Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Coach Cowgirl

Tribewanted: Adventure Island. This looks like fun! Anyone want to go with me? Seriously.

Perhaps I should start my own version of this in the Corn Desert. It may not be a tropical island, but I bet I am more entertaining.


Today is the last day of school for my two nieces and one nephew.

I think I am more excited than they are, as I get to spend even more time with them. Plus I am going to coach my nephew's baseball team with Bree, and that alone is going to be amazing. Her youngest son is also on the team.

Both of us played softball all through Jr. High and High School. She pitched and I was a catcher (thinking woman's position). My team won several state championships, as did her's...therefore it is going to be fun seeing how competitive we get.

Besides, we are the only females coaching in this league. FUN!!! Who do you think is going to get called a bitch first?

Perhaps more later...it's nice out and I think I am going to go play outside the rest of the day...as I get to leave work early!

Although I have all sorts of good stories from this weekend. I'm not sure where to start. But I did get to try Aunt Norma's potato salad afterall. No more ass kicking...everyone stayed in line the rest of the weekend.

I think it is the prettiest here during sunrise or sunset.

Took lots of pictures this weekend. Some are good and some are good for blackmail. Heh.

Naw, I wouldn't do that...would I?

Friday, May 26, 2006

The Lake, The Salon, and Kicking Ass

I have just a few more hours til I go back out on the lake, and the fact that I am sitting here, typing a post while masticating proves that I am addicted. And hungry.

Plus, I have a wonderful IM going with the Wombat about water and harbor patrol.

Cries of "OMG your HAIR" have been heard consistently since I had it whacked. People have been asking me if I am going through a crisis.


Can't they see I've had a huge weight lifted off of my shoulders? Isn't it obvious?...I'm happy and smiling WITHOUT outside help, ie alcohol. I've already had my crisis...and I am dealing with it.

I hate when people just assume things.

But I don't have to assume that I am guilty of that. Everyone is to some degree. But blatant assumptions bother me.


Beauty shops are known for being where the Chatty Cathys hang out...and my hometown is no different. It's amazing what one hears over dryers and a radio semi-blaring classic rock. Everything from what Aunt Norma is making for the cookout on Sunday to who is cheating on their spouse.

I hear Aunt Norma makes the best potato salad.

The gal that cut my hair and had fun coloring it seemed thrilled I finally let her do my hair. As I said yesterday, she is a year younger than me...used to ride the same bus to school. She wasn't born here, so I like her better. She's from all over...ie Military Brat. Well, until she moved here during Jr. High.

She tells me that I was intimidating in highschool because I "was one of those girls that had no clue how hot they were, and didn't care or try, and that made it worse." Huh? Being a low maintenance tomboy made me hotter?


Not suprisingly, Bree and I ended up going to a bar that was having karaoke last night. We were sitting at the bar because the bartender was eye-candy and as flirty as we are.

And I almost kicked not one, but two guy's asses. Yes, two assholes were bothering us last night...one of them touched me...tried to rub my shoulders because I was tense because he was bugging the hell out of us - of course I was tense...and I jumped up so fast I knocked my chair down. Don't fucking touch me!

He spilled some of his beer, but it looked like he pissed his pants.

Fifteen minutes later, after the bartender refused him service, he was barred for trying to get his own draft. Piece of shit.

Twenty minutes or so after that, I am standing due to a beer soaked chair, scratching Bree's back because that's what friends are for. Well, not even two seconds later another asshole walks up and scratches Bree's back when I stopped to reach for my drink. And my hackles hadn't went back down from the first guy. This one wasn't quite as annoying or gross...Bree told him not to touch her, and he didn't hear her. She just sat back and watched me roll.

She told you not to touch her. Who are you, her girlfriend? Like I'd tell you. Now leave her the fuck alone, or I am going to have to kick your ass. Because I sure as hell could kick your ass.

He should have just walked away. But no. He grabbed my wrist because I was ignoring him, and then the next second he found his ass on the ground. You bitch! The bartender flies over the bar, and literally picks this dude up by the back of his shirt and his belt, throwing him out of the bar.

Everyone is hooting and hollering at my display of what-to-do-when-someone-grabs-your-wrist. Handing me my beer, Bree smiles.

Yep, life is good.

They Can No Longer Call Me Red

My adventures of getting my hair cut has left me with a new admiration for someone who lives in my hometown. She is a year younger than me, and should be doing hair in some fancy salon...she has talent. I have never liked my hair so much.

And it is short(er)...I watched six inches fall onto the floor, wincing.

Which means it is barely off my shoulders. Scary. Never have had short hair since I was born. But now I think I look polished. I needed something I could style easily and funky...singing in Church and possibly a band (yes possibly)...time for a change because times are a changing.

Shayna over at Music Highway has written me a song/poem because I won the Song Lyric Caption contest...and I was blown away.

Be sure to play the Song Lyric Caption contest...yours truly is the judge.

Brian over at Truth Is Freedom has some wonderful stuff he has written in honor of Memorial Day; one is in honor of me and the rest of the Guard.

Thursday, May 25, 2006

One More Day Til Friday

I won the Song Lyric Caption contest over at Shayna's, woot! I am even more excited about being the judge for this weeks contest!

