Verizon: We Have a Problem

I discovered this in the bathroom trash can.  Before you judge, let me state this disclaimer.  I’m not a full fledged dumpster diver, yet.  I do know a couple people who are, who may or may not be related to me.  I don’t usually make a habit of digging in the trash, especially the bathroom, but it caught my eye.  Lying there amid the used toilet paper rolls and wads of hair that I pull out of the drain daily, was an innocently folded piece of paper.  A note perhaps?

But after a little more investigating, it becomes evident what this is.
This is not just a note. 
This is a poor kid’s cell phone.
This is not your ordinary cell phone, this is a flip/slider phone. A new design in the cell phone industry.
What are they teaching kids these days in school?????
Questions to ponder:
1.  When is she going to learn to spell you?
2.  Who exactly is kaydin?
3.  Where do you plug this thing in?
WARNING:  A kid who has begged for a cell phone, and been denied because she really has no business with one, might resort to this!
Reminds me of a great story I read once, where a homeschooled teenager wanted a pair of thong panties.  Her mother refused to buy them for her, therefore she was forced to use her creativity and resourcefulness and knitted herself a pair!
Problem solvers!  I just love ’em.
 

Is Manhood Declining?

I am absolutely loving the new Docker’s Campaign, Wear the Pants.  Click on over to Docker’s to read this “man-ifesto” to get an idea of all this.


And to think they’re catching a little flak from all this.  People are saying this ad is sexist.  Good grief.  I love America, but sometimes I just don’t get it.  Mostly these allegations are coming from women, naturally.  Like these comments:

If people think children are misbehaving and cities are crumbling all because of our “genderless” society, they are sorely mistaken. Sure, we’d love to see men “man up,” but and if they think that great changes will occur when guys put on khakis, well, fine then, try them on and let’s see what happens. As for men being the ones to “wear the pants,” well, we’re sorry to break it to you, but ladies have been wearing pants, voting, working, running homes, and sipping lattes for a long time now. And we like it.

Here’s more:
“The intent of the campaign is to put forth a new definition of masculinity, one that embraces strength and sensitivity and appeals to men who can change a tire AND a diaper,” says Jennifer Sey, Global VP of Marketing for Dockers. “We’re not trying to shame men. We want to make them laugh at themselves and at the state of manhood. And, at the same time, encourage them to dress up, man-up and embody today’s new definition of masculinity.”

Here’s a slideshow I found called “An Emasculating Manhood”

Here’s another link if you’d like to read this person’s opinion.
http://www.walletpop.com/blog/2009/12/07/ad-rant-how-to-stuff-a-manly-man-into-soft-khakis/

Docker’s is just trying to sell khakis. Personally, I wish men would step up and be the men of yesteryear.  I’m interested in your opinion.  What are your thoughts?

Auntie meets P-Dub

There are very few people who have caught my fancy in this life: River Phoenix, Brad Pitt, Dr. Oz, and Pioneer Woman in that order.  Oh, and maybe Jason.  I guess I should throw him in the mix since I’ve chosen him for the rest of my days. 

 Since my  First Attempt had been a colossal failure, I made a fast trip to OKC to meet one of these obsessions of mine.  River is dead, Brad and Mehmet are waaaaayyy famous, so by process of elimination that could only leave PW. Yes, I got to see her, meet her, talk to her, and give her Chex Mix, because I’m a dork that’s why!

I met up with my lovely Aunt Jeanne and we drove over to Barnes and Noble to wait in line.  The line wasn’t bad at all, it just went halfway around the store.  We sat and drank coffee and had a good visit.  It took us one hour to get through, once it started moving. 

When we finally made it to the table, PW was convinced that she knew my aunt.  I know you.  Don’t I know you?  She studied her, asked her last name, asked her where she lived.  I thought any minute she would take out a knife, cut fingers and become blood sisters with her. Meanwhile, I’m jumping up and down beside her, waving my arms frantically, yelling, But I’m your #1 fan! 
Finally she surmised that maybe Jeanne reminded her of the actress Diane Ladd, of who neither of us were familiar.  Ree said to google her.
So I did.
This is my Beautiful Aunt.
This is Diane Ladd.
  Jeanne asked how she stays so thin eating all that butter, which she gave all the credit to Spanx for helping her out.  My mind went completely blank so I gave her a bag of homemade Chex Mix, minus all the nuts because I had eaten them on the drive up.  It was her own recipe that I had made the day before, which is probably lying in the trash in the B&N bathroom.
The nuts were the best part anyway.

I was able to untie my tongue to tell her I had driven up from Amarillo.  She asked if I was staying the night. 
I think she wanted to invite me to supper.
But I had to get back to the man I’ve chosen for the rest of my days.
Oh well, maybe next time.

