Define cowboy

The new in style thing is to be a "cowboy". Everyone seems to have run down to the local western store and bought the most expensive pair of boots and hat they could find. Next they get to searchin on their computin machine for a horse. And we all know that the if it costs more then its obviously the best. The next thing they are gonna go hunt down is them one of those high dollar pick em up trucks accompanied by a 4 horse slant with a 16 foot short wall. And of course these new "cowboys" got to run down to the sale barn and get them some cows. They walk in with their new digs shinin in everyone's face and never seem to notice they are the only ones there wearing new anything and definitely the only one without a speck of dirt on them. They watch a few minutes to see what everyone else does and by the time they start bidding they get bid happy and outbid everyone without ever noticing that they will soon be hauling home the sale barn dreggs. They are pretty proud of themselves while everyone else snickers behind their back because if it wasn't already obvious they just proved their stupidity. I know this happens every day because my neighbor is basically my prime example of this. I would also like to point out that these "cowboys" are also the ones that bush hog everything to the ground in the middle of the summer and kill every blade of grass that was going to grow there for the next 3 months.

So this leads me to my topic today. Have you ever tried to define "cowboy"? Its pretty easy to point out things that are NOT cowboy. I do it every time my boss walks in the door. We have nick named him john wayne being fecetious about his lack of any common sense or knowledge about how to run a farm. I have asked severally people to define cowboy, I've yet to get an answer. So I turned to my good friend google. A couple things that the handy dandy google gave me were:

• a hired hand who tends to cattle and performs other ranch type duties horseback
• a performer who gives exhibitions of riding, roping, or bulldogging
• a person who is reckless or irresponsible (especially when driving a vehicle)

The first one is basically what I would call the old school definition and truely I think that's where the spirit of real cowboys come from. They worked hard. They were honest, and they were 100 x's the people as most people I know today. This definition makes me think of my grandpa. When he was younger, and of course when his father was still alive, he worked on his father's ranch hearding cattle horse back and all the other things that come along with it. To tell you how long ago it was this was when the majority of the country was free range. Every day they were up before the break of dawn. They went out to milk the cows and saddle their horses. They would come back for a large breakfast made by grandma stewart and always consisted of eggs(from their back yard), homemade biscuits, and some sort of pork (from hogs they raised and slaughtered) and they of course drank some of the milk they just brought in from the barn. My grandpa's stories about his younger years always make me happy because I feel like I was meant to be born in that day and age.... Anyway. After breakfast they mounted up and headed out. They worked hard until mid day when grandma stewart would bring them a big lunch. And they would continue to work until almost dark and come in to do the feeding and chores. And for supper they ALWAYS had corn bread and milk. I am 100% sure that, although my grandpa would not own a horse now days, he is and always will be a cowboy and nobody could change my mind about that.

The second definition. I can kinda see that. But then again, I beg to differ. A good friend of mine is from the north. She was never near a farm, never worked in the dirt, knows nothing about cows yet she barrel races, ties goats, and ropes. I absolutely love this girl so don't take any of this wrong. But she is not a cowboy (cowgirl). She is talented yes. But if I learned to do a magic trick nobody is going to call me a magician. I go to a lot of rodeos and ropens and I see people the whole time I'm there that have never been near a cow other than throwing a rope around its neck or seeing them standing off beside the highway. I will admit, these people are usually pretty talented. But I'm not buying that they are in fact cowboys.

The third definition.... I laughed. Most people I know that I would qualify as a cowboy... fall in that category and that's about all I can say about that without telling some pretty funny stories on some people.

But I have my own definition of a cowboy. In my opinion a cowboy is someone that above all else has heart. they don't ride horses to impress other people. They ride it for the love of the life style. They know no way other than running cattle on any piece of property they own. They build fence. They teach themselves to do all their own vacinating because if you've ever owned cattle you know that if you've got to pay someone to do all that for you, then you just ruined any chance at making a profit at sale that you had. In my opinion most cowboys are always accompanied by a dog and a rifle. They probably do wear boots, hats, and buckles a lot of the time. But they do it because that's what they like, that's what is comfortable for them. And some of them probably wear shorts and t shirts at some point... they are secure enough in who they are to know that clothing is not what defines them. Its their attitude. They are honest and will do what they can to help their friends and neighbors. They are GENERALLY mild mannered, aren't bother by being a little dirty, and when they work outside they wear a long sleeved button down. That's something I'm still learning to understand. These are the people that will eventually become absorbed in their families. They might rope some for fun, and they might be completely absorbed in it. They will love to be on the road, but they will always have a home that can never be replaced. These are the kind of guys that think pretty views are: perfectly built fences, a fresh cut hay meadow, a pasture full of well built, healthy cattle, the sun setting over a piece of land they own and love. I don't think anyone can be a cowboy. I think its something you are born with in your DNA. You don't just wake up one day and run out to become a cowboy. You will be born a cowboy, you may not always live as a cowboy, but you will be a cowboy at heart. And when you come to find your place in the cowboy world you will suddenly feel at home, probably for the first time.

That's what I think a cowboy is. You are welcome to disagree, but I think you're crazy if you do.

