on a chicken wing and a prayer

pure unadulterated joy: dancing with skeletons

2012-02-01T19:08:00.000-06:00

Everyone has skeletons in his closet, but not everyone has taught them to dance....my pastor, Burt Palmer in church last Sunday.

Joy's big moving day dawned cold and clear. The Texan, the Sprouts, the in-laws and anyone else we could throw a lasso over helped us with the move to the nursing home. Mom remained stoic even though the move was complicated for her. While the nurse reviewed Joy's condition and talked with me about her medications, the others dutifully brought in her precious belongings and beloved family photos. Faded photos of her parents, brothers and sisters, and lots of shots of the grandchildren were hung close to her bed.

A favorite photo of Joy's mother and her twin sister

Joy's hearing had deteriorated to basically 'non-existent' in recent days. Her hearing loss was profound, but she took pride in being able to read lips when a speaker was standing in front of her. Now, macular degeneration was robbing her of the ability to read lips. I was her lifeline to the world. I brought some wide-tipped, black magic markers and a note tablet to the home and asked the nurses to write a note and hold it in front of her to aid communication. She was different, but not demented.

If any one's family tree had been stunted and wrecked by the disease of alcoholism...it was surely Joy's. I experienced firsthand how the sinister disease had touched the lives of her brothers and sisters...even how it had wreaked havoc on their families. Many novels are waiting to be written filled with the unusual exploits of my family. Think Angela's Ashes (by Frank McCourt) times 10. Once in a great while, I'd ask Mom about her childhood and she would clue me in.

She once told me of how abusive her father became when he drank. By all accounts he was a brilliant, perfectly civil man, but drinking brought out his dark side. Joy said she and her brothers and sisters hid in a bathroom when they heard their daddy hit the front door drunk. They lived in an upscale neighborhood of Oklahoma City called Nichols Hills. Seems Joy's father did pretty well for himself during the Depression years. They often took in relatives and helped feed the neighbors and others struggling at the time. Mom recalled her dad coming home one evening and all the kids scrambled to the bathroom to avoid the destructive fallout. They could hear shouting, their mother crying and objects flying around the house. The episode must have gone on for some time and the children fell asleep in the locked bathroom. Joy's memory was of getting up the next day and getting ready for school. As she walked from the house to the sidewalk, she saw the lovely curtains gently blowing out all the broken windows. Bits of destroyed furniture were scattered on the lawn. She said she cried as she went to school that day thinking of her beautiful, destroyed home. The incident was never spoken of again.

Another favorite Joy-story involved her preparing a speech for the Woman's Christian Temperance Union meeting. She was about 12 and she was entered in a speech contest for the WCTU to decry the dangers of drinking alcohol.

Early WCTU poster

Young Joy set her keen mind on writing and memorizing her speech. One afternoon, her father and a neighbor-friend asked Joy to recite her speech for them. She recited her speech on the front porch as her dad and the neighbor drank liberally from an open fifth of bourbon. She recalled walking over the passed out neighbor as she went back inside the house. The competition occurred a few days later in front of a large audience inside a packed church. Joy remembered hearing some of the youth delivering passionate speeches and scathing remarks about the evil of drink. Readying for her turn, she rehearsed the lines in her head. She stiffly strode to the podium. Silence. Throat-clearing. Nothing came to her. She looked at the packed house. She looked at her family beaming at her in expectation. Still nothing. Young Joy stood alone for an uncomfortable while trying to collect her thoughts and gather up the opening words to her finely prepared speech. Still nothing. She left the podium....unable to recall a single word.

It was getting late at the nursing home. The busy-ness of the first day was almost complete. The sweet nurse asked us if we would like to eat with the residents in the dining room.

Joy in her room meeting a sweet, sweet baby. This visit raised her spirits.

Might as well jump in with both feet, Kath. Let's give it a try. Will you eat with me?

I wheeled Mom to the dining room where we sat at a nicely decorated table. Joy furtively looked at the other residents. One impeccably coiffed lady was dangerously close to falling headfirst into her mashed potatoes. Another man constantly chattered to himself and struggled to find his mouth with his fork. There were helpful aides feeding some of the residents. Everyone wore a large bib....some of them made of big pieces of molded plastic to catch the run-off. Joy and I weakly smiled at each other and tried not to notice how different this dining room and it's residents were from her previous residence.

We ate quickly and hightailed it out of there to finish up some chores in her room. The Florence Nightingale-of-a-nurse who tirelessly helped us all day approached Joy in the hall.

How did you enjoy your dinner and the dining room? she chirped.

It's not baaad......if you don't mind eating in a morgue! was Joy's acid reply.

Right then and there, Joy became one of Florence Nightingale's favorite residents. Me?....my heart was racing and I promised myself I'd call the cardiologist in the morning.

pure unadulterated joy: alcohol

2012-01-16T08:11:00.000-06:00

(the third in a series about my mother)

The honest depiction of your past may be the courage for another's future. Danny Gokey

Mom....would you like to go see the new, beautiful nursing home I've been telling you about? The Texan's mother is out there and she ADORES it!

Joy about age 14

Nice try. No old, dying person really wants to see the inside of a nursing home no matter how avant garde you promise it to be. Joy was a practical realist, so we scheduled an appointment. Wouldn't you know I had some very important business out-of-town with the Sprout on the day of the nursing home visit. Who do you guess wheeled Mom around on her fun nursing home tour? That's right...the steadfast, rock-love of my life....the Texan! Mom loved the Texan and she trusted him completely. The Texan reported Joy took copious notes and inquired as to the cost of everything. How much were meals? Did they charge extra for the oxygen? Did they charge to give her a bath? Could she bring her computer without an extra charge? Was toilet paper in the bathroom included in the price? Could she get her diabetic meals and what would they cost? The Texan finally got through to her that everything was included and she didn't need to worry about anything....she could be right next door to his mom. We placed a deposit and scheduled a move-in day.