I haven't really blogged about anything significant lately, and come to think of it, I totally didn't even know what to say yesterday (Wednesday). I have been saying more in emails and IMs here lately. I don't claim this blog to be much of anything other than whatever comes through my finger tips on any given day.

I think I kinda like it that way.

The Wreckers - Leave The Pieces (click to play...I'm really liking this song so far.)

This is "Leave The Pieces" by The Wreckers, which is comprised of Michelle Branch and Jessica Harp, who used to sing back-up for Michelle. So now they are on a whole new adventure singing edgy folk country.


I can't wait... I have a four day weekend! Therefore, after getting all of the new graphics done for some brand new Impalas coming in, and updating all of the websites I do, I am a free woman. Until Tuesday morning.

This weekend is going to be spent partying my ass off. I need it. I have behaved lately...when I complain about coming in during the wee hours of the morning, it is usually because Bree and I are sitting out on one of our porches, just talking. And sometimes singing.

The unconditional love between her and her family is something I have never felt before.

After work today, I am getting a new do because I feel a need for change. Freaky.

Tonight I am going to go party on the lake, so I better tan right after work. I might have something to say later on, so stay tuned. I'll try to make it to everyone's blogs too.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006


One of my favorite blogs is Sgt Hook's. Many of my blogger buddies are also "hooked" on the Sgt., and now the pressure is on because I just realized the Sgt has called myself and several others in my corral talented...rendering orders to his readers to venture here!

Holy Crackers, Batman! (thanks Brian)

Shayna, I am forever in debt to you for the Holy Crackers phrase now embedded into my brain. It's been getting a lot of use here lately...

Here are a few of the other phrases/words I say:

Holy Crackers! (holy shit, I am in church and almost cussed again!)

Shit fire and save matches! (well, I'll be, isn't that something?)

Got a hitch in your giddy-up? (having problems with your horse? If you would do what I told you, you wouldn't be having this problem. Because you are the problem.)

Are you tanorexic? (are you addicted to tanning?)

That guy is such a fuck stick. (meaning he is an idiot, asshole, or dumbass...and I seem to use this more for guys that I find attractive...until they start to speak.)

Dude, you are ate up. (not performing to expectation, or someone who has killed too many brain cells...or both.) I seem to recall a certain drill sergeant that over used "ate up." Private, you are ate up! Do you have soup for brains!?!

I haven't seen him in a coon's age. (A long ass time)

Alrighty, now that I have shared some of my sayings with you, I want each of you to share one of your favorite sayings in my comment section!

Monday, May 22, 2006

Holy Crackers

This past weekend found me in the best spirits that I can remember being in since high school. And I am straight up serious about that. I've been so freakin' happy that people are going to think I am on something.

My incessant sniffling due to allergies probably doesn't help.

Shayna, the wonderful rocker chick that she is, always makes me think about pursuing my love of music. Her words of encouragement mean more to me than she will ever know.

I am still in shock that I have attended church every Sunday since Easter. This past Saturday night, I went to sleep at 0300 hours, got up at 0530 hours on Sunday, and was at church to warm up by 0700 hours. Holy Crackers, I am going to have to start getting my ass home at a decent hour on Saturday night. That's some dedication. To what, I am not sure.

But I was more shocked that one of the movers and shakers of the church wants me to take over the musical part of the contemporary service because he feels I can keep the program growing because of my age, stage presence, personality, and love of music. Yes, me. I was so dumbfounded when they asked me, I couldn't talk. Me, replace the music director?

HOLY CRACKERS what are these people thinking? Do they not hear the ceiling strain when I enter the building? When they say "Open Hearts. Open Minds. Open Doors." they mean it.

I attend church in a decent sized city not too far away from my hometown that has services that are broadcasted on TV so that those that cannot attend can still get their helping of Church every Sunday. Two of the services are your typical traditional Methodist services, but my favorite is the contemporary service. Everyone sings, claps, rocks out to the music...

The idea is to get everyone pumped up before they sit through the sermon. Therefore, the music director starts the service, then the congregation shakes hands and says good morning, and then the band starts playing about 6 songs, depending on how long winded the speaker is for the day. And we are not talking hymns (although I love singing those too)...we are talking some good tunes.

I have watched myself on some of the recordings of the services, and it does look like Bree and I are having WAY too much fun singing. The two of us harmonize so well, it's freaky. And it is an awesome feeling to look out into the crowd and see people singing and clapping while we are singing. Absolutely awesome.
But Holy Crackers I am in shock that they want me in a leadership position.

Saturday, May 20, 2006

Cowgirl Update

I still can't blog about Friday. I wish I could, but I do not want the locals raining on my blog, so to speak. If I am too obvious, it will ruin the mystery. But the Patriot Guard Riders rock.

Being the corn fed farm girl that I am, I am very proud of this fellow young citizen of the Corn Desert who went to court after the governor called her a cheater and her 4-H show steer equal to a bovine Barry Bonds. The same man who wanted to take the state fair to CHICAGO. Hooah, Whitney, and good luck during this show season!

Don't mess with us country girls!