Randomness for the day

Woke up in the middle of the night last night freezing to death. I really thought I had enough covers. 2 blankets in the middle of august? That should be enough right? Well yeah, it would be. If I had 2 covers. Come to find out Fancy wedged herself between the wall and my side of the bed on top of where my covers were hanging off the bed then proceeded to roll herself up in the covers, pulling them off the bed and off of me. I jerked, pulled, tugged, and fought with the covers to the point of waking chad up. He yells at me "what the hell are you doing?" He already thinks fancy should sleep outside. So I tell him "rearranging my covers", and lay back down... coverless and try to fall back asleep. About the time I am cold enough to go numb and start falling back asleep, chad's alarm goes off... damn it! I hate when his alarm goes off because it always winds up that he hits the snooze button for about 30 minutes and it gives me a massive headache to wake up and go to sleep off and on like that. He finally gets up and gets in the shower, I steal his covers and get my sleep back on. About 20 minutes later he wakes me up "I'm leaving" and I mumbled something that was probably supposed to sound like "ok, have a good day" and then he proceeds to harass me about if I am coming to work at ludwig this morning or not. Seriously, I am TRYING to sleep! So I get out of the bed, I'm half way ready for work and decide.... I'm not going. I'm already working 40 hours at my other job this week, my bills are actually paid, and I've worked 8 hours at ludwig this week already. How many hours will chad get this week? My money is on less than 30.... why should I go to work this morning and then go work on the farm after lunch? Not happening. So I did some stuff I needed to do around the house and made chad a big lunch. Went to the school, worked some and went to atwoods for a wheel barrow... and a snow cone. haha. Cleaned stalls for what seemed like an eternity and then clocked out to come home and fix supper then relax. Pretty standard day basically.


I was thinking today. When did manners escape society? The most simple of all table manners, wearing a cap at the dinner table, has fanished from sight. Now you have to understand, I grew up in a very chaotic life and we didn't all always sit down together, we ate whatever we could scarf down between the kitchen and the front door... that's the way it went. Some days we'd come in from haying, working cows, or picking up dead chickens and we'd be covered in shit, dirt, and sweat. We'd come in, wash our hands, and sit down at the table, filthy or not. At some point in there if you were wearing a hat or cap... it came off. I always love to see people sit down at my grandparent's dinner table with a cap on. My grandparents are the most polite, curtious people you are ever going to run across. BUT everyone draws a line somewhere and my grandpa draws his at wearing a hat at the table. There are many ways he might approach this problem. Sometimes he will simply stand up, walk over, remove your cap, and ask if your parents let you run with wild animals or if you're just a rude ass. If you know my grandpa you understand why this is so astonishing. He never says an abrupt or unkind word, unless you wear a cap to the table.... (or break my heart, that will land you at the very tip top of his shit list with the morons at AT&T). Sometimes he will stare you down until you have become noticably uncomfortable and then he will politely ask "would you like to sit here and have supper with us or do you want to head on down to the pool hall where they check your manners at the door?". If you can't figure out what you've done wrong at this point, I suggest you leave because if you sit there and say nothing and don't remove your cap things WILL get ugly. If you sit down at the dinner table wearing a hat in the presence of my grandparents there is a good chance that you and I won't have a future together. While my grandma doesn't so much like you wearing a cap to the table she has another pet peeve. One thing you don't come to the table without is a shirt! You don't have to wash your hands, take off your boots, or even wear pants necessarily... but if you show up without a shirt your ass is fixin to gain a raw spot. My grandma is from the north (providence, rhode island but raised in boston, mas.) so she doesn't have the civilized, southern confrontation techniques my grandpa uses. She will flat out tell you "there is no way you are sitting at my table without a shirt on, you are rude and inconsiderate for even sitting down here without one. Now get up, leave my table, and find a shirt or find you a drive through to visit cause you will not be eating in this house!" My grandparents are far from uppity, picky, or nagging. They posses something I think the world these days is missing, good old fashioned manners. You shake someones hand when you meet them for the first time or see them out in public. You DON'T text at my grandparents table, that will land your cell phone in the dogs water bowl or possibly even a pan of still pretty hot grease on the stove top (trust me). My grandparents are the only reason I have any sort of similance to a civilized way about myself. They pay their bills when they come in and don't buy groceries or anything else until the bills are paid, that is law at their house. I try my best to do the same but with my mom's dna in me its pretty hard for me, I don't know how she managed to leave home without basic knowledge like paying your bills on time but she did. My grandparents taught me you don't have to like anyone, but you will respect everyone. They taught me more about being a good person than anyone else in this world. I am a part of a generation that somewhere along the line decided they don't have to follow the rules or respect anyone. I'm pretty ashamed of my peers being the way they are. I think I was born a coupole hundred years too late. I know I'm not perfect, I know I do some things I shouldn't. But I'm going to try and do better. I want to be a better person, someone my grandparents can look at and say, we did good with her.

I just wish more people in this world were more worried about being good people than being the biggest partier, the laziest worker, the one with the most fancy stuff, or the one with the highest dollar clothes. I just want to be a good person.