Joy had always been smart. She had a good head for figures and business, too. But during my growing-up years, Joy didn't always make good decisions. You see, for my formative years....as far back as I can remember, Mom was an alcoholic. Of course, when I was little I didn't know what 'alcoholism' was. I had no name or way of communicating what was wrong with my mother. Call it a progressive revelation.

Me with broken arm as a baby. Something about a run-in with my 2 older brothers.

circa 1962

I knew she was able to work her job OK, but when she came home in the evenings, she passed out on the couch. On weekends, she might pass out earlier. I knew she and my dad argued about what was wrong with her. (My dad was an alcoholic as well, and died of cirrhosis of the liver in 1978. That's another tale and beyond the scope of this story).

Dad and Mom early 1950's

One of the earliest recollections of realizing my mother was sick was when she checked into the Oklahoma State Mental Hospital. It was the early 1960's and I'm not talking the Betty Ford clinic, I'm talking One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. She was gone for weeks and I remember going to the foreboding place for a visit. Never went back. Guess the adults in my life figured it was too much for a youngster. They were right. The clenching fingers of fear gripped my young psyche and held tight for decades.

When Joy found sobriety with the help of A.A. in 1980, she began the task of turning her life around, making amends and building a new, productive life for herself. I was a young mom with small children as Joy embarked on her journey and I was hedging my bets. I'd witnessed many 'recoveries' and she'd have to prove she could be trusted. Her attempt at transformation felt like turning back a freight train speeding towards a cliff. I'd never known a sober mother and I would reserve judgement, thank you very much. Jump forward to her funeral in 2011....she celebrated almost thirty-one years of sobriety.

We enjoyed our sober Joy so much, we moved her from Oklahoma to Texas 1985. We loved her and yes....we needed an extra baby sitter for our three rug-rats. The raging freight train had turned.

Now....back to her smoking addiction I told you about. She knew I detested her smoking. I'd grown up with it. Gone on endless road trips in an old station wagon with the windows rolled up...both parents smoking. I have allergies and asthma and become ill when exposed to cigarette smoke. Wanted to become a sleazy lounge singer, but I couldn't handle the smoke. My lungs have spoken.....ENOUGH!

In our conversations over the ensuing years, Mom told me giving up drinking was the hardest thing she EVER did. Alcoholics always crave a drink and that's just the way it is. She honestly and boldly told me after giving up alcohol, there was no way in hell she was ever gonna give up cigarettes. She simply could not do it, no matter my pleading. No matter the lung cancer. No matter living in a smoke-free retirement home. No matter needing oxygen 24/7. Mom had spoken.

She almost made good on her promise. She was about to move to the nursing home. I would gladly have handed her a smoldering cig if it would relieve her pain...even for a moment.

pure unadulterated joy: 2

2012-01-09T11:02:00.000-06:00

(The second in a series about my mother)

The emergency room doctors and nurses were kind and concerned in dealing with Joy's eight day-no poop issue. Some scans were conducted looking for intestinal blockages. When those came back negative, we were sent home but Mom continued to complain of intense back pain. She was having great difficulty walking around her small apartment.

It's the tumor! Where is the freakin' hiding tumor?

I was the Nancy Drew of tumors after Mom's last lung cancer surgery. Isn't lung cancer one of the most metastasizing cancers? Doesn't it show up in your brain or your bones...or somewhere? Her beloved brother had died of cancer some years earlier.

The cause of her reoccurring bladder infections? A tumor. Frequent lung and breathing difficulties? More tumors. The cause of her recent back pain? A giant tumor in her spine. How many people do you know who've survived lung cancer surgery and who have NOT had a recurrence somewhere else? That's a highly exclusive club, for sure.

Mainly I was convinced I would again come face to face with another cancerous tumor, because....you see (cringe).....Joy still smoked. Yes, I know it shattered every retirement home rule. She was gonna light the place up like the 4th of July, smoking while she was on oxygen 24/7! Her smoking felt like death by a thousand cuts to me.

Mom, is grandma smoking? Her apartment smells like cigarettes!

On our weekly Walmart forays, she bought air freshener by the case. I upchuck at the cloying fragrance of lavender clinging over menthol Kool smoke. When did she smoke? How was she not discovered by the retirement home police? Did she think I was an idiot? (you don't have to answer that one!)

One day the Sprout visited her grandma with me, and she remarked the bathroom smelled smoky. I donned my sleuth hat and entered the bathroom. I opened her shower and the intense odor assaulted me like a smoky bandit. Dammit! She's smoking in the shower with the shower vent on! I was too upset to do any yelling or pleading that day. I returned the next day and talked with her...too loudly, like always.

Mom...they're gonna throw you out of the home! Then, where will you go? You can't live with me....you'll be a homeless, old deaf woman on oxygen meandering the streets looking for a handout! Please don't do this...I'll get you chewing tobacco, more nicorette....anything.

Never knew for sure how she obtained the cigs. She couldn't drive, so I suspect she bribed a more able-bodied oldster to secure them for her. Maybe some sinister resident who took the bus to the supermarket every Wednesday? Perhaps she bartered with Dulcolax or Poligrip...who the hell knew?

Don't remember having another conversation on this topic, however I do recall searching her apartment while she was at bridge group. (Sick, I realize. Don't judge.) Found the pack of cancer sticks concealed in a box stashed in the way back of her desk drawer. I took them out. Don't know if she smoked ever again, but her large purchases of Glade morphed into grand purchases of Nicorette gum.

For now, Joy was in pain and couldn't care for herself. Me? Nancy Drew was preparing for battle with the phantom tumor.

pure unadulterated joy

2012-01-02T09:20:00.000-06:00

(The first in a series about the days and events leading to my mother's death in February 2011.)

'Kath....I haven't pooped in eight days',
Joy confided to me in an embarrassingly loud whisper inside the retirement home restaurant. She'd worn bulky hearing aids for fifty-plus years and the woman lost her inside voice eons ago.

Meeting for lunch after the bustle of the 2010 Christmas and New Year's holidays, I was ready to re-assume the mantle of more dutiful daughter. Other commitments of family and visitors relegated Mom to the back burner for the week between the big holidays.

