An Emotional Traumatization

Well I survived yesterday’s nightmare in town. We were there from 10:00 in the morning til 7:30 in the evening. We started out by going to my piano teacher’s for half an hour to play the duet, which didn’t go quite as bad as I thought it may. Then we had to go to the orthodontist where I received a standing ovation from the entire staff for being such a trooper about wearing my rubber bands! Okay, well, not quite… But one of the assistants applauded me, if that counts?

Then we went on to Target where we got to shopping for the Christmas boxes. I don’t think I’ve mentioned those yet. Well my youth group has gone down to a place in Mexico about 3 or 4 times now. They visit an orphanage and battered woman’s shelter, and I think they are building a church as well, and from the stories I’ve heard, it’s a fun and eye-opening missionary trip. Well I really want to go but I couldn’t this time (don’t ask why, Mom’s are weird) but they are collecting little shoe boxes and shoe-box-sized Rubbermaid boxes, and are stuffing them with all sorts of fun stuff! You can makes boys’ ones, with toy lizards, dinosaurs, cars, toothbrush, play putty, socks, combs, coloring books, crayons, all sorts of goodies! Girls with dolls, stuffed animals, hair clippies, purse, glittery lip balm, play necklaces, etc. The boxes for women we put stuff like body butter, shampoo, conditioner, lotion, moisturizer, nail polish, loofas, and candy. We did one for each- woman, boy and girl. Some people I noticed put stuff like big baby dolls, big toy dinosaurs, etc in there, which is cool! But I really wanted to fit just as much as I could in there, so I bought a ton of small stuff to put in mine, I did the girl box, and ended up doing the boy box too because Tyler wouldn’t do his. Tsk, tsk. Anyway. There Tyler looked at electronics and Mom and I shopped for the boxes.

Onward to food! Tyler had his guitar lesson at 1:00 and we had spent quite a bit of time in Target, so it was the McDonalds drive-through for us. Tyler had his lesson, we dropped him off at college, and Mom and I went on to the local Livestock place for beef feed. That done, we cruised on down to Big Lots, for more Christmas box shopping. And at 3:00… I had the dreaded…

Optometrist appointment.

--eerie background music—

I hate it when they blow that stupid puff of air in your eye. They warn you, and so you’re anticipating it (not in the good way), and your squinting really hard and trying to keep your eyes open at the same time. The lady kept telling me “open your eyes wider.” “wider.” “wider still.” And then it comes and I jump about 4 feet in the air, and I feel like I’m gonna cry because it just blows your eye free of all moisture. What is that danged thing, an air compressor?!

Then she made me look at a few little slides. Asked me if I take medication, if I’ve had any eye infections or injuries, etc. Then we wait. For about 10 minutes. Dr. Greg comes in and he begins his examination of me. Which involved a bunch of slides again.

“Which is clearer- one. Or two. Okay… now one. Or two…. One. Or two. Good… One. Or two.”

He must have said that a hundred times. If those were the same set of slides I saw a year ago, my eyes have definitely changed, because a lot of them looked alike at my check up last year. And I could hardly read with my left eye what I could with my right.

At the end of the immensely exciting eye examination, he pronounced…

“She is going to need to wear some glasses.”

(My thoughts- well that’s not too much of a surprise, I kind of figured I’d need reading glasses.)

“All the time.”

(My thoughts- ……………ummmm………..excuse me?)

Yup. He said my eyes aren’t working together any more, which I was later told was called an astigmatism. Oh joy. He said my eyes aren’t really bad, but they are really strained, and these glasses will greatly relieve the strain on my eyes. And hopefully the headaches and eye aches I get from reading.

I read a LOT. I read hours upon hours a day. I mean, schoolwork, that’s about 2 and a half hours of reading right there. And then I usually read for 2 hours a day just free time, a combination of Sherlock Holmes and my Bible. I spend about half an hour on the computer for German, and usually another half hour to 45 minutes just doing stuff like checking email and downloading pictures and writing on here. I’m definitely not a TV addict… But I guess since I am such a vivacious reader, I do tend to put strain on my eyes…

But. Glasses! Glasses! GLASSES! *choke and sob* I’m devastated! Okay so not exactly but I do not want to wear glasses. And apparently contacts are not an option because the prescription I need is not very strong, it’s not like I have blurred vision, it will just take the strain off.

Hey! I can live with strain! I live with a brother. I’m sure I can handle a few headaches… Yeah, well, there was no point in trying to talk my way out of it… Or throwing myself on the floor like a child, driving my fists into the floor and screaming bloody murder… Which I kind of felt like doing, to be honest.

So yeah. I mean, Sara doesn’t want to get braces and she has too. I guess I can live with glasses. But I have braces too! Ugh… I just really. Don’t. Want. Them. They just… they… are on my FACE! I mean, I don't want junk on my face... Any kind of junk, including scrap metal hammered into funny shapes! And… I… I will look like… a… nerdy bookworm person or something.

This is definitely not gonna increase my chances of getting asked to dance at the next 4-H dance.

But Sara improved my disposition. We were texting, like always. I was being sarcastic and texted: “But I… I… I will look… UGLY!” and she told me: “Caitlin! NO YOU WILL NOT! Any guy who doesn’t think you are pretty just because you wear glasses, is stupid and lame. And not worth your time.” (Yeah, we are pretty skilled texters.)

Thanks, Sara. =) I mean… I still can’t think of one teenage girl I know who wears glasses… But whatever. I can’t get out of them. I will have to wear them. I will live. Maybe.

So yeah. I had to pick out frames… There were about 100 pair of women’s and I spent all of 15 minutes trying them on. At this point, it didn’t really matter. Glasses were glasses. Grrr. I picked out a frame that looked semi-okay. I have to wait like a week or something for them to put the lenses in. Hey! No argument here! I can wait eternity, really, I’m a very patient person. When it comes to certain unwelcome things.

So yeah. I spent the next hour or so pouting inwardly. Stupid glasses.

Anyway. Then we picked Tyler up and went to… I guess the Dollar Tree to finish up our Christmas shopping, and on to Wal-Mart, where we got groceries and other miscellaneous things. We got home late. I took a shower. Ate. Went to bed.

I can't really remember any details. Everything else was kind of a blur after the whole optometrist session.

I’ve been traumatized. I am scarred for life. *emotional tears*

Anyway, I got over it pretty quick. At 4:45 this morning, to be exact. Today we were planning on Bangs (I don’t know how you spell it, but say that outloud, and that’s how you pronounce it) vaccinating heifers. Breakfast was at 5:30, Clint (duh) and Dave were coming over to help. But… I had not sooner gotten out of bed and begun an intense search through my sock drawer for… well… socks, than Mom walked in and said Daddy is probably gonna postpone.

Mommy say what?

Yup. It was raining! Woohoo! I love the rain… Ahhh the smell, the feel, I just love rainy days. Something about them… Very comforting. I loooove rain! Anyway, yeah, and on the weather site on the computer it looked like we are smack dab in the middle of it. Today was like a 40% chance, and tomorrow it will definitely rain because it’s a 70% chance.

Have I mentioned I love rain?

I mean I was looking forward to riding, just not in the cold and darkness of the… Early morning… cold and darkness. Yeah.

So I’ve been sitting here for about half an hour, typing away like a mad woman. It’s 6:24. Time to go get dressed and eat breakfast.

And begin therapy. (Really guys, I’m emotionally traumatized, why can’t you sympathize with me in my hour of greatest need?!?!)

Toothpaste Wars and Buster Battles

Today’s topic—my brother.

Sibling rivalry. What a familiar discussion, eh? It’s just bound to happen. There are all different situations, little brother big sister, little kid stuck in the middle, etc… Today I am gonna grovel and whine about mine.

Let’s face it. You put two teenagers of the opposite sex in the same house, there is gonna be slamming of doors and screaming fights and odd objects being thrown across the room. It’s gonna be “NOT FAIR!” and it’s gonna be “it’s his fault!” or “he started it!” and “you just don’t understand, MOOOOM!”

Mom. Poor Mom. –sigh- What a glorious person she is for putting up with my sassy and sarcastic attitude. I just get so MAD. Okay, enough, I’m gonna quit whining like a baby now.

