Like a Rhinestone Cowboy...

*Are you already singing that in your head, now? Yeah...me, too....

When I hear this song, I'm five years old, again; Glen Campbell singing through the countertop radio, right before lunch when it would change to Paul Harvey and the livestock reports. 

The kids and I were in Miles City last weekend and as we were going through Walmart (otherwise known as Retail Hell for me), I glanced over at a big bin of cheap music cds.  There, lying amongst Eminem and Cher, was Glen Campbell's Greatest Hits, so I reached over and checked out the back.  Sure enough, all my favorites!  It was five bucks, so I decided to get it for the ride home...a nice break from the endless Blake Shelton and that scraggly guy that married Nicole Kidman (what's his name?). 

I slid the cd in the player, as we left town, and right away I was a kid again.  Isn't it amazing how music can transport a person through years and drop her back in the 70's?  Gentle on My Mind was the first song; perfect for driving.  Maggie was entranced by Dreams of the Everyday Housewife and we had to play it three times. (I squirmed, listening to it....hit a little too close to home, you know? I can't tell you how I fear ending up in a housedress, looking at the wrinkles on my face and wondering where the girl went! It's the housedress that makes me shudder...)

We drove on through the brown and tan October-in-Montana prairie, with The Witcheta Lineman and Galveston carrying us northward.  I had to play Country Boy (You've Got Your Feet in L.A.) a couple times because it's fun to sing. 

And then Rhinestone Cowboy.  I laughed, because I'd forgotten some of the lyrics and it's funny listening as a grown up; the song is something totally different with adult ears!  I wished my sissie was in the car with me, to belt out the chorus at the top of our lungs like we did, to my Mom's great annoyance. I looked down, to see if maybe I WAS 6 years old, in polyester bellbottoms, accidentally driving a car, but no...I'm still grown up....just with a little kid heart, singing "...riding out on a horse in a star-spangled rodeo..."

In case you've forgotten the song, OR (and this would be tragic) have never heard it, here's a link to the youtube video:

*Caution!!! The video is perhaps the cheesiest thing I've ever seen!  Don't watch if you're someplace you can't laugh out loud.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=atHY8rDBhtI

Ah, Glen...thanks for the great music.  Quintessential 1970's country...
Now.
Who likes Tanya Tucker?

Under construction...

I'm sorry this is SUCH a mess, but I wanted a change for this raggedy old blog!  It's going to take me awhile to get everything in order....like taking apart a room and putting it back together differently.  So...this is like my living room; same old furniture in different corners with new throw pillows! Or something.

Thanks!

Let's see....now, where was I...?

A college football post is a terrible place for a blog to die...

Well, it's no coincidence that the Chronicles stopped cold 24 hours before I turned 40. 
I couldn't stand the thought of trying to square off and face that dragon in my own lair.
Now, for those of you who have not yet turned 40, and for those of you who are past 40(stylishly), this is not a big deal.  Forty, shmorty!

It's a big honkin' deal, okay?!

All those surveys in the back of magazines and on websites?  I just jumped a bracket.  And in Shape magazine, it was a significant jump.  I'm only two brackets away from the final one....60+.   (Cold sweat...)

I can no longer shop at Maurices without getting that sweet little teenage clerk who asks if I'm buying something for my daughter.  I can no longer shop at Maurices, period.  (Not that this is a big deal; I never shop there.  It's just that I probably shouldn't, now.)

I HAVE to get mammograms, now!  It's no longer optional!  (I'm pretty sure the Mammo-cops will be showing up any day, now, to escort me to my manditory appointment...)

Probably should look into the add-on moisturizers from Mary Kay.  I can no longer pretend that all I need are the basics.  I've gotta spring for the plumping serums and smoothing creams, to fill in all the lines that somehow appeared to deepen after September 18th.  (Sniffle)

All those cards that were HILARIOUS at Hallmark a couple years ago have really lost a lot of their humor. 

Get this: the little "you can't buy beer or cigarettes unless you were born after this date" sign is the year after I graduated from high school. After!!! (You laugh; it's a blow, sweetie....just you wait!)

I turn up the car radio...not so I can be all bad, but so I can hear it.  (SOB!)

The word "matronly" is applicable.

Kid Rock turned 40 this year, too, and released an album that, except for one or two songs, could probably be played with kids in the room.  I'm serious!  What happened?!?  


I can't go on....

