New pictures...just for the hell of it!

Took these yesterday while walking around the pasture on a hell of a nice day.

Marky being cute


Daisy being impressive-looking


Stevie's modeling session (he kept wanting me to take more and more photos!)


This is just a really good-looking loaf of bread--and the best-tasting, too. Yes, I made it.

One last update on that damn list.

1. Believe it or not, it's still not finished. It's Monday, and I present on Wednesday morning. Oh, I'll have it done, and it's 87% there, but it's just that I can't decide how exactly I want to present it (order, that is) and I won't have a computer to work with after tonight. It's 3:30 CST and it WILL be done by this evening.
2. Finished! I changed venues, though. It's now here: www.hotelfrederick.com. The Frederick is a BEAUTIFULLY restored, 5-star, green hotel right on the river. If any of you decide to come and visit me, or else need a place to stay on your travels along I-70, I can score you rooms for 50% off.
3. Still no informative sheets, but I'll have them done by next Monday at the latest, with plenty of time before the Thursday lunch.
4. So far, the kids have nothing to do at the festival. One day at a time, sweet Jesus.
5. Done!
6. Nope.
7. Done!

All-in-all, not bad. And I'm nearly through Book 5 (Order of the Phoenix) and am looking forward to a couple of travel days to dive into Book 6--of which I know NOTHING, so, very exciting!

One of these days, I'll write about something interesting. When, dear reader, I do not know. I have been saying that for about 4 years now.

Pressing Items Update.

1. Started. I've pledged to not read the end of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire until it's finished. A self-inflicted cruciatus curse!
2. Pretty much done! I've reserved the state headquarters of the MO Daughters of the American Revolution and their wonderful caterers. I hope our British friends find the wry humour in eating lunch at a mansion that belongs to the ancestors of the rebels who kicked their asses in that little scrap a couple hundred years back. I say "pretty much done" because I just got a call from a VERY outspoken member of our community who owns a restaurant downtown and wants to know if the City went through a bidding process--for a LUNCHEON. I told him that, no, we didn't, that nothing was confirmed, and that he is free to send a menu and a price. However, I didn't tell him that, all food being equal, I would much rather have our international guests eating in a well-preserved Victorian-era MANSION than in a not-so-well-preserved restaurant/bar. I mean, there are intangibles here, people.
3. Begun. The guest list of 25 Hometownians is solid. I started the Hometown cheat sheet.
4. Called a would-be sponsor and told that I have to write a letter outlining the reason behind the sponsorship to their corporate office. I'll try.
5. To be completed today before I leave.
6. No. Not even close.
7. Nearly complete! I'm going to do that right...now. See ya!

Life Lesson #4

When you have a long weekend and lots of work stuff to do by the following Friday, do not blow all of your time reading Harry Potter books.

Pressing Items.

I am growing increasingly stressed as I ponder the following list of things that I must do:
1. Create and practice 2-2.5 hour presentation for Buffalo, NY econ teachers. Due?: Friday at the latest so I can send a copy to NY in time for modifications. I meant to do it this weekend, but...things got in the way. Damn you, Voldemort!
2. Secure a hall and caterer for a luncheon and Q&A session for 35 people, 4 of whom are members of the UK's Parliament (House of Commons), 4 of whom are young political leaders in the UK, 1 of whom is their tour guide from the U.S. Dept. of State, 1 of whom is their MO host, and 25 of whom are Hometownians that I've invited to give them an idea of how small-town residents feel about Big Government Issues. Due date: Next Monday Event date: February 7
3. Create an informative cheat sheet of those guests, Boonville's history and pertinent demographic information, and how the UK Parliament is organized, key players, etc. Due date: Next Monday (I'm in Buffalo next Tues-Thursday)
4. Get a "kid's area" organized, complete with events, magicians, and big-time sponsors (whom I've yet to call) for the first annual Best of MO Life Festival. Due date for at least getting people called: Friday (there's a planning meeting on Friday morning) Date of event: May 2
5. Get business tax information to the accountant. Estimated time: 2 hours. Due: Friday (some business stuff is due January 31 and I am otherwise occupied next week).
6. Start and complete a survey of downtown businesses regarding their participation in (or resistance to) Chamber of Commerce events. Requires going to these businesses and talking to the people in charge. Most will be cool, some will not be. The last event was at the end of September; I got the questionnaire in mid-November. Due date: Um, it should have been done, but I'm now thinking that I'll be happy to have it done by, oh, mid-February, and I should have never agreed to do it at all. Stupid!
7. This just in! Create a 1/4 page ad for the newspaper in order to take advantage of last minute deal. Due: Friday at noon.