Shopping is the devil

Yesterday we headed out to texarkana for some R&R and a little shopping. When we first got to texarkana we drove out to north forty, although it is not far from the main drag with the lovely road construction it took us approximately 20 minutes to arrive in their parking lot and read the sign posted on the door "CLOSED for vacation, will reopen August 7th". Jerks. Back to the drawing board... We head back to the theater to go ahead and buy our tickets to Despicable Me. I though it was in 3-D, wrong. So we buy tickets to this not 3-D movie. And because we can't visit texarkana without going to cold stone, i mean seriously we're on like or 10th punch card, and because its in the same parking lot as the theater we go ahead and go get our ice cream. Ice cream makes everything 100% better. We walk in and look at the flavors. I already had it on my mind that I was really wanting a "gotta have it" sized portion of amaretto mixed with marshmallow cream in a chocolate dipped waffle cone bowl but I of course was going to pick out a flavor to try first... As I'm looking for what flavor I'm going to try just for kicks and giggles I make an awful discovery! They don't even have AMARETTO! So I count to 10 breathing slowly and regroup. I can do this. I decide I'll just have marshamallow cream mixed with coffee. WHAT?!?!?! They don't have marshmallow cream? "Somebody has got to be pulling on my leg". I basically throw a fit that any 4 year old would be proud of and I call the manager an ape and tell him that cold stone has gone to pot and I hope they go out of business so someone can move in a marble slab. Chad tells me to calm down and he's sure I can find something else. Well yes, under normal cicumstances I would have been able to, but these are what flavors they offered: vanilla, chocolate, chocolate cake batter, regular cake batter, key lime, peach harvest, blueberry, cotton candy, non fat sweet cream, oreo cream filling, coffee, cheese cake and mint. (No, I didn't memorize the flavors they had... so what if I did). The cake batter flavors generally make me want to vomit because they are too sweet, the cotton candy tastes like nasty cough syrup, I don't eat ice cream with chunks of fruit involved, who goes to cold stone and orders vanilla, chocolate, or non fat? The flavors left aren't really good mixing flavors. I finally settled for coffee/cheese cake hoping it would turn out better than i expected. It didn't. Chad got a cookie minster and subbed peanut butter cup for the oreos. His was amazing but he ordered the same size as me and got half as much. So thus far every bit of "buying" we've tried to do hasn't gone our way yet. This day is off to a pretty bad start... but we're gonna make the best of it any way. So we head down to cavendars cause I'm in the market for some boots and he wants a new hat. We go in and immediately find nick, we don't shop there without him. If you go in there go find him, he will know what you're wanting before you open your mouth... he's awesome. And currenty single for those of you out there looking. I tell him I'm in the market for some new boots for stompin around in, he says ok go see what you can find I'll be there in a second. I go and pick out about 6 pairs I like. None of which have a size 6. I get a little irritated. Come to think of it there were only about 2 boots in the whole store that were a size 6. JERKS! Anyway. Nick walks up and says "what have we go our eye on?" I said the front door. He encourages me not to give up and asks what the problem is. I ranted about my short chubby feet and how nobody makes shoes that fit them. He smiles and says lets go look at the kids boots since they are just for work. I'm sure my face read "you've got to be kidding me" but I figured I could at least give it a shot because he does usually know what he's talking about. He picks up a size 4 boot that looks just like my good boots only smaller and the tops are shorter (and they cost about 1/5 what mine did.) and says try this on. I did. It fit like a charm and looked good on me. I grabbed the left shoe and tried it on... it suddenly became obvious that my left foot is definitely bigger than the right. The boot wasn't even going to think about goin on my big ol foot. Crap. So I tried on every pair of shoes from a size 3 to a 5 in the kids department with no luck in finding a pair to fit me right. Back to the drawing board. Nick manages to find this god awful looking boot in the women's department and asks me just to try it on. Holy crap it fit like a charm, even if it did look like a bucket full of smashed ass holes. I was pretty impressed with his mad skills. But then we couldn't find another size 6C boot in the store. Great... he tells me to pick out a boot and he'll see if they can get it. I point out the one I had originally wanted but the smallest size they had was a 7 which would be about like me wearing skiis to work every day. They can't get it in my size. We go through this on a couple others and he can't get those in my size either. But they can get the $300 pair of high heeled, pointed toe boots in my size. Go figure, I'm not wearing those to wear. I'd break my ankle. Or I'd use them as a weapon to kick our fearless leader "John Wayne" in the junk because he is a moron and that's how I usually feel like reacting to every word that leaves his mouth. Yeah, definitely don't need the pointed toe boots. So nick sent me home bootless to look on their website at all the boots he can get in, he said pick as many of them as you want and I'll have them here friday when y'all come back through for you to try on. He's such a good guy. we leave the boot department and go to look at hats. Chad goes through the same issues with hats. 6 7/8" hats are hard to come by and any hat with a short crown instead of the new style cattleman's crown are especially hard to find and that's all he'll wear. He tries on every 6 7/8" and 7" hat they have with no luck and nick advises him to also visit the website and we'll just have a sizing session when we come through friday on our way to mena. So now we've left empty handed with unsatisfying ice cream in our stomaches. We decide we better eat so we'll have time to get to the movie and get seated. We go to Texas Roadhouse of course (by the way, someone put in a longhorn steak house next door! WTF?!?!). Its a 30 to 45 minute wait and the girl tells us its a 15 to 20 minute wait. Either way I don't think that gives us enough time so we decide to sit at the bar, walk in and there are 2 seats open. Something has finally gone my way. We sit down and look at the menu, I'm of course getting the sirloan cause they are awsome there. And while i'm looking at the sides I hear a familiar voice begin to hit on me (yes, while my boyfriend is sitting next to me) and I am scared to look but I do. I am sitting next to a bald, tattooed version of "Lt. Dan". Dear God, please make him go away before I stab him with my steak knife. Thanks. I smiled and looked back at my menu and he tells the barmaid to bring something "girlie" for the big boobed babe beside him. Chad has finally caught on to the situation and catches my arm 2 seconds before I can land my steak knife in my obnoxious neighbor's eye socket. I hollar to the barmaid that there will be no such drink for me just as a couple down the bar gets up to leave. We move down a few seats in hopes of a more peaceful meal. We get our food and its rather tastey and we're watching rally car racing on the X Games! Just so everyone knows, that's what I was born to do! And about the 3rd trial Lt. Dan catches on that I'm watching it. He starts hollaring and cheering and carrying on about what's on the tv. Seri0usly dude, did you drink a case of stupid on your way in here? Shut up! He continues on and goes from being obnoxious to be a DB, so I hollar down the bar "would you mind shutting your cake hole, I don't see anyone around here asking for a blow job so I see no need for your mouth to be flapping like that while I'm trying to enjoy my meal." He, along with everyone seated anywhere near the bar, stares blankly at me... thats where my meal became truely great because it was suddenly peaceful without his mouth flapping in the wind like a 2 dollar hookers lower lips! I was able to finish my salad, steak, baked potato and 5th glass of tea without hearing his voice again. Thank goodness cause my next step would have been throwing my glass at his big, bald, stupid head.
After supper we went to watch our movie. It was pretty good. I laughed almost til I was in tears at the "fart gun" and a couple other places... but it wasn't the "my belly hurts from laughing so much" movie I was expecting. But I'm seen it now so that makes me happy.