Let's just say that I've had a hard time coming to terms with the big 4-0.
My mother is positively gleeful at my angst!

And, so, the blogging stopped for awhile.

Coincidentally, the fall cow work began the next day and I haven't really had a moment to think of anything else.  John Moore, a Miles City author who deigned to join our bookclub one evening, told us that his stories came to him while he was riding and trailing cows.  Mine, obviously, don't. 

I have another 4 posts, brewing in my head, but I need to put babies to bed and read a paper for the Farmer's Intro to Government class. 

Don't go far...!

It's not crazy, it's football!

College football fans are perhaps the most superstitious, zealous people you'll ever encounter.  Trust me.
You may have seen Green Bay Packer Cheeseheads and thought, "Whoa.  Those dudes are over the top!"  but they ain't nothin' compared to college football fans. 

College football can take the ordinarily level-headed, conservative, laid-back person and turn him into....well....a very strange person who only wears red and black socks, inside out, unwashed for six games, stepping only on every third tile of their kitchen during commercials.  This is because six games ago, his team won big and unexpectedly while this piece of wardrobe was on his body. 

College football fans can remember incredible details during a season. The brand of potato chips and how many were in their hand when their team lost (Not buying BBQ Lays for the rest of the season), the exact outfit, right down to underwear and nail polish (if it applies),  the mug they were drinking coffee from THAT morning, and the list goes on and on. 

Here's the funny thing:  when asked directly whether they think their little rituals actually affect the outcome of the game, they'll appropriately tell you, "Nah...that's crazy!  It's the coach/players/weather conditions/etc."  but in their hearts and heads, they KNOW that if they screw up the lucky sock and mug combo that day, that the team doesn't have a chance, no matter how well they play. 

I am one of those....logically, I know that a woman in Montana who wears all the "right" clothes and flies the lucky flag and uses the lucky mug will NOT cause the Red Raiders to win the game.  I said, logically.  However, I can't help doing all those things, just-in-case-I-have-super-powers-that-even-I-don't-know-about to help them win.  The handy thing is that I'm already considered crazy, so this is just overlooked in my house.  Crazy is as crazy does, you know...

It gets WAY worse, though, in some people.  Some fans actually schedule weddings and birth inductions around games, so they won't miss a thing!  Painting a room in lucky colors, mowing the college logo into their lawn, naming their dog "Gator"....all these things.  Don't take this as a prejudiced statement, it's just an observation, but I think college football fans are crazier in the south.  Of course, this may be due to the fact that anyone who paints their chest in school colors in Montana will freeze into a solid block of ice in September, much less November! 

Today, TTU is playing University of New Mexico, there.  And yes, we're wearing the red and black, observing all the lucky rites, wishing we didn't have to preg test at the EXACT time of the game.  (That's going to really throw the luck factor off.  If they win, will we have to preg test EVERY away game? Tricky.)

Guns up!

The Ten Commandments of College Football

From Southern Living Magazine September 2011 Issue

1. Thou shalt wear team colors. But think twice before adorning yourself with body paint—you don’t want to be the Internet photo that goes viral.


2. Thou shalt know—and sing—your team’s fight song from beginning to end. Sure, you can “watermelon watermelon” your way through the alma mater, but not memorizing the fight song is a fan failure.


3. Thou shalt keep your language clean (unless, of course, the quarterback fumbles on fourth and goal).


4. Thou shalt support the coach. Even when his calls are questionable.


5. Thou shalt be respectful to visiting teams. Remember: Southern ladies and gentlemen never boo.


6. Thou shalt set up a tailgate no fewer than three hours before kickoff (six if it’s a night game). Table linens and matching huggers encouraged, but not required.


7. Thou shalt theme your tailgate food around the visiting rival. Gator bites, anyone?


8. Thou shalt stay through the fourth quarter—rain or shine. That’s what ponchos are for, y’all.


9. Thou shalt respect the solemnity of Game Day by planning weddings, births, and other life events around the football schedule.


10. Thou shalt not covet other teams’ bowl games, national championships, or Heisman Trophy wins. There’s always next year.

Tomorrow, we discuss the paranoid mindset of the college football fan, in which they are responsible for the absolute victory or failure of their team.


This post is done in TTU Red Raiders colors, even though it is admittedly hard to read....(see above note on tomorrow's forthcoming post)

Movin' cows...

