugh bomb. Because watching Mom rock in her chair laughing just was contagious and pretty soon I was doing the same, and Dad and the cat were sitting there watching us like "what is wrong with them?"

Lots of things.

So very many things.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

The Things We Spend Money On...

I was just thinking about some of the ridiculous things that we humans actually spend money on. Some things are just unbelievable in themselves, and some have vile price tags depicting a ridiculous amount of money.

Have you guys seen that stuff that comes in a can that you spray onto your keyboards or printer or other machinery as an easy, safe way to rid it of dust? It's called "Dust Remover" or something and is a "moisture free way to clean". You know what it is? Canned air. Seriously, that is all that is. It's air compressed into a can that you can spray at it gets rid of dust and other gunk under your keyboard. Now, I'm not saying it doesn't work, my grandpa sent us a can to use, but come on. We are paying good, hard-earned money for air. Ridiculous.

Oh, here's another one. Dirt. People pay money for DIRT. Ever heard the term "dirt-cheap"? Not anymore... people will pay hundreds, even thousands of dollars, for dirt for various reasons, mostly landscaping or road repair. Now some may argue that this is merely the freight price, but they're wrong- people pay money for dirt. UN.BE.LIEVABLE.

This is a good one- water. My family falls victim to this hideous trap to rob people of their money. No, we don't actually sell the water, but we do buy it. When we lived in Texas, our water was so sweet and delicious, we were spoiled- I've heard somebody compare it to "liquid diamonds". Daddy used to carry a plastic baggie in his saddle bag when we went riding and everytime we got thirsty, he could go voer to a creek, spring, storage tank, anything and get us water that is 10 times more delicious than bottled. But now, here in New Mexico, our water is positively disgusting. It turns tea murky and coffee into sludge and hot chocolate into hot... nasty... something. So we have to buy water- $0.25 a gallon. Can you believe that?

What are they gonna sell now? Wind and fire? I guess you can buy lighters and fans, if that counts.

Have you guys ever watched those fashion shows? Like What Not To Wear and such? I saw one of those one time... This lady was showing off her new wardrobe (personally, I thought her old one was just fine for a stay at home mom) and the narrator was like:

"Jackie found this plum-purple suede jacket for $357, pin-striped straight leg trousers on sale for $126, and stunning high-heeled sandals at only $183."

WHAT THE HECK? PEOPLE! Do you need a good slap in the face or something? Because I would be more than happy to supply that. ON SALE? My idea of on sale is a t-shirt for $3 at Goodwill. But that's just little old me, the geeky redneck... Of course your fashion experts (who are considered trendy but, personally, I find them more geeky than a calculus expert) will argue, "With fashionable, trendy, sheek and quality comes a price."

Hey Stacey! Clinton! Wanna know what I'm wearing? Sweatpants, a t-shirt, and fuzzy-frog-socks! HAH!

I wear Wrangler jeans that last me forever (meaning until I outgrow them, about a year, but most people they last like 3 atleast) for $20 a pair! I wear Fat Baby boots for 2 years (again, when I outgrow them) for $100 and I wear them every stinkin day. What is wrong with t-shirts and ball caps? I've just never been into fashion... If it's comfortable, why not? The most I'm required for going to town is jeans and shirts without holes in them or blood stains or them or something similar... Fashion is more important to some people I guess. But I've just never followed anybody else's rules- I tend to go against the flow I guess.

You ever heard Bill Engvall's Dork Fish routine? I guess that's what I am. A dork fish, in the river of life, going in the opposite direction of all the other fishies wearing fashionable $400 seaweed. And every now and then I may run into a rock, and the current may get a little strong every now and then, but I am a dork fish and I am tough!

Pretty deep stuff, eh?

Okay, rant over.

Pied Piper of Cats

My day in town wasn't as bad as I dreaded. It was certainly no dream come true, but it wasn't too unfortunate.

