500!!!!!

*The VERY MINUTE I had to wait to make the 500th post, I had 10 pop up in my head.  The VERY MINUTE I sat down to write this, pffft!, I couldn't think of a doggone thing!

We have the tiara!

Honestly. Do you know how often the need for a tiara arises in day to day functions? It's astounding! 

All the socks matched in that load? Tiara! 

 Jello for a potluck sets up? Tiara!

Only got yelled at once, in the corral, all day? Tiara!

Remember your mother's birthday in time to send a card with no apologies after your signature? Tiara!

Every woman should have one.

I don't know what I did without mine!

 We have cake!

Liberally coated with sprinkles and those magical frosting flowers...

You can't tell, but it's Funfetti cake, too!

Nothing says, "Cohagen Chronicles" like Funfetti cake with sprinkles.

The very first Chronicles post was during a snow storm when I couldn't go to town to get my hair done.

And I didn't tell ANYONE that I was blogging for nearly 6 months.  I didn't really know how to drop that into conversation...you know?

"Hi! So...um....I have a blog where I write about skunks and dead flies and hole-y underwear and near-death experiences with bull relocation projects.  You should check it out! Pass the ketchup?"

Ah, yeah....no.

Today, I was trying to think of the earliest reader.  I think it was Country Wife. 

The most far-flung reader? (That admits to reading the Chronicles..)  I'm sure it's Nancy, in Britain.

The most famous reader? I gotta tell you, I know Patsy Clairmont read it once, and Homer Hickam reads it!

The most surprising lurker? Texas Ghost Rider.  He scared the dickens out of me!

Most faithful readers? Well, I know for sure that Denise and Sara are all over me when I miss a day or two. Or 10.

I can't even remember how we found each other, Alice and Patricia!

The guys who won't admit in public that they read the Chronicles....the Mikes. (There are two of them. They don't know each other. God forbid they ever meet...)

Family, family of family, friends of family of family, friends, neighbors, people who stumbled on The Chronicles when they typed "Ranch wife" in Google, Singaporians who are looking to make a buck....

We aren't going to get into youngest, oldest, or any of those sensitive areas...

I can't believe the posts that get the most comments.

George Strait.

My crazy purse, Madame Serenghetti.

Squeezers.

I can't believe the people that walk up to me on the street and confess that they are long time Chronicles readers, secretly. Then tell me what they'd like to see more of.

I can't believe how many cool people I've met and corresponded with, thanks to this blog.

I can't believe I came up with 500 things that I thought were publish-able.

So, in the sticky notes box, if you'd tell me how you got here and what your favorite post was, I'd love to know. I wish I could say I'd send you some sweet thing in the mail, like a box of 500 Bequet caramels, but realistically, that would never happen.  I still have 3 Christmas cards sitting here that need mailed. The odds of the caramels making to the post office are astronomically slim. 

AND, because there are so many who say they don't know how to leave a comment:

Write your message in the box and sign it.

Choose the "Anonymous" box.

Type the weird word and enter.

Voila! Comment!

I love the sticky notes.

They're why I keep writing this blog, you know?

So, YAY 500 posts!!!!

Thanks for the fun.



There's no blood in this post!

And that's a cotton-picking miracle, considering we're on Day 5 of snowed-in-minus-20-degrees-don't-leave-the-house-or-you'll-die-in-10-minutes-according-to-John-Pulaski-the-"meteorologist". 

One of my friends asked what we're doing with ourselves, during this cozy time.

Darn little, I can tell you that.

But here's a pictoral portrayal for you, of Snow Day #100-102:

Mile after mile after mile after mile of this landscape...

But inside, it's a lot more colorful!

I don't remember exactly, but I think this was the day he was a pirate good-guy cowboy. 

There's really no reason to narrow it down to one lifestyle...

 I do hair and makeup to go to Bobby Burns, only to end up folding yet another basket of laundry and watching a British/Irish movie called Widow's Peak.  This is just to show you that I am, indeed, alive and that I haven't succumbed to the bathrobe slouch. Yet.

 Water color painting at FIVE IN THE MORNING!!! I believe we'd burned through all the entertainment choices by 8 a.m. that day...

Lots of reading...we do LOTS of reading....

 They put themselves down for a nap! Out of sheer boredom, I believe.

But I'm not going to look a gift nap in the mouth....

Aren't they angels when they sleep?

 They're not kicking each other!

 Even Twilla...who was grouchy at being photographed with her hair all askew...