This week, the focus of our days is movin' cows.  We're getting ready to preg-test on Saturday, and need to start preconditioning the calves for shipping in a month, so we're bring all the bunches closer to the main place.  The weather has cooled down nicely, so it's not blistering hot on the wheelers, which makes it nice!

Yesterday afternoon, we gathered a big bunch out of the northern-most pasture on the place. It is a wretched pasture to try to find cows...rough, mean country with lots of deep little draws and steep buttes.  No place for 4wheelers, really; that's when I really wish we had horses!  It's the kind of place where I spent most of my time trying to figure out what the odds were that my wheeler would roll (60%, strong) and writing my obituary in my head. I was thinking how sad it was going to be, that I died just a few days shy of my 40th birthday. 

And the cows KNOW we can't get anywhere, which is the most maddening part!  They stand there, ten feet away, on the other side of Death Divide and watch with unabashed amusement and mock me.  I can just hear them thinking, "Alright, honey...you think I'm gonna move?  You think you can get over here and make me?  Bring it!"   After a while, they get bored watching me try to grind around, especially when the wheeler doesn't actually roll, and start ambling off in the wrong direction.  Another crazy-making tactic of theirs, designed to make me jump off the wheeler and stomp around, yelling ineffectively at them.  I can tell by the set of their ears that they are laughing at me....and it probably IS funny, this woman jumping up and down on the edge of the wheeler-eatin' coullee, making empty threats about all-beef sausage...

It's exhausting, because my wheeler is a big, heavy Honda Foreman and my arms and shoulders are in constant tension.  My legs are shock absorbers, especially when we're in country where there's a lot of potholes and sagebrush. 

Speaking of sagebrush and vegetation, the grasses are so high in this pasture right now that one can't really see the crevices and holes!  I hadn't realized it until W. pointed it out, but after doing this for so long, we intuitively know what types of grasses grow where and avoid those "hole grasses" before we get in a jackpot.  Most of the time, that is.  The tricky thing about all this is that we have to watch the terrain directly in front of us while scanning the country in the distance for cows.  I am not nearly as good at this as the guys, being rather fond of the whole "come back in one piece" way of thinking. 

We finally did end up getting all the pairs together and moved south, before dark, which was good.  And today we have a couple little bunches to gather, but in MUCH nicer pastures.  Updates will be forthcoming!

Farmgirl Fashion Part II

She's killin' me....

(Someday, when she's 13, she's really going to be happy about these photos, don't you think?)

I'm glad she went for a less raggedy hat, and she's rockin' those stripe-y tights!

For Shelly

(Besides, don't you think every blog should have a little eye candy in a post, once in a while?)

*sigh*

The List

A week or so ago, I picked up a Cowboys and Indians magazine outside the library in Jordan. Now you must know, I usually don't read this publication because of the complete dude-i-ness of it, but this one had Tom Selleck on the cover and I nearly swooned right there in the hall.  (But that's another post, altogether...)

The magazine was predictably Holly-weird with jewel-encrusted boots, two-billion dollar "rustic" Montana homes near Bozeman, and toothpick models that looked completely mad at having to wear all the western clothes until they could get a real job with Vogue magazine.  There WERE about 15 pictures of Tom Selleck, though, and that reduced the embarrassment of having it in my house! 

Tucked in the middle of all the nonsense was a review of an album that Roseanne Cash put out in 2009, called The List.  It turns out that at one point in her life, she was riding in the tour bus with her dad, Johnny Cash, and he mentioned a classic song that she'd never heard.  He tossed out another song and she didn't know that one either.  She says that her dad later sat down and wrote out a list of 100 essential country songs that he thought she should know.  Sadly, she can't find the list now, but the album is a compilation of some of those that were on it. 

The story alone piqued my interest, but there was also a mention of her cover of Sea of Heartbreak with Bruce Springsteen, of all people.  I went to the computer, to YouTube, to see if I could find the song and sure enough, there it was!  (If you click on the song title, above, you can listen to it, too.)

I couldn't stop listening.
I went to Amazon to find her MP3 album, checked out other tracks, and couldn't stop listening.

She puts her own spin on the classics, but does it while maintaining the integrity of the original song.  I was astonished that she would dare cover Patsy Cline's She's Got You...talk about iconic...but she did, and it was great.  Silver Wings, Long Black Veil, Heartaches by the Number, 500 Miles....brilliantly executed in Rosanne Cash's style. 

I can't stop listening.