So, those are the big things. There's also all the regular stuff in my day, an increasingly dirty house, and the animals. Oh--and did I mention that I'm burning my way through Harry Potter--halfway through the 4th book--and I'd like nothing so much as to take a short sabbatical from everyone and everything and just READ? I didn't? Well, that's what I want to do.

As if.

Life Lesson #3

You will never hear a modern "country" music song that doesn't have 1. a generic, almost robotic, rock-and-roll based guitar solo followed by 2. a repeat of the chorus with very little musical accompaniment. Apparently, the latter is an invite to the crowd to 'sing along'. This, in no way, rivals the sing-along Sly Stone coaxed from the gloriously stoned audience at Woodstock. I wasn't there, but I could tell it was pretty cool.

Thus endeth the third lesson.

Lulu's Life Lessons

And, so, I embark on yet another series of posts that probably won't last much longer than the first. Hey! I've unwittingly discovered Life Lesson #1!

Life Lesson #1: You will begin many more things than you will ever finish.

Life Lesson #2: When you are expecting a child, you will be the recipient of much unsolicited advice. When you acquire livestock, you will be the recipient of much, much more.

Thus endeth today's truths.

A New Post on the Same Old Slime

I woke up thinking that I should write a post about TV, and then I read Flip's post (www.blueruin2.blogspot.com) about a ridiculous new commercial and decided that this post must be written.

I just finished a large book for children called "The Mysterious Benedict Society". I got it for Stevie for Christmas and, because parents raved about it on Amazon, and because I wanted to know what Stevie would be reading, I read it. In it, a group of child geniuses try to stop a madman. The madman wants to re-educate the people of the world by soothing their fears with meaningless claptrap broadcast via piggybacked TV and radio signals and, thus, control them and become an overlord far more pervasive than the Vikings in that Led Zeppelin song.

The children chosen for the mission had several things in common, but the most important was a feeling of irritability when watching TV or listening to radio. They were irritated because their strong, independent brains were resisting the secret brainwashing messages being sent--weaker brains just complacently soaked it in.

Am I a child genius? Stop it--I'm blushing! But I do feel their pain. I am growing more and more irritated by television, and I find radio just plain hateful.

When removed from my element and placed in hotel rooms or my mom's house, I'll indulge and watch way too much. How else can I explain watching about 8 episodes of "Brett Michaels: Rock of Love" except to say that I was at Mom and Dave's, it was Christmastime, and everyone else was watching, too? I like college football. I like a couple of the Thursday night comedies (The Office, 30 Rock). I don't have cable but, if I did, I would watch "The Daily Show". And I have waited with baited breath to see which song VH1 would deem the #1 1-hit-wonder. (Sorry--can't remember what it was.)

But on a regular day, I just can't stand the damn thing. Kevin turns on the local news in the morning to get the weather, and then leaves the damn thing on! That's how I pick up on all the things I don't want to know, such as the status of the latest pretty pregnant woman who was just murdered (status: still dead), or the status of the latest pretty little girl who has gone missing (status: still missing, very likely dead), celebrity interviews, useless political commentary, and all the other worthless bullshit. I'm constantly admonishing him to turn the damn thing off (unless he's actually watching something), and read a book. Thanks to a timely Barnes & Noble gift certificate from Uncle Ted, he bought some books and is, more and more, turning off the damn thing and reading books. Victory!