Santa, his reindeer,a couple of friends & a hummingbird

I have a crafty niece. 
She’s a little artist.
This is her and three of her paintings last year.

  And here she is with her paintings this past May.
Some people have nicknamed her Hummingbird.  If you’ve ever met her, you understand why.  She’s a flitter.  Flitting here, flitting there, flitting everywhere.
She doesn’t sit still in school. She doesn’t sit still in church. But give her a paintbrush or other creative medium and she will sit still for at least an hour.
She spent Saturday creating with clay.
Here are some of her creations. 
Santa, Rudolph, Frog, Toucan
They are tiny really, but loaded with detail.  A little disproportionate to each other; as a reindeer should be bigger than a frog and a toucan, but it’s all good.
I just love Rudolph.
He reminds me of the dog on How The Grinch Stole Christmas.
Remember when the Grinch puts the antlers on the dog, and they’re too heavy, so he face plants with his butt in the air.
This reindeer needs his antlers sawed off a little too.
But the reason I love Rudolph the best, is because of one sweet little detail. See that little smidgon of white under his tail? 
It gives me hope.  My little niece does pay attention.  Maybe not to fractions, and maybe not to sermons, but when she sees the white tail deer running and leaping over fences, their tails are up, white flags waving back and forth.
And so it is with Rudolph.

Enjoy Every Moment

Yesterday, Friday the 18th,  I broke something very dear to me.  I almost cried really.  It was a beautiful handheld mirror given to me by some very dear souls, one of which has passed on, for high school graduation.  I have used it to check the back of my hair or apply mascara almost every day for the past 16 years, until I dropped it in the toilet and shattered it. 
To top it off, I really hate having to put my hand in the toilet to fish something out, I really do.  To top that off…..

Seven years bad luck. 
Superstitions. 
And then I thought, Seriously Angel, get a grip.  You know that is all bull hockey.

And I do.

I think.

I really think Friday the 13th is bogus.  I’m not a bit afraid of that day.   I’ve successfully survived too many for it to concern me any longer.  Then there is the black cat crossing the path thingie.  I’m always tempted to turn around.  It always crosses my mind to change course.  I always look for a speck of white on its tail or ear.  But I normally continue on my path.  Unless I’m feeling unusually skittish that day.

Do I really believe that all superstitions are bull hockey?

Then why do I throw a pinch of salt over my left shoulder when I spill it? Or never  walk under a ladder?  Did I inherit this from my dad who is a superstitious guy, or my Grannie Silcott?  She said it was bad luck to change a calendar before it was time, or open an umbrella in the house, my brother won’t eat cherry pie on a drilling rig, and I’ll only pick up a penny if it’s on heads.  I heard one time of someone who, if found on tails, would turn a penny over to heads so someone else could have good luck.  That’s nice.  I doubt it works, but it is a nice gesture.

I guess I’m more superstitious than I thought.  But mostly I’m upset about the mirror, the sentimentality of it all.  That some things are irreplaceable.  That people are irreplaceable.  That time is so valuable and yet we squandor it. 

My dad sent me a forwarded email with a note that he thought I’d like the last line.  It read “Enjoy every moment of every day.”
And so is my prayer for you.
Treasure the moments.
Cherish the people. 
Forget about the possessions. 
Take time to tell others they mean the world to you. 

To you:  You Mean The World To Me.

Love,
Angel

The Best & Worst Teacher Gifts

I never ever remember buying a gift for a teacher.  I’m not sure we did that when I was in school.  Maybe my parents were clueless, but I don’t ever recall any student buying the teacher a gift.  It could be I didn’t notice, but either way it’s not in my memory bank.

The first year I taught school, I was stunned at all the presents children gave me.  I carried them to my car and drove to my mom’s house to show them off.  I just had no idea that people did that.  She was just as stunned as I.  Every Christmas, Valentine’s, and Last Day of School, I would cart my goodies to my mom and we would oooohhhhh and aaaaaahhhhh over them. 

The years have passed, and the last ten years of teaching have flown by.  The presents have come and gone.  Some have gone to good use, some have gone to a charity, some have gone regifted, and some have gone to the trash.

Perhaps a teacher is on your Christmas list this year.  Perhaps you’re a procrastinator and haven’t bought a gift yet.  Perhaps you are racking your brain for what to get her.  No need to rack any longer, I have gone to the field and done some cold, hard research.  I interviewed teachers far and near, well, uh, really just near, to discover the best and the worst teacher gifts.  No need to thank me.