He just-! and, it’s just… I’m trying, but he--- ugh.

The simplest things can set me off. And it’s just him. Somebody else could do or say these things, and I may find them funny or I find it easy to ignore them. But with my brother, it just gets me furious. We know lots of people who say they despised their siblings as kids, but now they are closer than ever. I know Mom keeps praying that will be the case with us. I just don’t see how I can ever get along with him. There are days when he is nice and sweet and amiable, just being nice and willing and it’s easy to get along with him. And there are days when I try, I really do, but he is trying to make me mad and is just egging it on. I can only take so much before I blow! Mom says to just ignore him, getting angry is the reaction he wants… But I’m only human! I can’t stand him! Why would one person’s objective in life be to make his blood sister miserable?

Ugh. I am livid.

He just. Makes me. So. Mad.

I mentioned that the simplest things set me off. This morning, it was toothpaste. We all use Colgate. About a week ago, he decided he wanted to buy this new kind of Crest, I dunno why, probably because it was pricey and the tube looked cool. Well two days after he gets it, I find it in my drawer and my toothpaste is in his cabinet.

Uh. Excuse me?

I exchange the toothpastes to their proper places, don’t say a word, trying desperately to be reasonable and even-tempered. Two days later…

The toothpastes are back where they don't belong.

And I know exactly why. He bought the Crest. Didn’t like it. Put it in my drawer and took my toothpaste and put it in his cabinet.

Um. Yeah, I don’t think so.

So I stomp into his room shaking the Crest in his face and seething through my teeth, I’m sure smoke was wafting from my ears and nostrils. He tried to cover up by saying “well I thought we didn’t have any toothpaste left, so I bought that, but then I realized we still have some, so I’m trying to finish it up.”

Oh yeah right. Since when does he care about ‘finishing anything up’? A few years ago, he wanted a comb but found a brush he liked better, so he bought the brush. He ended up not liking the brush and it ended up in my drawer. (I am very territorial about my drawer!) He told me I should use it so it wouldn’t go to waste, because it hurt his scalp to use it.

Too bad, buster.

That’s another one. When I get mad, I have a tendency to call him ‘buster’. He hates it and we usually end up chasing each other around the house, one of us wielding a spatula and the other a knitting needle until we catch each other and try to beat the life out of each other with our respective weapons.

Yeah, not exactly mature. But in my defense he is 2.5 years older than me! He is 17 years old, for heavens sake! Mom is always telling me to be the bigger person, but technically, that’s his job.

I often find him also telling me to “zip it” or “shut up” because he “doesn’t want to hear it”.

Hehe. Too bad, Buster. You’re not the boss of me! I don’t care if you don’t want to hear it, you are going to! I will not submit to you!

Sometimes that ends with him throwing a pillow at me and saying a few choice words before storming out of the room. And I usually get in trouble for it.

Figures.

Okay, I’m sorry for this rather… uninteresting… rant. I feel a lot better now, though. This is probably a typical teenage-sibling situation.

But it’s just not fair!

Okay, I’m done. Really, I am. Sometimes a person has to just let this stuff out! Writing it helps me relieve my anger…

Today we will be in town all stinkin day. Grrrr. I’m already in a bad mood. Tyler and I have to play a duet for my piano teacher we are gonna play at my recital, him with the guitar, me with the piano. It’s hard to play in peace and harmony with somebody you really dislike. We have orthodontist appointments, I have an optometrist appointment, Tyler has college class and a guitar lesson, I need to go to Target, we’ll probably end up at Wal-Mart too, the only real highlight of my day will be stopping by the church to give Justin (our youth leader) this really cool devotional thing I read this morning.

Speaking of Bible stuff. I still have this anger smoldering inside of me… I think I’m gonna go read a few verses or something to cool down.

Thanks for letting me rant. If you didn’t enjoy it… Sorry.

Everybody have just a super day.

Latigo Issues And Doggie Beds

Yesterday morning the alarm clock went off at 5:00…

I hate that sound. It’s the worst thing to wake up to, I mean really. It has this sort of annoying twang sound… If this alarm clock had a voice like a person, it would be one of those people who talk… oh I dunno… nasally. Like they are pinching their nose. Stinkin’ alarm clocks.

Anyway. On Sunday, as you know from my former blog post, we gathered the heifers. Or steers or whatever, I forgot what they were… =P BOVINES. Yeah, there ya go. So anywho, we are still shipping off our steers and heifers, despite the fact that we did a good bit of it back during Fall Works. So yesterday, I got up, bundled up (I much prefer the cold over the heat, the cold is awesome!) and out into the blustery morning to catch my ferocious beast. It was a difficult mission. Really! It was a much more arduous task than normal. He was playing hard-to-catch… literally. He was being grouchy too- not only was he hard to catch, he was dragging at the end of a lead rope a lot harder than normal, and turned his head away in irritation when I tried to get a burr from his mane. (No he is not sick, he was just being cranky.) Well, somebody woke up on the wrong side of the hay rack! Oh well, I got it done, saddled him up… And then I ventured back inside where it was nice and warm, for a yummy breakfast of bacon, eggs and pancakes. We had a crew of seven- the 5 of us (meaning Tyler, Daddy, Grandpa, Clint and I) Dave, and then DK came down. DK is the “big boss”. (We call Daddy the Boss. DK is the Big Boss. Hehe.) He owns this ranch as well as another and a rather large oil and gas company as well. So he only comes down about twice a year, he stayed this time only for part of the day, didn’t even stay for dinner. Anyway, it was fun. Despite the cold, I really enjoyed getting to lope out across the pasture. Wyatt was being really good, he wasn’t being as lazy as usual. Again! Maybe it’s this cold air, does him some good, gets him motivated I guess. There is really nothing like setting out across the pasture. Let’s set the scene, shall we? It’s dark, very dark. The stars are still winking in the deep black sky. The only noises are the horses snorting or nickering back and forth to each other, the creak of the gate hinges, the occasional mutter from one of the fellows, or a light chuckle. You set out across the pasture… Now lets add the steady drum of 7 horses and their hoofbeats. You look off to the East (no, wait, West. or was it South?) and see the sun rising, it’s glowing rays engulfing the darkness…

Quite poetic if you ask me. Yessirree!

Anyway, it was pretty cool. As we headed towards the back of what we call the Long Trap, Wyatt suddenly pins his ears and kicks. What the heck? I slow him down… And discover that my latigo has slipped from its keeper and with every jarring step (Wyatt is very short strided, must have something to do with him being ridden to the point of torture as a 2 year old) is tapping him under the belly.

Houston, we have a problem. A latigo problem to be exact. Halt all ongoing procedures!

Aka... stupid latigo fell out of the keeper! Whoa, horsey, stop! I will save you! Slip the latigo back into my keeper… I’m way behind the others. Lope to catch up… *pin ears and kick* Oh darnit! Stop again… back into the leather slot… Okay, off we go! This time I keep an eye on it… dang you! It keeps coming out! It has about a 4 inch tail (should be longer, it’s a combination of Wyatt being fat and the latigo just being a little short I guess, I need a new one) and maybe the cold making it stiff is making it… reluctant… Can leather be reluctant? I guess it can. Anyway, I spent the rest of the ride holding onto the latigo with my left hand and the reins with my right… Until I finally got smart when we hit the back of the pasture and I slipped it through the D-ring…. Ahhhh, there we go. And all is well with the world once more.

But other than that minor issue, I had a great ride. =D

I got picked on a good bit too… Dave was there, remember? And Clint has a tendency to occasionally throw in a tease. Ah, well. I’m used to it by now, and to tell you the truth…

I kind of sort of, just a teeny bit, enjoy it. Kind of.

So we got done early, about 9:45. That’s really early. Hmmm. Well Daddy had done a lot of preparation work so there wasn’t a whole lot to do that day except weigh the cattle in and load ‘em up in the truck. So by then Daddy and DK had gone off to look at some stuff on the ranch, so that left Grandpa, Tyler, Clint, Dave and I hanging around the rigs at headquarters chatting about… Nonsense really. Just cowboy chat. Spurs and broncs and ropings and… ropes… and the such. After a while we came inside for coffee and peach cobbler (Dave and I substituted hot chocolate, not being major fans of coffee) and then Dave and Clint left. Yeah… An hour or so later, we all ate, and then Momma, Tyler and I had to leave for town. Tuesday is one of our “town days”. Tyler has college two days a week, guitar lesson for him on one of those days, piano lesson for me on another, and then there are always the errands.
Errands. There’s always time for errands. There may not be time for ice cream. But there is always time for errands.