 They were watching the first Star Wars movie, which I have to say, would probably put George Lucas to sleep, now. 

 Homework. Maggie is teaching Angus how to do math.  He ACTS interested, but only because someone is paying attention to him.  He really doesn't care about numbers until it comes to bargaining for more cookies.  Then he's pretty astute.

 We do puzzles...teeny-tiny 500 piece puzzles....ugh.

 Pirate ships capsize and sink, death and destruction everywhere, glorious carnage....

 I actually like the blurriness of this picture....it's probably how the cat sees all the "loving".  You know, I used to feel sort of sorry for the cats, who get squeezed and dressed in doll clothes and hauled around in Tonka trucks, but then I realized: it was them or me. 

 We bake. A LOT.  Here's a recipe for Cranberry Coffee Cake from one of Shelly's gorgeous cookbooks.  The books have really good recipes, of course, but they are just little albums of art, and I often just sit and look at the pictures! And miss Shelly.

One bottle of wine, left.  How sad! I love the picture of the frazzled housewife behind it...

And that's pretty much what one of our snow days looks like. 

I didn't post pictures of the crying and tantrums, snarling and pulling out of hair.

My blog, my editorial privilege.

Besides, you don't need to see me in that state....

Tuesdays are the armpit of the week...

It's true.

They stink.

Mondays, for as rough as they seem, at least hold sort of a fresh-start feeling. 
Wednesdays are half-way there!
Thursdays, you can see the light of the weekend.
And of course, Fridays are days of rejoicing and the beginning of the weekend! 

But Tuesdays have nothing going for them. 

(Now, I know there will be an outcry and a quick listing of fabulous happenings in the sticky notes....why your Tuesday DOES have merit and interest! Bring it on. )

It was once pointed out to me that all my days looked the same, that there was no difference from Saturdays or Tuesdays or whatever...that my Friday was basically just another of the same! Made me mad.  Because it was true.  I almost hung the phone up on the person who tossed that out to me! Wow, that stung!

(I managed to get back by calling that person back around 4 p.m. on a Friday afternoon and pouring a cocktail, while happy hour was still an hour and a half away for her/him. There ARE benefits to working from home, where every day is the same.  Tiny, tiny benefits...)

Now.

This is the 498th post, on the Chronicles. 
Who ever thought I'd have 500 posts in me?
(You...in the back...I'll deal with YOU later.)

Anyway, I'm SO glad the big event isn't going to fall on a Tuesday!!!

So, on Thursday, we're going to party, here at the Cohagen Chronicles!
I'll wear my tiara!
We'll bake a cake!
Names will be dropped!
Honors will be handed out, left and right!

Be thinking of your favorite Chronicles posts, because that's what I'd like in the sticky notes. 
You have some time to go back and find it.  It is, after all, Tuesday. 
(You didn't have anything else going on today, did you?)

It gets crazier...

In ten days,I'm going to fly to a place I've never been, to stay with people I've never met, to eat food I can't pronounce, attend a concert I never dreamed I'd get to and try an activity I've never had the opportunity to try.

How cool is that?!

Or crazy.

Or both.

I like that sort of thing.


Once upon a time, there was a country girl from Broadus who had traveled the world and reconnected with a childhood friend, whose wife had a little blog called The Cohagen Chronicles.  The Chronicles were read surreptitiously and ravenously, because they were like home, only without all the guilt. 

After some time spent in sneaky reading, the girl from Broadus wrote the author of the Chronicles and confessed.  The author of the Chronicles had heard COUNTLESS stories of this chick (the Farmer's dad and her dad have been friends since college) and immediately forgave her and started a correspondence. 

The girls discovered a mutual love for (brace yourself) food, wine, travel, books, their home state of Montana and Texas singers, most especially Pat Green.  What are the odds?  Pretty good, actually. 

The girl from Broadus, as it turns out, is wicked to the core.
Evidenced by the menus she regularly sent to Montana, from French and European restaurants that she'd recently visited.
Evidenced by the picture of her personal wine cellar.
Evidenced by her rather casual mention of her hot tub.
Evidenced by sending e-tickets AND pictures of the CU-TTU game she attended, knowing full well the depth of my love for the Red Raiders.
Evidenced by her travel blog, of Europe.

In a fit of....what I can only surmise was winter insanity....the Farmer told me to use our credit card reward points to buy a ticket to Denver to see Sara Hagedorn, as my Christmas/birthday/Valentine's day present.

So I did!