Perhaps more to come later...this cowgirl has been requested to sing karaoke tonight on a night when everyone and their brother is going to be out...a local festival is going on. Could be interesting; I don't know whether it is sad or not that the DJs invite me personally.

What do you think?

Also, have to sing on TV tomorrow at church...fun times. I am going to go shopping, because I am running out of non-cleavage revealing clothes. Can't show cleavage on TV...singing in contemporary service costs me more than being in a robe during the "normal" services. But I love singing with the church band, so it's worth it.

I'm still in shock that I have went to church every Sunday since Easter. And it hasn't caved in.

Friday, May 19, 2006

Final Salute

"Down In Mississippi Up To No G..." By Sugarland clicky to play

Friday, payday, Lordy got to get away
Had it with the wife thing, living on a shoe string
What's a poor girl got to do just to have some fun?
All these years without any help
Guess what, honey, clothes just don't wash themselves!
Neither do dishes, neither does the bathroom floor

So, now if anyone asks, not that they would
I'll be down in Mississippi and up to no good

No more, what a bore, had enough, I'm out the door
Headed for a breakdown, had it with the small town
Gonna call Lisa, gonna call Carla Sue
Well, now we're gonna let it roll, gonna let it rip
Gonna get us a nice room down on the strip
Not that we'll need it, there won't be any sleepin' tonight

So, now if anyone asks, not that they would
We'll be down in Mississippi and up to no good

Hammer down, here we go
Runnin' for the riverboat
All you're gonna see is asses and elbows
Luck's about to change for these three queens
Tired of getting' jokers, deal us up kings

Hammer down, here we go
Runnin' for the riverboat
All you're gonna see is asses and elbows
Luck's about to change for these three queens
Tired of getting' jokers, deal us up kings

Snake eyes, roll the dice, double down and hit me twice
Cashin' in the big chips, gonna leave a big tip
Hotter than a two dollar pistol, baby, I'm on fire

So, now if anyone asks, not that they would
I'll be down in Mississippi and up to no good
If anyone asks, not that they would
I'll be down in Mississippi and up to no good

The day has been hard. That's all I got to say about that. I'm glad to be home where I can pretend I'm not upset. Because it's easier to do here.

I'm counting the hours down until Bree gets off of work because it's Friday, payday, Lordy got to get away.


I got this in an email from a friend, but I revamped it a little, Cowgirl Style. What do you think?

1. When you are sad - I will help you get drunk and plot revenge against the sorry bastard/bitch who made you sad.

If this isn't why you are sad, then I am all ears. I've got a good shoulder to cry on, and you know I give good hugs. Come here sweetie.

2. When you are blue - I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you. Being a medic comes in handy. From CPR to an emergency cricothyroidotomy with a ball point pen, you're covered. Hooah.

3. When you smile - I will know you finally got laid. The bigger the smile, the more I wanna know. Or do I?

4. When you are scared - I will rag on you about it every chance I get if it didn't scare me. After consoling you, that is. Unless we are scared together, then it becomes a horrific story to share and reenact.

5. When you are worried - I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be and to quit whining.

6. When you are confused - I will use little words. Because when I said precipitously, you thought I meant it was raining outside.

7. When you are sick - Stay the hell away from me until you are well again. I don't want whatever you have. The girl next door in me will bring you homemade chicken noodle soup (or a veggie soup for my fellow vegetables) and knock on the door. Better get your ass off the couch and get it while it is hot. There's crackers too.

If you are sick due to too much liquor, I will hold your hair and/or take care of you. Because I expect the same in return. And if you pass out on the bathroom floor, I will never talk about it, because I've been there too. There's proof.

8. When you fall - I will point and laugh at your clumsy ass. Then I will pick you back up. Unless you fell in something in the pasture. Then you are on your own.

This is my oath... I pledge it till the end. Why? You may ask, because you are my friend.

Remember: A good friend will help you move. A really good friend will help you move a body. Let me know if I ever need to bring a shovel, lol. Oh, and a good friend will bail you out of jail. A really good friend will be sitting there next to you laughing.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Not Wearing Black To This One

Tomorrow I have a funeral to attend for a fallen soldier. Just after welcoming home the majority of the troops that I had known in Iraq...after thoughts ran through my head that no one had died there that I personally knew.

But now I can no longer say that.

Fears for my high school best friend's husband and my personal Ethan have been revisited...although I know they are doing their best to come back in September.

There are others that I know deployed...and I pray for their safe return.

My daily blog reading has left me still thinking...which it usually does. But this time it's something I relate to on a personal level. With this, pia has again made me step back and think about the world beyond Iraq, gas prices, Presidential disapproval ratings, taking my turn guarding the border, and media infused crap.

Parents attempting to live their lives and leave a legacy that isn't theirs through children disappoint me. I have been, excuse me, still am one of those children...and will never be one of those parents.

I believe we live our own legacy. Touching the lives of the children I am blessed with, no matter whose DNA they share, is what I consider as a part of my legacy. What they do with their own lives is their legacy. You are your own legacy...however, I strongly believe that influencing the future can be a part of your legacy.

Every child I have given riding lessons to, every challenged person I have watched heal through the touch of a horse...that is my legacy. And I am just getting started.