Joy at the 2010 retirement home Christmas party watching her elf lead the singing. She's ready to ring her jingle bells on cue.

Most of December found us visiting her myriad doctors to maintain our balance on
her health tightrope. Our three-ring circus included regular visits to a pulmonary physician for management of COPD (emphysema) and congestive heart failure, the nephrologist to keep tabs on failing kidney function and the weeping edema in her lower legs, and visits to the endocrinologist to keep her late onset diabetes under control. The required medications overflowed from several desk drawers.

Christmas 2010 at our house. One of the Sprouts thought she needed her IQ challenged.

Most days were salt water taffy moments for me-lots of pulling and stretching on my time and energy, but the combination failed to produce a sweet, tasty morsel.

Joy living in the retirement home was a godsend. A lifelong smoker, she had surgery for lung cancer some years previously. Until that time, she lived alone in a precious cottage the Texan provided for her. After the removal of a portion of the upper lobe of her lung and the follow-up radiation, we both knew her days of living alone were numbered. She stayed with us as she recuperated from her lung surgery. That mostly went well, except for the times I came home and found her smoking with her oxygen on. What makes a soul stubbornly continue to smoke when his life has been heroically spared by a highly skilled surgeon? Stupid addictions....I had the second fiddle music memorized.

'This is totally unacceptable. I can't work to save you while you simultaneously try to kill yourself!'

She proudly but weakly gathered her things.

'Take me home, then.'

This arrangement did not last long. Mom was unable to care for herself. The retirement home was our answer.

Joy's years at the retirement home were filled with friends, shared dinners, and bridge groups. Since she couldn't hear, she studied the resident roster daily and worked diligently on learning names. She kept meticulous notes on people she met during lunch and dinner. She observed whose wheelchair was outside whose apartment and she reveled in stories of 'rest home trysts'.

'Why don't you get in on the action?' I asked.

'Who says I haven't?'

Before long, Joy was known as a happy resident who played a wickedly competitive game of bridge. She raced around the halls of the home like she was driving the Indy 500 fueled by her special oxygen pack. The home subsequently implemented a mandatory safe-driving education program for those residents using scooters. There had been a number of incidents. Although she denied it, I'm certain Joy was the cause of a mandatory safe-driving program. I had the tire tracks up my ankles to prove it. Sometimes Joy bristled when I christened the retirement home 'God's waiting room', but mostly she chuckled.

In a week's time, we would give anything for the happy laps and the friends of the retirement home. Today, we were off to the hospital.

christmas props

2011-12-13T20:43:00.000-06:00

Some of you will remember MY BLOG POST about the Christmas Party at Mom's retirement home last Christmas. It was my 3rd or 4th year to help lead the festivities for the residents. They are nice to ask and I'm normally happy to do it, but when the invitation came to please do it again this year...I was hesitant.

I didn't wanna.

How could I go back out there where Mom lived and where we spent so much time?

How could I be a cheery Christmas elf when the very act of being in the retirement home would fill me with sadness?

That's it....I'd say I couldn't do it! They would understand my grief. I didn't want to face the way being there would make me feel. Nope. Nada. No thank you.

But then I heard her voice.....dammit...."Kath....some of those people don't have anybody. Nobody. It would mean the world to them for you to come lead the party"

Really, Mom....speaking to me beyond the grave? What's up with that? O---K, I'll do it. Now, be quiet!

I stewed. I delayed. I hemmed and hawed. I tried to come to a certain peace about being out there and how all of this was gonna work.

Then....I came up with the perfect solution. The shiniest, most perfectest, most baby Jesus-y Christmas prop EV-ER!! I'm totally, absolutely without shame!

You guessed it precious Chicken Wing reader......Baby G!!

People in retirement/nursing homes rarely get to see a baby.

One of my favorite residents. She's always beautiful, happy and slightly ornery. Love her!

They NEVER get to see a cute baby wearing reindeer antlers!

The Christmas party for the residents today was a slam dunk. They loved seeing baby G.

Santa made a special appearance

Of course, I closed the party with retirement home bichon FREE-SAY extraordinaire....the fabulous waving Sophie. She wished everyone a Merry Christmas with her furiously waving paws.

Sophie and Santa in 2010

I'd say it went pretty well. It's a milestone, for sure. Many of the residents spoke to me of their love for my mother, of her fabulous bridge playing and of her black humor. At times, I teared up....but it was OK, cuz usually the friend telling me the story was teary as well. I needed to hear the stories....needed to give and receive lots of hugs.

Overflowing gratitude to the Sprout for going to all the trouble of dressing up a newborn, a bichon and a golden doodle in Christmas outfits for their moment in the sun at the 'home' Christmas party. You are an outstanding daughter. Hopefully, you will not hear my voice beyond the grave. Love you, Sprout.

The Texan and I have not lost the necessary skill of eating while a baby sleeps on one shoulder. The Texan said G's pajamas might contain a stray pinto bean

The Texan says he hopes Baby G doesn't catch a bad case of the gout from being at the home today.

Hope your Christmas is filled with joy!

Shameless Christmas prop love to all.

baby rogaine

2011-11-19T21:49:00.001-06:00

Got to spend some time with the grandson today. I was shocked to find he had grown a thick, lustrous mane of dark hair. He's only 6 weeks old! He'll have a full beard at 4 months at this rate!

Is Mom slipping you some Rogaine??

Naw....I'm pullin' your leg.....that's the Sprout's lovely long hair cascading down his forehead as she holds baby G. He looks handsome with dark hair....yes?

I got to hold him and talk to him and 'mobilize him' (got him a musical mobile) and kiss him and change him. It was loads of fun. I had forgotten how quirky the infant 'mood' can be.

uh-oh...somethin' doesn't feel right

Baby G can go from happy to sad to happy again in a snap

Are you wet/dirty or do you just depise cowhide?? This is TEXAS, baby!