We got home about 10 and went to bed about 11. Fancy was still full of bottle up energy from being left home alone for practically 2 days straight and she wasn't ready for bed. She kept jumping on the bed until about 12 then she finally laid down and let us sleep but she woke chad up about 5 to go outside. I think she can stay there a while and burn up some of that energy.

Today I am going to hopefully accomplish butt loads on my trig homework and do a little house work. I have a trig test tomorrow. So not excited.

Its a fact of life.

Its a fact of life that the grass is always "greener" on the other side. Everyone is always unhappy with what they have and they want what everyone else has.

Its a fact of life that boys are jerks. Them and their "damn boy penises" (cursing is allowed when quoting, especially when quoting grey's.)

Its a fact of life that there will never be enough money for bills or groceries but there will always be enough money to go rope.

Its a fact of life that I never fall for boys, I only fall for their families.

Its a fact of life that myself and people my age will have to work from the grave to finish paying off all our debt.

Its a fact of life that nothing will ever go as planned.

Its a fact of life that even if I made $100,000 a year instead of $9,754 a year I would still be broke... I would just work more. So please tell me, what's the point?

Its a fact of life that we hold other people to higher standards than what we hold ourselves to...

Its a fact of life that kids these days are spoiled rotten. They need a good strong beating out behind the barn.

Its a fact of life that all the great guys in the world are taken by the girls that are the reason for pools being chlorinated.

Its a fact of life that if you live in mena, ar you shouldn't have relations with the locals... STDs run a muck in polk county.

On that note, its a fact of life that when a girl is dating a gyn's son and gets an STD that the world is entitled to "rofl".

Its a fact of life that trig is the most ridiculous class ever required for any degree... as my teacher so graciously pointed out, you may need it if you ever become a nuclear engineer. Yeah, that's why I'm an ag science major.

Working is a fact of life.

Emily's Last hoorah!