Post office, library, bank, water, insurance agency, Wal-Mart, feed store. Not to mention the college, piano lesson, guitar lesson, occasionally places like Hobby Lobby or the scrapbook store.

Don’t get me wrong! A lot of this stuff needs to be done. And I am willing to admit this. But I still don’t enjoy it. At all. I hate town. Ugh. I would be perfectly happy if I never had to go to town.

Okay, so that’s not 100% true. I enjoy piano lessons and the 4-H dances and the horse sales. But all that other boring crap… I could definitely do without.

So yeah, Tuesday was pretty busy. Oh! Monday night I got to go to Youth! For the first time in about 3 or 4 weeks. YAY! It was awesome. Justin (our youth leader) is simply phenomenal, and he just really gets me fired up for another week with God. Here’s to Justin- thanks Justin! Okay, yeah, I’m done. But it was great, really really great.

Not until about 2 months ago, did I start really reading my Bible and praying, growing close to God. That’s kind of a personal thing to say, but yeah. And since then, I have realized, how sometimes, our time with God can really slip away. It’s so easy! I mean, I love to read my devotional and read the Bible and spent honest time in prayer for atleast half an hour every morning, and maybe another half hour in the evening. But there are always those mornings when you sleep in, then you have to hurry to get dressed, eat breakfast, feed the cat, let the dog out, take out the trash, do the dishes, what seems like an endless list of assignments for school, practice the piano, do the laundry—and you get so caught up in doing these things that seem like they need to be done and are so important, that you forget the most important thing of all! And it’s very frustrating, for me at least, because I have to fight the urge to start getting that stuff done (and no offense Mom, but usually you are telling me to do these things, and I have to fight that too) and then I feel guilty because I didn’t spend time in the Word, but I know it’s my fault because I slept in, and I get frustrated at myself all over again!

One word---- RAWR.

I dunno if the rest of you guys out there experience this, but I sure do. So I’m starting to NOT SLEEP IN. I’m just NOT letting myself. I’m cranky if I sleep in and I have a bad day, it just doesn’t start off well, I feel sleepy all day. And I'm very ineffient on those days. And I feel incredibly rushed. So I’m starting to get up at 6:00. That’s not early at all… I can definitely manage it. (No I am not being sarcastic! Really 6:00 isn't early. 5:00 isn't even that early, I'm just not that ambitious. 4:00, in my opinion, is early.) That’s what I did this morning, get up at 6:00, and I had time to make my bed, tidy my room, eat breakfast, feed the cat, and read my devotional and spend time in prayer and the Word, by 6:35! Yay for efficient me! And so far the day has been going great. I started school at 7:00, and finished at 9:45. Let’s hear it again! Yay for Efficient Me! Lazy Me shall never return again! NEVER!

Okay, so maybe it will. And probably very soon. But while Efficient Me is still here, I’m gonna go get some laundry done.

EDIT: oh, yeah! Efficient Me is still here and I remembered Tucker's new bed, and then Efficient Me suggested to Regular Me that I should upload the pictures, crop them on Adobe Photoshop, and add them to my recent blog post. Good idea Efficient Me! So that is what I did.

Tucker, my 7 year old *slightly overweight* Beagle, has always slept on either this big rough-textured pillow or in his crate in my room when he comes inside. (The pillow was for daytime, the crate at night, especially in winter.) But the pillow has since gotten very flat and hard due to his... erm... Body mass. (He's not really that fat, really, but he is very big for a Beagle, and a little overweight, but not bad, honest!) So I have been wanting a dog bed for him for months. I wanted one of those couch-type ones that have the siding, because I knew he would like to lean against it. But the only place I could find that kind was at PetCo and they are so expensive! And at Sams they have good prices on dog beds, but they were all like big pillows and none had the sides like I wanted. Well, finally! We were in Sams yesterday and there was a reall cool dog bed, just what I was looking for, for only $30.00! (Seems like alot, but as much as this dog loves it, and seeing that it was even on my Christmas list, it was worth it.) So we came home with it and he really loves it. He loves to be in his crate, but last night he would not go in it! He only wanted the bed. Greedy little sucker. Oh, well, glad he likes it. So I took some pics... That scruffy toy in there is a stuffed dog. Kind of a long story, but it was Tyler's, Tucker would always steal it... from his room... And the rest is history. He looooves his Doggy.

Awww! Doesn't he just look so comfy?

Zoey has been sending hateful looks his way ever since he got it. As if, "I cannot believe they gave you a new bed and I have to share one with these disgusting two-legged creatures!" She really is put out with him. And us. But, I promise you, if I were to get her a bed, she would ignore it as if it didn't exist. I know just what she would do. Sniff it, then walk away. Diva cats. So here she was coming up to confront him... He is glaring, as you can see. He growled and I had to scoot her away before he snapped at her. He's slightly possessive of his new bed.

Oh, dear! I am such a terrible mommy to my precious Zoey! She works so hard, slaving over all this paperwork, and I don't even care enough to give her her very own bed! *emotional tears*

Eh. She'll get over it.

Shame On You, Daddy...

Maybe ya’ll remember the post where I got chewed out for talking to Sara until midnight on the phone. Halloween night, it was. And I took a shower at 10:30. And Daddy got just a wee bit irked and I got just a wee bit chastised.

The tables have turned. Bwaha.

Whenever winter rolls around, we always buy atleast one puzzle in addition to pulling out our current collection and spend a good part of the evenings watching sappy Christmas movies on TV, sipping hot cocoa and doing puzzles. It’s a great way to spend winter evenings… Anyway, yesterday Tyler got out this horse puzzle we have of a mare and foal grazing in a field. He did just a little bit of it, Mom did a good bit of it, I did like 4 pieces (I get frustrated easily, and the fact that there are 37 pieces that are shaped the same but NONE of them won’t go in the spot it’s supposed to, just doesn’t help it any) and then Dad came in…

The puzzle master has arrived.

Daddy is a brilliant mastermind. I mean, honestly. He never got a B in school. Never. I know, it seems impossible, but it is. Because he never did. And not only is he brilliant academically, he can figure almost anything out, he can design a brilliant set of pens or anything really. He has the most common sense out of anybody I have ever met.

Too bad I didn’t inherit his brains.

Anyway—Daddy likes mind games, but he also likes puzzles. He will deny the fact that he wants to do a puzzle, or is at all interested in it, but once it is out, and he gets into it, he becomes addicted. This puzzle becomes his… obsession or something, and he won’t stop until it is completed.

So last night, I hear the little metallic twang as Tucker strikes his toe nails across the metal mesh of the door on his crate. I hate that sound. Because I KNOW I have to get up, let him outside to do his ‘business’, and then wait to let him back in 5 minutes later so he won’t wake Mom up in 10 minutes by launching his entire body against the screen door. So I opened the crate, and went into the dining room… And Daddy is sitting at the dining room table doing the puzzle. He was so absorbed, he didn’t even look up. I let the dog out, give Daddy a strange look, pad back into my room to take a peek at my clock…

12:28.

Oh. My. Gosh.

Hypocrite!

Anyway, I didn’t chew him out about it because he let me sleep in until… well, about 8:30. *cough cough* So no hard feelings.

This afternoon, Daddy needed us kids to help him gather up some yearling steers… And I didn’t know this until about 10:30. Oh well. So after lunch I removed my slippers, lounge pants and sweat shirt and put on thick winter socks, silk long johns, jeans, a t-shirt, long-sleeved sweater-type-shirt thing, very thick warm jacket, roping gloves and a cap. And out I go, into the cold, cruel world.