When I do pause to watch, as I wrote about last time, it's clinical--like a scientist watching with awe and dread as her beakers spew toxic sludge all over the lab. Something's gone horribly wrong!

Last night Kevin put on "The Big Lebowski" for the 210th time and I caught a few of my favorite quotes as I read the third Harry Potter book (I've moved past Stevie!). He fell asleep, and I was awake as it ended. As I rewound the video, which requires that the TV be on, I turned it to the one channel we were receiving clearly and was accosted by the smug face of loathesome Jimmy Kimmel, a man who I would describe as "inexplicably famous" except that, given our astoundingly low standards for fame, I realize that of course he should be famous! Even more famous than he is! (The Dude would describe him as a "human paraquat".) I mean, wasn't he one of the untalented boars behind "The Man Show"? And now he has his own late-night talk show, in good company with the other ridiculous men of late-night (Conan excluded), and last night he stood there making one mean and unfunny comment after the other. Then he brought out two sad-sack "American Idol" first-round rejects, exploited by that show and, now, exploited by Jimmy Kimmel by way of a horribly mean and a straight-to-you-tube music video that wasn't even stoned funny. The five minutes that I sorta watched was just the sort of thing that should be put in a time capsule under "this is the worst shit that our culture produced, maybe ever". If I had had a wand like Hermione, I would've turned him into a walking, talking turd.

It was then that the thought hit me: "He already is! There is some magic in the world after all!"

But then I thought, "People like talking turd."

And the magic slipped away....

What the hell is wrong with "frumpy" anyway?

Seriously, the only downside to coming home after I pick up Stevie at 3 is when I turn on the TV and am faced with afternoon television shows. Oprah's egomania is out of control (not big news, I know). The other day, her Best Friend Gayle was touring pizza places and then they shared some Chicago pizza on the air. Yes, America was riveted as Oprah ate her slice and said things like "that's fantastic". The thing is, America probably was riveted, and hopped onto Oprah's site immediately to look up that particular pizza joint and hope and pray, because their prayers are always with you, that that pizza joint delivered to South Carolina or Nebraska--somehow!--so that they could eat the rarified pizza that Lord Oprah eats. Oh shit. It's all too exciting.

And then there's the trend on these shows to give 'everyone in the audience' whatever they're featuring on the show, and the crowd goes nuts! I was watching Ellen. Or, I should say, Ellen was on. She was demonstrating this new video game thing that looks like something only very wealthy institutions could buy. There were 4 columns, maybe 6 feet high and a couple feet wide. Each column had 4 lights. You get green, I get red. Whenever a red light flashed, I have to jump to it and hit it. Similar with green. The point of this contraption is to get fat kids off their asses. Everyone in the audience clapped--oh what a lovely idea! And all it takes is another video game, this one costing thousands, to do it! Wonderful! So two people in the audience got chosen to play it, screamed in excitement all the way down, furiously played the game, and everyone agreed and clapped--again--at what a wonderful contraption this was. The winner's gifts were so spectacular that Ellen had to wait to present them. The LOSER of the game was presented, right there and then, with a cart of gifts. A cart of gifts consisting of every high-end video game system currently on the market (I guess--they're all a blue to me). The middle-aged woman went NUTS. Freaking crazy! For a cart of video games that her kids will . . . sit . . . and grow large . . . in front of. Good show, Ellen!

But the reason I'm writing is actually because of Dr. Phil. Or, rather, Dr. Phil's wife, Robin. Robin apparently took it upon her little polished self to dust off the frumpy housewives of America and spit-shine them until they fairly glowed. So a group of already thin women left their families and worked out for 2 weeks. They lost many inches of fat, many inches of hair, and gained many pounds of make-up. They showed the hideous Before pics, followed by a soul-inspiring After march across the stage ("And here's Susan NOW!!") Wow!!

