Good-Bye Lilly

Jason called the other day to inform me that he had found a German Shepherd out on the road in the middle of nowhere. It didn’t belong to any of the neighboring ranchers.
My response was:  Take her to the pound. 
She’s real hungry.
Well bring her home, feed her, and then take her to the pound.
Why do I say crap like that?  Sometimes I just try to sound so tough.  Like the minute I saw this little puppy, my heart didn’t ooze into a puddle of goo?
Meet Lilly.
She spent the night with us. 

We fed her real good and gave her a round tummy.  No one can stay here longer than 4 hours and remain thin.  It’s against our religion.

She was the sweetest dog.  She just laid on the steps by the back door most of the time.  She didn’t bark, she didn’t cry, she didn’t chew up anything. 

I posted her picture on facebook as an abandoned country dog and had someone to give her to in about 0.8 seconds.

Then by the good will of the Lord one of Jason’s friends called to chit chat.  Because that’s what Jason and his friends do.  Really, they are worse than women. 

During the course of the conversation, Jason mentioned this German Shepherd to his buddy and he just so happened to know who it belonged to.  The owner came by to pick her up the next afternoon.

She had traveled about 12 miles away.   He even mentioned she had papers.  Are you kidding me?   She was actually worth something?  

It’s incomprehensible to me that a dog can be worth something.
Especially when I own this.

Yo! Happy B-day Steve-O

My brother Steve……..

……..loves the camera,

…….eats icecream on a plate,

……….has patience o’plenty when it comes to his kids,
…..except maybe not right this second,
……..loathes removing fish hooks, but does it anyway,
………should think twice before doing this kind of stuff at his  age,
……..or this kind of stuff,
…….and wears out easily!
Sleep tight Birthday Boy.
It’s all uphill from here.

There’s Green Stuff in My Fridge, Trust Me

My Spring Break To-Do List:

1.  play piano
2.  read
3.  catch up on DVR
4.  nap
5.  surf the Internet
6.  blog
7.  nap

So far, so good. 

I am cruising along enjoying the art of absolute nothingness. 

Treating Tuesday like it’s Saturday. 

Basking in my alone-ness.

Nooooooo problems at all.

Until I get hungry.

And Jason isn’t here to feed me. 

PROBLEM!!

Lately I’ve become obnoxiously spoiled.  Yes I admit it.  Jason takes very good care of me in the food department.  Very soon I’ll be shopping for my wardrobe at the tent and tarpaulin store.
Very, very soon.

I rarely have to fend for myself when it comes to food.   I confess that I haven’t cooked a meal in a very long time. I mean a VERY long time. Like try two months, maybe three.

But Jason has this thing called a J-O-B and is out driving around looking busy.  And I have these things called hunger pangs. 
Not really, but it sounded good.
So I open the fridge.
And the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.

 I am faced with a dillema.

Should I:

A) Clean out this very frightening fridge and risk throwing out something good.
B) Eat something from this very frightening fridge and risk ingesting something bad.
C) Sink even further into pathetic-ness
D) Notify Hoarders as soon as possible

I remember  test taking strategies. 
When in doubt, choose C.

I pick up the phone. 
Jason, do we have any left over chicken fried rice from last night?  And if so, just where would I find it?   Because, I’m like on vacation here and certainly don’t want to have to do anything labor intensive.  Better yet, why don’t you run home and fix me some lunch?

Too bad for me, he responded with a dial tone.

Now these little devils are good right here.  These are some blueberry tarts that were whipped up last night. 
Not by me.
Obviously.
I had one for breakfast at 11:00 since it was too early to make an important decision like A, B, C, or D and they were just so handy.

If you want to know a good way to ruin a great cup of coffee, try this.  Sugar Free Coffee Mate, bought by mistake. 
And yes, I CAN see that there is a small carton of buttermilk dated February 21st. 
Stop judging me!
And that right there, peeking out from behind
a-more-than-likely-out-of-date-yogurt………

That is a yoo-hoo.
Because doesn’t everyone have a yoo-hoo in their icebox?
Do you call it an icebox or is it only me that reverts back to 1923 during desperate times like these?
Well, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. 
 I carefully weigh my options.
 And then I sink even further in my cesspit of pathetic-ness.
Choice E:  Grab a Fiber One bar and hold out till Suppertime.
All this has made me very tired.  I must nap now.
Good bye.