I catch Wyatt, brush him off, saddle up… It was pretty cold outside. I don’t know how cold, I guess maybe about 40 degrees, which isn’t exactly COLD but it’s pretty darn chilly. I felt very fortunate to be riding such a gentle old plug as Wyatt. In fact, all four of us (Tyler, Daddy, Grandpa & I) were riding gentle horses, the other 3 probably weren’t exactly kid horses, but they were gentle. At 1:00 Clint shows up, and unloads his horse from the trailer, a horse that was acting pretty dang fresh. He looks up at Daddy with a grin and says, “This is gonna be real fun.” And we all laughed… Then Daddy asked Clint where he had seen the steers driving up here (they were in the house pasture) and Clint told Dad there were about 15 up by the highway, and the rest right by the salt shed, kinda. So Daddy and Clint load their horses back up… They go to the highway to get the steers that are hanging around up there, and Tyler and I lope ahead to stop the bunch of steers around the vicinity of the salt shed, because they were running North, towards the highway. Got them stopped… Grandpa had stayed behind to count a few head right by the house pens. Anyway, it wasn’t anything really exciting. All 5 of us joined up with the steers, they ran off a few times in quick spurts, but they were going in the right direction, so it didn’t really matter too much. At the pens, we sorted of 4 head that were sick, lame, etc. Then we moved them into a little water lot (which took all of 5 minutes) where we got a count on them, and then we were pretty much done. I was very proud of Wyatt, he wasn’t being his lazy-butt self.

Any of you out there that have worked with frisky yearling steers/heifers on a chilly morning, know full well how they tend to behave.

Well when we were sorting the puny steers off, they had several quick bursts where they began to ran out, but with us being such excellent hands (including me, of course *sarcasm*) they ended up milling around in a circle until they settled down. Well it was so cool, because I’ve never ridden a really cowy horse, until Wyatt. So he would really sit back his ears would go forward and he would turn pretty hard on his haunches and follow the leader… Follow the leader, teehee, that sounds funny. Anyway. It was cool, I had fun, and I didn’t mess up too bad, so yeah…

Okay, just because I’m thinking about it, I’m gonna talk about my Christmas list. Right after Thanksgiving, Omi starts asking my mom for our Christmas lists. This year I came up with a pretty good one. Stuff like a full length mirror, a cool painting, some CDs, a cheap digital camera (to take with me when I go for rides, so I can take some pics)… But then Omi said she needed more, so I added stuff like earrings and pillows for my bed… Mom was looking at iPods for us on the computer, and Tyler said he wanted the iPod Classic… 160 gigs! OH MY GOSH. Those things are stinkin expensive! Have you looked at them? Like $350 for the one he wants. I decided I would like the iPod Nano, 8 gigs, which is like $199, but the 4 gigs is $149 or something like that, and for only $50 more, you get TWICE the space. And for as much stuff as I’m gonna put on there, that is a good size. I’ll probably put some pics on there, a good amount of songs, maybe like 1 movie when I go on a trip or something… So yeah it’d be cool to have. I would NEVER use up all the space on a 160 gig Classic… Oh my gosh… That just blows my mind!

So yeah, now that’s on the list, but it’s Mom’s fault because she came up with the idea. But it would be cool to listen to songs whatever, it’s small, I can put pics on it to show friends, watch movies on road trips… That’d be a cool gift. =)

Okay, well I’m done babbling. I’m gonna go… read Sara’s blog. And… eat... trees.

Pics

(Read the post directly below before you read this one. Cuz the pics are relative to what I talked about there.)

Okay, I mentioned my "Blue Squirrels" two blog posts previous. Just for the fun of it, I took a picture of them! Yes, I actually did. Does it surprise you that a weirdo like me did that? It really shouldn't. Anyway... I cleared my entire memory card on my camera (I had 453 pictures on it... yeah...) and began to take pictures of random objects throughout the house. Including my Blue Squirrels! Please excuse the orange carpet. It's actually more brownish-orange in RL-- which is way better than just plain orange. =D

YAY for fuzzy slippers! Hehehe.... Oh and I also took some pictures of our Winter White World this morning. I, being the bum I am, was too wimpy and lazy to go outside and walk around and take pictures. I enjoy snow, really, and not only from the inside! In fact, Mom has pictures of us sledding around. We took a metal sheet and tied it to the back of the four wheeler, one of us kids would drive, and the other would ride the 'sled'. Talk about fun! I'll have to dig those up and show them to ya'll... And maybe get some new ones too, next time it snows! But this time, I wanted to be a bum, and sip hot chocolate on my bed, wrapped in a fleece blanket, while reading Sherlock Holmes. An excellent way to spend a winter day!

Hey!... excellent way... to spend a winter day... That rhymes!

Okay, so yeah, here are the pictures. All taken from the window- I'm surprised the windows don't look dirtier. Hmmm...

(View from living room window)

(View from my window, my bed is right in front of it)

(View from Mommy's window into our back yard)

Yay for snow! So yeah... Oh! Just found this pic on Mommy's blog, saved it to my pictures, thought I would include it. I'm driving, Tyler is clinging to the 'sled'...

Okay, I'm done. I'm gonna go mess with my blog layout now. And eat chocolate. Bwaha.

Talking To Friends... SNOW!!

Yesterday I got to talk to my two best friends, which was great. =D My two favorite people in the world! Outside of my family that is, but then again, when you’re a teenager, a lot of the time your family members really aren’t your favorite people, as much as you do love them. So yeah… I’d talked to Oscar a few weeks ago, I think I mentioned it in a blog post. Then we hadn’t talked until the past Monday but I only got to talk to him for like 8 minutes because he had to go bowling, which for some reason, I found suspicious. (Turns out it was his birthday and he didn’t even tell me. Shame on him!) So last night I debated whether I should call or not. I am one of those funny people who stress over the tiniest things. I felt bad because I didn’t want to bug him, or annoy him, or anything, so yeah… But then I just decided that he was my friend and he was going to hear from me whether he wanted to or not! Hehe… So we talked for 47 minutes and 38 seconds according to my trusty phone. I got his email, finally, so I sent him pictures of me and Sara being ridiculous. =P I know we got a kick out of them, maybe he will to.

I also sent him four pictures I took of myself last night. Whenever I hold the camera myself and try to take pictures, they turn on all malformed and ugh I hate it. But finally, I discovered the self-timer on my camera! Fascinating! I’ve had it for over two years. Really displays my great intelligence, eh? So yeah I took a few pictures I really liked. Yay! I think I will send those to Sara too because she said she wants some pictures of me, I don’t know why though…

Anyway. Afterwards I called Sara and talked for… *goes to check phone* 2 hours and 54 minutes. Yikes. Sorry Sara! But no worries, Concerned Viewers. Both of our cell phones are Plateau, and therefore we have free mobile-to-mobile minutes, meaning when one Plateau Person talks to another Plateau Person, it’s free. Freeee! FREEEE!

Hehe. Free is good. Very good.

But then we were trying to talk and the phones kept cutting out so I called her back on her house phone (we are local, so free again!) and we were able to continue our deep, intellectual conversation once more.

Okay, so maybe not so deep. Or intellectual. More like idiotic. And ridiculous. And completely pointless.

We didn’t even talk that much. We… sang. Songs. Yeah. We sang “There’s A Tear In My Beer” by Tracy Lawrence, along with “If The Good Die Young” performed by the same artist. (I’m a major Tracy Lawrence fan. WOOT! Go Tracy) Yeah, so we also sang… Erm… “Oh Lord It’s Hard To Be Humble” by Mac Davis, which has to be one of my all-time-favorite songs. Every time I hear it, I have a mental picture of Travis belting it out soulfully, and, well, it’s just a dang good song! Definitely one of my top five fav songs… The “Tennessee Stud” by Tennessee Ernie Ford was another one we sang so beautifully and totally on-key, yep you bet! We are like the best singers in all of New Mexico. Dang right! But I also love that song. Man, they just don’t make songs like that anymore. Bummer.

So yeah, we finally got off the phone late at night. Like… 10:30. =P Hey! It was before midnight, give us credit! Oh but I cherish those conversations with Sara… I was telling Oscar how pointless conversations are the sign of a true friend. Because it means you feel comfortable enough talking freely and being 100% yourself, and that means even letting your stupid side venture out. Anyway, I was pretty happy because I got to talk to my two best friends. Yippee!

Oh, I had a dream last night. No thanks to Oscar. He was telling me how yesterday, for the first time, he got to pack into the Grand Canyon and it was the scariest thing he had ever done. He said your riding along (they pack mules down in there, so yeah he was on a mule) and you look down and right below your boot is 2000 feet of air.