We started by dropping Tyler off at college, his class starts at 2:00 but we have to drop him off at 1:35 because then we have to drive alllll the way across stinkin town to my piano lesson, which also starts at 2:00. (Yes, it takes all of those 25 minutes to get to my piano teacher's house.) Mom usually goes to Hobby Lobby or somewheres nearby while I am in piano, and picks me up at 2:45 which is when my lesson ends. Then it's all the way across town again to college where Tyler is out of class about 3:10 or 3:15, so we're usually just in time to get him. Then it's time for errands. Yeuch. Bank to deposit checks, post-office to drop off some stuff, and then we went to Hastings! Yay! That was the highlight of my day, I love browsing book stores... Mom was looking for some stuff for school. She wanted to get it from the library, but they didn't have any of the stuff that she needed, so she went to Hastings. They didn't have her stuff either so she asked if they could order it, but it wasn't in the catalog thing so there was no way they could order it. *roll eyes* Meanwhile, Tyler was playing an X-box 360 they have set up there and I was browsing for books.
I picked up a murder mystery novel- I loooove those things. This is a series I haven't tried by Sue Grafton. They're titled "A is for Alibi", "B is for Burglar", and so on through the alphabet. I picked up the first one in the series, the K one.

Hahaha! Just kidding, just kidding...

What? Yes, it was the A one!

I also needed a Bible. I've never been big on actually reading the Bible, but I am trying to strengthen my relationship with Christ and I would really like to start having a daily private devotion. So I found this really cool Bible called the Teen Devotional Bible, in the New International Version. I really like it! It's got 280 weekday devotions and 52 weekend devotions, and these neat little discussions in there. It's very neat- it's hardback and just a cool Bible. So Mom was extremely sweet and bought it for me- yay! I've already read the book of Esther. =P

This morning went well. Sara texted me about 5:30, then I went jogging. Brrrr it was chilly! It feels like the year of 2007 just completed jump-frogged Fall and landed right in winter. From 95 degree heat to about 60 degrees! I only went half a mile, showered, drank a mug of hot chocolate. Sara isn't responding to my text messages again. Shame shame! Stupid little phone... Sara, you need to threaten your phone. Hey, it worked for mine!

I bet you're wondering why the heck I titled this post "Pied Piper of Cats", eh? Well, since I have started jogging Mom has started walking. Whenever I walk, it's because I have been jogging and am gasping for breath in such a manner that I sound like a dying hippo. So of course I am dragging my feet, trying to gulp air. It's not a pretty sight. Mom power-walks and is all efficient about it and all. Well, the oddest thing has been happening. We usually meet over this little hill (I go a different route than she does coming up, but going back I'm on the same road as she and we usually meet somewhere in the middle) and sometimes she walks back to the house with me.

I saw her coming up over the hill, followed by a couple of little moving dots.


Yup. Cats. We have about 25 cats, and two of the kittens were following her. They went up about a quarter mile with her and the whole way back, meowing and yowling and trotting along. The next day- a different two. The next day- yet another two. It's insane! Dogs come with people on walks all the time... It's the doggy thing to do. Cats? Nooooo... Cats stay at home, pout while their SERVANTS are away, and when they come back demand that they have a clean litterbox, Turkey in Gravy breakfast, and lots of lovin.

Cats just don't go for walks.

It's just weird, I'm telling you, weird. Oh, and now, my "loyal" canine has deserted me! He went with Mom instead of me today!


Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Good Morning, Fuzz Butt

This spring, we recieved an average of 20 inches of rain on the ranch. This is unheard of in this country; even the old-timers can't remember a spring this magnificent and plentiful. We are so extremely greatful for this rain.

We had a dry spell through July and August. Oh, how dreadful! Will we ever survive? Well, it seems that we will as for the past 3 days it has been raining off and on. We have gotten about 3.5 inches of rain so far this month. Hallelujah! This is our rainy season, so we are praying for more rain. On a ranch, this is how it works.

Rain = Grass = Fat Cows = Money = Happy Rancher
Money isn't everything, but it darned sure helps.