It's a mellow, classic country album, but anything but stodgy. 
I'm shamelessly plugging it here on the Chronicles, because I want someone else to be excited by this find of mine!

Maggie has a sense of style that is incomparable.
Really.
And I'm not saying it's great or awful, or anything like that....the only word I can use here IS "incomparable"!

This morning, she hustled back to her bedroom after breakfast and put together an outfit that didn't exactly match, but didn't exactly clash, either.  She was so tickled with the results and felt especially fine!  And it was pretty funky second grade fashion, but if she likes it, good enough. 

HOWEVER....
She decided it was a bit cool out (47 degrees/she's right) so she dug around in the winter drawer and found a cap and gloves to complete the randomly chic ensemble. 

The black scarf is actually an added accessory to the original outfit, because one is never really dressed without that touch of elegance.  It says "This girl knows how to make an otherwise ordinary (?) outfit POP!"

Or something. 

And I'm sure I don't have to point out the John Deere emblem on the gloves...

See how pleased she is?

And of all the caps she could've chosen, the raggedy old brown one lends a certain note of understated modish ragamuffin princess.

Now, I know there are mothers who insist on their kids wearing matching outfits to school, and goodness knows I like things pulled together myself, but Maggie and I butt heads over so many things that I decided I would only intervene in her fashion choices if they were inappropriate for the weather or the event.

Besides, it's really interesting to see what she thinks is cool and what makes her feel pretty!

Stay tuned for the frog outfit....

Zucchini and Olive Flatbread from bookclub, for Sara H.

Total Time: 35 min.

Prep: 8 min.
Cook: 27 min.
Yield: 4 to 6 servings .
Level: Easy
Zucchini and Olive Flatbread Recipe
courtesy Food Network, Giada de Lorentis
Ingredients:
All-purpose flour, for dusting
1 pound pizza dough
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil plus extra, for drizzling
1 large (8 ounce) zucchini, trimmed and cut into 1/8-inch slices
2 tablespoons chopped fresh oregano leaves, divided
1 1/2 cups (4 ounces) shredded mozzarella 1 cup (2 1/2 ounces) grated Pecorino Romano
1/2 cup pitted sliced black olives (Traci used kalamata olives)

Directions: Place an oven rack in the lower third of the oven. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees F.

On a lightly floured work surface, roll out the dough into a 12-inch circle. With a pastry brush, brush 1 tablespoon of the oil over the dough. Using the tines of a fork, prick the dough all over. Arrange the zucchini slices in a single layer on top of the dough. Drizzle the zucchini with oil. Bake the dough for 18 to 20 minutes until the edges begin to brown. Remove the bread from the oven, sprinkle with 1 tablespoon of oregano, the cheeses, and the olives. Bake for 5 to 7 minutes until the cheeses are melted and bubbly.

Sprinkle the flatbread with the remaining oregano, cut into wedges and serve.

©Television Food Network G.P.

Password Protected

When I read that phrase "password protected", I groan to myself.

It means, essentially, that every account I have is well-protected...from me. 
Everything requres a password, now; I'm sorta surprised we don't have to choose one to access our refrigerator.  And I understand the need for them...of course I want my very important information protected! I mean, what would I do if someone hacked my Good Reads account and changed my reading progress on Innocents Abroad from page 203 to 165?  I'd never recover...

 I didn't used to mind the passwords.  I'd use the same one on everything, no big deal.  My fingers would automatically type the magic words, I'd get in and post a story to Blogger, badda-bing badda-boom.  But now I have to come up with passwords of varying lengths, symbols and letter combos, GPS location, etc.  I always get yelled at by the computer because I come up with a brilliant password to my way of thinking, but it does not fall under their rule of 6-21 letters, two symbols, three numbers, and the name of my sister's mother-in-law's first dog.  Tricky. 

When I actually DO stumble upon that magic combination and type it twice, I'm disinclined to write it down, unless it's for work.  I try to keep a list of my personal passwords, somewhere, but usually need a map to find the secret special hiding spot for the list...(so no one can find it and abuse the ToysRUs account).  I am one of those that the businesses thoughtfully developed that little "Forgot your password?" button for.  Why, yes; yes I DID!  But in order to access the sweet "here, moron, is your 22 character password, AGAIN"  message, I have to remember the password to my email.   Which I just changed.  DRATS!

Call me crazy...

...but I really want this little table.

I know.