GULP.

That would be so scary. He said he doesn’t like heights and I don’t either, that would just be so freaky! Hehe he said the mules will sense your nervousness and start to tease you by sidling over to the side of the trail about as far as they can. He claims they hold grudges. And they are stubborn, you can’t turn their head in any other direction but the one they are currently headed in. And they are just plain mean.

Daddy always calls me a mule. But I mean, come on… stubborn? Mean? Teasing? Sneaky? Me? Nahhhh… Besides, you can’t be a mule without long floppy ears. And I don’t have those. I don’t think.

Back to the dream. I got to thinking how scary that would be, right before I went to sleep… And I had a dream that I was riding along… In the Grand Canyon… on a purple mule (yes purple, please don’t ask why, I really couldn’t tell you)…. And I looked down and screamed… And then Nick (Oscar’s dad) told me not to look down. Yeah, a little late for that now. And then my mule got tired and laid down, and there really wasn’t enough room on that narrow trail, and yeah, I woke up sweating, ugh. I hate dreams like that! Maybe I’m a wimp.

I am also happy for another reason. (Yeah this post isn’t sarcastic and sassy-attitude-ish like most of my others, because I am in a superb mood.) It’s the Christmas season! It snowed lightly on Thanksgiving day… lightly yesterday… and this morning everything is white!! I was laying in bed after waking up this morning for like a half hour, thinking stupid and pointless things, and finally I thought, “Hey, I wonder if it snowed?” So I pull back the curtain and AAGGHH! I’m blinded by a snowy white world! EVERYTHING is white. After my eyes become accustomed to the white-ness and bright-ness of the sparkling snow, I begin to appreciate how beautiful it made everything. The clothes line is merely two rods of ice stretched between two poles. The dead mesquite and unruly weeds by the chicken house, that were so unappealing during fall, are now all capped in snow, decorated with icicles and frost and it’s all just so pretty. I honestly find it important to take joy in the little things in life, it makes you so much more happy. It’s fun to go through a day and look for the little things and then think “oh, how cool! It’s so small, but it is so great and it makes me happy”. So yeah. Snow is one of my little happy things. It’s still snowing too! I just love snow. If anything is magical, it’s the Christmas season. It’s the snow and the candles and the lights and garland. It’s the wreaths on the door, it’s the hot cocoa and the flannel pajamas, and the fuzzy slippers and the magic of Jesus Christ.

Sorry, I got excited there for a moment. Hehe. Christmas rules!

So yeah. I will have to take some pictures later on of the beautiful landscape and the fascinating view from my room. But my memory card on my camera is full… Maybe I’ll just put all my pics on the computer and then download them to a CD. Yeah. So I can take more pics… Yup. That’s what I’ll do.

Have a great day and remember that the little things are really and truly what make life worthwhile! (ß that was kind of cliché and somewhat cheesy, but true, and good advice!)

Thanksgiving Day // Of Cats And Crockpots

Happy Thanksgiving ya’ll! I know it seems odd that I don’t write for days and days and finally I decide to, and it is on a holiday, of all days. But, hey, I’m an odd person. So I guess I’ll just… wander through the none-too-exciting happenings of my none-too-exciting life.

This morning I woke up to my alarm clock at 6:30. Now see, I used to not even hear it, I would just reach behind my head and turn the stinking thing off. But, finally, I got smart! Or… semi-smart. I just moved my pillow to the other side of the bed, so I have to launch myself across my comfy bed to turn it off. But… I merely curl back up under the covers and return to my peaceful Dream Land. Hmmmm. I’m gonna have to put the alarm on the dresser I guess… So anyway. About 7:00 I woke up, but remained in bed, lingering not only in my warm covers, but in those silly, nonsense thoughts I always seem to wake up with.

Until I heard… Footsteps. But not just any footsteps. The footsteps of… *eerie background music*

The Daddy Monster.

Daddy has rather peculiar ways of greeting me in the morning. Sometimes he takes the metronome from my piano and turns on high and sets it on my dresser. That’s enough to drive anybody crazy. Sometimes he comes in from the cold and puts his frozen hand on my bare skin. This morning he wielded a turkey baster. Yes, a turkey baster. I have many familiar memories of this particular kitchen instrument. It was my favorite of all pretend microphones. I remember dancing around our kitchen happily belting out Shania Twain’s “Man, I Feel Like A Woman” at the very top of my lungs. Anyway, I groan but before I duck my head under the covers and pray for my own safety, he squeezes the bulb and sticks the little tube by my ear and WHOOSH this little puff of air tickles my ear. I squeal and roll over but he continues his fun, his chuckles obvious signs of his enjoyment, at my expense. Finally, he abandons the turkey baster and takes my covers and rips them off of my bed.

Hey, mister! Just who do you think you are?

Oh. My Daddy. Right. Grrr.

So I take the covers, throw them back on the bed, and proceed to dive underneath them. Daddy rips them off again but I ignore him and pretend to be happy curled up on my bare bed. (Oh, and did I mention he had turned on my overhead light and the ceiling fan, so by now I was not only blinded but quite chilly.) He… Well, kind of growls, at my persistence and takes my foot and drags me onto the floor.

“Come on!” he said. “Time to dress the turkey!”

If you have a sense of humor, and know me, and was aware of the fact that I was, of course, still in my pajamas and therefore ‘not dressed’, this may cause you to chuckle.

It did not, however, amuse me.

Daddy grabs a shoulder and a wrist and pushes me into the hallway, shoves me in the bathroom and closes the door on me.

Well, fine then. I can take a hint.

After this glorious ‘good morning’ from my loving father, I stepped into my slippers, whom I have- Oh, wait. You haven’t heard about my slippers! Well, here is the story.

Yesterday, we went into town, as always, for piano and Tyler’s college and miscellaneous errands. At Wal-Mart, I did some shopping. Got presents for my dear friend Sara, and a movie for myself (A Knight’s Tale, what a hoot, I love it, and it’s clean) and proceeded to browse a little bit while Mom and Tyler waited for assistance regarding a DVD player. I try to keep my distance from any form of electrical appliance. So I entertained myself by browsing through a rack of fuzzy slippers! There were only three colors- black, salmon pink, and baby blue. Now, I’m not a pink-person. But I loved that salmon color! See, I have never had slippers. Well, I had like one pair, but I think the dog chewed them up and some stickers got in em, stuff like that. Bye-bye slippers. Well, I wanted a pair. And I wanted a fuzzy pair. And here, the occasion arises! Alas, the salmon pink slippers came only in Medium and Large. I have a rather monstrous foot, I must admit, and though the Larges fit, I knew they would not after a few months. So I found an XL in the blue pair and got them. Once at home, after a shower, I slipped them on… And they look even bigger on my feet! Mom said I look like I have Big Bird feet, only blue. Niiiice. They do look rather funny… and large and fluffy. In fact, rather like squirrels in a way, if not a newly discovered species of Furby. Actually, yes, rather like a new species of Furby. But the slippers have now acquired the name “The Blue Squirrels”.

Back to my story. I slipped on my Blue Squirrels (these squirrels died of natural causes!!!) and padded into the kitchen. Where Momma was already baking up a storm. I barely had time to make a cup of hot cocoa (once the cocoa’s presence is near, all is well with the world), rearrange some dishes in the sink so Mom could rinse the turkey (no she was not giving me a bath in the sink), I hurriedly dressed myself (surprise, surprise, I am actually capable of such a task!) and back into the kitchen to do dishes and make room for the dehydrator (we are making jerky from the deer meat), roaster (for the turkey, of course), pecan pie, rack of blueberry muffins, and other various Thanksgiving-meal-type-things.

Since the boys were off quail hunting, Mom and I went back and forth from the kitchen where we were baking Thanksgiving dinner (us country folks call ‘lunch’, ‘dinner’ and what you call ‘dinner’ we call supper, so yeah…. For any of you city people reading this) and the living room where we were watching a Garth Brooks interview. Really, if you get GAC, watch for it, it’s very good. So yeah… While Mom was on the phone with my Omi (that means ‘grandma’ in German) I was being attacked by the ferocious Huckleberry. This little guy has teeth and claws and he knows how to use them. Ouch! Nasty little fellow. You pretty much need helmet, breast plate, sword and shield if you intend on sparring with Sir William Huckleberry! Mom was explaining to Omi what we were having for Thanksgiving…

Mom: …stuffing, vegetable casserole, cranberries….
Me: YOW! Hey! Stop it!
Mom: …orange salad, pecan pie, crescent rolls, stuffing…
Me: And how should we cook the huckleberries? This one seems a wee bit BITTER! *shakes kitten in Mom’s face*

Nasty little booger.