Sara H., bless her heart, is in the middle of her doctoral (doctorate?) exams and I presume was too shocked and overwhelmed to come up with any sort of excuse to be out of the country at that time.  So she's stuck.  Ah, well....

BUT....GET THIS.....!!!!

Pat Green had the great grace to book a show at the Grizzly Rose (in Denver) at the exact perfect time.
That's RIGHT.
We have tickets.

You've never heard such screeching of delight!
And, I believe on one of the shaky-with-excitement emails, I counted no fewer than 56 exclamation points.
It's true.

AND she somehow convinced her husband Chad that we should go to a couple really incredible restaurants while I was visiting, as her Christmas present.

AND Chad (in a moment of what we can only surmise was winter insanity) mentioned going skiing while I was there.  Which I've always wanted to do, but never have.

AND we have several bookstores to visit.

AND then, there's the hot tub and wine cellar.

*sigh*

I certainly hope we get along...

Burns...in preparation

If you've been reading the Chronicles for a couple years, you'll remember that the last Saturday in January is the annual celebration of Bobby Burns' birthday, in Miles City.  And tomorrow, you'll get a more complete post of the actual celebration...it's incredible!

Robert Burns is THE Scottish poet.  I'm not sure there is another, really.

My Gramps really loved his poetry, and I remember him reading one or two aloud to us, when we were kids.  They made absolutely no sense, whatsoever, because Burns wrote as he spoke, and anyone who has listened to a Scottish burr will affirm that even though it's English, it's completely incomprehensible to the average bear. 

So every year, I try to post a Burns poem on this weekend.  I appreciate his dry wit, his attention to detail and personality quirks, his great respect for the natural elements. The following poem is tragic, as many of his are, but it's one of my favorites and not just because of the title!

Highland Mary by Robert Burns (1759-1796)
Ye banks and braes and streams around
The castle o' Montgomery,
Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie!
There simmer first unfauld her robes,
And there the langest tarry;
For there I took the last fareweel
O' my sweet Highland Mary.


How sweetly bloomed the gay green birk,
How rich the hawthorn's blossom,
As underneath their fragrant shade
I clasped her to my bosom!
The golden hours on angel wings
Flew o'er me and my dearie;
For dear to me as light and life
Was my sweet Highland Mary.


Wi' mony a vow and locked embrace
Our parting was fu' tender;
And, pledging aft to meet again,
We tore oursels asunder;
But, O, fell Death's untimely frost,
That nipt my flower sae early!
Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay,
That wraps my Highland Mary!


O pale, pale now, those rosy lips
I aft hae kissed sae fondly;
And closed for aye the sparkling glance
That dwelt on me sae kindly;
And mouldering now in silent dust
That heart that lo'ed me dearly!
But still within my bosom's core
Shall live my Highland Mary.

Hello, Sunshine!

We've had some beautiful, bright, warm days this week....in the mid-30's.

Perfect snowman making weather, you know.

Heck, for Montana, it's almost swimsuit weather...

Anyway, Angus and I made a snowman and then rolled around in the snow for the afternoon, soaking up the sunshine!

Even the snowgirl was happy.

The wind blows the snow into fingerdrifts everywhere, rather like frozen waves.

The men have been trying to keep the snow plowed, so they can get to the cows and we can get to the house.  It's hard to tell how big these piles are, until I give you a perspective.

So, here's Angus, climbing to the top.  He's probably about 3 1/2 feet tall, so you get some idea of the pile.

King of the mountain!

(It's not as sweet, if you don't have a sister around, pushing you down and trying to capture the crown.)

Cows, off in the distance....mile after mile of nothing but glossy white snow.

I guess you know he threw some snow down at me.

I love Cordelia's smile, here.  She just sat on that fencepost in the sun, watching Angus roll around in the snow, and smiled. 

So did the snowgirl!

Crazy Mary

Another deep, insightful post from Crazy Mary....
It's been awhile, hasn't it?

And there are a LOT of questions. 
Really good ones.
Really crazy ones.
Perfect!

Q: What is your least favorite song of all time?

A: Of ALL time? Since there was no criteria on this, I made up my own.  It has to be stupid.  It can't be made better by anyone...no matter who sings or plays it, it's still awful.  It has to make me want to shut off the radio IMMEDIATELY....that's pretty big, because I really, really like music of all types and can tolerate most anything. 

Except the song "Swinging" by John Anderson.
It's aluminum on tooth fillings to me. 
(I know.  A couple of you readers broke into a cold sweat at THAT description...)

Q: What were the most expensive shoes you've ever owned?