It began last thursday. I woke up late and already knew the day was going to be one of THOSE days as I knew there was a trig test to be taken shortly after my 5ft vertical jump from my bed when I realized I'd over slept by about an hour. Made it to class at exactly 9:46. Late. Awesome.... 15+hours of homework/prep for the trig test + 2 hours spent trying to tell myself to breath + the teacher calling time before I'm done = hello begining to my awful weekend. After class the boy took me to Flying Burger for lunch. My salad sucked unlike last time which irked me. Then I had to go to work. I arrived at work to realize my phone was not on my person. I flew back across campus to Flying Burger to see if by some chance it was there... Nope. Went back to the business building to the classroom where my nightmares are fullfilled, not there either. Proceeded to clean out my car, not there. That covers everywhere I had been since I left home and I still hadn't found my phone. Crap. So I went back to work and did nothing. Went home to change to go watch Pilgrims Farms cut silage, we got there too late and missed it. Went to eat at West Shore. Ordered a steak and a margarita. Slurped down the first margarita long before my food came and got started on the next. My food came and my steak was rare not medium. GAG! Sent it back and ate my baked potato while gulping my margarita thinking surely the tequilla would kick in and save my day. Wrong. 20 minutes late my steak was not back to the table. I told the waitress just to charge me for my tater and drinks and we'd call it even. She apologizes and brings me my steak in a to go box with fries and informs me my entire tab has been cleared. Ok... cool. Free meal. That works. Get home and get completely chewed out for not being home by 7:30 as I had GUESSED we would be. I was not driving and last time I checked I didn't have a curfew. Guess I was wrong again. Climb into bed to hide from the rest of the day and wake up friday with a mile long list of things to do so we can leave for mena. I decided to heat up my free steak for lunch. Get it out of the box and turns out they still didn't send me a medium steak, they sent me a charcoaled black steak with a still pretty rare center. Seriously?Gah! The boy of course complains about the steak being burnt. What's new? Finally get everything loaded and ready and head to polk county with no way to contact the outside world when I get there. Oh joy. On the bright side of that I got my hair did by Betsy friday night and it turned out AWESOME!
Saturday me and Trav were supposed to go swimming. He ditched me for his friends, who can blame him? I don't really. He promised we'd hang out sunday because he's leaving this week to go back to tulsa. No big deal, works for me. Took Braxton to the boy's house to ride horses and swim. It was 102 degrees so we didn't go swimming, we waited for it to cool off so we could go ride. Went to saddle the horses and they were turned out. Screw that idea. So we took Braxton for a ride on the "bike" (aka four wheeler). He was plenty content with riding it over to see the horses and pet them. Went to look at the new stud... lovin me some Mr. Jess Perry. Let Braxton sit on Jody while we led him around. he was pretty impressed. Then we went to eat with Jason and Sarah. That was fun. Their new addition is just really cute! Brought Braxton to meet my grandparents, that was the first time he ever screamed about going somewhere with nanny and papa. It made me feel awful. so I promise him I'll see him in the morning and send him off screaming and climb in the car with myself in tears. We head out to the bar with some friends. The night starts off decently, double fisting long necks. And it all went down hill from there. Afte r the first 6 or maybe 8 beers and a shot of vodka we got this "bright" idea. Lets drink one of everything they have in the cooler... Great idea girls. What were we thinking? After that the boy drags me out of the bar and to the car where I proceed to be overly obnoxious. I can't remember why buy I smacked my friend's husband in the eye pretty good. He was impressed. Made it home about 3 a.m. where I proceeded to throw up for about 45 minutes straight. I think that's a record for me. Climbed into bed and thought I'd wake up just fine in the morning. Wrong again. Woke up about 9 hoping someone would hurry and put me out of my misery. No such luck. I proceeded to throw up and convulse until 4p.m. I then took a shower and drove out to my grandparents to see Braxton still not feeling up to anything. Told my mom why I didn't show up earlier in the day. She informed me that I'm "really f***ing stupid and deserve to feel that bad"... thanks mom. Trav then concurs and I wonder why I even bothered to make the hour long round trip. Loaded my stuff up and left about 6 to drive back to magnolia. Got to the boy's house where his dad proceeded to inform me that he also agreed with my mom. If anyone thinks that I hadn't already come to the same conclusion they are wrong and them saying it out loud only makes my head hurt worse. Made it back to magnolia about 10:30 with an awesome headache. Climbed into bed and hoped to never wake. Needless to say I've decided that saturday night will likely be my last hoorah. I can't feel that way ever again... I would surely pay someone to end it.
Woke up late again this morning and headed to trig to see my test score from thursday. Yep, that's what I figured. Made myself a 35%. I'm so proud I got 4 right! Left class and went to work which is always miserable. Came home and when the boy got home he proceeded to give me permission to cook supper before I go to town to work on my trig with a study group. I didn't move. He came back and asked when I was going to start cooking. I said "I'm not". He chewed me out. Guess what I made for supper. I didn't.... boys are jerks. Got all but 2 questions done on my trig project... proofs are the devil.
Now here I am... collecting phone numbers for my new phone. Which by the way... is pretty awesome!