Okay so I’m gonna reverse my life back to the Thanksgiving CC at Sara’s house. Clint and Tiffany came over with their two crockpots, in addition to our crockpot, and bag of s’more stuff, and a layered bean dip. With six people, it was a tight enough squeeze. So Clint came up with the brilliant idea of sticking the crockpots in the big tool box and packing a coat in with them to keep them from spilling. Nice! It actually worked! I had to hold the bean dip though, and spilled some picante sauce from it on me, but oh well. Just as we were all about to pile into the truck, I remembered….

“The cats!” I cried. Jennifer, Sara’s older sister, had been wanting some cats. Two to be exact. I forgot! So we hurriedly gathered up Tucker’s crate (my beagle sleeps in it in my room) and the two cats, Sherbert and Starbucks, and off we went! Every time Dad took a sharp turn or accelerated Mom and I would shout simultaneously, “Gary! The crockpots!” and “Daddy! The cats!” Clint, for one, found it amusing. After an hour and fifteen minutes of driving, we arrived. Phew! The cats and crockpots, both in tact. Inside we went. I found Sara, told her and Jennifer I brought the cats, and Jennifer suggested we put them in her crate… I should have been smarter. I gave Sara Starbucks and I took Sherbert. We reached the crate… So close to getting them in… But the dogs were barking and crowding us and the little kids were screaming and shouting and Starbucks got scared and scratched Sara. She tried to grab her, but she slipped away. She hid in a corner, where we could have captured her, but all the kids saw the kitty, went crazy and flocked towards her as if she were made of candy. Frightened, away she went into the night. Yes, it was dark. Joy. Sara found a flashlight and off we went, accompanied by a good friend Camille, in search of the frightened feline. But to no avail… Sara looked for her a few days after that, and she never returned. How sad. =( Maybe she will still show up… Anyway, Jennifer got to take Sherbert home. Sara, Camille and I ended up spending most of the night taking goofy and ridiculous pictures of ourselves. It really was a ton of fun! Oh we are such goofballs, Sara… I need to put one of them as my picture on here. Hmmm… I wonder if I did, if Sara would beat the crud out of me next time I see her… Oh, well, wouldn’t be the first time.

So anyway. I’m off to go work dutifully in my lab, where I experiment day in and day out with dangerous and toxic substances, stressing over creations that one day may change the world! BWAHAHA!

Oh, who am I kidding. I’m gonna go watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Adios!

Aimless Ramblings (Ranch Rodeos & Childhood Memories) *LONG*

I have been feeling guilty about, once again, neglecting poor Mr. Blog. I’m not sure why. It’s not like many people read it anyway. Sara… Marquita… Mom. That’s it. Mom already has more visits than I do and she hasn’t had her blog half as long as I’ve had mine! Okay, I will quit griping now. And start talking. Which is what I do best. =D

About what though? Hmmm. I guess I will start with Amarillo and then begin to solve the many mysteries of the universe!

Or wander off onto my familiar course of spouting off strange and random thoughts.

So last weekend we went to Amarillo! Woohoo! It’s the only time Daddy ever leaves the ranch overnight, and the only time we all as a family go anywhere. It’s the WRCA. Ohhhh yes. Working Ranch Cowboy Association who sort of “hosts” the World Ranch Rodeo. Ranch Rodeos are a lot different from regular rodeos. The events actually are based on actually things that happen out on a working ranch. Often the rules pull the event away from how such an… activity… would happen out on a real ranch, but they have to make it competitive I suppose. There is the Wild Cow Milking, where a ‘wild’ cow is released into the arena. (Meaning she ain’t no tamed Guernsey names Bessie.) One feller is horseback, ropes the cow, and the other two have to “mug” the cow and there is another one on foot who has to milk the cow. Or sometimes it takes 3 to tame the wild beast and the guy on horseback jumps off and milks the cow. Anyway, they have to milk into a glass beer bottle (or glass coke bottle, I guess it could be) and run to a circle where the Milk Judge Dude stands, and the time stops once inside the circle marked with white flour. Or white… something. The Milk Judge Dude tips the bottle upside down- if there is milk, they get a time, even if there’s only one drop. If he can’t get ANYTHING to come OUT of the bottle, no time, even if there is just a bit stuck to the sides of the bottle, it has to come out. There is Team Penning, where there is a herd of cattle with numbers on them. For each number there are 3 cows (or steers or heifers or whatever) and each team is assigned a number, lets say it’s 7. They have to hold the herd at one end of the arena and sort off the 3… bovines… with the number 7 on them. Then they must herd em all into a panel pen and the clock stops. There is a line just in front of the pen, and if 5 cattle cross it, you are disqualified. Stuff like that. It’s a heck of a lot of fun! It’s a 4 night rodeo and there are LOTS of people there, and I think 22 teams. There is also a huge trade show there with tons of booths. Everything you can imagine. Stuff for the guys-- chaps with fringe and conchos, boots with spider-web patterns on the tops, bits with handsome tooling, reins and headstalls galore, well crafted saddles, hats of every color, trim and crease. Stuff for the women folks: candles smelling of leather, lotions that smell like “Fresh Country” (fresh country, in my perspective, is manure, so fresh wisps of steam still escape from the patty), finely tooled earrings, turquoise jewelry, even expensive makeup or a relaxing massage. Face paints- gross. Massages- people touching me? In weird ways? I don’t think so…. Anyway, I usually do my Christmas shopping here, but I didn’t find anything except something for my Daddy, which I won’t say if just by chance he happens to read this. Which is extremely doubtful. But better safe than sorry! Yep, that’s me, Miss Safety. Hehe. Anyway…. The only thing I bought was a belt, and it pretty much drained me of $$$. It’s just brown cow hair with little clear rhinestone studs, not too many so it’s too fancy, but pretty simple. Me mucho likey! I’ve been wanting one so yeah…

While we were in Amarillo we went to this place called Cavenders. It’s a ginormous Western wear store that has super cute clothes. In my opinion at least. See, I have TONS of t-shirts (I’ve had some for years and my grandparents just keep piling em up on me) and lots of old flannel shirts or sweat shirts, but no nice long-sleeved Western type shirts. I had only one that I got for my birthday from Corral West, the only place locally that has clothes worth looking at. So before we left for Amarillo, Mom and I dropped back by Corral West and got me another nice shirt. That makes for 2. Yay! We went to Cavenders and I found THREE I like! That is very very rare. And a pair of jeans. So now I have 3 nice shirts, and two she said I can’t have until Christmas. So yeah.

This has been a boring post so far. Because there was nothing that interesting about Amarillo this year. Toured the schools with some friends doing cowboy poetry on the behalf of the WRCA so that I could earn free tickets and hotel rooms through it. Did a show in the little performance center place, which went terrible, but I don’t want to talk about it. So now I will settle back into the familiar routine of aimless ramblings.

Tonight at Sara’s place there is Cowboy Church. Yay! I can’t wait to see her! It’s always so fun. We usually talk about random and stupid things, and walk aimlessly around the place… So yeah. There’s always good food though, and a bonfire, and s’mores! Mmmmm! Gotta love those s’mores.

S’more. Smore. Smoooore. Suh-mOOre. Smmmurre.

Hehe. Funny word.

So yeah. I’m gonna be all decked out in my new jeans (which I LOVE), new belt (<3) and new shirts. Hehe. I’m gonna have to shower early because EVERYBODY has to shower and we leave at 4:30. I’m trying to decide if I should just blow dry my stupid hair and leave it as that, or blow dry it semi-straight and get Mom to curl it. I wonder what it looks like curled. My hair as very curly, and if you could get a controlled curl, it may look halfway decent. Hmmm. We may test-drive the curler on a few strands of my wild and wooly mane before I shower, see how it looks. Yeah… Anyway.