A: Again, no specific boundaries here, so I'm going with any sort of foot covering. 
I bought a pair of Danner hiking boots, when I was 25....spent my grocery money for the month on them....for $140.00 at Don's Sporting Goods store in Lewistown.  Turns out, they were worth every penny, every package of ramen noodles, every pound lost that month. I finally retired them a year and a half ago, and only because they were coming apart at the seams.   
The only shoes I pay more than $50 for are boots or running shoes. I clutch my chest in horror when I see in the Oprah magazine that editors are buying $300 heels and calling them affordable!   

Q: Of what room in your parents' house do you have the most memories growing up?

A: The conservatory.  Doesn't everyone?

Not really.  It would be the kitchen.  More memories were made there than anywhere.  Good ones and bad ones, you know? Almost everything went down in the kitchen.  Almost everything came out in the kitchen.  It was the center of our domestic universe, our everyday lives.  Still is.

Q: What piece of recreational equipment that you own do you most wish you would use more?

A: It was between the touring kayak and the fly rod.  I spent a lot of time deliberating this one.

And my fly fishing rod won.  I've NEVER used it.  Ever.  I get it out, a lot, and hold it,  feel the action, dream.  I don't know how.  I don't even know how to tie a fly on! Last summer, I was frantic to use it.  But...nothing. 

I love fishing...have since I was a little girl...and fly fishing has been calling to me for as long as I can remember!  I just need some instruction.  Anyone? 

Q: What was the first album you bought with your own money?

A: Amy Grant and I think the album name was My Father's Eyes. I'm sure I still have it...somewhere....

Q: Overall, which of the Seven Dwarfs best characterizes you?

A: Good GRIEF!! Well, I did process of elimination....not Bashful, Sleepy, or Sneezy.  I can't say that I'm consistently Happy or Grumpy, overall.  I swing pretty polar on those two emotions.  Daily.  So that left Dopey and Doc. 

And I'm Doc.  I wear glasses.  I tend to be bossy.  I get my words mixed up, if I can even FIND the words. My  little tunic is on the tight side.  I miss big, glaring things because I'm so busy getting everyone else lined out.

Yep.  Doc.

Q: Who is your pick to win the next year's (2012) Superbowl?

A. Not who do I want to win, but who do I PICK to win....entirely different horses, there.

Well, right now, everything is sort of in flux.  There are recruits being sought, coaches being hired, drafting, roughing up of personnel, illegal videos being sold. So it's a little tough to see what the teams are going to be like, right this minute.  That doesn't mean I'm going to flake out on the question, but when next Super Bowl rolls around, I don't want to be held against the wall for this prediction.  Fair enough?

We haven't seen a winner from the West in a long time.  And I think there's a lot of talent being gathered up, here, that isn't getting a whole lot of attention from national media.  The coaching has been TERRIBLE.  Wretched. Non-existent, really.  I love the teams from the West.  And they're going to be strong next year.  But none of them will win the Super Bowl. 

I'd pick the Jets. I hate them.  But they're stinking good.  

I think the 49ers will have a great year, and maybe even win our division.  But I have no delusions about their Super Bowl chances. 

There you go! 
Send any Crazy Mary questions to my email, and I'll happily answer them.

True Confession #296

I have a crush.

It runs pretty deep.
That would be down-playing it quite a lot, really.

Okay...so deep that the Farmer knows he wouldn't stand a chance, and has agreed to politely step aside, should my crush ever come calling.

(The odds of that actually happening are 25,000,000,000,000:1, so he's pretty safe.  But still...)

Just finding the pictures for this post...
Swoons-ville....*sigh*

(I made that larger, just for the other women who are reading this post and having heart flutters, frantically right-clicking to "save as" so they can use this image as a wallpaper...)

Yes.

George Strait

(We say that name with reverence, here....)

I learned to jitterbug in the dorm to his song, The Fireman and Unwound.

Drove hundreds of miles and wore out a couple cassette tapes of Amarillo By Morning.

Had a good cry when Easy Come, Easy Go coincided with a big break up.

Desperately wished upon a star that he would accidentally show up at a team roping in Billings.

He never did.

But I'm sure he really wanted to.

(I always wore make-up and did my hair...just in case.

I'm sure he'd wink at the girl turning out the steers, because she did a magnificent job and wore tinted lip gloss. Don't you?)

And it's not necessarily that he's a cowboy.  That's never really been a pre-requisite for crushing, in my world.  It doesn't HURT, but here's the funny thing: (ANOTHER true confession...) I never dated a cowboy.  Really. And married the Farmer! Who doesn't ride OR wear cowboy boots!

