You know that moment in a job interview where you’re asked, “What’s your greatest weakness?” and we all blurt out something generic like, “I’m a perfectionist.” Well, it’s only taken me 33+ years to realize it, but I honestly have a major weakness – I’m a chronic apologizer. I’ve been doing it my entire life, apologizing for getting good grades in high school, for being smart, for knowing the answer, for having self confidence, for being damn good at my job, for having a well-mannered dog, for having two adorable children, for having a beautiful home. All of it. I’ve said I was sorry for all the good things in my life before saying anything else. Well I’ve had an epiphany. I’ve realized I apologize because I don’t want others to feel bad or for them to think I gloat. But the thing is, the majority of the people that … Read More
After Monday, I’ll never understand how any baby chicken can ever get caught and eaten by a wild animal. Because when Kassidy does it, ole mama hen goes all Matrix on her, flying through the air with beak and feet outstretched, aiming for her sweet little face. Yep, poor Kassidy got attacked by a chicken. And the chicken won. To hear Kassidy tell the story, it happened like this: “I caught baby chicken all by myself. Then mama chicken bit me. No, no mama chicken. Kassidy cry.” I couldn’t have told the story any better myself. Except I’ll add that I was no where around when the incident occurred. Daddy came to her rescue, washed her war wounds, and bandaged them up. I took her to the doc the next day to confirm there was nothing more that could be done. And Kassidy was treated to pizza and ice cream. … Read More
Some of you are already aware of how my morning started off. I woke up, went outside to water plants and check the animals, and found the animal you see above. So, I did what any normal woman would do in this situation. I waved the rockers over (we are building a house so I have crews at my house all day, every day), and in my broken Spanish, asked them to please make sure it was dead. That began a 10-minute broken Spanish/English conversation of “is it a zorro or a coyote.” Good thing coyote in Spanish is coyote. I thanked them, told them to just leave it be, and that my husband would take care of it when he got home. I also think they were impressed with my Spanish when they asked me if my “perro” could have killed it, and I responded “No, mi perro (insert … Read More
Brady and I like making new friends, and we happen to be very good at it. I even brought two Miss Congeniality titles to our marriage. Brady, well, he’s just plain likeable. So since we happen to be living where our new house is being built, we’ve made it a point to meet and get to know many of our subs. The framers have been our favorite by far. Not just because they allow us to crash their morning break, feed Kassidy flaming hot Cheetos, or bring us homemade gorditas, tortas or tacos every morning. Nope. They are our favorite because they brought me a gift. Three chickens to be exact. A rooster and two hens. Delivered to us with helpful instructions on how to keep our rooster from wandering away. So now we have three chickens that wander around our little ranch, eating bugs, cock-a-doodling at dawn, and harassing … Read More
We all know good things must come to an end. That’s life. And this week, Brady and I had to let an old friend go. Our favorite, littlest, muddiest swimming hole. Our pond. Six years ago, we wouldn’t think twice about stripping down and jumping in to the cool, refreshingly brown water. In fact, last summer we put our pond to good use for BFE. But this week everything changed. I decided to be spontaneous and race Kassidy to the pond for a quick, cool swim. We both got in. Brady followed. Fast forward 2 minutes. Brady shrieks and jumps out of the pond. “What’s wrong?” I ask him. “I found a leech on my leg,” he says. Didn’t need too much coaxing for me to grab Kassidy and exit the muddy waters, only to feel Brady slap a leech off the back of my own leg. Enter freaking out … Read More
Play in paint. Make a homemade gift for Mommy. Cheese it for the camera. Ride my trike in just my diaper. Eat dirt. Swim in the nude. Play with my spaghetti. Cuddle with Daddy after my bath.
No not the musicians. Our goats. To everyone that enjoyed coming out to our place to harass Reckless and try to tackle or rope him, I am sorry. He liked to beat me up a little too much. But he is still living out his days very happily at someone else’s ranch in Robertson County. But don’t worry. Stoney is just as fun to pick on, and he doesn’t try to kill you. He’s actually a pretty sweet cabrito. And you can try to tackle or rope him the next time you come out. Just be sure to tell him thank you when you’re done. Or scratch him between his ears.
Or lack thereof. I stumbled upon this the other day while we were moving goats from one pasture to another. Can you guess what it is? If you can answer yes to that question, then you’re probably laughing right now. If you still have your head turned to the side trying to figure it out, then all you need to keep telling yourself is “rainbows and unicorns, rainbows and unicorns, rainbows and unicorns.” Don’t stop saying it. Or else you will soon realize what it really is and get all grossed out. And stop reading my blog. And I wouldn’t want that.
It’s sad when you can remember the timeline of your life according to what your place looks like on Google Satellite. Take this picture for instance. I know that this was taken this past summer, sometime after Kassidy was born, because our goat house had been thrown from its original location by a little twister while I was at the hospital giving birth. Dang you Google Satellite for taking updated pictures of our place when there was absolutely no grass and no water. It’s the ugliest the poor little Lazy K Ranch has ever looked. Because last time, we were at least green. Exhibit A: No more lower pond. Exhibit B: A very low upper pond. Exhibit C: Our entire place. In the color brown. Where were we in these pictures? Probably inside, with a new little baby, with the A/C on about 70 degrees. Hiding from Google Satellite.
They do this. Leon and Boone are the worst. We’ll find half-eaten feed pans spread all over the pasture. I think they chase each other with the pans in their mouths. Silly donkeys, feed pans hold food. They aren’t food.