My weekend + 2 days

Seeing as how I went to mena this weekend, I was all full of "piss and viniger" when we got back to magnolia. Someone always manages to step on my toes when I enter polk county. Anyway... friday when we arrived in polk county we were scheduled to meet with Chad's best friend from New York that I hadn't ever met before. When we pulled up in the friend's parent's driveway I could have had a stroke... I am still not sure I didn't... anyway. Its a small world out there, especially in polk county. It turns out that Rodney's parents were the best friends of the late parents of a very serious mishap on my track record. I made a large mistake once upon a time... it involved that dirty little 8 letter word that starts with "M" and has got the world going all kinds of crazy. Anyway... I did eventually feel my way out of the disaster that was just upon the horizon, so please don't hold it against me that I almost got swept up in that fad. Enough about that... it was an awkward couple of minutes that THANKFULLY ended before there were any "cusses or discusses" thrown into the air. Pretty uneventful, yet entertaining eveing. We went to eat, of course we took the NY couple to wal mart... you don't visit mena without going to wal mart, then drove up on the mountain although you can't see anything at night, then we drove back roads for a while. We eventually made it back to Rodney's parent's house to drop him and his wife off. Somehow we made it up the driveway, I don't know how seeing as how "cold" the hill top was. I mean seriously... you could have froze water on that woman's hindparts... this is where I would like to point out, I don't recall signing anything when I came out of the womb that said "I will be friendly to any and all persons I come into contact with", therefore I reserve the right to chose who I am friendly to. On the top of that list you will not find people who can't be friendly to me. To those people... I don't have a very large tucus, but I'm sure I can find a spot large enough for you to fit your stuck up, obnoxious lips.
Back to my weekend, saturday I spent the day playing with Braxton which was awesome. Then headed to hatfield for Claude's surprise birthday/retirement party. He was completely shocked so it was a success. The food was good, the company was shady... but of course that's what you usually end up with when you associate with state livestock inspectors. There was much cussing and discussing. Lots of laughter, and many complaints on how full everyone's stomach got to be... especially after the homemade ice cream and various other desserts were busted out. Sunday I spent the whole day with my little man. He amazes me. His vocabulary has grown leaps and bounds... which could be a negative thing considering it now includes: "ah shit, damnit, retard, oh nuts, dick head, and DUH!". But he says some things that are positives, such as: "horse, cow, ostrich, flamingo, bite, tail, toes, eyes, pigs, pink, hay, watermelon, cantelope, ice cream, hot dogs, and choo choo". But I have to tell you, of all the things he says my heart melts to pieces when he says "shoes". Its just too adorable... but while that melts my heart, nothing could have made my weekend the way him saying "Emily" for the first time. I came very close to crying... ok, so I let a few tears slide. We've been working on it a long time. We were talking about the letters of the alphabet (he can say them all) and when I got to E he said "E, egg... Emily..." it was cute!
Later that day we visited our friends who had a baby last week, he was precious! And their other son is just too funny. then my grandpa grilled hot dogs and hamburgers. Monday morning my grandpa taught me to make his homemade biscuits because mine never turn out. My grandma and I managed to burn them as soon as he left the house. It was pretty funny. I really love my grandparents... they are truley the 2 best people I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. They mean so much to me, I can't imagine my world without them. My grandma has been diagnosed with CHF, so my world seems to be falling apart. Got to move on before I really lose it here. We finally made it back to waldo. Worked a really long day tuesday....
Today my summer 2 class started. Trig. Oh what fun. I sat down and survey the room. In the front sat an asian guy and his daughter I guessed. I thought cool, I wish I had a kid to bring to college with me. When the teacher walked in dad got up and left the room... leaving his daughter alone. It took me a few minutes to realize that this child, who was between 8 and 10 years old, was really a student in my college trig class. As soon as the teacher started talking I was embarrassed... she knew more of that crap than I did. So not cool. so I've developed a plan. There should be a special section of college classes for child progidies so they don't come to regular classes and make me feel retarded! Other than that I've realized I will probably fail this class. As of today I've lost 7lbs. Go me. I worked this afternoon which did nothing for my mood. I finished up the laundry. And fancy left a "4 claw" mark down the side of my face. And now I'm about to work on my trig homework. I think that about sums it up. That's about all I can remember for now. I did take pictures this weekend. I'll work on posting some.

this is my boring life....

E... Eggs... Emily

Oklahoma...

Today while I was on hour 10 of work I was jamming out to some red dirt music on the ol ipod. Man I love technology. Probably one of my top 1o songs is 'If I ever get back to Oklahoma" by Jason Boland and the Stragglers (most of their songs are among my favorites). When it came on I found my heart longing, once again, for the place that should have been my place of birth... although I may not have appreciated it as much if it had been. Three years ago (ish) Chad and I set out to the national finals in the great Oklahoma City. My very first thought? "Damn team ropen. Damn it, damn it I hate team ropen". Then we hit the oklahoma line and instead of my jaw flapping it just sort of hanged there. Now, I had been to oklahoma before. That's where most of my family is from and that's where all our family reunions are held. Also, I am from polk county and the closest beer store is across the state line into oklahoma... not that I would ever drive to oklahoma just for beer, we usually "checked stock" along the way. But as we drove into the beautiful state that neighbors my home state I just couldn't take in enough of it. The further we drove the happier I felt... yes, I was on my way to a ropen and my heart felt light and the smile apon my face kept spreading. And this thought ran through my head... "I'm going to move here some day." It was an odd thought that I sort of just shook off to enjoy the scenery. When we arrived in midwest city, that's where we always stay, I was in one of the most cheerful of moods. I just felt like there were no burdens, I had no stressful issues at home, I didn't have mounds of homework stacking up from missing school, and Chad and I weren't fighting (I don't remember what about... I just remember that's how the trip started out). The air felt fresh, crisp and welcoming. Mind you, this is the last week of october. Yet I couldn't have been happier to have that fierce oklahoma wind threatening to rip my nose straight from my face. As the week went on we visited the local sights. That's where I began to fall in love. We went to bricktown and explored. We went in stores, we walked to canals, we just took it all in. And I couldn't get enough of it. THEN the final piece was placed into its spot, we went to the stockyards and ate at Cattleman's. Now take into account that I HATE salad (well, use to.) and DESPISE salad dressings. I ate 3 salads...with dressing before they brought my steak. I devoured 2 bowls of their salad dressing on their homemade croutons. When my steak came I couldn't resist... I drenched it and my baked potato in it. That day was the day I fell in love with salad. And I actually like some dressings now, but every time I think of oklahoma I get a several week long craving for the Cattleman's dressing. Aside from the salad dressing, I promise that's not why I love oklahoma, we were there for halloween. We went to see Saw 5(?) on its opening night. Bricktown on halloween is like a foreign planet. You can barely drive down the streets in a small car for all the bicycle carts, horse drawn carriages, and people dressed as goons and ferries. THAT was the moment my love affair with Oklahoma City began. We have gone back every year since then and every year I fall more in love, if that's possible. So yes... Jason Boland and the Stragglers said it right when they said "If I ever get back to oklahoma I'm gonna nail my feet to the ground". Oklahoma isn't my home state... but its the closest thing I can get to a "step" home state.

Don't get me wrong.... Arkansas is one of the most amazing states EVER. Its so beautiful here. The farm where I grew up is just breath taking. And I will never want to be permenately away from there, but I'd rather live in oklahoma and visit my mountains, creeks, hay meadows, and wildlife in arkansas.