I think it's because he's such a gentleman. 
And because music is such a big thing to me.
And also because...well....my goodness...LOOK at him!

The really awful thing is:
I think my mom has a crush on him, too.

Anyway, Pandora has been very thoughtfully playing lots of George Strait this morning, and Sara H. could use a little inspiration.  I can't think of anything more inspiring, really, to post.

(And I know there are a lot of spiritual things I COULD post...Bible verses and links....but I'm pretty sure God gave us George.  And I, for one, am truly thankful....)

:)

BIG

Remember a couple posts back, where I set a couple reading projects for 2011? 
Pretty modest, except for War and Peace.....
I thought.

Perhaps, before boldly stating to the world that I'm going to read that AND a little tome called The Autobiography of Mark Twain, I should do a page count on both. And start lifting weights. 

Here, for your amusement and amazement, is a comparison photo...

It weighs a conservative 4 pounds. 

And I don't know if you can see on this crummy picture, but it's only Volume 1.

Gulp

If I fall asleep reading this one, it'll require stitches the next day.

Our Underground Bookclub selection this month is:

...a mere pamphlet, in comparison.  The Life and Times of The Thunderbolt Kid by Bill Bryson.

My selection!  So, I get to host the meeting in February, which means I get to take pictures and write about it here on the Chronicles.  And it's going to be a Valentine's Day brunch on Super Bowl Sunday afternoon....none of that makes any sense at all, does it?  Welcome to my universe...

Fortunately, we are having good reading weather...

I didn't take pictures of the fingernail marks on the walls beside the windows...



Postcards from the middle of nowhere...

You'll see floating cows and haystacks, in this post.

Well, not really....but they LOOK like they're floating, because you can't tell the sky from the ground. And they aren't even photoshopped!  Sadly...

This part of Montana is always rather vast and empty, even when the grass is green and the birds are making a ruckus; but in the winter, it feels like we're on another planet.  With cows.  Your head gets a little messed up when you look as hard as you can and can't tell distance or perspective...even three feet in front of you.  I can't run now, and not because of the volume of snow...I get vertigo and fall! (When one is NATURALLY dizzy, it's only enhanced by the weird snow phenomenon...)

Remember the cows who snuck into the yard on Christmas Eve?  They are LONGING to return.  They are PINING for the shed.  They LEAN on the fence, hoping it will give way and they will be able to rush back to their perceived Cow-topia.....

They are mad at me, because only MINUTES before I took this picture, I closed the big grey gate that had been snowed under.  They thought it was a sure thing, that they'd get in because there was no way I could possibly dig that bad boy out and get it shut.

They seriously misjudged my determination and strength.

They SERIOUSLY stood there, breathing heavily, watching me struggle....making cow bets. 

When I finally got it latched, you could feel the disgust in the air. 

You can't see from this picture of crabby cows, but if they REALLY wanted to, they could climb up that drift and hop over the top wire of the fence.  It's a HARD pile of snow that the Farmer plowed, and would easily support them.  #890 is smart and she took a trial run at it, after I went back to the house.  But she knew I was ready for her and decided to wait until I go to town or something.  I'll come back and she'll be in my junipers.  (She's the one who broke my yard fence and wanted to smear me into the garden shed. We're arch enemies.  I pray she never gets organized...)

Floating haystack.

Can you see the skyline?  No?

Me, neither.

Now picture that on a 360 degree turn.

And now pick yourself up off the floor if you're a natural blonde...

The trees are nearly buried.  And they're all 6 feet and taller...

Meanwhile, inside the house....

Twilla and her twin....

Squooshed cats, by a cabin fevered child....

Poor Figaro!

The sun is out today, and it's a balmy -1 degree F!

Spring is ALMOST here...

Right.

The Mom Games

I think we should do it. 
Have a series of events that showcase our talents and/or weaknesses.
It has probably already been done, truth be told, but this is my version...

Event #1: Dishwasher Diva- The moms will attempt to put as many dishes/pots/glasses/utensils into a dishwasher as they can.  The trick will be that at the end of the REGULAR cycle (not the potscrubber cycle) the fullest dishwasher with the CLEANEST dishes, wins.  There can't be chunks.  Spots happen, but no chunks.