I promised my friend I would give his horse crazy kid riding lessons this summer, and damn it, if I have to go pick her up and take her home, she is going to ride. Her daddy finally decided she was responsible enough...and was hoping to buy her a horse for Christmas if she proved she was worthy. And if she is, I will bend over backwards to figure out a way to make that happen. Because her daddy died fighting to protect the future, leaving his own legacy.

And this makes four.


So that's where Hoffa went? I knew he was last seen at the Machus Red Fox restaurant, but now the FBI is digging around a horse farm, Hidden Dreams Farm, for him.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

New Look

Thought I would try out some different ideas as far as the template goes. Still working on it...will have to finish it later, as I need to start getting ready to leave. I have choir practice tonight. Yipee!

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

"M" is for Meme

I've been letter tagged by the Barngoddess. She gave me the letter "M." This is how it works if you desire to play too - in your comment to this post, ask for a letter, which I will give you as a reply to your comment. Then write ten words beginning with that letter, and explain the story or meaning or relevance of those words to you...then pass out some letters too!

1. Music: I love music. Music is my mantra. I am always singing, dancing, or writing music. Even when I am working horses, there is a radio going. When I am driving, the radio is cranked and I am rockin' out.

2. Martingale: A piece of horse training equipment that I can't live without. I only use leather ones, and I have three different kinds that I use. And I can't stand when people incorrectly use martingales...

That's a martingale that pretty horse is wearing around his neck.

3. Margarita: A drink that I can't resist when eating Mexican cuisine. And I rarely resist Mexican cuisine. I prefer frozen ones, and the newest one I tried was a Midori Melon Margarita...talk about alliteration. And it was yummy.

4. Money: The more I make, the more I spend. It's not always about the money; but money is everything. So realistically it is. Money is not the only answer, but it makes a difference. ~ Barack Obama.

5. Mascara: Something I rarely leave the house without applying. Mascara is my friend. There are a multitude of things I like to lift and separate...reference modesty, below.

6. Modesty: A word that only applies to me occasionally. Modesty; the gentle art of enhancing your charm by pretending not to be aware of it. It's the cowgirl way.

7. Maracas: God wouldn't have given you maracas if He didn't want you to shake 'em. Refererence modesty, above.

8. Men: Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em. Well...on second thought, yes you can, if one so desires! Men are like pumpkins. It seems like all the good ones are either taken or they've had everything scraped out of their heads with a spoon.

9. My: a word that precedes alot of words that are "me." Sometimes I wear MY heart on MY sleeve. MY body, MY choice. That's MY preogative. Get off MY ass!

10. More is most definitely more. More eyeliner, more mascara, more cleavage, more rips in the jeans, more hair spray, more heels, more singing, more vodka, more dancing, more outrage. DON'T DREAM IT, BE IT. That's hard to accomplish if less is more.

Monday, May 15, 2006

A Non-Internet Weekend

I would like to see you and Shayna trying to out drink each other. That would be a sight. ~ Chris

Chris, I think this is a challenge I am up to. How 'bout you Shayna? We could probably sell tickets and help fund your little one's future college education...

Happy Mother's Day to all of my beloved blogger moms. This well wishing is fashionably late...but filled with my wholesome Midwestern country girl love.

Ok, I'm not entirely buying the wholesome imagery either.

This has been the first weekend in quite a few months that I haven't been online at least twice Saturday or Sunday...even at drill. I am taking that as a good sign. Except my internet was down on Sunday...so I am not sure if that truly counts. No one was holding me ransom, though.

A strip club burned down not too far from here Friday morning...and I am sure it was no accident. Someone my age died in the fire...I would elaborate, but that would make it too easy for the local yokels to figure out who I am. The death aside, I think that this would have been ironic if it had happened on a Sunday morning...
"Thou shalt not run with scissors" was never a commandment taught in Sunday school. Brings a new face to "cutting edge" Christianity..." this cowgirl over at Sar's today.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Speaking of fire, Saturday was an interesting adventure. Especially since it sprinkled off and on most of the day, well into the night. Of course the cowboy crush accepted my invitation, and tried his darndest to be sociable and cute. The sociable part he had to work at, but the cute part he owned. Turns out that he has more brain cells than I thought. He graduated from the same university that I did, and passed my initial criteria. He doesn't live with his parents, he is employed, and he isn't younger than me. I believe Wombat is the only guy younger than me that I could tolerate...I usually like them...until they talk.

Seems that these credentials along with my other must haves (taller than me, good teeth, and not related) he met, so I told him I would go out with him to dinner sometime this week...and he actually asked me this time. So perhaps he isn't too shy...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PATRICK, aka Esoteric Wombat! Cheers!

Friday, May 12, 2006

Drink, Don't Drive

Absolutely brilliant marketing strategy. Loved this t-shirt's message. Amazing what one finds on road trips at truck stops. Drink beer, it's cheaper than gas! Oy, like I need an excuse to drink beer? The price of gas certainly is not one of them. But it does make for a cool t-shirt.