Does this mean you're going to be a vegan? Allright, sweetie....I'll save you from the awful cowhide pillow.

I love spending time with baby G. He's 'seeing' things now and he likes to babble at me.

Baby G smiling at his GrandBob

Babies are amazing and exhausting. The Sprout is doing great and she has the energy of a million women! God knew what he was doing when he gave babies to the young.

I'm relearning some skills, but one thing I know for certain. I'd jump through flaming hoops for one of those baby smiles.

I'm grateful.

Hope this week leaves you grinning.

Lustrous locks love to all.

success/failure

2011-11-03T20:56:00.001-05:00

Discovered these photos and thought I'd share.

A big success this weekend: made an apple pie with a homemade crust!

OK...maybe it doesn't look THAT beautiful. Those are decorative leaves on the pie, people!

I was possessed. Had. to. make. apple. pie. I've never been a very successful pie maker....my crusts taste like salty boot leather. This time out, I utilized the nifty food processor to mix (not too much!) the fat and flour. I used mostly butter (with just a dab of the wonder-ingredient Crisco) for this pie crust. I rolled it out between 2 sheets of parchment paper. The crust was flaky, delicate and delicious. How could it not be wonderful with 8 gallons of butter? I waded through puddles of flour and toiled for hours wiping the embedded white stuff off the deco-molding on my 1960's kitchen cabinets. Probably won't be making pie again any time real soon.

Now for failure. I wanted to bring you...my valued chicken-wing reader...an adorable Halloween post. Something to tickle your funny bone and get you into the spirit of the wicked holiday. Yes....I was going to bring you the fearsome-ness of...........
SA-TAN! (bwah-ha-ha-ha-haaaaa)

Really?

I know...it was midday and the harsh light was unflattering. I know better.

Something is making me uncomfortable.

But I found this devil mask at the local walmarts and just HAD to show it to Roxy Doxy.

Hello?! Notice the slanted right eye! No good.....

Have you ever noticed doxies have rather long, narrow faces?

I'll pry the stupid thing off with my very own paws!

The satanical mask was grossly too wide for Doxy's petite face....so I worked on it.

There's a reason it's called floral wire....it's for FLOWERS.

Using available floral wire, I simple poked a couple holes in the bottom portion of the mask and twist-tied the wire around her snout.

Why couldn't I have the Kim Kardashian custume??

Perhaps I turned the twisty-tie thingy a smidge too tight??

No amount of treats is worth this humiliation.

I never got the perfect devil photo:

I hate you.

Big, mega FAIL. If it's not Kim Kardashian or Lady GaGa, Roxy Doxy wants no part of it. Don't feel too sorry for her. After the unsuccessful Satan photo shoot, I let Doxy engage in one of her FAVORITE activities.

Where's the beef?

You guessed it! Sniffin' out the walmarts bags for a special doggie treat!

Of course, she found one.

Enjoy your successes and learn from your perceived 'failures'.

Oh...and it never hurts to add PLENTY of butter.

Autumnal love to all.

my life in spurs

2011-10-20T17:07:00.000-05:00

Finally got around to organizing the tackroom at my humble barn. The 'best old lady horse in the world' aka Rodney is home with me for a while. Rod's not exactly a ranch horse...he's a show horse, so when he moves, he come with lots of diva horse show equipment. I needed to clean house and make room for his supplies.

I found these handy racks and thought they were perfect for the abundance of English and Western bits I've accumulated over the years.

As I sorted and sneezed through the dusty boxes and trunks in the tack room, I kept discovering spurs amid the 20+ years of horse show remnants. Lifting the treasures onto the rack, my mind's eye pictured the best moments spent with the Sprout, the favorite horses, and the wonderful horse-show friends.

Here is my spur journey.

The Sprout's first pair of youth spurs. We had a mature gelding named Arizona. We did everything with that horse...he was fast as greased lightening!

Wasn't long until our horizons expanded and we started riding English. Living in West Texas, riding a ranch gelding....WHY did we want to do that? Lands...we didn't have a lick of sense, but we thought we should. We even jumped a little. The Sprout broke her arm in an easy fall off the gelding. I splinted her arm with a paint stirrer and some torn fabric strips for the drive to the hospital. We were unfazed. The Sprout wanted me to ride with her, so I got a horse too.

We improved our horses and our horsemanship skills bit by bit. We got some help from a trainer named 'Polly'. She gave us these spurs to use with our little gray western pleasure mare. I haven't seen Polly in years. She moved to Missouri....I even visited there after her move. We lost track of each other.

The Sprout graduated to her very own pair of ball-spurs with her initials. Probably was a birthday or Christmas present. These were great spurs to use in horsemanship classes. The long shank enables the rider to keep his feet in the proper position in the stirrups.

These spurs kinda puzzled me.....they look like a hybrid between an English and a Western spur. Don't think they'd do too much to get a horse to move, but they are lovely and feminine. I rode with these for a while.

Ready to call the SPCA now, are you? These are called 'rock-grinders'. Although these look very beat up, I don't remember using them but a handful of times. I don't recommend these spurs 'cause they can get a rider in trouble in a hurry, but if you ride a very dead-sided horse who will not move off of your leg, you can remind the horse to move in these. Just one ride with these amazingly restores the horse's memory.

These are the spurs I ride Rod in much of the time today. They're just a nothin'-special clover leaf spur. Sometimes he moves OK off of these....sometimes he needs a stiffer reminder. Most riders like to have different types of spurs available to meet the changing requirements of getting a horse to move correctly. If a rider uses the same spur every day, the horse gets a little dull to them and it's time to change things up.

These are the latest spurs to enter my life. They were given to the grandson by a family friend. Who knows if he will want to ride, but I've been working on an arena and finding the perfect pony....just in case. It's best to plan ahead.

Why would I rather clean the tack room at the barn than clean my house? The Texan wants to know.

Now move along, or I'll have to use the rock-grinders on you!

Spurry love to all.

he's here

2011-10-04T08:53:00.000-05:00

The grandson entered the world last Friday night and here are the promised pictures.