Event #2: You Rang?- In this slightly more complicated event, the moms will give a life-insurance salesman all the pertinant information of the family, their medical history, social security numbers, allergies and dates of last shots, while making pancakes for 3 bawling, obviously STARVING children hanging on their person.  Points will be made for accuracy of detail, maintainence of pleasant tone of voice, quality of pancakes and number of children spanked. 

Event #3: She's Got It All- A test of physical strength and dexterity in which the moms try to get all the groceries for the family for a week (INCLUDING milk) in the least amount of trips. Moms must open the screen AND inside door, without dropping anything, and all the bags must remain intact to the kitchen counter.  Pets may not enter the house and children must be kept out of the groceries, no matter how badly they want the chocolate frosted sugar bombs....until all the groceries are delivered.

Event #4: What's For Supper?- One refridgerator, four ingredients, surprise company (family of four OR husband's boss) and a time limit. Fillers such as rice, noodles or bread crumbs are allowed, not counting toward the original four ingredients. Supper must pass a taste test of at least 2 family members, contain at least TWO separate and distinct dishes, and be done and on the table in 35 minutes or less, counting thawing time. The four ingredients will consist of things like: grape jelly, leftover green beans, 1/2 lb ground turkey (or is it?) and Greek yogurt.


Event #5: Washed Up- (You were waiting for it, weren't you?  The laundry...) Moms participating in this event will have three equally challenging tasks; sorting/stain recognition, actual laundering, and fold/put away speed round.  (No sock match-up.  Everyone knows socks never match up.  That would be a pointless challenge...) 

In the sort/stain recognition, moms must quickly sort impossible color combinations (such as red and white striped 100% cotton shirts) while detecting stains and treating them.  Points counted off for missing stains and/or having only two piles; darks and lights.  

In the actual laundering portion, moms must fill the washer to its maximum capacity with previously sorted clothes and subsequently, the dryer.  Points will be made on the cleanliness of clothes and actual dryness. (Meaning the clothes have to ACTUALLY have been washed and not just smell of soap, AND there must be no detectable dampness in the jeans and towels.)  

The third and last portion of the challenge will consist of folding neatly and sorting into piles for each family member and the final entombment of finished laundry in drawers.  The points here are on speed and neatness.  Clothes that are crammed into drawers are unacceptable and only one article of clothing per hanger.  

Event #6: My Tummy Hurts- (Anyone signing up for this event, voluntarily, will first be subjected to a series of psychological tests to determine mental fitness. Only someone crazy would sign up for an event containing possible puking.) It takes place at 2:00 in the morning.  Moms in THIS event will be given a glass of wine, comfy bed and no clean towels. (Most will be sleeping HARD by the time it all goes down. But not for long.) Children will be given red koolaid, spaghetti and only one change of pajamas.  I'll spare you the rest.  Any mom still able to make coffee before 6 a.m. and make toast will be given an automatic medal of valor. 

There are tons of other events that can and should be considered as part of the games, but you get the idea with this list....

Most moms participate daily!  But any who choose to compete in the Mom Games on a national level should win some sort of vacation on an island, with frosty rum drinks and no clocks to be found...

Are you in?

Doh!-nuts

I love donuts.

Who doesn't, really?

Another big confession: (TWO!  You get a two-fer Tuesday...lucky you.)

I like those personality quiz/analysis things you can take that tell you what kind of dog you resemble (border collie) or color that describes you (red) or place you should be living according to how you answer the pathetic multiple choice quiz (luxury villa in the south of France).  I can hardly pass them by. 

And not because I think they'll bring to light any deep mysteries of my psyche or anything.  I like to try to stump them, truthfully.  Which is crazy, I know, because I'm sort of trying to stump myself! (A naturally occuring phenomenon that doesn't need any assistance whatsoever...) Is that not the dumbest thing you've ever read? 

Fasten your seatbelts, folks...it gets dumber....

The mind reels....

SO

I was sneaking half a cherry fritter out of the appallingly loud plastic wrapped container, to soak up the coffee that I may have made a leetle too strong this morning. (Before you start clucking...I KNOW I could dilute it with water, but cherry fritters are a better choice.  The caffeine is absorbed into the fried, glazed dough and time released through out the morning.  That's right.  Stick with me, kid...and take notes.)  In the delicate process of freeing the donut, I thought about how people have very specific preferences on donuts and how it perhaps explained certain facets of their personalities. 

For your reading pleasure, my unscientific list of "If you like this type....then you are this type" using donuts as a personality indicator:

Maple bar- Classic person with classic style.  You probably make sure the pictures on your wall are balanced and square, your clothes are basic colors that can be mix-and-matched with each other, and more than likely you have something with your monogram on it...somewhere. Pearls? Check. Navy blazer? Check. Pot roast on Sunday? check. 