Most people- I repeat most, I am not at all related in behavior to the majority of the population- consider a "beautiful, perfect day" as sunny, warm with a gentle breeze and clear blue skies. I consider a "beautiful, perfect day" as dark and stormy and overcast, with thunder and rain whether it be a light drizzle or a sudden downpour.

No, I am not depressed. No, I am not gothic. I just like dark and stormy days. Got a problem with that?

So last night it rained about half an inch. I let Tucker (my beagle) inside to sleep in his crate and Sam (our retired, old, arthritis-itic cowdog) into the front room where he sleeps on a pad. The cold really makes his bones ache and of course, it's raining outside and there isn't a shelter in the yard. About 3:30, Tucker wakes me up. He's pawing and whining at his crate door.

Um... excuse me? It's hardly morning, it's cold and I am curled up in my warm bed-nest with a fuzzy little kitty under the covers substituting as a hot-water-bottle. I was having a magnificent dream about peanut-butter cookies that grow on trees, and enjoying the scent of rain floating on the air- how likely is it that I'm really gonna get out of bed just because you are restless?

*whine- rattle rattle- whine*

So I rolled out of my little rat's nest and took him outside, and back to bed it was. The alarm went off at 5:30, but no jogging this morning. Daddy needed my help horseback and I may not have time to jog. I turned off the alarm, and as soon as my head flopped back onto the pillow, my kitty awakes, starts purring, and positions her little body on my chest (I was lying on my back).

Her badonkadonk was facing... Well, my face.

Good morning to you too, Fuzz-Butt. Put your tail down!

I wasn't able to text Sara- she wasn't answering I don't know why, her phone is probably being retarded again. Oh, how will I ever survive without the luxury of texting my friend?

I got up.... eventually... Got dressed and without time for breakfast I headed outside to saddle up my trust steed.

My galliant gelding is on the chubby side right now. Like I said, it's been raining alot this year, resulting in lush pastures. This part of the morning went well... We herded the 26 yearling hiefers out of the water-lot and into the pasture. We then took them across Middle Bull pasture to North Bull where we continued moving them to the very end of the pasture, right by the highway. Then through a gate into House Pasture and on the main road. We loped fast for about a mile, walked for about half a mile, and trotted/loped slow for about a mile. It was beautiful, and refreshing outside. It was nippy enough for me to have both a vest and coat on though- I know the wind from running would have froze me if I hadn't of bundled up.

When we reached the house, it was back to the grinding stone. School, cleaning, and baking cookies. (That peanut-butter-cookie-tree dream gave me a craving for those cookies.)

That was basically this morning. Sorry that this entry is kind of rushed- I need to go gather up stuff for our trip to town. Piano lesson, college class, I hate town, groceries, post office, extenstion office, I hate town, bank, water, bookstore, oh, and....


Monday, September 10, 2007

"It's Not Fair!"

"Life Isn't Fair" -- Lecture #1:

"I know it's not fair! But life isn't fair and that's just the way it is! There are lots of things in life that just aren't fair and you can just deal with it."

At some point in your life you have shrieked, screamed, whimpered or whispered, "But it's not fair...!" Some of us tend to say this more often than others... *guilty grin*

I know that life isn't fair. The above Lecture puts it pretty well. Lots of things just aren't fair, and never will be. That's life. If everything was equal and perfect, life would be B-O-R-I-N-G. It may be fair, but then it just wouldn't be life, now would it?

Having that said, we are still human, and we still have to complain. Especially us teenage humans. We have the right! I know that Jesus wants us to not complain among many other things I do, but I'm not perfect and sometimes I forget about Jesus' laws and commandments. And sometimes I just need to blow off some steam- sometimes I even complain to Jesus so that I can just get it off of my heart and mind and therefore be rid of yet another sin.

There are more important things going on in this world than what I talk, blab, and/or complain about. There are so many more unfair things than what I claim is unfair. Innocent people are dying and getting killed, to name only one. And I do feel really guilty complaing about such petty issues as my own. And I do pray, every day, for those people; but I can't be completely unselfish, no matter how hard I try, things going on in my life are still important to me, and I still feel the need to... VENT.