And I just had to share this picture as proof that I can out drink Bree. Poor thing. She just couldn't keep up with me...but there is also proof of the opposite. See, we trade off drunk nights if it's just the two of us going out. Only one of us is allowed to get trashed, so that the other can be the babysitter. Works perfectly. And no we don't get drunk ALL of the time; it's only occasionally. BTW, this picture is from my birthday weekend.

If you missed my post on Thursday, it's worthwhile reading material. Kyahgirl, that cowboy never got the nerve to ask me out, even after a few beers. Therefore, I invited him to the cook out tomorrow at Bree's sister's place. So I am certain that will be entertaining. Hopefully in a multitude of ways. If you catch my drift.

Plus, they are going to have a bonfire. And I am a pyro.

Fire, fire, fire...heh, heh, heh (points to anyone who can tell me who I am imitating).

Want proof of why Cooper and Wombat are wonderful? Masticate on this.

Sgt Lori has a must read. "AT EASE" had me laughing hysterically! OMG to be a fly on the wall...hooah!

Thursday, May 11, 2006

What's In A Name

It's true...I'm a hick. Why announce the obvious? Because sometimes I think I forget...or maybe others forget. Just because I ride those "fancy horses" now, doesn't mean I don't enjoy the company of a bunch of guys whose idea of grooming their horse is to make sure there is no mud where the saddle goes. It's not like I am there to check out their horses, right?

Last night I went to a roping. What's a roping? Where a bunch of cowboys and wannabes hang out, practice roping, and drink beer, usually with AC/DC or something similar blaring in the background. It rained last night, so of course they practiced indoors. Everyone that has a horse hangs out on the end of the arena with the chute, sitting on the horses like they are barcaloungers. Everyone else sits in the bleachers and hands out beer.

I refuse to be the "beer whench," so I offered to ride my cowboy crush's young cow horse around that he had brought along for the road trip. My half-broke barcalounger was a cute little blue roan colt that my cowboy crush calls "the blue roan." Seriously. Poor horse needs a name! So name the damn thing then!

I got bored(they aren't much for intellectually stimulating conversation), so I decided I would go lope some circles on the far end of the arena to see what I thought about the little blue roan. Plus it gave me a chance to hear them talk about me when they thought I couldn't hear them. HA! Silly cowboys, I have ears like a fox...hehehehe.

The little blue roan did pretty good; my cowboy crush had done a good job starting him. Then it began raining like hell. On a metal roofed barn. And I was on a half broke barcalounger. Yep, I'm glad I always check the saddle before I get on, because I needed it to be tight while the little blue roan panicked. It sounded like World War III was going on to that little guy, so it would be a bad time for the saddle to slip.

He was so little, it was like staying on a snake. Initially, I thought I would just let him calm down, and not do too much handling, because I could easily make Mr. Wobbly Legs fall. He hadn't exactly earned his sea legs yet. Not to mention the lack of brakes or knowledge of the word WHOA.

Easy, son...it's ok. I tried to talk him into calming down. CRACK! BOOM! The little blue roan scooted across the arena, where I steered him towards the wall. Whoa. Easy, son. Whoa. He slowed down, and I started flexing him to the right, asking him to touch his nose to my boot. This is my form of an emergency brake; works from the left too. I teach all of my horses to "whoa" this way, because I don't want to pull on both reins and teach them to brace against my hands...I always want them to give, be supple. (Ok, enough trainer 101).

After a few more successful whoa processes, the loud storm passed, and I jogged the little blue roan back to hang out with the guys just in time to hear they had been placing bets. You owe me 20 bucks, pay up. She stayed on. My cowboy crush had his hand extended to Mr. Stupidity on the ugly sorrel. Standing up in his stirrups, Mr. Stupidity grabs probably his last $20 until he gets paid Friday, hands it to my cowboy crush, then sits down. When your Wranglers are too tight, it's hard to get money out of your pocket sitting down.

I put the little blue roan in park next to my cowboy crush's pretty palomino, and decided to play with his head. So to speak.

What the fuck? Are you guys betting on me? Uh huh, but I knew you would stay on. That's why I put you on the blue roan anyways. Thanks for giving him some schooling.

Yeah, I heard this is the first time he's ever been out of the round pen, and the fifth time anyone's been up on him. Thanks, shit head.
I reached across and pulled the brim down on his ratty Illini ball cap. My cowboy crush looked panicked now, as he realized I heard everything they were saying about me while I was riding at the other end of the arena. To sum it up, it was pretty much about how he didn't know how to ask me out, and about how I was "too good" for any of the guys there. And about how the colt I was riding was greener than Spring grass after a thunderstorm. And how I had a nice ass...

So....um...didya name the colt? My cowboy crush mumbled, adjusting his hat back to it's normal, slightly crooked position.

Sure did. I'm naming him after his owner. What's that? Shit head.

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Two More Days Til Friday

Appropriate bumper sticker for a member of the manure movers of America...I am a proud member. Right Minka?

Life has been precipitously pulling at me to stay put here in Cornland. Bree and her family have me feeling so re-newed. And loved. Which makes me think I should love myself. I am still thinking about the job in Georgia...but I don't know if I want to run now. Because that was what I was wanting to do. Runaway from myself. And that is impossible to accomplish.