At that I'll leave you with some images of my home in mena, ar.

A+ Fecal Matter

As the end of first summer sesson, being my first ever summer class, comes to an end I am thrilled with the outcome. There were only 2 assignments in the class, no tests, just a paper and a powerpoint presentation to be given in the fall to my teachers intro to ag class (an all freshman class so I'm far from concerned about that). The assignments were due last thursday so I was the over achieving student that finished the paper a week ahead of time and took it to my teacher to be critiqued before I started on the power point that would be based on the ideas from my paper. When I went to retrieve my paper that I was sure would have some red markings I was floored, not a mark on it... because my teacher hated the whole thing and wanted me to start over. Not what I needed. So I couldn't bring myself to work on my redo for several days because I was lost and had no idea where to re-begin. After several days I sat down and said to myself "I will finish this now". About that time my phone vibrated. It was my sister which always seems odd to me because we really dont' speak much. She was texting to inform me my grandmother had been in the hospital all day, she had a stroke... My grandmother has had heart problems for as long as I can remember. They began with a serious of small strokes several years ago. To get the full understanding of how hard this hits me, until I moved away from mena I lived with my grandparents for years. I practically lived there my whole life because their house is beside my mom's. What little was taught to me about cooking by other people was done by my grandma. She always had a project for me, making sour dough bread on a boring weekend day, baking papa some "truck cookies" when I was still a little young to help with hay. Other than in the kitchen she taught me what I know about sewing, about bill paying, about doing laundry, basically anything you ever needed to know about keeping house or entertaining company. On top of that she taught me everything I know about chickens, which I guess to some people isn't so important... but at my house that kinda of knowledge made life easier. My grandma is such a strong woman. She is SO stubborn, which is a trait I have inherited 10 fold from her. I also gained my love for old movies and Elvis from my grandma. So when I read this text message from my sister that said "Have you talked to mom? Nanny had a stroke today" I felt the world tilt off its axis and send me spinning. I tried to read the message again through my tears to make sure I had read it right... to be very honest I must have read the message upwards of 10 times trying to make sure I wasn't reading it wrong. Since I moved away from home my number one fear has been the phone call where someone informs me something has gone wrong, like this. There would be no paper writing after that. So the next day was the day my paper was due, I thought... I can do this. I called my teacher and asked what time he would be leaving that afternoon. He said don't worry about it, you can get it to me friday. Oh the relief. So thursday night I worked until very late making sure this paper was at least worthy of some proof reading marks. Friday I got up early and finished my paper and citations and called my teacher once again (I'm sure he is sick of hearing from me by now). He said just bring it by monday morning, and could you feed my dogs this weekend while I'm outta town? Hot dog! An extra weekend to work on my paper and brownie points?!?! Sign me up! So I went to his office today to hand in my paper, 13 pages of typed Arial 12 pt fecal matter. I mean really, I worked on it and it was an acceptable paper.... but I'm 100% sure its not what he was looking for. When I walked into his office and he pointed at the chair beside his desk with his glasses the way he so famously does I thought I might vomit. He read through my paper looking very thoughful, at the end he nodded his head, put it on his desk and said "I'm glad you lived up to that A I turned in for you this morning. Come back and see me in a few days and we'll get started on your powerpoint". I walked from his office and took probably the biggest breath I have ever taken... I had survived my first summer class, WITH AN A! Hello 3.8 gpa. I am impressed with me today. Then it hit me, not only had I been a success... my teacher really has faith in me. That's always a good feeling.

Delightfully relieved...

Good weekends...

Good weekends are the perfect breeding ground for lessons learned. But when a lesson is offered to you its kinda like contracting an STD... it can be avoided with a small amount of care and attention. I may have been a little careless this weekend in that sense. I learned a couple useful things I'd like to share.

Some friends of ours, we call them the M.P.'s because those are both their initials and the guy earned the nickname early in life due to his impossible to pronounce last name, came over and we had supper, played cars, and may have consumed an alcoholic beverage or 7... or was it 10? As you will learn I am some times talented... counting while intoxicated is not one of those times. Neither is remembering my date of birth... which can get you arrested, but that's a story long in the past that I'll have to attempt to explain later.

Here are a few lessons that have been offered to me this weekend...

1. A vegetable steaming device would be the first thing I reached for to defend myself if a knife were not handy. Because of the overwhelming amount of yellow and green squash our garden is producing its something I cook at every meal, which means I've had to start getting creative with it. I have this cool little, metal thing that has holds and folds up that nobody ever knows what the heck it is. I do remember once when I was a kid my mom using one to steam vegetables, therefore I do know what it is. You unfold it, put it in the bottom of a pot with a small amount of water, put your veggies on top of it, put the lid on, and turn the burner on for a while. As I was putting my vegetables down in the put trying to mix them up some to make sure my seasoning was evenly distributed I managed to make a 2 inch long, extremely deep gash in my finger on the edge of this handy vegetable steaming device. I don't do well with blood so you can imagine my dismay at the fact that I was pouring blood from my hand all over the kitchen! Chad's solution? he wrapped a paper towel around it, a latex glove around that, and finished off with half a roll of clear tape.... which leads to another lesson I've been presented and will probably accept, I am not the kind of person that needs to run out of band aids. So I'm going to the dollar general down the road to get some here shortly.