Bro, a Junior in highschool, has recently started college classes at a local college. Basic Algebra. He has class Tuesdays and Thursdays and each lesson is assigned approximately (give or take a couple) a mere 20 problems. Unbelievable! It's college! Come ON! I'm only a Freshman and I have 30 problems per DAY. He has 40 per WEEK.

I complain about lots of petty things- doing dishes, laundry, bathing the dog, tidying up the yard, the list goes on. But honestly; this is complain worthy, is it not? I have way more algebra than he does!

Like I said, I know that life isn't fair. But the purpose of this blog is to say what is on my mind. And what is on my mind right now?


Message 17 Unable To Send

So I'm sitting here in my gargantuous night shirt, reading blogs and cursing under my breath at this stupid little phone.


No! I meant brilliant little phone! I'm sorry! Please work!

Hmph. *mumblemumblemumble...*

*sigh* So tempermental... Tsk tsk... So back on subject. Why am I- praising this wonderful piece of technical equipment? Every morning, I set my alarm for 5:30 and so does my friend, Sara. She'll text me and we start a conversation about this time, via text messaging. Then we go jog as soon as it's light enough, take a shower, and continue our conversation once this routine has been completed. It's a nice way to start the morning, really. Except this morning, our glorious ritual has been... DELETED!

This silly little cell phone has absolutely NO service. Even though I live about 30 miles out of town, on a 2.5 mile dirt road, we have a tower actually ON the ranch so I get service 24/7, anywhere from 3 to 4 bars. But this morning, there's none at all! I have turned on, turned off, turned on, turned off the phone and still natta.

Daddy checked his and said that it isn't working either so not to take it personally. Oh, and he also said "the tower's down, it's as simple as that".

Maybe... Or maybe NOT. I believe the cell phones are rebelling. Bwaha- you heard me. Dad's phone has recieved so many calls on the job interview on the ranch, that it's sick and tired of business conversation and hearing the same questions over and over and over. And this cell phone- well, it's really my mom's. She says I have no reason for one, but that's okay, I just use hers to text and call Sara. So I guess this cell is tired of being texted on and talked on and hearing just ridiculous comments and conversations and hysterical and unseemly laughter.

I'm taking this as a personal insult. You better watch it phone- I can make life hard for you, oh, you'll think what you had before was a walk in the park. I have plans for you...

Sunday, September 9, 2007

Death By Pencil

Murders- they happen all the time. Doesn't make them right, but I guess that's life. If you are going to dwell on a planet among many other human beings, be prepared for such tragedies and atrocities. But generally- murders are kind of, well, normal? I hate to use that word, but I mean normal as in the murder weapon. Stabbing- knife or the occasional axe or letter opener. The common gunshot or choking device, and of course poison. Oh, and no I'm not some sick person who tries to get into the mind of a criminal, nor do I possess the mind of a criminal. I do enjoy murder-mystery books and movies, though.

So, there are your common, every-day murder devices. But there are some odd ones out there, and I heard about one the other day that kind of shocked me. People, or a certain person, I'm not sure of which, use pencils as murder weapons.

This actually happened to somebody, I recieved it in a forward from a friend. There was no way to determine who had killed this person because anybody is allowed to walk around with a standard #2 pencil. They couldn't determine that it was a 45. caliber or short, wide blade of stainless steel because it was just a normal, everyday pencil.

How freaky is that?

Are people really do desperate? I mean, I don't understand why somebody would want to take another's life, and I don't think I can ever understand so I might as well quit trying. But really- a pencil?

They won't let you on a plane with toe-nail clippers or a bottle of seizure medication, but it's totally okay for anybody to walk into any public place with a pencil. How scary is that? I mean, your cautious of any suspicious character walking around town with a knife or a gun or a length of cord dangling from his hands. But what about the businessman sitting on a bench near the park, a pencil perched behind his ear? How scary is it that all human beings are capable of taking other people's lives, and that it's even harder to determine those people from the innocent anymore?

Folks, beware. If you see anybody walking around with a pencil in hand... Well, let's just say you'd better keep an eye on them. I mean, they'd be easy to keep track of right? There's not that many people walking around with pencils nowadays is there?