But sometimes alcohol helps. (Editor Cowgirl's note - please don't take this as me being an alcoholic or something...I'm not. Just saying that going out sometimes is my way to turn the rest of the world off. Ok, I feel better. Continue reading.)

Jesus, Take The Wheel by Carrie Underwood

Reading Shayna's post reminds me why I do believe in God, even if I have had my battles with the hypocrisy and commercialism of religion and churches. Life has flashed before my eyes, leaving me thinking that this was my last moment on Earth, to be saved by something greater than chance. And most of the time, I will share, involved horses.

I have a sign that says "Never ride faster than your guardian Angel can fly." That's a saying that I recollect hearing when I was knee high to a grasshopper. I always say a small prayer to myself everytime I step on to a horse for the first time; and I also thank my God when I place my feet on the ground under my own accord.

When I don't, I cuss like a sailor. Something that is not so good to do in front of clients. But it happens. Then they usually die laughing.

Riding horses is a spiritual thing. I don't ride to control, I ride to connect souls. Call me weird, or whatever, but I am.

Horses have been my saving grace, despite the close calls. Many times they are MY Angels. And sometimes I am theirs. Anytime I have a colicky or sick horse, I say a prayer. I have spent my life praying, because sometimes that's all I can do. Without that faith, without hope, there is no way I could have perservered during trying times.

My views of religion and spirituality are skewed; I have touched on that briefly while blogging. It's hard to explain, but perhaps also doesn't need explaining.

Speaking of horses, seems I am the "go to" girl for taking to peruse horses for sale. Probably because I am stupid enough to climb on anything. Plus, I am usually cheap labor; right now I'll go if you buy me breakfast/lunch/dinner according to the time frame and a Dr. Pepper for the ride there.

An older lady friend of mine wanted me to try out an OTT TB (off the track thoroughbred) that was being reschooled to be a hunter/jumper. She is looking for a "step up" horse for her granddaughter. He's cute, but needs some work. Needs to learn to use his back, and needs some "biting" work to develop his hindquarters and teach him to drive off his motor instead of pulling himself around with his front legs.

He passes...but my suggestion is training. Could be a sharp horse, but he needs some groceries. For the money, he is worth the risk. His front legs have been "fired"; pin firing is done on mainly racehorses when chronic inflammation happens, like shin splints. But he is sound, so he's good to go. Five bucks says he will end up here...

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

A Photo Journey In Cornland


Major John of the Miserable Donuts let us know that the Inner Prop recieved the "Pimp Hand Reaching to Slap You" Humanitarian Service Medal. I have Moosetracks in the freezer, if you want to come over and celebrate.
Coop on Virgin Pledges, Contra Contrapception and…My School Sucks. The title is self-sufficient.
The ZenFo Pro is back in action.

Need a laugh? Check out the captions entered in Sar's Tell Me Tuesday contest so far...OMG there has got to be something in the water.

I just love pia's writing. Makes me want to be a writer.

Life is just so entertaining here in the Corn Desert. So entertaining, that I decided to share an adventure with you. Please BYOB and enjoy. All I ask is that you don't liter and don't leave any containers in the bed of my truck. Occifers (yes, occifers) tend to frown upon that.

What a wonderful flat background in this picture. Pretty soon, there will be nothing but corn. This guy was not happy about me picking up this live trap... but hey, he was eating the cat food!
Plus, he is lucky I "havahart," as there are other ways to stop thieves...he was just lucky he was a little guy and still cute. His fortune could have been worse if Dad had seen him...

I even gave him water. Guess this dish is a barn cat dish now...what a sap I am.

But, hey, he has a cute little masked face. Even if his face looks slightly caddywhompus...

He was a little pissed off about the truck ride. I took this after jumping on the tailgate of my truck...didn't really want him trying to get me after I opened the trap. Rabies shots hurt like hell. But I ended up having to "help" him out, because all he did was stare at me, while his freedom awaited him...

This is an all too familiar sight around here. See how he has to make sure the arms of the disc miss the stoplights? I need to wash the windshield...look at the bug guts!

Still behind the tractor...I've learned that sometimes it is better to let some of the hot rodders pass first... there is always some jerk that flies from the back of the line, just asking for trouble. So I putz along till it is safe...

Somehow this part of my windshield isn't as nasty looking...yes, I am looking at the road!

Monday, May 08, 2006

My Old Kentucky Home

Poor J., I don't think he had any idea what he got himself into...bet that is why we made it there in less than four hours...

If you can't deal with only stopping one time during this trip to potty, then you sure as hell better not be drinking any more of that soda. One stop; that's all you get. Of course, he ended up stopping to "potty" before any of us even had to go...

Do you girls NOT know any of these songs? while listening to us sing in surround sound. His granddaughter was sitting in the front, while Bree and I were in the back harmonizing...

Why the hell aren't you girls startin' a band? You should be cuttin' records in Nashville, so that I can eject the CD when I get tired of hearin' ya. Ok, they're called albums now, J....

Somewhere around Indianapolis, our country station fizzles out, so we settle on a top 40 type station. Which was ok with J. - well, until they started playing rap. You girls call that crap music? My dogs howling sounds better than that!