It's silly and wouldn't go with anything and would cause very nice people that don't deserve the shock to swoon in horror....

I'd love to walk into a room and see those pointy feet sticking out, all whimsical and uncaring of what anyone thought of them, save delight!

It's a terrible picture, taken with my phone camera in Philipsburg in an odd little shop...as most shops in Philipsburg, MT tend to be.  I almost need to go back and get it....

Premiere Bookclub of 2011!

Bookclub was at my house last night! 
It has been a LONG summer, with very few opportunities to get together, so we were all a little giddy just to see one another. 

Celestia drove all the way from Bigfork, MT to co-host with me and it was the most laid-back "get ready for Bookclub" day I've ever had....we'd swab a little, talk a lot, feed people, repeat.  All the girls started showing up before the men and children had been evicted, so for a few minutes it was not only giddy, it was downright wild.  Maggie was torn between trying to stay at bookclub with The Ladies or going fishing with The Men.  Child of my heart, she went fishing, so the house remained child-free, which was the o-riginal plan. 

Were you wondering about the menu? Mmmhmmm....there are those who think we get together merely to eat and cackle, that the book is a mere front for a hen party.  Well, here's the deal:  when a reading group is made up of the best cooks in the county, it's hard NOT to focus on eating!  And because I know Sara H. is gnashing her teeth, wanting me to get to the food part (she'd fit right in and I hope someday she comes for bookclub) here's the menu:

Chocolate martinis and strawberry daiquiris by Marisa.
(I couldn't imagine chocolate martinis, either, but they really are quite tasty.  Sort of like grown up chocolate milk, without all that pesky dairy...)

Zucchini and olive flatbread appetizers by Traci.
(Recipe to follow...and yes! zucchini!)

Israeli cucumber salad by Celestia.
(It was so clean and summery!  I had some for breakfast this morning...perfect.)

French bread with cheese, garlic, sun-dried tomatos by Anne and Nancy.
(I do love sun-dried tomatos and cheese...on ANYTHING.  This was wonderful.)

Chicken Tikka Masala on cous cous by me.
(Recipe at the end of the post...it will read like I made it up after the chocolate martinis, but it's really and truly the recipe and it really and truly is good!)

TWO...no, wait...THREE desserts!
Chocolate whipped cream torte-y and/or brownies by Heather (who was not in attendance but sent dessert anyway, bless her heart) and cream puffs filled with whipped cream, topped with fresh strawberries by Traci. 
(It is our belief that a bookclub can never have too many desserts.  We simply cannot choose, either, so we eat all of them in the spirit of equality.)

(We read The Innocents Abroad by Mark Twain...if anyone is interested. In fact, most of us are STILL reading it. We discovered at last night's bookclub that it's really much better when read aloud!)

And the pictures!

Martinis in the making....

Anne is smiling because, well, they ARE good!

Grilling the chicken for the tikka masala was a LOT more tolerable with the chocolate martini.

Here's the flatbread, fresh from the oven....mmmm!

Testing 1-2-3....

YES!  We have a winner!  And it was, too.  Almost just stopped right there, with the meal...

The bread was still in the broiler, so that's why the empty spot on the plate.  As a rule, we don't allow empty spots on plates at bookclub.  Those cucumbers were the perfect balance to the spicy tikka masala.

Bon appetit!

Oh, that's right...we DID read a book.  Clara and Marisa had the ebooks; interesting, because Clara had read 39% of the book and Marisa had e-notes.  The rest of us had turned down corners, sticky notes and had no idea what percent of the book we'd read....if any.  (I wish to point out to Anonymous who wanted the skinny lens and nose reduction in the First Day of School post, that those were applied here.  You're welcome!)

I don't know if you can tell, but this is: big layer of real whipped cream, small layer of chocolate wafers, repeat.  Pair it with really rich, black coffee...bliss.

See the cream puffs in the center of the table?  Just in case we didn't get enough cream in the other dessert, we had those to graze on, too.  I didn't even realize the brownies were on the counter until everyone was packing up to go!

Traci, in English teacher mode, with rapt students!

 Isn't she cute? (She's gonna kill me for the thumbs up picture, so here's a little different angle, in apology.)

Anne's mother in law, Nancy, who lives in Great Britain joins us about once a year for bookclub.

It turns out, her bookclub in England doesn't discuss things like bear grease, sidling, hairy underarms or anything interesting like that at all!  Apparently, they really do examine things like plot, characters, point of view and other literary things. 