Baby G....8lbs 13oz

Sprout #2 did an outstanding job under nail-biting circumstances. She's a total champ. I probably annoyed her, but she was understanding of my concern. I think describing her labor as loooooooooooong wouldn't be an overstatement. Thanks to all who prayed us through this process. We are beyond grateful. Thank you, thank you.....mmmmmm-wah (big kiss)...can't thank you enough!!

baby G and KK

Thought I was gonna have to break a few arms to get my chance to hold the baby. Such a big, sturdy boy! Do you see gratitude oozing from my every pore? Oh, and I NEED a haircut!
Holding a newborn just makes one happy, doesn't it? Is there any better feeling?

Sprout #1....now he's Uncle W. Looks like he swallowed a canary!

Took the opportunity yesterday to bombard the recovering Sprout and Son-in-law's house with much of my photo paraphernalia. I was hankering for some nifty newborn photos. Never mind I know NADA about taking photos of infants....just jump right in...do it...get the feet wet.

After some unfortunate attempts to take baby's picture in a stupid basket (with a handle that obscured his face), and trying to balance Grandson in the seat of my western saddle (he's not fond of tooled leather and an abundance of silver)....I took his photo with a huge, scary-looking bear!

Cute feet

Doesn't matter that said bear looks ready to devour him...Grandson looks peaceful enough. It's an honest and solid first attempt. Photographed with love.

Scary bear really looks ravenous in the above photo, but baby G is so brave, he's smiling. Take that, scary bear!

Oh lands!....There's lots to learn, isn't there?

The little smile captivated me...so I had to do a close up...even though it shows my limits as a newborn photog.

The Sprout wanted to keep Baby G awake some during the day yesterday hoping he might sleep a little better during the night. I think we accomplished that, Sprout.

He was jostled, bounced, maneuvered, balanced, and we might have bumped his head into the handle of the stupid wicker basket. Hopefully, he'll hold no memories of the trauma.

Promise me.......you won't ask the Sprout about the Boy Scout axe photo prop. It's better left alone for now.

Smiling love to all.

changes

2011-09-28T09:25:00.001-05:00

I enjoyed capturing the reflections in the lake

Thought we'd made our last trip to the beloved mountains of Colorado. Happily, I was wrong! We had a short trip last weekend to see the changing leaves and to spend a little quality time with friends.

The brilliant aspens were heralds trumpeting the changing season. Blue sky, cool lake, warm sunshine=ahhhhh.

Perfecto walking weather.

Roxy Doxy's bff, Nellie the Westie

It's always a hoot watching the canines enjoying themselves. They took a thousand steps to our one step and wore themselves out!

Roxy Doxy contemplating the changing seasons and the meaning of life

The leaves made me ponder how our lives have changed over the years. Many of these folks are grandparents...unbelievable, you say? Believe it....they are!

Our cast of mountain characters

Well, my friends....our grandson comes into the world TOMORROW! It's got me all thoughtful, gooey and introspective. Has me wondering what makes this milestone so special, aside from the fact a new life is entering the world, and the miracle of birth, and how this life might affect the world for good.....and on and on. Those are the obviously wonderful things.

I think what has me pumped up is something more on a personal level. It's the possibility of change in me. I'm going to strap on an entirely new persona. Yes, I'll still be me....but I'll be different. I will be KK...the grandmother. A grandmother living with GrandBob, the grandfather. Maybe I'll have the opportunity to be a better grandparent than I was a parent. Can I show more patience and be more loving to this grandson than I was the first time around with my own children? I think so....I'm older and a little wiser. Oh, how grateful I am for second chances!! Thankfully, I have friends who will help me out.

I'm ready for the change and the challenge.

Don't worry...I'll post the news and photos as soon as I can.

Wish us luck!

Seasonal love to all.

new dog, old dog

2011-09-14T14:20:00.000-05:00

I think I have shown some of you a couple of photos of the new puppy at the horse barn.

If you haven't yet gazed upon this cuteness....steel yourself for a major cute overload!

Boo...the new border collie/heeler mix pup

This pup is love incarnate....pure fun, kisses, nips and rip-roarin' energy!

This face transforms me into a gooey, baby-talking idiot. Boo....ah-Boo...ah wuv ewe!

Those eyes...absolutely guileless

Boo is now at the horse barn involving herself in her puppy affairs. Those affairs include biting the reins on your headstall, grabbing the lunge line (while a horse is lunging on the other end) and hanging by her teeth with legs dangling, and searching for an acceptable rhythm to her day.

Let's ask the resident barn dog, red-heeler Perry how she feels about the new arrival.

Hey Perry.....howgoesit with the new puppy? You guys getting along?

C'mon Perry! It can't be THAT bad!! Turn over and let's play some ball!

You don't feel like getting up to greet me today? That's OK, Perry....you tell me all about how rough it's been with the addition of the new puppy?

That bad, huh?!

Old dog love to all. ***scratch, scratch***

summer's flown

2011-09-09T08:58:00.000-05:00

It's over. Not officially, maybe....but it's gone just the same.

Summer's flown, just like the sparrow.

To borrow from Dickens....it was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

We are lucky and blessed in that our summers (since 1975, for me) involve several treks to the crisp air of the Colorado mountains.

Our cabin's piney interior warmly embraces me and keeps me rooted in my family's past. My first trip to Colorado was with the Texan while we were dating. I guess I passed the 'cabin test' his mom talked about. We married...our family grew...and we got a little place of our own near his mother and other friends. The kitchen has the pencil etchings on the wall of who caught the biggest trout, the bunk beds in the bedroom are where the children slept and fought their nightly tussles and we've devoured s'mores around the brick fireplace for nearly thirty years now. I'm sure it could use some updating in the decorating/furniture department, but the cabin's sameness is somehow reassuring. Life at the cabin with family and friends is a treasure. Need proof? Take a look at these posts.
http://onachickenwingandaprayer.blogspot.com/2011/07/birds-and-ashes.html
http://onachickenwingandaprayer.blogspot.com/2010/06/mountain-mysteries.html

Did I mention the food at the cabin tastes better? We eat like kings!