OK, sure they looked better (the 2 I saw anyway). And sure they got to spend the day in Robin's Beverly Hills mansion ("Oh, your home is lovely, Robin!" "Thank you", says Robin, as the camera swept up the lovely staircase and lovingly curved around the Trump-ish kitchen.) and picked up a lot of Robin's favorite pampering products ("I just love to take a long bath after working out, and these are my favorite bath products!" Squeal!) A long bath after working out? Come on.

So the women came out wearing their pocketless, dry clean only clothes, and pledged to burn their overalls and "take time to look fabulous every day!"

Which makes me wonder...What the hell is wrong with "frumpy" anyway?

Dr. Phil's wife Robin is a tiny bird of a woman, loaded with money and time. She has that curiously overdone 90210 look that, in my opinion, far too many women have embraced (with their teeny-yet-sculpted and shiny, buffed arms). It's a cliche to say this, but it IS very Stepford. The overall result of 'looking great' is looking plastic. Fake. These are the women who have their labia shaped in more pleasing . . . patterns? I'm not sure what a good-looking labia consists of these days. And, no, Dr. Phil's wife, I don't WANT to know.

I love my overalls. They're comfortable and practical. They come off, and I have sex with my husband. Yes, he still manages to get turned on even when confronted with my extra pounds and my frumpy overalls with their many pockets stuffed with tissues and keys and Hot Wheels. He's obviously a real freak. Would he like it if I walked around in lacy lingerie and Jimmy Choo's and lots of 'product'?

Seeing as how all that shit costs money (unless you get it for FREE on Oprah!), and how it requires a shitload of shopping time (I can't even imagine doing that), the answer is no. I'm sure he'd see all this for what it is--a thinly disguised commercial for overpriced items that no one needs. It's nice to lose a few pounds or get a good haircut, but it's not the key to self-esteem. Sorry. That lies a few inches under those hideously wonderful overalls. And I will continue to wear them, thanks. And if you call me "frumpy", I promise you that I won't care a bit.

My Heart Will Go On and Go Bucks!

Sure, it kinda sucks to lose. But the method of the losing...that's what stings.

It's one thing to play hard and lose the third national championship game your team has been to in six years. It's quite another to hand LSU a victory on a lovely hand-painted ceramic platter outfitted with a variety of quality cheeses, buttery crackers, and those little teeny grapes that you can only find in the best markets. Roughing the kicker? Come ON! And personal foul after personal foul, caressing LSU 25+ yards up the field. Bummer.

I mostly kept my eyes off the TV and down on the little leaves I was cutting out for my nature quilt. Shouts of "OH, COME OOOOON!!!" were heard, among the rants to "Come on Fox, get it together!" directed toward the Fox network, a station that barely comes in on our TV (but did, thanks to numerous frantic yankings on the antennae--how far behind are we, anyway?!), but that also seemed to be having its own problems with broadcast gremlins.

In the end, it STILL feels good to be a Buckeye. I mean, you can't beat going to the national championship game during a 'rebuilding' year. And you can't beat a son (of course you can't!) who didn't want to wear his hiking boots on a hike the other day because they are "Michigan colors". That kid has worn his scarlet-and-grey almost every day for the past 2 weeks--including this morning. We're planting Buckeye trees in Missouri soil soon. The up-and-coming Buckeye Nation is strong, my friends.

Go Bucks!

Publishing is a pain in the butt.

I'm doing two publishing things right now. First, I'm making a little 1/8 page ad about Hometown for a regional Sunday-paper insert travel guide. Second, I'm proofing Hometown's 4 tourism pages for a state magazine's profile on Hometown.