She also says they've never worn pajamas or tiaras to her bookclub meetings.

The dear woman appeared to have survived OUR meeting with little or no apparent post traumatic stress disorder, but that could've been because of the chocolate martinis...

(A side note, here....Nan has GREAT shoes.  And she's going to France next week. *sniff*)

Anne and Clara, listening to an anecdote that most surely involved....

...cats hanging on the window screen?

....bears?

....two chocolate martinis on an empty stomach?

My charming boy....

Well, it WAS a bookclub.  Read to me, please!

And the recipe for Chicken Tikka Masala!

It looks weird.

It IS weird, in a really delectable way.

Try it...really....and you won't be sorry!

Ingredients

1 cup yogurt
1 tablespoon lemon juice
2 teaspoons ground cumin
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 teaspoons cayenne pepper
2 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper
1 tablespoon minced fresh ginger
4 teaspoons salt, or to taste

6 boneless skinless chicken breasts, cut into bite-size pieces
6 long skewers

1 tablespoon butter
1 clove garlic, minced
1 jalapeno pepper, finely chopped
2 teaspoons ground cumin
2 teaspoons paprika
3 teaspoons salt, or to taste
1 (8 ounce) can tomato sauce
1 cup heavy cream
1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro

Directions

1.In a large bowl, combine yogurt, lemon juice, 2 teaspoons cumin, cinnamon, cayenne, black pepper, ginger, and 4 teaspoons salt. Stir in chicken, cover, and refrigerate for 1 hour or longer.

2.Preheat a grill for high heat.

3.Lightly oil the grill grate. Thread chicken onto skewers, and discard marinade. Grill until juices run clear, about 5 minutes on each side.

4.Melt butter in a large heavy skillet over medium heat. Saute garlic and jalapeno for 1 minute. Season with 2 teaspoons cumin, paprika, and 3 teaspoons salt. Stir in tomato sauce and cream. Simmer on low heat until sauce thickens, about 20 minutes. Add grilled chicken, and simmer for 10 minutes. Transfer to a serving platter, and garnish with fresh cilantro.

Fishing

...is not the same as catching.

The thing is, there's no such thing as bad fishing.  There's fishing where you catch nothing....that's bad catching.  There's fishing when the conditions are miserable and when the company is intolerable, but the simple act of fishing, itself, is never bad.  

We went fishing, last night, in a little prairie puddle-pond that might've had fish.  We'll never know, because we didn't catch any.  We DID, however, meet thousands of frogs and toads....

She's got quite a cast....

I love the smile on her face!

Angus is very serious about fishing.  He doesn't smile.

This is nothing to be silly about, you know.

Looking for the good spot...

Hundreds of thousands of frogs and toads...the bullfrogs were so interesting to me, with their long, strange faces.

This is my favorite picture!  PopPops and Angus, fishing away...

If you're squeamish, don't look!  Maggie caught a frog, and I had to take it off the hook....it was awful. 

One more shot and then we're going home to Grandma, peaches and ice cream.

My daughter....so independent and beautiful!  This picture takes my breath away, because it captures her little seven year old essence with the princess hat and grubby shorts, little strong body.

I caught a dragon fly

or perhaps, it caught me.

Sun going down on the prairie....

Better luck next time, with the catching, but one can hardly get luckier than this, with the fishing!

My favorite book, when I was little-little, was Dr. Suess' ABCs...
I'm sure every mother and K-2 teacher reading this can close their eyes and say with me:

Big A, little a
What begins with A?
Aunt Annie's alligator;
A-a-A

My favorite letter, my mother tells me, was G...goat, girl, goo-goo goggles; G-g-G.  I liked the goggles on the girl!  Strange, because I had glasses when I was 3 and hated them....

Anyway,
I was out taking cow/flower/kid pictures a couple weeks ago and found an A in the yard.  Just hanging out at the swingset, waiting for someone to notice...so I took its picture, just to make it happy.  Then a B showed up, although he was a little more reticent to make himself known.  But C...she pushed her way boldly into my frame and I couldn't ignore her.  I found a couple more letters, but I'm not happy with them.  I'm still looking.  G is very elusive...

(There are Chicka-chicka-boom-boom fans here, too....I'll meet YOU at the top of the coconut tree!)

To be continued...

Guns Up!

College football is back, and we are happy!!!