J.'s funniest moment during the trip there was after listening to I'm N Luv (Wit A Stripper) by T-Pain. Damn strippers only listen to him sing because he pays them. J.!

J. and I left the sleepy heads sleeping, and went to the track Saturday morning. Famous, retired jockeys are good friends to have; he pretty much goes and does what he wants. Like watch Barbaro being exercised the morning of the big race. I couldn't believe they were working this horse on race day. This horse impressed me; he looked like a man among boys, he was so finely conditioned. Pointing at Barbaro, J. whispered There's the winner.

I of course was concerned that this horse was more of a turf horse than a dirt horse. But J. told me that the great ones can run on both.

Barbaro is sired by Dynaformer, whose stud fee is $100,000. Divide that in half, and that is how much the entry fee is to enter a horse in the Kentucky Derby.

After finding out Sweetnorthernsaint had bruised his hoof earlier, I decided he was no longer going to be the winner. Still like him, but I never bet on a horse with injuries. And J. heard that he hadn't been his usual self during workouts. Damn. He sure did have the Look of the Eagles though.

The winner of the 132nd Run for the Roses, Barbaro, with Edgar Prado in the irons. This was Prado's first win, after seven attempts.

Barbaro leaves the pack eating his dust, which ends up being the largest gap between the winner and the pack in 60 years. If you aren't making dust, you're eating it.

My picks:

Win - Barbaro (because J. knows his shit) - he won.

Place - Steppenwolfer (because he was having good workouts, unlike Showing Up and Sweetnorthernsaint; plus he reminds me of Monarchos, a previous Derby winnner) - he got third.

Show - Showing Up (who I just like) - He got sixth after Jazil and Brother Derek dead heated for fourth.

Watch the race here. I was dead on about Sinister Minister and Keyed Entry making this race fast and ahead of pace. It was one of the better races I have seen in years, as I watched the horses battle it out. I knew Barbaro was going to win after he made the last turn and starting to come down the stretch; he never showed signs of slowing down, and when Prado asked him to turn it on, Barbaro brought it. Steppenwolfer was just a little late stalking Barbaro, but he passed 4-5 horses effortlessly to Show. Somehow Bluegrass Cat managed to get second, and Steppenwolfer had enough juice left for third. Showing Up was sixth and Sweetnorthernsaint was seventh out of a field of twenty; those two wasted too much energy being boxed in, trying to find a clear path.

Barbaro paid me back 5-1 for the win; I bet $50 bucks. So I won $250. I had no idea what other bets to place, as I only thought Barbaro was a sure thing. Now I wish I would have done one of those things where you pick a few horses, as Steppenwolfer came through. Oh well.

Your traditional mint julep on Derby day costs $9.00, which after the drink is consumed, leaves one with a cool collectible glass. I have just one, because the beer was more feasible.

That purple band around her wrist is the brand one gets to parade around with as a member of the Millionaire's Row. Like her hat? She spent more on that than she did for that fancy mint julep.

Now, for those that want to donate money to a good cause and have a cooler memento than the rest of the Derby groupies, there is the $1000 fancy mint julep. Yep, $1000; bet no one sucked down this pricey cocktail fast. Comes in a gold plated cup, and is made with all sort of imported stuff. There were 50 available; and some how they managed to sell 50 of them. Impressive; the money goes to making sure retired racehorses stay off of the menu overseas.

My favorite celebrity at the races that wasn't a horse, trainer or jockey, was Jennifer Love Hewitt. She is so cute and sweet. But honestly, I was more interested in the horses than the celebrities.

There is much more to come about this weekend in regards to the Derby trip, Bree and I's karaoke Sunday with a guy from the 130th that I now have a thing for, and my escapades with a coon that has been eating the barn cats food. AND I have a photo update about those chicks that hatched earlier this Spring.

Friday, May 05, 2006

Evening Wear IS Required...Only After Six

Packing my last bit of stuff for my trip to the Derby. Including two dresses and heels, which makes me feel like I am going to a party instead of a race. Thank God I have been tanning, as those dresses show a lot of skin. Bree of course was packed yesterday, but she got a head start because she didn't unpack much from her business trip to Nashville.

So how do you say Louisville? I am curious.

We'll be leaving here in a bit...then going out on the town in Louisville after J. surprises us with which hotel we are staying at. Then most of Saturday I plan on living at the track, accompanying J. through the barns and the backside, then getting cleaned up for the races. Then Saturday we have parties to go to. Then a brunch on Sunday morning, then we are headed back home.

This years Kentucky Derby is a reminder that the race doesn’t always go to the swiftest. It usually goes to the stalker of the front runners.

Brother Derek is the favorite so far for the Derby. I was SO right, I knew he would be here. Am I good or what? I think he'll be in the mix, but I don't think he'll win.

The track is going to be fast tomorrow, and Sinister Minister is next to Keyed Entry in the line up in the gate close to the rail, which means this race is going to be fast, probably a rapid early pace. Steppenwolfer is next to them, so I am afraid he might get drawn into the speed, which would end his chances to win.