Coffee mugs
These are probably the most often given gift to teachers. My coffee cup cabinet is crammed full. This came across on the best and worst list. You’ve got to know your teacher; some hate them, some love them. The reason given for worst gift was they either didn’t drink coffee or they already had so many. Rather than a mug, you could always go with a gift certificate from a local coffee house, listed among the best. It’s probably a good idea to make sure they drink coffee first.

Classroom gifts or gift cards
These were mentioned as some of the best gifts. Any supplies for the classroom or gift cards to a teacher supply store are well appreciated. Teachers spend so much money out of their own pockets stocking their classrooms, this is always helpful.

Food If you are an excellent, out of this world, make a person start moaning kind of cook, food is always good.  If your child constantly has head lice or urine smell on his coat, not so good.
One teacher told of melt in your mouth Christmasey goodness cookies that she received.  Another teacher received a homemade cookie mix in a jar, but the jar still had dried spaghetti sauce in it. 

Candles and Lotions
The cabinet next to my crammed-full-of-coffee-mugs-cabinet is my crammed-full-of-candles-cabinet.  Candles and lotions were on the best and worst list also.  The worst being they don’t like the scent or have an allergy.  Again I’ll say, you need to know the teacher.

Gift cards/certificates/cold, hard cash
It may seem impersonal, but teachers appreciate them.  Who in their right mind wouldn’t?  It can be to a restaraunt, a bookstore, one teacher even got $100 Visa Check card once.  Secretly wishing that child was in my room this year.  One Christmas, a room mother collected money from the children.  She then created a corsage using rolled up five dollar bills.  The teacher bought herself a pair of shoes with the gift money, and the children loved it every time she wore those shoes.  Perfect.  Just perfect.

The best gift winner….overall…..repeated again and again…….would be,
DRUMROLL PLEASE……….

The kind from the heart that doesn’t cost anything. 
Yep, those teachers.  They do love kids, and it is very evident when something is sincerely given. 

Free, heart-felt gifts:

  • A half empty bottle of perfume from mom’s dresser.  So sweet.
  • A handmade angel named for his teacher.  Ahhhhh…….
  • Half eaten box of chocolates wrapped in Saran wrap.  How precious.
  • A child’s worn teddy bear. Doesn’t that just make your heart hurt??
  • Personalized gifts with the children’s names on them.
  • A card from the parents telling how they appreciate them.
  • A letter written to the teacher and copied to the principal and superintendent describing the difference they are making.
  • Moms who volunteer to watch the classroom so the teacher can go Christmas shopping!!  Wow!  Check with your child’s school first to see if that is allowed, but what a treat to know your class is left in good hands and you don’t have to take a day of leave for it.

Worst
You know the old saying, “It’s the thought that counts.”  All the teachers I interviewed had a hard time thinking of a worst gift to mention and many are currently suffering from guilt pangs, lost sleep, or are in counseling for critizing a precious gift from a child.  The second it passed their lips, they were wishing they hadn’t said it.  I could be gracious and keep quiet, but frankly, it’s too late now.  Face it, some gifts are just unnecessary or clutter or unnecessary clutter.  Trinkets, stuffed animals, apple thingies, premade gift baskets from Wal-Mart, and aprons for detergent bottles all made the worst list, with a lot of guilt afterwards, I must add.

Merry Christmas.

This has been a public service announcement by Angel.

One more reason to be thankful you are not a cow!

Here are the facts.
Cows are baby machines.
If a cow is not bred or if she does not have a calf on the ground, she’s wasting money.
She’s basically taking up space and eating the grass.  She is not earning her keep.  The cheapest and easiest ( not quite the cleanest) way to determine if she is bred or not, is to preg check her.
No EPT tests out here.
Load her in the chute,
and feel for a calf.
He loves his job.  He really does.

A Day of Dumb

Six out of seven days of the week, I either
A) forget to lay out some meat to thaw for supper or
B) it doesn’t thaw. 

I use these for a great excuse not to cook and order Chinese.

Yesterday, I laid out some catfish fillets to cook.  We occasionally eat fish.  Sometimes I just want something different, ya know?  Well it just so happened, as it does 6 other nights of the week, that is was not ready to be cooked at suppertime. 

I had already had my afterschool-4:00-stressed out-shoveanythinginmymouth-binge and wasn’t real hungry when Jason came in from breaking ice, feeding cows, opening and closing gates, putting out hay in -3* windchill and 30 mph winds.  Somehow he missed his 4:00 binge and was starving.  Being the Martha Stewart like wife that I am, I did the only thing I could do aside from feeding him a bologna sandwich.  I opened a can of salmon and fried up some patties. 

In case you don’t know me very well, I need to confess something right here and right now. 

Ready?