Rain + Dirt = One Ill-Tempered Cowboy

Today is the official first start day of my Spring Break. 
The weather is crazy!
To borrow a line from a facebook friend:  It’s like snowballs from heaven.
It began raining about 3:00 a.m.  I know that because I was awake.  I was awake because I couldn’t sleep.  I couldn’t sleep because I can’t walk.  I can’t walk because I need two knee transplants.  I need two knee transplants because I ran 10 miles yesterday.  I ran 10 miles yesterday because I signed up for a half marathon.  I signed up for a half marathon because I destroyed way too many brain cells when I was a teenager.  I mean, OBVIOUSLY!!
Anyway, it rained most of the morning, then these ginormous snowflakes began to fall.  They were gorgeous actually.  Fluffy, wet, and the size of quarters. 
Today was the kind of day to curl up, wear fuzzy socks, sip coffee, and watch movies while listening to the rain pitter patter against the window panes. 
Unless you’re married to a cowboy.
Then you have to work.
I went out with Jason today to put out hay.

Fun stuff,
if you like mud.
But as my dad would say, Cows gotta eat too.
They were waiting for us at the gate.  A little wet. 
A lot muddy.
Jason was grumpy.
Me:   “It’s not that bad.”
Him:  “You’re sitting in the truck!”
Me:  “Well I’d be out there too if I had artificial knees, and if I didn’t have flip flops on!” 
(The previous comment is the result of lack of brain cells)
Jason pulls in with a big round bale of hay.

And they surround the pickup like savages.
Hungry savages.
Like this one.  See how savage his long eyelashes are?  He’s cold.  I want to rub him down with a towel.
 As soon as Jason puts down the hay bale, they run to it and snag a bite.
Until they notice we’re leaving, then they’re all like, “Wait, don’t leave us! 

We want to drink coffee and wear fuzzy socks!”

Sorry, suckers. 
And we gun it. 

My Birthday Blog and Desserts to the 7th power

I woke up to this.
Ate two pieces.
Had lunch with friends.
A cupcake for dessert.
Yellow daffodils to brighten my day.
Had this at my mom’s with homemade ice cream and chocolate syrup. 
Three candles on one side, five on the other.  It’s not eight. Think hard.   
Ate this for supper, prepared by my chef Jason.
Pepper crusted filet.
Loaded mashed potatoes with fresh chives.  These make me moan.
Vegetables sauteed in butter and lemon pepper.
It was super good.   I was stuffed from all the dessert to really enjoy it. 
But I still cleaned my plate.
I had a great day with my family.
Me and my nephew Maxx loved on each other.  Well.  I loved on him.
My brother Steve-O was right in the “YOOOOUUUUU” of the Happy Birthday song when this pic was snapped.
My nephew Harley showing off the painting from my niece Ashlynn.  I absolutely love it! 
My sweet husband by my side and in my kitchen.
My best birthday ever, surrounded with good food, friends, and family.  What more could a girl wish for?

Well…a  28 inch waist for starters, and I did blow out all my candles in one breath. 
All 8 of them.

I got fans!

One of my students wrote a story about me.  I thought I’d share.  It’s not perfect, which makes it precious.  Before you judge me as a teacher who cannot teach spelling and grammar, please let me give this small disclaimer:  In the writing process, we encourage children to get their thoughts down on paper and write with voice.  If too much emphasis is put on perfect spelling, children are inhibited and will only write the words they know how to spell instead of taking risks and using larger vocabulary.  That tends to limit them as writers.  During the editing and revising stage of the writing process is when we polish it up and fix all the errors. 
This story is entitled  “all about mis. wheeler an me”  by a precious little blonde cowgirl in my room.  Here goes:

Transcription after some editing in case you’re not yet a pro at reading phonetical spelling:  Me and Mrs. Wheeler are the same. We both like riding horses. We both get short tempered when people interrupt us.  I just, I love my teacher.  I would not go to a different classroom.  But she is too classy.  She always wears dresses that are classy.  I love you Mrs. Wheeler.  You are the best teacher ever!

Another disclaimer:  Really, really, I’m not terribly short tempered.  Not too terribly anyway.  It’s just that I’d had a certain little boy talking out of turn entirely too much.  Right before this writing lesson, I had sternly pointed my finger and reprimanded him about interrupting me.  I guess it was perceived as a bit short tempered.  Maybe a little.

See?  That is a classy green dress.  See my green bunny slippers I’m wearing?  See I’m smiling.  I do smile at kids. 
On occasion.

Aren’t kids the cutest?  Makes me almost want to have one.  And then I go stick my head in the microwave.

Just a Smattering

Jason and I made a pizza.  This was a first for me.  We didn’t make our own crust however, we cheated and bought a pre made one.  We used a recipe by The Pioneer Woman found in her cookbook.  It is called Leek and Potato Pizza.  It sounds atrocious I know. 

This pizza recipe calls for potatoes, leeks, bacon, mozarella, parmesean, and goat cheese.  Potatoes on a pizza?   That was my first thought.  There aren’t any tomatoes or tomato based product found on this pizza anywhere.

It was delish!

And cheesy!

