Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Jordan to the Rescue

For those who read my post about Mexican Fighting Bulls you will have read that Jordan (my little sister) had pulled me from the wrath of the bull to safety. This is not the first time my little sister has had to come to my rescue. There will probably be many more times as well.
One Sunday morning, about 6 years ago, I was getting ready for church. I am most usually running late for everything so this was par for the course. I was rushing around trying to get in the shower. I grabbed my towel from my vanity stool (SIDE NOTE: This stool was solid wood. It was actually a bar stool with the legs cut down to fit under the counter- country engineering at its finest!) As my towel was flying off the stool it had wrapped around the seat and pulled the stool down as well. This brought the stool down onto my left foot, more specifically my pinky toe and the toe directly beside it. This immediately forced some not nice words out of my mouth, promptly followed by an immediate nauseous feeling and some possible tears.
I thought it would be proficient to sit on the stool and gather myself before moving or swearing anymore. I was trying not to hysterically cry and/or puke. I have never broken anything or even been injured or had any surgeries so that feeling was pretty new to me. I then figured that if I was not going to cry, puke or die that I had better continue getting ready for church as I was now completely late. I continued on to the shower. We have small seats in our shower and I was still feeling nauseous so I sat down for a minute. Jordan had just awoken from her slumber and had walked in to find me sitting on the bench with the shower door open to let the cool air inside. After she asked “What are you doing?!?” I had explained about the Satan stool and my poor crushed toes. I continued showering as now I was so late it was almost useless even trying to make it to church, but I was determined to make it there.
This next part is where it gets a little fuzzy to me. At one minute I was reaching up to get my shampoo and the next minute I was laying naked outside in the hall and Jordan was on the phone yelling. Apparently I had passed out in the shower. Jordan was luckily still in the bathroom when this happened and heard a large “THUMP” which was me hitting the shower floor. She ran over to the shower and opened the door and yelled “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” To this, I am not sure that I answered. She managed to lug me out of the shower and semi-wrap me in a towel and then proceeded to call my parents, whom were at an auction and they did not hear their phone. She then had called our older sister, Kenzie, who luckily answered the phone. She had hurriedly explained the situation and asked what she should do. Kenzie’s first question was, “Well, did you turn the water off?” This was in response to her apparent concern for the possibility of me drowning. Jordan assured her that I was not able to drown since I was currently lying in our hallway in a towel. Once I finally came around, about 15 minutes later, Jordan had filled me in on the entire story, since I was apparently a little out of it while this whole ordeal was taking place. My poor pinky toe was surely broken as it was already swollen and purple. I was pretty whiney and pouty about the broken toe for a little while. We eventually laughed about my near death experience and I have yet to hear the end of the teasing about when Jordan had to save my life because of my broken toe!

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Who Doesn't Love Cupcakes?!?

Hello my faithful followers! Well since I have a pretty great group of followers I have decided it is time for a giveaway!!! WOOHOO!! That is right! A GIVEAWAY!! I have recently discovered an amazing Blogger/Baker named Jill. Her blog name is Stay Calm, Have a Cupcake. Here is her site address:  She also has an Etsy store. That is how I originally found her. Once I started reading her blog I just fell in love. I mean, who wouldn’t want to blog and bake cupcakes all day? I know I would! So before I start going on and on and on about my love of cupcakes I will explain how to enter to win your VERY OWN CUPCAKE KIT from Stay Calm, Have a Cupcake! Get Excited, I know I am!! To enter the contest: simply post a comment on this post stating your favorite flavor of cupcake and become a follower, if you aren’t already. A winner will be chosen and announced on Monday, November 22! Good Luck my fellow cupcake lovers!

I thought I would give you a list of a few reasons why Cupcakes kick other desserts’ hiney!
1. Cupcakes are miniatures! I LOVE Miniatures! By reducing the size of an item it automatically makes it cuter and more delicious! Maybe because you know there is less to go around, so you enjoy it a little more!
2. Cupcakes take you back to being a kid. When you didn’t care if you had icing all over your face and that you don’t need a stinkin’ fork to devour this delish treat!
3. Cupcakes are very customizable. You can make any flavor and any icing combination. The possibilities are endless. But I know what you are saying, “You can make cakes & cookies in any flavor, right?” Well that is right, but cakes & cookies don’t come in a totally cute cupcake wrapper! They have all different kinds. I have dinosaur ones at home!  Woot Woot!
4. Cupcakes are portable! You can take a cupcake ANYWHERE! Can you carry a cheesecake outside? NO! You can’t! Can you eat a cake while driving? No, no you can’t without making a mess. (SIDE NOTE:  Jordan- please do not try this as your driving record is not very good as it is.- Love you!)
5. Since cupcakes are so tiny, you can eat more and not feel as bad about yourself. I guess we feel less judged if we eat cupcakes rather than a slice of cake. (SIDE NOTE: All you calorie counters out there leave this one alone! If we want to eat 5 cupcakes and feel better than if we ate a slice of cake it is totally fine-just this once.)