Chocolate with sprinkles- DRAMA! Your tastes run to the bold and flamboyant.  Other people may sit in chairs on the edge of the dance floor, but you're the first one on the floor, hoping for a good tango.  You like red velvet cake.  With sprinkles. When asked to describe your wardrobe, the first thing that would leap to mind is "color, and lots of it"!

Cake donut- Ah, you are the steady, stable one that all of us call for good advice. Just enough sweet to make you approachable, you are immovable in your convictions and content in your own skin.  You probably drive a good car that has been paid off for years, and there are no ruffles in your closet! (The clothes, however, are hung by color family and type.)

Bismarck (filled)- Sentimental, tender and thoughtful, you are the one who remembers to send birthday cards on time. No one can hurry you...you take your time in life, appreciating the details and soaking up the little moments.  YOU are the one with ruffles....or perhaps a fine mohair sweater. You've probably read Pride and Predjudice more than once....*sigh*

Fritter- You're on the run!  A person with places to go and people to see, no time for straightening pictures or that nonsense.  Your attention is short, but your list of interests is long.  People find you fascinating, but they can't keep up....so they take blurry pictures of you and wave as you move to the next cool thing. Carnivals are your favorite place, because of the rides and portable food.

Glazed- You don't like a lot of attention drawn to yourself.  Flying under the radar is your modus operandi!  Quiet and perhaps a bit shy, you wear a lot of beige and your house is decorated in pastels.  You're a soothing sort of soul that is like a good cup of tea on a brisk day. One-on-one conversations are your style, and you always write thank-you notes within 24 hours of recieving a gift. 

Holes- You think outside the box.  What the heck...you live outside the box.  Actually, you're not sure where the box is, nor do you care!  You pride yourself on your uniqueness and unusual way of looking at life....unfortunately, you are so busy being odd that you haven't noticed there are a lot of that same sort! Anyone looking in your closet would get dizzy, with all the choices. And there is curry powder in your spice rack, just so people wonder what you've been cooking up.

There are a lot of other types....if I've missed yours, feel free to add it on a sticky note!

And I'm going to try to get the glaze off the keyboard, now...

Muscles!

Well, THAT threw you for a loop, didn't it?

I'm starting to appreciate mine.

When I was younger....much, much, much younger....the cool thing was NOT to have muscles, but to be tiny, feminine and hollow cheeked.

I come from a family (on both sides, really) with strong, muscular women. As a teen, I always hated wearing shorts or shorter skirts because my calves looked SO BIG!  I stayed away from tank tops because my arms had noticable biceps. I couldn't wear leggings with the long shirts...it looked like I had sausages for legs! It was NOT cool to have muscles in the 80's....or the 90's.... 

When I lived with Yosts, and worked at the arena, Kellie Y. and I regularly packed portable corral panels, individually. (Made of pipe, about 5 feet tall and 10 feet long)  We wanted very much to have Ty and George's approval and they did appreciate it, I think.  And lifting the 50 pound gate to let steers in the chute certainly toned our arms up, since we did that about 400 times in a day, 2-3 days a week, 12 weeks in a row. 

It came to our attention, though, that we were always the chute help and never the dates.

That's right! The delicate, feminine chicks went to the dances afterward, while we rubbed our sore muscles and fell into bed.

We got the big jobs that broke fingernails and made you smell like steers as early as 8 a.m.

Drats.

It appeared muscles were a big detriment, when dating cowboys.

(Real ranchers, however, choose wives BASED on their muscles and cooking ability...lucky for me!)

So most of my life, I've been ashamed of my muscular body, hiding anything that resembled a strong shape under long sleeves or jeans.

Heaven forbid I venture near a swim suit!

The last couple years, however, have changed all that.

First, it has become REALLY COOL to have muscles! 

Have you picked up a Shape or Fitness magazine, lately? Or an Athleta catalog?

Muscles are becoming....well.....can it be?.....sexy!

Bout darn time!

And then, my daughter has been showing me her muscles. 

She stretches, bends, flexes, runs and checks to see if they are bigger...

and asks me if I like her strong, fast legs.

They are beautiful, baby.

She delights, absolutely thrills, in the muscles I hated all my life!

They're a source of strength and beauty, a symbol of ability and speed!

Now, when I look in the mirror, I still first cringe and think, "too big". 

But I've learned to look again, with kinder eyes.