I can’t cook.

It’s not my favorite thing to do, and I’m not really that good at it.

But I can follow a recipe, and the recipe for salmon patties is on the can of Honey Boy Salmon usually. But not this time.  There was some other bizarre salmon concotion on there.  So being the Martha Stewart like wife that I am, I winged it.  I knew I needed eggs and bread crumbs, and onions and I just whupped ’em up.  They were edible and halfway tasty.

Fast forward to tonight. 
I need to cook the catfish that is now good and thawed.  I have made it a couple of times, but I don’t know from where I got the recipe.  Because of my great salmon patty success from the night before, I’m at about a 7.4 on the richter scale of confidence.  I can do this.  I start pulling out some seasonings.  I remember using cajun spice before, a little garlic, a little lemon powder, and maybe some season salt. 

I drizzled some olive oil, covered the fillets with seasoning, and stuck them in the oven to bake.  As I was returning the spices to the shelf, the season salt got turned around, and I discovered that instead of Lawrey’s Season Salt, it was Julio’s Seasoning, excellent for fajitas, chicken, steak, and a sundry of other things, not including fish. 

We had Mexican fish tonight. 
Fortunately, the Cajun overpowered the Mexican and this is sounding like a bad joke, so I’ll stop there.

Second dumb thing I did:

I fed a stray cat on the porch.
I did.
I know better.
But it’s cold.
And it was right there on the porch.
Looking pathetic.
And cold.
And hungry.

Wouldn’t Martha Stewart have done the same thing?

Flanking 101

This is what I know about life: 

There are two sides to a pancake.
There are at least two sides to a story.
There are two sides to a coin. 

With all of that life experience under my belt, I could assume with confidence, that like a coin, there are two sides to every baby cow.   Heads and tails. 

I would assume wrong. 

Instead of heads or tails, it’s tail or rope, and the rope is the tail, and the tail is first the tail, but then the head.  Understand? 

If yes, skip to section II.

Section I
I’ll try to make this as simple as possible.

Step 1) At a cattle branding, a person, preferably a cowboy, ropes a calf by a leg, preferably two, and drags it towards the branding fire.

Step 2) One person, a flanker, grabs the ROPE that is tied to the calf’s leg (or two).

Step 3) Another person, a second flanker, grabs the calf’s TAIL.

With great physics involved that I an unable to explain, they get the calf on its side.

Step 4) It is at this crucial point, that the person who grabs the TAIL, lets go of theTAIL, and holds down the calf’s HEAD.
 

Step 5) The person who had the ROPE puts the calf’s legs in some sort of fancy jujitsu hold and unties the ROPE

Step 6) As the flankers hold down the calf, a very equipped crew comes in and “works” the calf with a variety of torture tactics.  No, no, just kidding.  Please don’t call PETA.

Section II
Now being the astute observer that I am, I should have understood the art of flanking.  But I don’t seem to pay attention when things don’t concern me, or even  when they do, so I hadn’t been watching much of the details of it all.  My job was to keep up with the nut sacks.  It’s probably the most important job of the entire operation.  I’m not sure how cattle operations survive without it.  Yes, and I was the holder of this most coveted job. 

These fine little furry soft satchels that hold the calf testicles were mine to keep tally of.  Because my husband wants me to feel a part of it all, and I like easy jobs.

Out of the clear blue, my husband looks at me, “you wanna flank one?”  Not wanting to let down the team, I agreed.
Next question:  “You want tail or rope?” 

Pause here…….and picture this…….

I hadn’t had the above tutorial that I so graciously shared with you, a calf was being drug to the fire, I had about 2 tenths of a second to answer, so I said “tail”, thinking that when I said tail, I was going to be at the posterior end of the calf.  (Because of my vast life experience that tail is opposite head, you understand my logic don’t you?)
The action begins.
I grab the tail.  So far, so good. Then I’m being screamed at to “get the head, get the head!” This would be Step #4 in the above tutorial. 
I held on firmly to the tail, thoroughly confused, thinking logically in my opinion, that the tail is the end part of a calf, and that I need to get to this calf’s legs and do the fancy jujitsu hold.
You might be wondering here why I’m on my knees and someone else is on the head?  The answer would be because I have fallen and can’t get up.  Someone has to rush in and rescue the whole deal before it all went south. 
Afterwards, Jason consoles me for being a flanking flunkie.
Pay no attention to the fact that it appears he may have just had a stroke seconds prior to this picture being snapped.
Or my huge belly.
This is what I know about life:
I need to brush up on my flanking vocabulary.
Fine little furry soft satchels are my friends.
These girls are making me look bad.

I’m not holding my breath for the Top Hand Award.