2. Ice cubes don't belong in shot glasses. After a margarita and a few mixed drinks I got the bright idea that my poker playing would improve significantly if I took a few shots of a few types of liquor. I invited my friend to join in on the shots. She opted for some so co, which was the only thing that hadn't been in the fridge. I decided I'd help her out with my fantastic idea. I grabbed an ice cube from the freezer and attempted to hold it in the liquor to chill it but not drop it in... apparently dextarity is something you lose after the amount of alcohol I had consumed. I dropped the ice cube in the shot glass (for those who don't drink much, your standard ice cube tray ice cube is about the same size as the liquid holding portion of the shot glass) spilling so co all over my bar, cook books, floor, etc...I spun around and grabbed the first thing I saw resembling a towel. which leads to my next lesson opportunity...

3. I don't have skill. You know on the movies when the super skilled person grabs the table cloth and rips it off the table without disturbing the dishes on the table top... those people are ranked among the gods apparently. The towel I reached for to clean up my spill was under 2 of my fancy glasses we drank from at supper. Needless to say I had fewer dishes to wash after I attempted my little trick.

4. Because of the amount of broken glass on my kitchen floor I was offered another lesson. Sweeping is not something drunks should attempt if possible. I picked about 3 pieces of glass out of my foot this morning. Fun stuff.

5. When you wake up in the morning and your eyes are still swimming in their sockets, roll over and go back to sleep. Do not get up, get in your car, and drive to town to feed your teacher's dogs that you promised you'd feed while their outta town. Apparently when things fly by you at a speed of appx. 65mph it induces last nights fun to revist you for an after party.

So yes, I've had a possibly educational weekend. We'll see how many of these lessons I absorb.

Bad blogger, bad bad bad blogger!

So when I left my cushy job at the "hell hole" I also abandoned my blog that I had barely begun. I use to blog daily... then I hit big city college and had to make some sacrifices. As my blog was only for ranting and saying ugly things about other people I made the executive decision to jump ship for a while until I could get my life back into functioning order. This goes to show that I shouldn't be allowed to make executive decisions... I always make the wrong one. How does a girl decide to give up her opportunity to rant and rave about the morons in this world? There are too many morons and not enough intelligent people out there, so those of us with a brain have to find a way to keep our heads above water. I've decided that while I am still an infinitely busy person, I must take up blogging again or I might sucumb to the stupidity that runs amuck around me.

My rant for today? All these teenage girls are running around thinking they are great stuff looking for the perfect "bad boy" to hop into bed with. These girls are generally the "I have legs 2 miles long, no boobs (yet, my parents are getting me some for my 16th birthday), I gave up my brain for cooler things like hair bleach and lip gloss, and I would never even consider eating anything more than a carrot stick in one seating... well, without throwing it up immediately that is..." girls. And what never fails? They hop from bed to bed looking for this oh so fascinationg bad boy that barely has a high school education, is unemployed, smokes cigarettes, and inevitably has a kid. Those girls begin to act like that guys kid is their own and think they are playing house or something. They think they are so cute and that they are really that poor child's mother. I hate, for them, that they are so delusional as to think they are fooling anyone... I especially hate it for the 4 year old that has been taken hostage by these delusions and is clearly aware that daddy's new bimbo is in possesion of less intelligence than them. I have all right to rant about this because once upon a time my father felt the need to marry someone half his age, only 8 years my elder, that felt the need to tell people she was my mother. 1. she was NO such thing, 2. did she really thing people were buying that she gave birth at age 8? detede! No, they all waited until she turned her head then scoffed at how stupid she could be and felt sorry for me all at the same time knowing that I was being forced to deal with this lunatic.

In other news, Fancy ( the dog I have adopted since last I blogged) has hit the terrible 2s of puppy hood. She single handedly sabotaged 50 watermelon and 50 cantelope plants in a time span of about 5 minutes. She also has given me a black eye and a bruise the size of a golf ball on my chin, chewed the lid off a full water bottle and dragged it throughout the house, and chewed a hole into a 50 lb bag of dog food which subsequently spilled all over the floor and proceeded to chow down on how much of it? I have no idea but I am certain my hand will soon fall of from whipping her. But... she's house broke. like that is any major accomplishment at this point.

I have sworn off wal mart. Yep, me... queen of blow my whole check at wally world the day I get it. As I live in a dry county again wal mart here doesn't carry booze and there is a dollar store 5 minutes from my house that carries everything else I need so why trouble myself with that sorry excuse of a store. Note to self: Colleges shouldn't be in dry counties and neither should I.

As Chad and I have given up our great paying jobs to attend SAU our lifestyle has changed. I have wished for nearly 3 years now that there would be fewer ropens in my life, now that it has happened I am somewhat sad. Possibly because I can now catch 2 horns 9 times outta 10, possibly because now the only traveling we really do is to mena and back. Either way... something has to give before long. Which leads to my plea.... Will everyone in Polk county please vote for Steve Oglesby this fall? That'd make my life great, but the details will have to wait until after the election and depend on the outcome.

Also, my "life goals" are still changing daily. Today I have given up the want for getting my masters based on the fact that I despise paper writing. Today I am going with "I will open my own restaurant and make it successful by the time I am 30." But we all know that could change any second now so don't mark it down on your calendar or anything.

Finally.... I am craving amaretto. To shooters tomorrow night for some of the best ever amaretto sours in the world?
Anything is possible....