Mothers + Disobedient Teen= Lectures

Yes, I have done the unthinkable. I, a teenage girl, have revealed my very own, personal blog, to my mother!!!

Told ya I was weird.

When I told her that both Sara (my buddy) and I have started a blog, she mentioned the fact that other people let their mom's read their blogs. Oh, yes, and she added one of those sarcastic, pitiful, pouty faces. She learned that one from me. So I wrote down the address to my blog here and gave it to her, on one condition.

"This is my personal blog- it is where I write down thoughts I have that may relate to people, or planes, or pickups, or purple-people-eaters. Whatever I may say in here, does not get spread around. I may write something about how annoying you are, or how unfair you are, or how you are just sooooo mean, and even though you may not be, that is what I think at the moment so that is what I am going to say. You are now allowed to read my blog- but we do not discuss it. I will hear not one word about my blog."

She has agreed.

My mom really is a fair mom, she is very nice and sweet and thoughtful, and she does respect my privacy. Certainly alot more than most moms, I am sure. But, hey, I'm fourteen! Of course I'm going to get mad, and think she is the worst mom ever, and nags and won't listen to me and doesn't care about my feelings. None of that may be true- but that is what I may think at the moment. So that is what ends up in here. Nobody is perfect, but it sure seems that my momma is pretty durned close. I can only find a few flaws, but who am I to nitpick people when I have my own ginormous flaws?

What's that? Ginormous isn't a word? Of course it's a word! It's a combination of "gigantic" and "enormous". Hence, the word, ginormous. Kind of catchy, eh?

So having that said, Mom, I mentioned in the below post Lecture #4. Ahhh... Lectures. What we teenagers dread so. My mom, for one, always has a reason for her lectures. A pretty durned good one- I'm a goody-two-shoes, I don't do anything wrong like drink or sneak out of the house or get naval piercings behind her back. But like I said, I'm a teenager. I do things wrong and rebel... to and extent. For example, here is Lecture #2 which is very similar to #4.

"Caitlin *middle name* -------!!! Have I not asked you to pick up your shoes 5 times today already? We have company coming today and we all need to pitch in together to clean up. Please, PLEASE fold your laundry and the bathroom is a mess. Every time you use the hair dryer, you won't put it up! Your clothes are on the floor of the bathroom, AGAIN, and your hair scrunchies are all over the house. You only do things around here that you want to do, but there are things that need to be done as well!"

Of course, it varies. But this is an example. Things that she tells me over and over and over but I refuse to do until she blows a gasket and is forced to become angry. Yes, I admit and take full responsibility for being the cause of this paticular lecture. My Mom is really a good mommy... She is! Like I said, very sweet and understanding. The above Lecture sounds very harsh and common and makes her sound mean, but she isn't. (And I'm not just saying this because she is reading my blog now.) Like I said, I am the cause of it of course.

It's plain and simple logic. You take a mother, no matter how understanding and kind, and a disobedient, stubborn and dramatic teenager, and you'll end up with some kind of lecture or 'discussion'. It's kind of like, you take one male betta fish and you put it in with another male betta fish, no matter how docile one or the other might be, you will end up with a fight. It's just going to happen, and in my case, I will say that I am the betta fish who is causing the problems.

But I don't get those kind of TALKS (I was getting tired of the word lectures) that much anymore. The common "pick up your shoes" or "do your laundry" or "please vacuum, for the tenth time" of course, but Mom hasn't had to get really mad in a looooong time. See- I'm such a good little teen. *pats self on back*

Oh, dang. I also inherited my guilty conscience from my mother. It is now screaming at me.

Go do your history! go do your history!


Go do your history! go do your history!

I will! ...later...

No! Now! Mom asked you to.

But I don't wanna!

You only do things around here that you want to do, but there are thi--

Fine! Fine... I'm going...

No you're not.

Mom says having a guilty conscience will help me to live a better life. I say that guilty consciences stink.