I was reading Mom’s latest blog post and it said something “… and DH and I do (insert something here) while the kids watch a dung beetle, fascinated…”

Oh that brings back memories! There were a lot of dung beetles where we used to live and they were SO fun to watch! Seriously! I mean… this little beetle rolling around balls of poop, what’s more awesome than that to a 7 year old ranch kid? Nothing! I told Mom I used to want to be a dung beetle. I remember that, though I don’t know why. I guess the idea of rolling around balls of cow turd was more appealing than doing school. Actually, it still is.

I used to make pies. There was this old skillet out by the barn, and I would take water and dirt and hay flakes and mix it all up. I’d put cow cubes in there, but half an hour later I’d take them out. Hmmm. I guess I was letting the flavor seep into the batter. =P I’d use a rock to chop a corner off of a mineral block and stir that in there. But it was mostly dirt. And then I’d put sticks and leaves on top to decorate it.
Funny the things you remember, eh? I also remember when we shoed goats, EVERY day, we would walk them 3 miles, and sometimes go walk around the side of the mountain. We had halters and leads but we didn’t need them, those goats followed us EVERYWHERE. We would be walking them, and one of us would have to go to the bathroom, so we’d run off into the bushes while the other held the goats. But the goat would get loose and it was kind of surprising to be squatting in the brush and feel a cold nose on your back side kind of sudden-like. We would take them down to a flat and I was small enough to get on my goat’s back and I would ride it around. It would run like crazy and I’d fall off- poor goat. Actually, stupid goat. It always came back! That takes a special mentality, right there.

Kind of like those roping steers. Time after time after time they go through the alley, into the chute, and they always run in a straight line! They don’t get smart and refuse to go down the alley, or anything. Once they are trained, they are good little steers and always do that over and over. That also takes a special mentality.

Okay, I wandered off course. Back to childhood antics. I remember there was this kind of deep draw by the house and it was SO COOL ya’ll. It had these little “rooms” with dirt sticking out from the sides to make tables and chairs and beds. There was a shop, with a long counter where Tyler would pretend to order ammunition for his gun. (Really, I would just hand him pebbles for his slingshot.) We used rocks to carve our little chairs and to know holes in the “walls” to make windows.

Ahhh, those were the days. I miss those days. *sigh* Oh well, I guess we all have to grow up sometime.

But it doesn’t have to happen today. Or tomorrow. Or the day after that.

Excuse me while I go make a mud pie. Maybe I’ll invite a dung beetle to dine with me.

Cats.

After reading Marquita’s (Ranch wife on her blog entitled Musings Of A Ranch Wife, it’s on the side panel of my blog, I highly suggest reading it) post about her view towards felines, I felt the need to stick up for the poor creatures! Or maybe I’m bored and thought I should talk about cats.

Kitties. Poor, misunderstood creatures. You know, Marquita, you once told me that it took a special person to love a weiner dog. Well I’m gonna throw your own words back at you- it takes an extra special person to love a kitty. Yes, ma’am, by golly it sure does! I am not a cat fanatic to be honest. But I have been known to grow slightly fond of a select few. I mean… come on. When they are kittens, well, to be quite frank, nobody can resist the irresistible, innocent, trusting gaze those little monsters throw at you.

Some of them, that is. I must admit, Sara & Marquita, your kitties sound quite the demon cats. But it isn’t their fault! They have probably rarely been handled, and therefore do not understand the human ways! *emotional sobs*

Tee hee. I’m having fun with this.

Anyway. We have tons of cats. When we got here there were about 35 or so. Now we are down to… 20 or so I guess. Some are wild, and well, we just leave them alone and they leave us alone, end of story. We feed them every night, but that’s it. And some of them are docile and tend to be a pain in the butt. They climb the screens on the windows and shriek pitifully at your window, offering pathetic looks. They linger around our front step, crying and banging against the door and running under your feet every time you try to either exit or enter the house.

Most people can just open the door and leave. I arm myself with a broom (Kitty-Swatter-07, to be exact), a steel-toed boot, and super-duper leather welding gloves. I sling open the door, pop one kitty in the chest with my boot and send it flying across the sidewalk, swat another with a broom causing it to yowl and scamper away, and grab one by a hind leg that squeezed past to toss it into the yard, all at once.

Repeat as many times as necessary or until the opportunity to squeeze out the door arrives.

But sometimes they really are sweet and cuddly. But something about bringing a cat inside turns them evil. Zoey was sweet and cuddly. Now she swats and hisses and growls and bites. But I blame it allll on Tyler. He is always chasing after her, and grabbing her, and holding her hostage in his lap, forcing her to lay there, and pinning her legs so she can’t scratch. All the while uttering sweet nothings into her ear, as if she will seriously calm down and grow to love him. So she is a mean cat now. If you let her come to you, she’s fine. But unless she does, she wants to be away from you. My brother doesn’t understand this. Maybe his tiny brain is incapable of processing such a simple matter.

Cat runs away = cat doesn’t want you.
Leave cat alone = happy cat, nobody gets hurt.
Chase after kitty = mad cat, somebody will get hurt.
Kitty comes to you = wants to be petted and loved on, this is the time to love on kitty.
Kitty scratches, bites, hisses, yowls and growls = KITTY HATES YOU, SO LEAVE HER ALONE.

Sorry. But nobody in my house listens when I try to explain this simple little Rules Of The House Cat to them. But that’s nothing unusual. So whatever.

Huckleberry was also sweet. Now he is a playful monster who chews off toes and claws out eyes. The only time he is really and truly sweet is when he first wakes up. Then he’s a purring, cuddle, irresistible cute kitty cat. Until he sees the bottle. Then it’s like, “BOTTLE! Give. Me. The. BOTTLE! Food, food, food, food!”

Kitties are funny in the way that they will play with ANYTHING. Watch ‘em, really. Our 3 month old kittens outside, for instance. Let’s say a leaf falls from a tree. “It’s a LEAF! ATTACK! It’s gonna EAT us! Ooh, ooh, watch it Fuzz, it has teeth! Yeah, teeth. Oh no! AARGH! It’s attacking us! Let’s fight back!” *pounces and eats leaf* “It’s okay! I ate it! I saved everybody!”

I’m having alot of fun with this, can you tell?

Cats are independent. It's just the way they are. They are cats. It is their nature. They have quirks... Cats can be cool. Or... aggressive. Depends on the individual cat I guess.

My point is. Cats can be evil, in many ways. Er, I mean, independent. But… They can also be sweet. And cute. And cuddly. Sometimes. For brief moments. (Enjoy those moments—it may be a while before precious Kitty-Kitty has another one.)

The Dance... Blech

The dance was fantastic! I got asked to dance by a lot of *cute* guys and had a heck of a lot of fun! There was a lot of people there and I’ve never been to a better dance. Oh, and not only that, but Sara and I were so the life of the party! She was a Wild Child, I mean, all eyes were on us. It was awesome, I had a fantastic night.

*-cough, gasp-* Oh, my, excuse me! I am drowning in sarcasm. =/

It stunk. Really. There was, at one brief point, about 30 people there. Then they realized the dance was a failure and left and we were left with about 20 people. It was terrible. I danced with Sara, and this girl named Lacey. Let’s just say that Lacey is an… er… interesting character. There, that’s the word. She… is flirtatious. Likes to flaunt her body. Has a dirty mouth. Er, yeah. I’m not particularly fond of her, but she’s always been pretty nice to me. I danced with Sara. (By the way this was a country dance, so it was all 2 step.) I danced four stinkin times with Shelby. No, not a teenage girl who I am friends with. Rather, a 10 year old kid (boy) who has a crush on me which can get fairly aggravating. Hmmm. Oh, and one other guy. A fellow named Colt. Lacey said he was her ex boyfriend. He has a very very dirty mouth which is extremely aggravating. Ugh. I despise guys like that, but maybe that’s just the way he grew up. So Lacey bugged and bugged and bugged him to ask me to dance until he finally did. Walking out onto the dance floor…

Me: “She made you, didn’t she?”
Colt: *slow nod* “yeahhh”

Poor guy. I think I actually felt bad for him. He danced very very very good. Made it not so hard for me to not trip over my own feet or hurt myself (or him, or some other innocent bystander) or any such thing. That takes a talented dancer, let me tell you. So. By then, Sara had left. *cries* That was sad. I wanted to go home too. But Mom and Dad were out with Tiffany and Clint eating and what not. So I was stuck there with about 15 people and a DJ and some flashing lights and Lacey. About 5 songs later… Colt asked me to dance.