If you still do not lugh cupcakes and my reasons did not tug at your heart-strings, well then I apologize. And maybe one day you will grow to love the miniature cakes as I do!
Remember: Winner will be announced Monday, November 22!!!

Winner Winner Chicken Dinner: Kenzie has won the cupcake giveaway! Yay Kenzie!
**Winner was chosen randomly using:**

Friday, November 12, 2010

Yay For The Weekend!!

Guess what readers?!? Only 6 more days until Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows reaches theatres in the US! Woo Hoo!  Not only will that be a FANTASTIC day because of HP, but my best fran Amber also got us tickets to see WICKED the 18th!! Soooo that means Wicked and then HP! Does it get any better than that?!? Well perhaps if Breaking Dawn followed HP, then it would be better, but it is pretty flippin’ AWESOME nonetheless!!
I can’t imagine not loving Harry Potter. I feel that it grew up with our generation! In fact, I would still lugh to go to Hogwarts. . . Unfortunately, I am past the age of acceptance and it is a fictional place, but whatev. I still have 2 more HP movies to enjoy and countless re-reads of the books to keep me going. Also, GET EXCITED, we are going to the HP Theme Park in Orlando! I am hoping for the springtime! Amber- You in??
On to the real post. . .

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Thankful Thursdays!

Happy Veterans Day Readers!
This will be a short and sweet post. Instead of a crazy story about Jacob’s silly escapades or my near death experiences, I thought I would write a short note of gratitude to our wonderful service men & women.
Service Men & Women,
Thank you so very much for your bravery and your service. We are lucky to live in a Nation where so many wonderful men & women choose to protect the freedoms we, so often, take for granted! Thank you again! God Bless and Keep You Safe!!

Monday, November 8, 2010

Mexican Fighting Bulls

If this is your first time reading my blog, you may not know that I am from Oklahoma and raised on a ranch (my family has cows). Now my father, bless his heart, had three daughters. Of the three of us, I am the one who is the most girly! I don’t like to get dirty, go outside, sweat and I especially don’t like to be around cow poo. Since there are only girls in our family we were still expected to help with the cows on occasion. By “help with the cows” I mean help sort and run them through the cattle shoot to be vaccinated, de-horned and castrated. Working cows for us usually consisted of my sisters throwing cow poo at me and us all dodging the flying cow no-nos that my dad would throw over his shoulder once they were cut off (GROSS, I know!).

One damp and dreary April day (Good Friday to be exact) we had to help work cows. Since our older sister had moved to Indiana, good help was scarce and that meant that I had to help. We had received a lot of rain in the preceding weeks and the corral was crazy muddy. Now imagine tons of mud mixed with cow poo-Yuck! I had made the decision to at least look somewhat fashionable (as fashionable as one in rural Oklahoma can be) on this particular morning. I wanted to wear my awesome hot pink rain boots since we would be sloshing through much and yuck.

My boots looked somewhat like this. A little brighter but not as cool as these.

The cow moving had been going well. Jordan (my sister) and I had been sorting the cows and pushing them through the cattle shoot when we were prompted by dad to send some more down. My dad was giving the cows immunizations and cutting the bulls that were too big to be banded. My mom was being the truck beyotch. This means you have to run back and forth to bring dad whatever he needs. We all call not it at that job, because you have the greatest possibility of being hit by a flying testicle.

If you don’t understand the lingo I will provide a short learning opportunity. (When boy cows are not going to be kept as breeding bulls they have to get rid of their oompa loompas so that they don’t get mean and aggressive. Most cows are banded, where a rubber band is placed around the no-nos until they fall off, when they are little. If there is a boy cow that was a little older and missed being banded they have to get cut. I am guessing you know that if they get “cut” they actually get their hoo-hoos cut off with a scalpel. It is a little sad, but necessary. Please don’t write me about cruelty to animals. I love all animals, but not really cows as you will soon learn why).