Bff Vicki's peach pie. Oh....my....!

I could write a tome (but not now) of the fun the canines have in Colorado.

Nellie would like some pie, please.

Roxy Doxy never caught the chipmunk

Summer in the Texas Panhandle was in sizzly contrast to Colorado. Hot, dry....depressing and difficult. It felt like our 'worst of times' and there was lots of suffering to go around for the farmers/ranchers and folks who have to work outside. Our Sprout #1 worked in a frenzy to move cattle around, sell cattle, ship cattle and get water to thirsty cows and horses. Don't want to ask him about his summer!

I can report the dreadful heat has broken (feels fantastic!), but we are still praying one of those tropical storms in the Gulf of Mexico will meander it's way into Texas and bring moisture for our brittle state. We hope and keep looking to the future.

I feel blessed, but a little meloncholy at scenes like this.

Covering the game table and chairs for the winter

Letting go of another summer in the mountains. Cleaning the old place up and preparing her for the long winter. Back to real life...sigh. Back to the land of no pies.

The Texan and I climbed the hill to say goodbye to Mom. Her ashes were still suprisingly intact even after the recent rains.

It's gonna take her a long time to make it to the ocean at this rate, the Texan said.

That's OK. She's got nothin' but time.
See you next summer, Joy.

With that, we switched off the light on the best and worst in the summer of 2011. Done.

Peach pie love to all.

rattler hunt

2011-09-01T10:30:00.000-05:00

The Sprout and the Son-in-Law (SIL) related a heckuva rattlesnake story to me and the Texan the other day.

"We saw a HUGE rattler stretched out by the storage box!"

Did you kill him?

"Well....no. We tried throwing a heavy rock at him, but we missed"

The comical image bounced like a pinball in my mind. The Sprout and the SIL were out for a leisurely sunset walk in the country. Neither was prepared for the possibility of spotting a rattlesnake. The SIL despises snakes and his attempts to bean the snake with a heavy rock made me giggle. The Sprout reported his attempted killer rock throw was from about 20 feet.....didn't want to take any unnecessary chances standing too close to an angry rattler. Smart SIL.

The next evening the brave duo appeared at our house and announced they were going back in to seek and destroy the offending rattlesnake. I grabbed my boots and my garden hoe and threw in with them. I love the gory-ness of slaying a rattler.We drove about a mile from our house to the land where I keep a couple of horses. Not the 'best old-lady horse in the world'...show horse Rodney, but a couple of geldings with some lameness issues. OK, they are very expensive pets basically, but I sorta enjoy looking after them and living the horsey lifestyle.The old steel water tank the horses drink from sprung a leak.

The water level is going...down....down

The leak was at the bottom of the metal tank

Don't like a leak like this in the middle of a drought

The Texan hired an outfit to come and spray the entire tank with some kind of waterproof foam. It worked like a charm and the tank is now holding water! Thank you, Texan.

Anyhooooo......on with the deadly serious business at hand....the SNAKE HUNT! We trekked down the big hill. See the little house in the distance? That's our target.

Only green thing is the hardy mesquite tree

This is the reported snake hang-out. Notice fierce SIL with my hoe

Guess we scared the socks off the snake, because we didn't see him anywhere.

The grandson went with us. His first snake hunt

The expedition was a bust as a snake hunt, but it made for a memorable walk. We bid 'til we meet again' to the snake and started the death march back up the hill to the truck.

We could sure use some rain. Not a shred of grass anywhere on this barren land. Yesterday we hit the record of 50 days of 100+ temperatures this summer. Not really the kind of record or notoriety any of us wanted.

Well....it's time for the Labor Day weekend and the traditional ending of summer. I'd like to chop this summer's head off with my hoe. Or, have the fearless SIL smash it in the head with his killer rock. This summer has been like the rattler.....hostile and unwelcome.

Let's look forward to a more hospitable Fall, shall we? Hope you have plans to kick back and welcome the coming of Autumn. What are you going to do? Let me know if anything fun happens. Wishing you the greatest of weekends.

Hoe-y love to all.

sunny weekend

2011-08-15T09:40:00.000-05:00

I haven't told you about my new camera, have I? It is way cool and way beyond me, but I'm determined to learn. Took this photo with the Nikon d700 and a 50mm prime lens. Need a great camera for upcoming baby shots, yes?

My weekend was like this sunflower picture....bright, happy and filled with color.

Out-of-town and in-town family/friends gathered to celebrate the impending birth of our grandbaby!

We ate Friday night.

We stuffed our pieholes Saturday morning.

What a gorgeous feast these ladies laid out!

AND we consumed food particulates again Saturday evening.

The gracious in-laws hosted us at their lake house Saturday evening. Perfect!

Someone got very crafty. These are the nursery colors.

Adorable sock monkey on the front door.

Guess the theme of the weekend was all things baby and all things edible/drinkable. My jeans feel too tight.

The Sprout gave me a few baby things to keep at my house in case I am lucky enough to keep the tyke. Spent last night washing baby blankets, burp rags and bibs.

It's all becoming so REAL. Pins and needles, pins and needles...pins, pins, pins, & needles, needles, needles! I wanna cook and freeze stuff.

The wiener thinks the baby can't get here fast enough. She's haunted by memories of a very regrettable stroller ride.

I am blessed. Thanks for all the love everyone!

Anticipatory bib-by love to all.

summer of discontent

2011-07-28T09:03:00.000-05:00

Don't want to revisit the summer of 2011.....ev-er. Hoping this is a 'once-in-a-lifetime' kind of character building experience.

Tried to obtain hay yesterday for my best-old-lady-horse-in-the-world, Rodney. There's no hay....for cows, horses, or any other ruminants. Oh I exaggerate, but the hay producers don't have much hay to sell. Limited quantities=high prices. Most producers are hoping we'll get some late summer rains to start a fall crop of hay. I dunno if that's gonna happen-the forecasts are not promising.