Colt: “She didn’t even make me this time.”
Me: “Oh really? Yay! I feel special.”
Colt: “I was just bored.”
Me: “Oh. Yeah. Thanks. A lot.”

Ehhh oh well atleast I got to dance with somebody. Sara got asked by Thatcher (who she said didn’t count) and some guy named Wade. And then me. =P Poor Sara.

The dance was supposed to be from 8 to 12. It only lasted til 11. I guess the DJ finally realized nobody was having much fun and the dance has failed and it was time to close up shop. Mom came and picked us up about 11:15 I think, I don’t know, my brain stops functioning around 9:00. Well, it’s never fully functioning. But sometimes if I kick it just right or twist a screw in a certain way, it kicks in and I can get some use out of it for a short while.

So. Yeah. It is now 12:37. In the morning. Rawr. Why is everybody else in bed but me? I have a reason. A good reason. A perfectly good reason.

His name is Huckleberry.

As I walked in the door he was just waking up from a long nap. A very. Long. Nap. Grr. I put him in his box but he scratched at it and squealed.

Go to sleep you stinker!

He is playing with a Jolly Rancher wrapper. And attacking my feet. Ouch. And I am listening to George Strait and Joe Diffie on Limewire (my new friend) and writing this. Being very bored and, surprisingly, only slightly tired. Hmm.

Uh-oh. My brain just shut off. Sorry. I can’t get it to restart. It’s had to work for a full 3 hours today. It’s very exhausted.

My brain says good night. Or morning. It doesn’t know which, like I said it’s going to sleep.

And Huckleberry had better do the same. And soon.

Responsibility... VP... Tribes

Responsibleness… I mean responsibility… and I really just don’t go together well. I’m not saying I’m completely irresponsible or immature or incapable of handling situations and… stuff. With maturity comes responsibility.

I’m just still waiting for the maturity part to kick in.

The point is. A new load of responsibility was heaped upon my shoulders last night. Last night was our 4-H meeting. Our county has an expansive 4-H community. There are all different kinds of groups, like Barn Buddies, Kuntry Kids, so the 4-H is broken up into little tribes of 4-Hers. And each little tribe, has it’s leaders, it’s chief, it’s co-chief, etc. Aka officers. I’m a part of the Kuntry Kids tribe. The officers are all seniors, and for the first time this year I am a senior (14 +). Last night, KK tribesmen (and women) elected their leaders. There is president, who runs the meetings and… Well you are supposed to be at all the fundraisers and stuff, but so is everybody else, so your main duty is to run the meetings. The vice president… Talks about some stuff at the meeting and runs the meeting if the president is absent. The treasurer, obviously, keeps track of the tribe’s money. The secretary has a difficult job- she/he writes down every little thing that is discussed at the meeting, types it all out on the computer, and keeps record of that stuff. There are some more things but I can’t really remember what they were. So… Amanda was president, but had been for 2 years and therefore could not run again for that particular position again. So Sterling (his mom, D’aun, is our main tribe leader, she takes care of the little tribesmen, aka US) was elected president. I… was elected vice president.

*gasp, choke, gag* Are you KIDDING me? What if Sterling is absent? How the heck do I run a meeting? I don’t know how!

Come ON people, I can barely dress myself in the morning, and you want me to… Be… vice… Co-chief…

Meepers.

Oh well. D’aun said I would learn, and I guess I will. Amanda, who was elected Secretary, said she would be more than willing to help me out.

Haha. Heehee. Hoho. Believe me, I am beyond help.

So yeah. Sara was elected one of the Recreation Leaders. Tyler was Parliamentarian. Have no clue what that means. It took me 10 minutes just to figure out how to spell it. I don’t think he knows what it means. Scary. Erm… So yeah.

Tonight is a dance. YAY! There hasn’t been a dance since County Fair which was… I dunno when but it was very long ago. I love 4-H dances! Woohoo! Even though I never get asked to dance. Hmmm. Maybe I smell. So I showered early… Spent 20 minutes trying to dry my hair, but to no avail. It still was not dry and only half-way presentable. It’s very thick, bushy, frizzy and curly. But not pretty-curly. Frizzy, out-of-control curly. If I just sleep with it wet, when I wake up it is contorted into a style that never before existed. So if I expect it to look nice… I have to wash it, then blow dry it with a diffuser. And even then, it’s thick and bushy and the curls only look somewhat decent. And my bangs which are supposed to stay straight usually go all wavy freaky. My hair scares people. My hair scares ME. I hate hair. It’s such a bother. I can’t do anything with it! There is only one thing left to do.

.
..
…
..
.

Shave it all off.

Halloween Shmalloween... On-The-Phone-All-Night-O-Ween

So I’m sitting here at the computer… Sipping hot chocolate... being attacked by the evil-minded Huckleberry u/;’hh (he just ran across my keyboard)… Trying to get warm. Brrr! Winter is starting to show it’s blustery face, overcoming the sweet Fall in it’s chilling shadow. ffff,knm; b Okay SERIOUSLY, Huck, leave the keyboard alone! Sorry for that… *ahem* gentle interruption. So anywho. Not a lot going on this morning. I’m really not supposed to be on here, but I felt bad about not blogging (haven’t had time, been doing too much school) and figured as short as it may be, I should post SOMETHING.

So Wednesday was Halloween. I did… nothing. Well, Sara’s boss was gonna be away from her house and wanted somebody to be there for the trick-or-treaters. (By the way, NO trick-or-treaters showed up...) So Sara ended up staying at her boss’ Haunted Mansion all Halloween evening, night, and early morning. All my her lonesome… With nobody to hear her screams of terror if by chance--! Okay, I’ll stop. Hahaha… But it couldn’t have been too bad, because she had a computer w/ Internet, plasma screen TV and unlimited movie collection, and, well, me. Yep, that’s right, we were on the phone ALL night. Literally. Like from 8:30 to 10:00, and then again from about 11:10 to midnight. We were acting like idiots, I mean seriously. Singing every song from “Go Tell It On The Mountain” to “Chicks Dig It” by Chris Cagle. We even made up a song, or she did and I attended to the position of recording the lyrics on my super-duper Legal pad. As I recall it went something like, “I am Saraaaa. The wonderful Saraaaa. I like Caitliiiiin. She is a great frieeeend.” She is so incredibly talented, isn’t she?

So yeah, Daddy had fallen asleep on the couch and woke up to realize that I was in the shower at 10:30 at night. Oops? He bangs on the door and says something like, “Are you done yet?” and I said, “Almost, I just got in.” “Well it’s 10:30, okay?” In a not-so-sweet voice. *cringe* Got out of the shower, returned to the computer where I was chatting with Sara on MSN while she was on the phone with Joshua. Got chewed out again. Sara, I gotta go. So got off, jumped into bed, where the cat joined me. (Our relationship is still in a tender stage right now.) Sara texted me to let me know she was off the phone, so I called her. And we yapped about… well, nothing to be honest. Until finally I got off the phone around midnight and went to sleep. Got chewed out again in the morning. Oh, well. It was worth it. But I must admit that yesterday afternoon I may have… Relaxed… Okay, dozed… Fine I laid down and was dead asleep! But I mean, come on! Combine a boring history book with a cozy bed IN THE SUN. So nice and warm… And the blankets are so soft… And this book is soo boring… Murfle snork hippopotamus Ho Chi Minh… I mean, Ho Chi Minh was eating purple trees wearing prom dresses… Popsicle Vietnamese in yellow capes with hotdogs… Zzzzzzzz.

Okay, so not the smartest thing to do. I slept for about 2.5 hours, then Mom finally came to wake me up. *sigh* So maybe I’m not such a night owl.

So anyway… I’m gonna go read my Bible now, before Mom returns from her walking and demands that I do my math. *gag, choke, cough* Math is just so cofusing and frustrating and infuriating and *SOB*.

I really need to go read my Bible.