*****************

I’m still training for a half marathon and hating myself for committing to this.  It is very challenging, time consuming, and not to mention hard on my body.  I ran 8 miles last weekend.  Tomorrow I have to run nine.  After this is over, I vow to never run again.   One of my friends who is not a runner said,
“If you see me running, call 9-1-1 because someone is after me.”  That will be my new mindset after April twenty whatever-it-is.   I can see how people can love running, but the whole not-being-able-to-walk-afterwards is a big turn off for me.  I’m not an extremist.  Running this many miles at one time is a bit too extreme for me.  I’d rather run 2-3 several times a week. 
I told Jason next year when I want to sign up for this again, there’s only one thing I want him to do.  Talk me out of it!

*******************

Today is beautiful.  March has come in like a lamb I think.  The birds are chirping in the oak trees outside my window.  The wind is light and the sun is out and I am going to go dirty up my fingernails in the flowerbeds.  It’s cathartic.  My tulips have popped their little green heads out of the dark earth.  I’m going to grow an herb garden this year.  My husband is so much into cooking these days, I think I’ll add to his hobby and grow fresh thyme, rosemary, sage, and perhaps some marijuana. 
Just seeing if you’re paying attention.

*******************

Last weekend we went down to Abilene, TX to see a group play called The Hot Club of Cowtown.  They are some talented musicians let me tell you.  Go ahead and have a listen.  It just might make you tap a toe.  They hail from NYC and play this type of music.  Come on, open your minds and have a listen.
http://www.youtube.com/v/Jr8My5Uo0gE&hl=en_US&fs=1&
We stayed with Jason’s dad, who thinks that anyone who doesn’t know who Gene Autry is should be hanged before the masses, or at least kicked out of Texas.  I had to google him when I got home.  I thought he was from Gunsmoke.  Jason gave them my blog address, so now I run the risk of him reading this and finding out I’m not worthy to be called a Texan. Oh well, that will give him plenty of time to have the gallows built for the next time I’m down there. 

Scarlett O’Hara….now, if you don’t know who she is, you oughta be shot.  It’s just my opinion.  Different strokes for different folks, I guess.  And what does that expression mean anyway?  What are these folks stroking exactly?  Makes me wonder.

Is that cat afterbirth? Subtitle: So you call this photography?

Here are a few of my favorite things.
Piano.  I’m trying.
The color yellow.
Tulips.
And Yellow Tulips.
Especially when my husband brings them to me for absolutely no reason at all.
Chocolate milk.
 Yellow polka dots.
And learning to take  pictures.
Emphasis on learning.

A Conversation

I have a second grade classroom full of second grade students.  They are just plain groovy.  I like to mingle amongst them some, get to know them, talk with them, listen to them.  They’ll share their lives, their secrets, their fears, not to mention everything their parents’ want them to keep quiet. 
They aren’t all equipped with a filter at this age, and thoughts just come out of their mouths in brutal honesty.  I have one particular little girl who shared a story with me today. This is how it went.

Precious second grader (PSG):  I was bawling up last night because I got afraid I wouldn’t ever have a husband. 

Yes this is pretty odd for a seven year old to say.

Me:  Oh, honey.  You don’t need to worry about that.   You have a long time until you need to think about that kind of stuff.

PSG:  My mom said not to think about it and my dad said I don’t need a husband because he’s everything I’ll ever need.  And I said ‘No, you’re too old!’

We were having a good laugh right about this time, and my curiosity was extremely high.

Me:  Sugar pie, what were you doing that made you start thinking about having a husband?

PSG:  Oh, I was watching this kissing movie with my mom and dad.

Me:  EWW, I hate kissing.

PSG:  Do you let your husband kiss you?

Me:  Well……sometimes.  I…..might let him kiss me on the forehead.

PSG:   (mouth dropping and gasping) You don’t know anything about love!!

This Is What I Get For Bragging

“He who toots his own horn, the same shall not be tooted.”
That’s what my Grannie used to say.
Translation:  Quit Bragging.

Recently I blogged about my tough fish.  If you didn’t read it, you can read about it here.  I blogged about how they survived a freezing cold spell.  About how they were strong genetic creatures.  About how big and fat and juicy they were.

Well.
Folks.
Now they are dead.
Both of them.

One fish,
two fish,
both fish,
are dead fish.

They survived a freezing spell, only to be poisoned by me.
I changed their food, they wouldn’t eat, the water got all cloudy, and they floated to the top.

I’m grieving.
I know they are just fish, but good grief, my heart is sad anyway.

Sorry, no pictures are available for this post.  I didn’t want to remember how they looked with their big glazed-over fish eyeballs staring at me.
Or their beautiful fanned out tails lying limp in the water.
Or their small fish mouths gaping open.
Or their bulging bellies bobbing in the water.

Okay that’s enough of that.

Good-bye.
I’m going to find a grief support group now.