The herd was winding down to the last 10-15 cows. (Side Note: Our neighbor had a big bull get loose and he was mixed in with our cows. This bull did NOT like being in the corral. He could literally clear a 4 foot fence). We were left with our neighbor’s big bull, which we were holding until they could come and pick him up, about 8 small calves and a few other mid sized calves. We had finally sorted out the smaller baby cows and were left with just 3 mid sized calves and the big bull. There was 1 cow in particular, a red with a white faced Hereford, who was VERY skittish all day.
Please note that this is not the actual bull, but what I imagine him to look like in my head.

Please note that this is not the actual bull, but what he probably looked like in real life.

He kept trying to get out of the corral and didn’t want to go through the shoot. We had moved them from 1 part of the corral into another small holding pin that led into the shoot. In the commotion of the last move the white faced Hereford had knocked over a 4x4 fence post.

The post looks a little something like this. I remember it as being a lot bigger.

As I was in the pin that was now empty, I felt the urge to move the post and close the gate so that the cows couldn’t get back into the pin they had just left. As I bent down to pick up the post the red Hereford charged at me. I was about half the distance from either side of the pin and I am not in the type of shape to be running and get away from a bull. My only option was to put the post between the bull and myself and hope to scare it by making it think I was perhaps a tree. My bluff failed miserably! The bull hit the post, which in turn hit me right on the forehead. I was thrown back about 6-7 feet and landed on my back. Luckily my little sister was there to save me and pick me up so that I could not get trampled.
Once I have regained my control I started sobbing profusely. Not because of the fact that I ALMOST just died, but because I now had a rather large egg on my forehead and I had cow poo on me.

I should have taken a side portrait so you could see how large it really was. I was also red faced from crying and pouting.  

After that incident I was confined to the tailgate of the truck as I was useless for the remainder of the cow working escapade. Luckily there were only a few cows, including my new white faced Hereford friend. The crazy cow was the last to be worked. After he was cut he refused to stand up in the shoot. He was probably exhausted from his human killing rampage he had just endured. Once this cow finally stood up and was released from the shoot he turned and ran after my dad. My dad is seriously one of the toughest men I have ever met. The cow danced with him for a bit before determining that that target would not go down easily. This is the precise moment that my old friend recognized me sitting on the tailgate of the truck. One look at me and he charged AGAIN. I had stood up in the back of the truck when I saw him coming and he ran smack into the tailgate. This only upset him more and he then charged my mother who was standing on the side of the truck. My mom was trying to climb into the truck, but for some reason her legs were not moving as fast as she thought they were. She made a few small bunny hops and the cow charged her bum a few times before he just ran off.
He turned and looked at us like this before running off. EVIL COW!

By this point I am hysterical. This cow had tried to kill me, not one, but twice. I had determined that this bull was a Mexican fighting bull and he was attracted to my hot pink rain boots. I was promised by my father that this cow would be going to the sale yard ASAP. Once I was carted back to the house and I was pouting on the couch I remembered about Natasha Richardson. The English born actress who had bumped her head while skiing and then later died from an epidural hematoma due to blunt impact to the head. So now I thought I was going to die. I was going to die from working cows! I had a minor panic attack and was later soothed after speaking to Jake (my precious husband who is a pharmacist). He assured that I did not have a concussion and that I would be fine, well as fine as someone can be with an egg on their forehead. I guess it was only fitting for an Easter celebration to show my spirit with an egg on the head. I have not worked cows since that day! Haha
This was about 2 weeks after the incident. I had a nice shade of purple eye shadow and some bruising still on my forehead.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

6 Reasons That I Am NOT Ready For Kids

Please note that the reason behind this post is not to “bash” anyone with children. I happen to like children and can see myself as a mother, just not anytime in the near future. This post stems from a relentless stream of the following questions: When are you going to have children? Don’t you want children? Don’t you think that you are getting older and it is time to have children? These questions, although highly annoying, are also RUDE. I don’t ask you when you plan on joining the gym or if you have had your yearly mammogram, because it is personal and NONE of my business. Although I try to resist the answer that comes to my head first which is “Why don’t you shut the flip up?” I just smile and answer “When I am 30”. Why 30? Well it seems like a good age to take the next step. I may decide that I am ready when I am 26 and a half or 28, but when I tell people 30 it should give me at least 4 years until I am asked again. I don’t think women should have to defend themselves when they say that they are not ready for children. If you have an issue with me not wanting children at this moment in my life, well I think you don’t deserve to be included in my life.Trust us, when we decide to get preggo and we feel that it is time to share the news, we will definitely let you all know!
Now on to the Countdown:

6. I want to go to the Harry Potter Theme Park! Who wants to take a baby to see Hogwarts? Not me!! I want to dress in my Hermione cloak and carry a wand without smelling of spit up or carrying a child in a backpack or stroller. I guess this means that I may be too immature for children. I am sure there will be a time in my life (maybe) that I would rather push a stroller around a park instead of dressing as a wizard, but that time is not now.
5. The sound of crying babies makes we want to pull my hair out. Seriously! I would vote for legislation requiring people to take crying babies in restaurants, stores and other close quartered environments outside until they have reached an acceptable noise level. Now please don’t get me wrong. I am not talking about Mickey D’s here. But when I go to a nice restaurant I expect the environment to be pleasant and clean. Hearing a wailing baby and seeing a child throw goldfish crackers all over the place does not sound like an enjoyable night out!
4. I am selfish! It is as simple as that. I don’t want to have to worry about taking care of another human being. I want ME time. And after that time is shared with my husband and my family and my friends the rest belongs SOLELY to me. Whether I want to hang in my PJs and veg out all day or head to an afternoon matinee to see a movie. I don’t have to worry about anyone but myself and I like it that way.
3. I happen to have a very sensitive puke sensor. This sensor includes spit up as well as puke. I know what mothers say (except for my own mother who can NOT be within a 100 ft radius of puke or she will gag), “It is different when it is your own child”. Well I am happy for you that you can be covered in your child’s excrement and still be as happy as a clam. I choose to not be covered in baby puke, or anyone’s puke for that matter, for a long while.
2. I still feel young! I am only 26. I don’t feel my “biological clock” ticking away. I don’t feel there is a rush to get impregnated. I just don’t feel that motherly instinct yet. Women have children well into their 30’s and everything is fine. I do not feel that being 40 compared to 45 when your child graduates from HS will make that big of a difference.
1. I LOVE TO SLEEP. Sleep is probably one of my favorite things. I am one of those people who require 8+ hours of sleep at night and the 9+ hours on the weekend. Without this much sleep I tend to get cranky, sick and irritable. When you have kids it is impossible to get that much sleep. Until I require less sleep, I can’t imagine having children.

I hope this clarifies my reasons for not wanting to have children at this moment in time! Once again, I do want to have children sometime, just not now!

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Top 10 Reasons You Should Own a Fake Moustache

  1. Everyone has tried a bubble bath beard or stache at some point in their lives. Why not take the next step and get one that looks real?!
  2. Fake moustaches are less permanent than fingerstaches. Although fingerstaches are pretty bad and I may secretly want one or two. . .
  3. Who doesn’t need a handy disguise at some point? Have you ever tried to use a coupon twice in one visit? Well now you can, since you will be unrecognizable with your handy fake moustache.
  4. Roadside humor is always appreciated. Can you imagine the look on the lady’s face at the drive through window when you pull to the window with a fu Manchu and you are a girl? PRICELESS!!
  5. Although this theory has yet to be tested, but I would imagine that it would work. What police officer would give a ticket to someone with a fake stache? I am pretty sure it will spur some Super Trooper or Reno 911 comments, thus making the officer forget the reason you were pulled over in the first place. This could save you lots of money! (Side Note: I am NOT responsible if you happen to get a ticket or perhaps taken to “the big house”).
  6. Who doesn’t need a hobby? Making fake mustaches are simple and entertaining. It has to be better than watching soap operas, right??
    1. Hobby Lobby has felt that has a sticky back. Simply print a template from the internet; there are tons of sites offering free templates. Trace the design with a sharpie and cut out with a sharp pair of scissors. This can then he adhered directly to your skin or to a wooden dowel for a classier look.
    Finished Product!
  7. A fake stache will allow you to look older therefore allowing you do more “grown-up” things, for instance; Get into Rated R movies, Get off the carpet path in Vegas, Get into a bar and last, but definitely not least, be able to buy correction fluid without someone thinking you are a “huffer”.
  8. Opposite of a pick up line. When you are having a girls night out and don’t want to bothered by lame pick up lines and lame boys, just wear your fake stache and this will deter any and all compliments headed your way.
  9. Use your stache as a nice let down to your husband or boyfriend. If you are not feeling “in the mood” and your significant other wants to get frisky all you have to do is wear the stache. The thought of kissing a bearded lady should signal a gag reflex from any guy and deter any advancements. (Side Note: This excuse should not exclusively be used or its effectiveness will diminish. Rotate the ‘I Have a Headache’, the ‘I’m too Tired’ and the ‘I Just Want to Snuggle’ excuses for best results.)
  10. Great Photo Ops. Instead of a description, I will just show you how fun these are!
  11. No one knows it is me when I am driving!
    Even boys can wear them! Huh Jake?
    This is my best fran Amber. I made her this stache!
    I tried Amber's stache before I sent it to her.
    Jordan's Fu Manchu
    Jordan's Sharpie Fingerstache. (Side Note: These only look good for about 3 minutes. After that they just become a smere of purple)
    My Fingerstache. Classy!
    Jordan in her fort at work with her fake stache!