First, the little ad. I came up with 5 different designs with 2 different messages and sent them to the tourism commission for comments and votes. I got ONE response. I submitted the one that got the one vote and was told everything was good. Then I was told that it was blurry. Redo it, resubmit, still blurry. WTF? I don't know--I'm not that good on computers. So redo it again, wait for them to lay it out, cut words, do this and that, wait some more. It will get done, but I'm frustrated about the almost complete lack of input from the TC. Sure, I work for volunteers, but I didn't realize I worked for such hands-off volunteers who volunteered to be active in tourism.

Second, the 4 pages. The TC paid thousands of dollars for 4 pages in a 52-page profile of Hometown that is going to be in the big State Magazine AND that will be available as a free-standing publication. It's a great magazine, with gorgeous photos and a clean layout. I told the writer in charge of tourism's feature what we wanted in the spread: Hometown's charm, a little relevant-to-tourism history, and our big events. I said I wanted Hometown to come across as the hub of a region with lots of interesting little towns to visit--and to have those little towns featured along the side margin or in some other way. I wanted a map, a small calendar of events, and colorful pictures showing beautiful sites and lots of people.

I didn't get it.

I have yet to read the text thoroughly (just got it, you know), but there is no mention of a hub or of any other town (besides one), no map, no calendar, no link to our website. And the pictures are surprisingly lame! There are back-to-back, full-page "sunset silhouette" shots that are predominately yellow and black. There are three photos of people bicycling on a statewide rail trail--one full-page and two insets within that same page--showing a total of 4 people, none smiling. On the next spread, there are 2 buildings, 2 sidewalks and 1 beautifully decorated room in a historic room...and no people.

The other problem is that there are, apparently, no really good shots of Hometown in existence. I've searched the web and the local photo guy's stash. The local guy takes tons of pictures, but there are very few that are artful, close-up, filled with color, etc. Despite dozens of festivals and events, there are no good pictures of people at a festival or event. There is no picture of downtown Hometown at night, showing all of the buildings outlined with white lights. I'm seriously going to start taking my own.

And the real kicker is that it's too late to make many changes! What I was given, despite having asked for pages long ago, is up against a thisweek deadline and in near final form! Dangit!

I thought I was finished with all of this excitement!

Lucky.

Trying to simultaneously feed two horses two different feeds that both of them like is no easy task. But it must be done.

I don't feel like getting into the politics of being the owner of the second horse on the pasture, when the first horse belongs to my father-in-law's niece and, if a problem arises, little diva-horse Tina's folks get first dibs on the solution. It's akin to being a mail-order second wife to a strict polygamist. Let's just say that, while there are advantages to sharing (a really nice horse shed, buried electrical lines, help if I needed it), I would rather have the pasture to myself and my animals. Such is life.

Still, the only issue with the two horses so far...this week...has been feeding time. Tina gets fed grain twice a day. I don't want my horse to have grain. I want her to have alfalfa pellets with a little oil mixed in. So how do you feed two horses two different things (and keep Daisy's size from intimidating Tina's owner's father, who is an absolutely obnoxious know-it-all-who-doesn't-know-it-all when it comes to animals and sees Daisy as a threat because of her size when it's his daughter's horse who, though lighter, is far more likely to freak out and kill one of us and, even at just 800 pounds, is quite capable of doing just that. Ooops, I got into the politics there)? Well, you feed Daisy her alfalfa--with a little sweet feed mixed in until she learns to like it as much as the cows do--and then lead Tina to her own trough, out-of-sight of Daisy, and set out her grain. It's really not that tough; Daisy stays where she is supposed to, and it requires that Tina's tiny mom only handle Tina, which she is quite capable of doing.

I've taken over the morning feeding of both horses (all by myself!) and share the duty with Tina's people in the afternoon until everybody gets used to the situation and to Daisy's 1,800 pounds of mellow horsiness.

This morning, while Daisy was eating some of the grain I had already put in her trough, head down low, I sorta bent over and poured the rest of her alfalfa into the trough, which was kinda noisy and spooked her just enough that she lifted her head quickly...and I felt the "whoosh" of air from her Buick-sized head waft just in front of my nose.