I still like Sweetnorthernsaint; can't help it...he won the Illinois Derby impressively. Showing Up (who I like too), Barbaro, and Bob and John are going to be in the mix, along with Steppenwolfer. But honestly, this race is going to be a good one. So watch!

Sweetnorthernsaint winning the Illinois Derby impressively.

Showing Up, after his win in the Lexington Stakes in Keeneland the weekend before my birthday.

I want to give a big shout out to the nearly 200 Illinois ARNG troops that are home after a year and a half in Iraq. Bravo Company, Second Battalion, 130th Infantry has finally made it back here to Illinois today. Also, members of Charlie Company, Second Battalion, 130th Infantry are also due back home a little later on today. Welcome home! Thank you for your service! Hooah!

This is very emotional for me, as a family member and some of my friends are in this unit. Can't make it there to say hello and thank you in person...I am feeling guilty about not being able to make it to the parades or parties...but I surely will go see them soon!!!

Major John, I have Moosetracks in the freezer...

Happy Cinco De Mayo! Sar is celebrating at her place.

Thursday, May 04, 2006

Bird Sings Why The Caged I Know

Been one of those days.

Perhaps later on, it will be take me drunk, I'm home. Who knows. I don't have to do anything productive tomorrow anyway except work the three youngsters. And then leave for Kentucky! Yeehaw!

I do have some pretty horses here on the farm right now.
I am totally in my groove when I have horses to work. Somewhere, I must have renewed my love of them; specifically the show horses. Yes, I love horses, period. And I have done everything from barrel racing to cutting to team roping (I can't heel worth a shit) to team penning to jumping to dressage to western pleasure to riding those high stepping english (saddleseat) horses. I don't like being a one trick pony, I suppose.

But I have an addiction to those high stepping horses.

Which is probably why I am seriously considering the job offer I received today. And ever since then, a song has been stuck in my head. Literally and figuratively.

Yep, I've got Georgia on my mind. Close to the ATL specifically. Job would be with one of the most talented english trainers in the breed. So of course I am really thinking about it...even if I thought I would never train horses as a full time career ever again. I'm allowed to change my mind...

But Georgia? Become a Georgia peach?

Now I have this song stuck in my head. Peaches by Presidents of the United States of Ameri...

Wednesday, May 03, 2006


I have done this before...what some good horses will tolerate. It's amazing what trust can do.

I am officially relieved of my position as mommy after getting all of the kiddies off to school this morning. Their dad is home, so I can resume my life as normal. My life is far from normal though, so I have no idea what that really means.... trust me, normality and this cowgirl don't always see eye to eye.

Speaking of trust, I am still earning the trust of two of the three young horses that I have here. One of them is super friendly; but the other two haven't been handled much; or they were handled poorly. Those two are pains in the ass to catch, but at least now they come running when I holler, because I always have something yummy in a bucket.

Whoa seems to be an issue for one...but I think we are starting to speak the same language. Whoa doesn't mean slowly start to think about slowing down and stopping. It means STOP, NOW. Round pens are great for that. Anything I train better come to a screeching halt when the word whoa is mentioned. Without it, riding/driving a horse would be like being in a car with the brakelines cut.

One should probably be concerned when another trainer sends one horses to start. In some ways, I suppose it says alot about me and my abilities to make connections with horses that might other wise never become good, happy horse citizens. However, it does leave me questioning whether or not I am crazy...

My three "students" are english (saddleseat) prospects, meaning that they have a lot of natural heighth and animation in their movement. Two are National Show Horses (double registered half Arabians, the other half being American Saddlebred), and the third horse is a very showy Arabian. They'll spend a lot of time in lines (see below) and eventually I'll hook'em up to a training cart, probably before I ever climb up on them.

I am severely missing going to horse shows all across the country; this is my first year of not doing so. Of course I had the schooling show this year, but that doesn't really count. I guess I need to step back and remember why I am taking a break. Here are a few good stories about my life showing horses. I have tons more, which I'll eventually share at some point, I am sure. I have yet to indulge in my William Shatner run-ins at horse shows (he shows Saddlebreds and Quarter Horses), as I don't want to dissolve the illusion created by Boston Legal for some. He does have some nice horses though.

A storm's rolling in, but not anything of significance. Perhaps something will kick up later.

Those people protesting the gas prices were there in full force today; all eight of them drove themselves! Didn't seem to be accomplishing much, as the pumps were full as I drove by. They have good intent, but they are looking for relief in the wrong place, I am afraid.

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

That's President Cowgirl

Now Shayna has decided she is my campaign manager when I run in the Presidential election. She already is working on a campaign slogan, and other tactics to be used to get votes! See what happens when I start talking politics? Now they have me running for office! Maybe there is something in the water, pia. I am a little young to run for that position, but I would consider being the mayor of my little town in Cornland...

So far watching Bree's children has been going without a hitch. Therefore, I don't have anything good to post about in regards to that. Except for her daughter asking me if I go on blind dates. Because she wants to set me up on one. OMG! Her mom got a big kick out of that one.

More of my friends in the IL ARNG just got called up to go to Iraq. I thought they were supposed to be withdrawling troops...

Leaving Friday to head to Kentucky, so I am excited. I am so tired that my enthusiasm is hard to display through my writing, but yeehaw!