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Jacobism 2.0

I decided to add a good picture of Jacob and Milo, since he is apparently worried about his image. Haha

Since my last post was on Weatherford, I find it only appropriate to add a Jacobism that occurred in Weatherford.
Prior to Jacob & I getting married we had neither lived with anyone besides our families or out on our own. I knew I would be fine as I am independent to the point of stubbornness. My sisters & I have been pretty self-sufficient since we were pretty young. Jacob on the other hand has been waited on HAND AND FOOT since he was young. Now, don’t get me wrong, Jake could clean house and put up clothes and cook a very limited menu, so he wasn’t totally helpless. (Side Note: I have seen on more than one occasion, Jacob’s dresser drawers emptied because clothes were stuffed and not folded).
So needless to say, when we got married and moved in together it was a culture shock. Jacob had to learn to be self-sufficient and know that I wouldn’t wait on him. We had many “How to Be a Grown Up” classes, but as some of you know that I am a terrible teacher. So Jacob needed additional help. I only show people once and if they don’t pick it up then I move on! (Side Note: Reason 182 why I am not a teacher or a parent for that matter).
Jacob was a typical “Mamma’s Boy”. He seriously would talk to his mom multiple times per day on the phone. (Side Note: Thank GOD, this behavior has been altered! It took 12 years, but now her only calls every other day or so). I would literally go a week and talk to my mom a few times. This doesn’t mean that I am not as close to my mom, it just means that I don’t need to call her and tell her what I ate for dinner that night or what I am wearing the following day.  
One dark & rainy night, shortly after we had moved in together four long hours from home, Jacob was talking to his mom on the phone. (Side Note: This was seriously like the first or second night we had lived together). I was still unpacking and getting everything in order before we started classes later that week. As I am unpacking and organizing, I happen to look over and see that Jacob was on the phone again. This was the third or fourth time he had talked to her on the phone that day. I may or may not have lost my cool a little and quietly yelled at him to “get off the flippin phone”. After he hung up the phone, I proceeded to ask him how many times he really needed to talk to his mom in 1 day. This was at the peak of his momma’s boyness, so he did not take that question lightly. I told him to put his phone down and help me unpack. Jacob then proceeded to toss his phone from his chair to the couch. This was a distance of about 4 feet. I mean toss literally. He underhanded the throw, not like fast-pitch softball, but more like a lob. (Side Note: Jacob has REALLY accurate hand-eye coordination and had played baseball and football in high school. The boy could place a ball anywhere it needed to be). Despite his ball throwing accuracy, his phone tossing ability happened to be a bit lacking. The phone missed the back of the couch by about 1-2 feet and headed straight through the window. Here is where you say, “There is no way a small cell phone that is lobbed can go through a window”. This is also the point where I say, “Oh yes it can!” Did I mention we lived in a 1983 model trailer that only had single pane windows? So yes, the phone made a nice arc out of the window, into the rain outside and land on the wet grass.
I happen to be a little bit of a smarty pants, especially in ridiculous situations like this. I immediately start laughing and making a comment about his throwing accuracy. This, in NO way, helped the situation. Jacob then had to retrieve his phone from the rain soaked ground. The phone still worked, surprisingly. One would think that a trip through a window and into water would severely damage a fragile cell phone, but it didn’t. I am pretty sure that was our first married fight and the start to a miraculous 3 years in God Forsaken Weatherford. He has since not thrown anything through windows, but I haven’t provoked him by mocking his momma’s boyishness in a long while. I smell an experiment coming along. . .