If I had been just a wee little bit closer, dear reader, I would have had the head-butting of my life that, if it didn't jam my nose innards into my brain innards and END my life, at the very least would have broken my nose and thrown me back into the arms of the electric fence, where I would have lingered, zapped all the while, for the next, oh, 8 hours or so. It was quite the wake-up call, friends.

Lucky.

It's a fact of farm life that farm animals can kill ya, pretty easily, and have. Payback is a bitch, I suppose. For instance, I'm pretty hesitant about getting one of those enormous pigs, because pigs will EAT farmers--and the children of farmers--if they happen to fall into the pen. And, they're really smart--one of the 10 smartest animals on the planet, yo--and I've heard even from Ol' Crusties that it isn't easy to kill a pig when they look at you just so.

My little heifers, who probably weigh between 500-700 pounds now, could easily flatten me, swing their heads around and lay me out, step on my muck boot-clad toes and break a few tiny bones. Even the sheep, as sweet as they are, could seriously hurt, well, a child. I make Stevie stay right next to me in the pasture, and Mark is always held (and wants to be). Tina is a small horse but has been known to run at a person in the open pasture only to cut away with feet to spare and flip around and kick up her legs. It's rather intimidating. And Daisy's massiveness is a constant reminder that she is capable of great carnage at any time. Her temperament says "I'm a big sweet draft, bred for a gentle temperament and strong work ethic for hundreds of years" but her body says "this is why they used my forehorses in medieval battles".

You can count on me being much more careful from now on. And only feeding when there is someone there who knows what I'm doing.

A new post for the new year...awwww

Hi there. It's Wednesday, January 2, 2008, and I'm back in my schedule after nearly 2 weeks off. It's always difficult to accept The Schedule after that much time. I am much more productive when I have intrusions into my hours, when I must be at a given place at a given time. Still, I love getting up in the morning and being able to choose what to do with it from a long list of gratifying things (in between some housework now and then--and I'm getting much more adept at doing less housework and feeling just fine about it).

For instance, yesterday--the first holiday of the year. I woke up, made some eggs with salsa, black olives, and fresh cilantro (the latter two leftovers from the chicken enchilada dinner I had made the night before which proved a welcome departure from American Holiday Food). Marky loves eggs, and quickly figured out that black olives were much more satisfying when eaten off the tips of his tiny baby fingers.

After breakfast, we loafed for a bit. Kevin headed to work for a couple of hours and the boys and I headed across the driveway to hang out with Kevin's sister and her husband and their kids, who headed home to the scenic Northwest later that day. I was itching for Kevin to return so I could go outside and scoop poop in the pasture. After a couple of false positives, my mother-in-law said "Oh just go and scoop poop already!" meaning "It is fine to leave the boys in our care. Go and do what pleases you, my dear." I bundled up and headed outside in the frigid air to scoop frozen horse and cow shit into a wildly tippy plastic wheelbarrow and form a pile to use in my garden this spring.

And there's some new horseshit in the pasture as of Monday...because I finally got my horse! Beautiful Daisy has come to live with us. As a result, I took surprising pleasure in eliminating the little mountains of grassy turds from the front part of the pasture (where the animals tend to congregate), and forking up wet hay leftover from the ice storm, and otherwise tidying up and forming a nice hot pile of wicked good compost in a spot just over the south hill. Don't worry, dear reader--there's still plenty of manure on the pasture, and the natural cycle of ruminent herd = grass production, evolved over millions of years, will remain intact.

In between wheelbarrow loads, I hefted three bales of hay to the horse shed and cut off the strings so the animals can eat at will, filled all three water troughs, and brushed some of the mud off of Daisy. I spent over three hours in the pasture, in the cold, and thoroughly enjoyed myself.

I did other stuff over the holiday, but in the interest of keeping my posts somewhat shorter (shout out to Flip) and getting some work done, I'll close for the day.