Saturday, September 8, 2007

"Mom's Not Home- We Should Behave"

My brother and I always get along better if Mom is not home. I'm not sure if this is normal or not; according to sitcoms where every stinkin time the parents leave the house the teens throw a party, and of course, they get caught. But, if we all lived by the examples sitcoms sit, this would be a sick, sick world. Well, I guess it is a sick world because the people who make those sitcoms actually get their ideas from the very earth we live on! Okay, back on subject...

Tyler, aka Bro, is 16 years of age (almost 17) and 2 months shy of being 3 years older than me. (Right now we are in those glorious two months when I can say I'm 14 and he's 16 and it only seems like he is two years older than me.) We tend to bicker.

Wow! A brother and sister? Actually argue? Oh, yes, shocker...

We're not terribly awful. He does get under my skin sometimes but I'm getting better about picking my battles with him; I only get really furious when he starts cussing.... BAD. Most days, we get along great with the exception of the occasional "MOOOOOM!", the "Jerk!" and fist in the belly/finger in the eye.

The odd thing is, we always seem to get along so much better whenever Mom is not in the house. My Daddy works long hours, managing a ranch with 1400 head of cattle and 45 head of horses, and is hardly ever in the house during the day except for mealtimes. So when Mom leaves for the morning or afternoon or, extremely rare, entire day, Tyler and I are pretty much by ourselves. For instance, the other day Mom went to pick corn with some friends of hers. (Yeah, that's their idea of fun. Why, you ask? Easy... she's ol- OUCH! Sorry, Mom...) Tyler actually pitted and quarted the plums for my Plum Crumble dessert, dried the dishes I washed, and never said a harsh thing all day.

It's like this every time Mom leaves the house. She now says she needs to leave home more often if we behave so beautifully when she is away.

What funky gene do we have that possesses us to act so terrible towards each other when Mom is in the house, but behave like little angels the instant she disappears? It's a mystery to me. Maybe we're just afraid of Lecture #4.

"I have been gone for an entire 6 hours, and you have done nothing! The dishes are not done, the laundry is still sitting on the armchair, your algebra isn't completed, the trash-overflow hasn't been taken out yet, and you did not vacuum the front room!"

Ugh. I hate that lecture. So we decide we are going to impress her and get it alllll done before she gets home so she can be proud. I scrub those dishes within half an inch of their life, until no germs or bacteria dare exist upon the surface of them for fear of being scrubbed to smitherines. I fold every garment in that mountain of laundry, iron what needs to be and make sure everything goes in it's proper drawer, and is folded properly with beautiful and perfect creases. I take 20 minutes to vacuum an 8x4 foot space, heck I even sweep the kitchen and dining room until there is not a cat hair or speck of dirt existent. Tyler takes out that trash and all other trash in the house, burns it in the barrels and actually puts a new trash bag in the trash can; and we both do every stinkin probem in our algebra lesson, careful to print our numbers neatly.

Yes, people, we take paintstaking measures to please our mother. Er, that is... On her days away.

Why this impulse to instill pride within our mother does not arrive until she has left the premisis, I guess I'll never know. I'm trying harder to be good while she is here too... But why it seems easier to be a good kid when she isn't around, I dunno. Then again, maybe I do.

Personally, I think that it's because while I'm doing one Good-Kid-Thing, she is telling me about two other Good-Kid-Things I need to do. When she isn't here, they do get done like she insists they won't if she doesn't constantly tell me about it. I think they get done because I feel I can get it done in my own time, I'm doing it of free will, and don't feel pressured to do it.

So anyways, Mom is home and I think for the time being I will put off the Good-Kid-Things and just browse some blogs.

Maybe you'll get another random episode of "Life According to Caitlin" later on.

Friday, September 7, 2007

My Afternoon...