I see arms that can still lift panels, carry growing children with ease, beat eggs, row a kayak and heave salt sacks.

 I see my mom and my grandma.

I see legs that can run as far as I ask them, dance with great joy, act as springs when I ride the wheeler, climb hills, power a shovel, and kick balls back to my babies.

I see my Dutton cousins and great aunts.

I'm enjoying seeing what they can do, now that I've made peace with them.

I've found I'd much rather push them a little and feel them ache, than to neglect them and forget they're there.

I show Maggie my muscles, after she shows me hers, and she hopes that someday hers will be that big!

So do I.

Between the lines...

Aunt Rosie sent me a Red Raider hat around Christmas time and Angus had SERIOUS Guns Up envy.  To the point I had to hide the cap in my running shoes to be able to keep it. 

A couple weeks later, another package showed up in the mail with two more Red Raider hats!

We love them!  So, for Rosie, here we are in our Guns Up hats (as Angus calls them). 

(Had to take it with the tri-pod and timer, so it's a little...off.)

I guess you all know that the Red Raiders won their Ticket City Bowl game, 45-38, against Northwestern.

I'm Back!

My friend Sara, who apparently has even less of a life than I do (bless her heart), wrote me an email yesterday asking, "Are the Chronicles dead?"  She checks them daily. 

The Chronicles are NOT dead, but they are clinically depressed. 

"Do you have any ideas?", I queried, back, after assuring her that it was a lack of inspiration and not permanent closure of the site.

Well....as a matter of fact.....SO glad you asked.....
She had about 24 ideas and counting.
And she sent them back FAST! 

Sara would like to see more book posts, for starters.  Like, what books am I planning to read in 2011? 

Rubbing palms together, pencil in my hair, tea by my side, I proceeded to do some research.
(One mustn't rush into literature posts, you know.  That would be incredibly irresponsible and the repercussions could be severe, should a Chronicles reader walk up to me on the street and tie into me about, say, The Treasure of MontSegur, claiming it caused them permanent mental distress and several sleepless nights.  Ask my bookclub girls...)(That's a GREAT book, by the way.  But you have to be a big girl/boy to read it. And no, I can't tell you why....)

I've always wanted to say I read War and Peace.  Don't you think that's the mark of someone well-read?  If you ask them, "So, have you REALLY read War and Peace?" and they confidently say, "YES.  Several years ago..."  (Never mind that it actually TOOK them several years...they took on the challenge and did it.)

So, I'm going to read War and Peace.  I feel confident that I can, having taken Anna Karenina and Les Miserables on and finished them.  They were little old starter books, I think.  Gulp.

I want to read Mark Twain's Autobiography, published as per his request 100 years after his death.  Doesn't that intrigue you? It sounds positively juicy to me!

The Woman in White, by Wilkie Collins is next.  I really should've already done this, but I was busy with Les Mis....(That's my standard reading excuse, now.  Just WAIT until I finish War and Peace! "Oh, I didn't get to that; I was on page 1058 of War and Peace...  Maybe next year, darling...")

I try to read some contemporary books, too; not just dusty, pretentious old classics.

I have my eye on David Baldacci's Hell's Corner, The Sweet Life in Paris by David Lebowitz, Minding Frankie by Maeve Binchy, and the next #1 Ladies Detective Agency novel. 

After looking at 100 Books You Must Read Before You Die, and noting it didn't have any Calvin and Hobbes, Louis L'Amour or Patrick McManus, I threw it out and decided to make my own list. 

What about you? Any literature goals for the year?
(Want to read War and Peace with me?)

Christmas in the country...

Twas the night before Christmas,

And next to the house

Everything was rockin'

Because of the cows.

They snuck in the back way,

They snuck in the shed.

They snuggled right down

In our old flower bed.

We pulled in the yard

With our tired kids and then

The headlights revealed

Where those bad cows had been!

The bovines were snotty

And huffy and mad.

Cause we'd come to shut down

All the fun that they'd had.

While Pa in his Muck boots

And I in my heels

Ventured forth to evict them

And call them "soon meals"...

Out on the lawn,

There arose such a clatter,

The dogs sprang from their slumber

To see what was the matter.

One Hamburger Helper

Was a little too quick,

She took out the fence

And made me feel sick.

Pa ran them off

And then parked the car

They trotted right out,

But they didn't go far.

We swung shut the gate,

And locked it up tight.

But we heard them complain

As we tromped out of sight...

"Merry Cow-mas to all....

We're just done for tonight!"

*True story