People are praying for rain. There's many a private prayer being offered and lots of public gatherings beseeching the Creator for more moisture. The governors of Texas and Oklahoma have asked the citizens to pray for rain. The governor of Oklahoma said "We're the Bible belt...praying is what we do". Well put, Governor.

We can't complain even though we (like many others) are selling cow herds. This is especially sad because it takes some time to put a cow herd together with the genetics just how you like them. There's no pasture, no pasture close by to lease and no feed. The economics are not working this year. We'll survive (by the grace of God)....but many will not.

I have an intense admiration and fondness for the salt-of-the-earthers in this area. They set their jaw and they get the job done. They understand hard times....their ancestors endured the dust bowl. Surviving tribulation is in their genes. It's a boot to the gut to witness these long-suffering folk lose their livelihood.

I'm praying for rain too, although I wonder what the larger lesson is we should be learning while living through this historic drought. All I can come up with is we are totally dependant on God...for every breath and for every drop of rain. His presence surrounds us in good times and in bad. Sounds simple, doesn't it? Any other lessons you can think of?

Oh....but there's one thing keeping us enthusiastic. The thing that makes us wanna get up and greet each new day with a grin and a shout. It's this bulging belly full of promise!

doesn't he look like he's going to have red hair??

The Sprout was kind enough to let me take this photo. She generally shuns the limelight, unlike her overbearing mother. I think she's beautiful.

The bump helps me keep enthusiasm for the future. Makes me do silly things like pony-shop and write songs. In the midst of this summer of discontent, I am most profoundly grateful.

Cool misty love to all.

living, per se

2011-07-19T09:30:00.001-05:00

I find per se to be the most liberating phrase in the English language. O.K., I know it's Latin, my fellow chicken-wingers. To be absolutely certain of the meaning, I looked it up. If I'm gonna be living my life per se, then I better know what it means....in and of itself, intrinsically.

You're saying per se doesn't do it for you? Allow me to explain.

Some of you remember the blog post about the adventure I had while being diagnosed with a heart ailment.
You can refresh your memory HERE.

not my actual chest

The Cliff Notes version:
Last Christmas my heart morphed into an uncontainable herd of sweaty, wild-eyed mustangs.

When the mustangs weren't kicking up their heels, my chest cavity became a holding pen for an anvil. I had a breathless episode one day-next thing I know I'm attached to a finicky Holter Monitor. Blah, blah, blah, blahty-blah-blah. The cardiologist prescribed a beta blocker. Said 'Take it the rest of your life' and 'see you in 3 years'.

I took the meds...I was a good patient. The meds relieved most of my symptoms...I think. Can't really remember too much because I slept through most of it. A mild-mannered pony replaced the remuda of mustangs, but now my legs became two heavy boat anchors and every movement was a chore.

In the midst of this drama, the Texan and I were taking care of our sweet moms in hospice (they were next door neighbors) and they subsequently died within about 3 weeks of each another. One day while cleaning out some of Mom's things from the nursing home, I ran across her blood pressure monitor. One of those nifty cuff things to help you monitor your blood pressure at home. I slapped it on my wrist and discovered I wasn't alive. Really. Put it on the Texan....alive. Put it on me....ready for a body bag.

This set me to pondering, Is something else wrong? Did I need a second opinion? I mustered all of my energy, made a phone call to the Cooper Clinic and folded my boat anchor legs into an airplane seat and got myself to Dallas, Texas.

If you don't know about the COOPER CLINIC, you should. You can read about it, but suffice it to say it is the leading preventative medicine clinic in the country. Dr. Kenneth Cooper founded it....he coined the term 'aerobic' exercise. Went there a couple of years back and passed with flying colors. Perhaps their internists and cardiologists could enlighten me?

Anyhoo (this is all getting really long), after going through their battery of tests, including their infamous 'stress test' (where they put you on a treadmill and try to make you literally DIE while monitoring all essential bodily functions) I had some answers.

My internist consulted with the cardiologist and here's the MONEY quote: I have reviewed the echocardiogram which has essentially normal readings with only what appears to be fairly trivial and common regurgitation of both mitral and tricuspid valves. This is a common finding and does not necessarily represent pathology per se.

The doc explained many...ahem...older folks have some amount of trivial leakage around the heart valves and it is not a pathology, per se. Why were there wild mustangs making a home pasture in my chest occasionally? He wasn't sure, but he was sure the arrythmia was not life-threatening or heart attack-inducing. Could it be...could it be...stress, perhaps?? Oh and by the by, quit taking the beta-blocker. It's making your blood pressure too low.

Hells Bells!! Per se is now my favorite word. Per se, per se, per se-hey-hey! Had a burial at sea for my two boat anchors. I'm squeezing all the joy and life out of every per se day. Getting ready for my per se grandson! Playing more ball with my per se wiener dog!

I'm exercising and enjoying myself every damned per se day. No mustangs in this chest...only a faithful Quarter Horse by my side. Haven't even experienced as much as a chest pony-kick since my second opinion. Hal-le-freakin'-lu-YAH!!

Does this mean I'm a fat worry-wart hypochondriac? Uh....yeah, probably. But, I think it mainly means I'm human and I can live with that.

Hoping you find the per se in YOUR day!
Exuberant love to all.

birds and ashes

2011-07-13T21:45:00.000-05:00

The mountain vacation was a Colo-palooza! Nine breathless days in the gloriously glittery high country air.
It was a fun time to enjoy friends and family. There was a theme to our trip this year. A couple of things I hadn't experienced before.

The trip was NOT mainly about canoe races.

Nor was it about the courageous souls who braved the zip line.

Uh...didya think to bring some dry clothes?

It wasn't about winning at mountain golf or lining up the perfect putt.

Yes, smarty. I missed the putt.

It wasn't mainly about fishing, even though we fished and caught a respectable amount.

Walter is still out there....FYI.