So my afternoon went fairly well. About 20 minutes after lunch, we had to saddle up our horses and Mom trailered us over to West Bull pasture, where she dropped us (Daddy, Grandpa, Tyler & I) off and drove the rig back home. We gathered up a herd (about 30 head) of Corriente (roping) cattle and sorted off the 3 bulls. We then took them across West Bull, through the House pasture and into the pens where we sorted off one of the bulls (to sell to my Uncle) and the rest we turned out to pasture. Then we brought up 3 head of young (yearlings) Corriente bulls and put them in the pens. Sorted off some roping steers and moved the cattle around at head-quarters. I unsaddled Wyatt, my oh-so-faithful, yet inredibly lazy horse. I need to start working with him alot more than I have been so I can get him to feeling of me and working with me, instead of just half-being-there all the time.
Not that this is worth mentioning, but I have nothing really to say, and thought it might get a chuckle out of somebody. My horse has a poop fetish. Honestly, it's so weird. If there is a pile of horse or cow turd out in the pasture, he must lower his head and sniff it. It is so weird... I guess my horse kind of inherited my weird-ness from me. All of my animals are weird. For example...

Wyatt (Quarter Horse): has poop fetish and loves orange jellybeans

Tucker (Beagle): has eaten approximately 5 pounds of chocolate in his life-time, always just didn't eat that night and the next day was fine, and only weighs about 37 pounds.

Zoey (half Syrian cat): loves licking the condensation off of your glass, will swip at your face in anger if you dsiturb her, and her favorite toy is feathers; but they must be from outside, store-bought are not acceptable

Sassafras (Syrian hamster): this paticular breed of hamster is known for being loving and cuddly and sweet; 87% of this breed is like this- I got the 13% that hates it... my hamster will bite if and when at all possible, and will not stop with one bite, but continues until you retreat

So there's a little... description about the weirdness of my animals.

So now I must go do my algebra. I hate algebra. Blech. I mean, come on, it has the words "algie" and "bra" in it.

Of course it's going to be boring. *yawn*

Brilliant New Way To Paint A Room

I believe I mentioned that I have a disease by the name of uncordially interruptive thoughtsinitis. I believe that the easiest way to explain this may be by mentioning a very talented redneck comedian, Bill Engvall. He's got to be my favorite comedian, this man, oh goodness... But, there is one CD that mentions his weird thoughts. Everybody gets weird, random, and totally pointless thoughts. The difference between 'everybody' and people like myself and Bill Engvall... Is that most people keep them to themselves. Bill and I, why we tend to express these random thoughts. And I believe that my case of UIT is more serious than most.

I have been considering painting my room- when we moved into this house almost 3 years ago, the room was painted lavender with a glorious pansy-purple trim. To be honest, purple just really isn't my color. So we painted over it a tan- I should also mention that we have yet to paint the trim a rich walnut color, so I have a brownish room with pansy-purple trim.


But we tried to... skip a step. What'd you say? Cheat? Nawwww.... Instead of texturing (it was never textured, they just painted over the sheet rock) my room (which is about 12'x14') we used this texture that you pour out of a bag and into your can of paint. But it doesn't work, because the texture is very sparse across the walls; there's alot of it in one spot, and almost none in the other. Plus, I don't like the color I picked out.

Hey, I'm female, it's my perrogitive to change my mind!

But I dread to think of moving all that furniture again, dragging out all those supplies, then proceeding to texture and paint. It will take about 3 days- 3 days of sleeping either on the floor, the couch, or in a room drugged with paint toxins.

So I got this brilliant idea- a new, unique, time-consuming and energy-efficient way to paint my room. Listen closely now...

Step 1: Attach dog leash or similar rope-like material to each individual panel on ceiling fan- be sure the motor of the fan is powerful, and the knots are tight.

Step 2: Tie cans of paint (colors of your choice) to the end of each piece of rope; be sure the knot is nice and snug.

Step 3: Drill as many holes as you wish, probably between 3/4 inch and 1 inch wide. Turn fan on HIGH.

Note: Remove yourself from the room before the paint has a chance to fly, and it might be a good idea to remove all furniture and other items you desire to keep from the room before you turn on the ceiling fan. What? I should have told you this before? Oh, yeah, well... err...

You think it'd work? Say what? Oh, come on guys, where's your sense of individuality..!..?