Okay, I am happy and the others are merely mildly tolerant...

by the end of the season, the kids are more into the games and Angus love to holler "Go Red Raiders!"

And EVERY football team wearing red...49ers, Cardinals...every one of 'em is Our Red Raiders, according to him.

"There's Our Red Raiders, Mom!"

"No, baby...those are the 49ers, playing like third graders in a midnight flag football game with no headlamps.  Cheer anyway!"

Maggie is wearing a shirt that my friend Elise (who is a Hawkeye fan) found in a thrift store and delivered to us.  She asked if we had taken one there, thinking she was maybe buying it back for us, but I told her that we never get rid of TTU gear.  She thought as much, since her family never disposes of Hawkeye gear, either.  That COULD be the lucky shirt, you know...

Besides watching Texas Tech, I also keep up with the Gators because of Patricia, the Hawkeyes because of Elise, the dreaded-and-greatly-despise-ed Longhorns because of Traci (that's true friendship, there), TCU because of Gus Glasscock, and the MSU Bobcats because that's what Eastern Montana ag people do; since all their neighbors and the kids they babysat and their cousins and their dogs went there or are currently attending. I try not to pay any attention to Notre Dame, even though it's my brother-in-law's big team, but they occasionally make the radar.

So, now you know what I'll be doing with my Saturday afternoons/evenings from now until sometime after Thanksgiving....

By the way, (and I'm being very restrained, in holding back this information until the very end of the post when it should've been the headline)  TTU won their first game, at home, against Texas State...50-10!  We may have already found the lucky shirt/nail polish combo for the season....here's hoping!

Melange

Melange (pronounced m-lazh) is a French word that basically means "all sorts of different things altogether".  Sort of like a junk drawer of ideas when you find it at the Chronicles....lots of little thoughts that can't stand alone as a post, but that I want to share with you.

First, the depressing news about my garden. (Let's just get the bad stuff over with, shall we?)
We have had grasshoppers in plague levels. 

Here's my little tomato/flower/cucumber planters in a "before" picture:

Plant lovers, cover your eyes....it's brutal....

And "after":

 Same bed, one week later....those WERE marigolds in front, remember?

Enough about the hoppers.

On to another depressing topic...

:)

I turn forty this year.

There, I said it.

Whew!

And I had tossed around the idea of running a K race...any K; 5K, 10K, 1K.  It just seemed so...I don't know....standard and typical of someone turning forty.  We can't have that, now, can we?

Anyway, I get this magazine called Runner's World, which is full of people who take their running VERY seriously.  So seriously, in fact, that I can't believe I didn't have to have an interview and an approval before subscribing.  Really.

Yesterday, I was looking through all the races that are being held around the nation and overseas, and found THE race for me.  It's a half-marathon, which is incredibly intimidating (the "m" word...) and I'd have to be able to run it in just under 4 hours, even more intimidating.  I'm slow, folks.  But I think I can get faster for this one.

It's the Diva's Half-Marathon, and there's going to be one in Vail, CO next September.  It's my race.  Listen to the little write-up:

"Runners get the royal treatment-just after mile 12, they recieve a feather boa and tiara; at the finish line, "hunky" firemen hand them a glass of bubbly and a rose."

AND

"It is not just about the run but the whole weekend experience. All our events will host a 2 day Health & Fitness Boutique, a Girls' 5K (open to all ages and genders), a Diva Lounge and more. Some of our races will also host yoga sessions by the beach, Diva Pub Crawls after the race, spa specials, winery visits and more. Each city gives the race its own special flavor for a wonderful weekend with the girls or with family where mom, sister or daughter are stars."

I looked at the website and one can even personalize the running bib!

I think I'd better start working NOW. 

But doesn't that sound like a good first race?

Next topic of discussion:

And this is completely silly, but I've been thinking of it for the last couple of days...

Excluding major appliances (even the Kitchenaid mixer), what 5 tools could you not live without in your kitchen?

It's harder than you think, narrowing it down to 5!

I came up with:

1. My little plastic scraper thingee from Pampered Chef...it scrapes flour off the counter, impossibly stuck food off pans...everything.
2. Wooden spatulas made by one of our hunters.  They are invaluable AND beautiful, made of different woods.
3. That in-between sized knife that is bigger than a paring knife but smaller than a big carving knife. 
4. A really old grater that grates really finely...perfect for lemon zest or cheese or carrots.
5. I don't know if this is a tool, but I have this big kettle that I use for everything...pasta, meats, soups, candy.  There's nothing it doesn't work for.  AND it has a clear glass lid, so I can see what's going on all the time without removing it!

What's on your list?

One more thing: fantasy football. 

I have a draft tomorrow and I have no idea what to do.  One of my high school classmates put together a league, just for fun and so that we could all reconnect, and I let myself be talked into joining.  It's not like I don't get deeply engrossed in the season, anyway...become fiercely competetive over events I have no control over.....re-play games in my head as I drive....wear the same "lucky" shirt every Sunday for 20 weeks.  Now I have a new reason to watch! And my team's name is Hail Mary, which is appropriate on so many levels...

But I'm absolutely lost as to how to do this draft thing.

Any help at all would be greatly appreciated.

I have my list of players, and perhaps I'm a little too ambitious for the first time out.  See what you think of my first round picks, made a week ago and now may have to be revised:

QB- Michael Vick (He's everyone's 1st round draft pick, I'm guessing; so predictable.)

WR- Terrell Owens (I wanted Crabtree, but his health is iffy...darn it!)

RB- Frank Gore (And I KNOW he's a 49er and they're miserable this year...again....still...but I like the guy.)

TE- Vernon Davis (Although, maybe I should look at Marcedes Lewis....input?)

I don't even know how many rounds I need to prepare for!

Blessedly, I'll end the melange there.

Happy Saturday!

Through the Window Friday

Or, in this case, from the porch step through the garden shed door....

Here's a photo story taken yesterday when I got a holler that "Lily's in the garden shed!"

No.

No way.

Um...yes way.

She found where the calf crumbles are stored and when Wayland left the door open to get something else for the shed, she just helped herself.

This is her SECOND break-in of the day, so I grabbed the camera and documented the caper.

Busted!

The best part of the pictures is Willie, standing as the look-out....

And technically, she isn't really IN the shed, if she's just on her knees "looking", right?

"I told her not to do it, Mom!! She's in big trouble, right?"

Not that she cares...

You'll notice the "Good Calf" is gone, now that the law showed up...

Out, out, out,  Naughty Calf!

She's trying to sweet talk him into leaving the door open and turning a blind eye.  And who could resist a sweet, naughty calf face like that?

It didn't work.  And now, as you can plainly see, she's calling him all sorts of names as he walks away.  I won't repeat them here, because this is a family blog.  (You'll note Good Calf on the other side of the fence, saying "I TOLD you so....")  He was called a couple names, too.

The Innocents Abroad

I know...
It's feast or famine with the Chronicles, as of late.
Well, feast with me, now, then!

My bookclub is reading The Innocents Abroad by Mark Twain this summer.  Who would CHOOSE such a book? 

That would be me.

And I love it!

I'm sure everyone else is either making elaborate excuses this week as to why they haven't read it in three months, or vainly struggling to find one section that they can underline and comment on, without actually having to finish the book.  It's not an easy read, but I found it fascinating to see Europe and the Holy Lands through the eyes and wit of Mr. Twain.  I wanted to share an excerpt with you about France...

Ah, the grisettes! I had almost forgotten.  They are another romantic fraud.  They were (if you let the books of travel tell it,) always so beautiful- so neat and trim, so graceful- so naive and trusting- so gentle, so winning- so faithful to their shop duties, so irresistible to buyers in their prattling importunity- so devoted to their poverty-stricken students of the Latin Quarter- so light hearted and happy on their Sunday picnics in the suburbs- and oh, so charmingly, so delightfully immoral!

Stuff!  For three or four days I was constantly saying:
"Quick, Ferguson! Is that a grisette?"
And he always said, "No".

He comprehended, at last, that I wanted to see a grisette.  Then he showed me dozens of them.  They were like nearly all the Frenchwomen I ever saw- homely.  They had large hands, large feet, large mouths; they had pug noses as a general thing and mustaches that not even good breeding could overlook; they combed their hair straight back without parting; they were ill-shaped, they were not winning, they were not graceful; I knew by their looks that they ate garlic and onions; and lastly and finally, to my thinking it would be base flattery to call them immoral.

...I will conclude this chapter with a remark that I am sincerely proud to be able to make- and glad, as well, that my comrades codially endorse it, to wit: by far the handsomest women we have seen in France were born and reared in America.

I read that twice, laughing at his disappointed description...what a let-down for the poor fellow!