And it wasn't about going on long death marches with uber-fit mountain bichons.

Helluva mountain dog if ever there was one!

Nor was it about the ginormous amounts of food consumed at our humble dining room table.

Miles from a fast-food restaurant!

The theme of this trip was the robin's nest in the window!

Can you see the debris hanging down from the corner of the second window? That's our bird's nest.

Each day dawned a new chapter in the life of our robin family. We even stayed out of the sunroom so as not to disturb our growing young family.

The mother AND father were industrious and faithful in taking turns feeding the babies. The dad-bird would squawk and cause a commotion if you got too close to the nest.

The father bird with a meal for the young 'uns.

It was something extraordinary to see the workings of this family...even though robins are considered a rather ordinary bird.

Watching the bird's pin feathers pop out day-by-day...we were astounded at the rapid changes in the babies.

This mother was faithful and protective. She sat on the nest at night and during some noisy rain/hail storms.

The second theme to our trip was ashes. Mom's ashes. Since her death in February, I've been mulling exactly what to do with her ashes...she couldn't spend eternity on our bookshelf at home! The decision was made early on to take her to the mountains. I just couldn't come up with exactly where to lay her earthly remains...in the water...on the hills...under a tree...scattered to the four winds-what?

The black plastic box containing her remains sat on the fireplace mantle and waited. I admit it...I was having some trouble. Maybe I wanted it to be too perfect. My children and family gathered around and reciting the ashes to ashes Bible verse. Sorry Mom, I couldn't make it work out like that.

One afternoon (towards the end of the trip...I was feeling pressure) I bounced up from a little nap and told the Texan.
'Now....we're taking Mom up the hill and spreading her ashes near the guest house where she spent so many summers with us.'
The Texan found just the right spot in the center of a circle of small pine trees overlooking the lake and just up from the guest house.

I gingerly poured her out of her plastic bag and surveyed her view. I kissed the Texan and we walked down the hill and back to the house. Unceremonious, perhaps...but I think she would approve.

She would've adored the summer of the robins.

Safe, nesty love to all

Freedoms

2011-06-30T09:21:00.000-05:00

Been nursing a sick doxy this week. She got into something....ate crap she shouldn't have. Not sure of too many details, but I am sure of one thing. The freedom-loving wiener ate a whole clove of garlic (don't ask how I know...too graphic for this idyllic blog). Garlic?! Did you know garlic and onions can be quite toxic to dogs? After two vet visits in four days...I get it. Dogs shouldn't have the freedom to eat garlic. The doxy is recovering...thank God

Pondering the meaning of the upcoming holiday weekend..... .I'm grateful for the freedoms we enjoy in the USA. Hope I live up to the blessings and responsibilities of citizenship in this great land. I don't want to take one minute for granted.
A familiar poem inscribed on the Statue of Liberty. It inspires me every time I read it. Many thanks to Emma Lazarus:

The New Colossus

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

"Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she

With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

Liberating love to all this weekend!

Stay away from the garlic.

meet me at the ballpark

2011-06-25T20:47:00.002-05:00

Our local baseball team unveiled a new mascot at the ball park last night. Didn't have the privilege of being there, but OH....HOW I WISH I HAD BEEN THERE!

Seems the team owner/manager ordered the costume (we are the Sox!) but didn't have time to check it out before the mascot started pressing the flesh. Read all the sordid details HERE.

Voila-instant classic mascot and how to trend on Twitter!! I'd like to shake his hand....or whatever. Wouldn't you love to have your photo made with the new, energetic and virile Amarillo Sox mascot?

Looks like a sock to me!

Are you feelin' the Sox love?! You've gotta understand....it's kinda hard living in Amarillo right now. We broke the temperature record yesterday....the thermometer registered 113 degrees at my house. We've got at least another week of extreme heat ahead of us. We are in the midst of the worst drought ever recorded. We are crackly dry and most every day a fire flares up somewhere. It's damn depressing here right now. Never seen anything like this.

Maybe this mascot is just the ticket to lift us back to life!

Take me out to the ball game!

See ya at the ballpark!

3 strikes and yer out love to all.

new baby technology

2011-06-23T08:50:00.002-05:00

Have you gone to an upscale baby store lately? Wowza! Visited Baby Bliss in Dallas recently because the pregnant sprout told me I should take a look-see. Baby paraphernalia sure has changed....I literally had NO IDEA of the purpose of half the items in the store. The baby design market has been claimed by the Europeans.....think IKEA...only for baby. Ergonomic bottle shapes, video monitors, pads with sensors, and swaddling blankets complete with womb noises to soothe the fussy newborn are de rigueur.

Aye, the strollers! Have you seen the new strollers?! Oh, excuse me....they are no longer referred to as strollers, rather infant transportation systems....ahem. Technological marvels and they are a bargain at the price of a little less than a Prius.

I tried to find an internet photo of the type of umbrella stroller in which I schlepped my infants. Couldn't find a photo that was realistically ugly enough. Picture folding, rickety bright yellow vinyl attached to four headstrong wheels each wanting to turn his own direction. Included was a plastic strap that had to be threaded through a metal loop around baby's waist while baby was impatiently screaming and flailing. The strap coming up between baby's leg to keep him from falling out was broken. Sunshade? Don't picture one, cuz I didn't have one. We didn't know sun was bad for babies back then. The noisy contraption was heavy, but it did fold in half and would kinda fit in the back of a Suburban.

From that....to my future grandson's infant transportation system!!

Ta...dah!!!

Read how the company describes the modern marvel:

Bugaboo - Cameleon Stroller - Red Base
The Mercedes of stroller...what can't this stoller do? The Bugaboo Cameleon is a celebration of individualism and transformation. It adapts to the needs of you and your child from 0 to 4 years in almost any environment and climate. It features adjustable suspension, an adjustable handlebar, and an easy-to-compact aluminum frame. Equally unique, it also offers a wide range of tailored fabrics, colors, and thoughtful accessories which allows you to customize the Cameleon and transform it into an expression of your own taste, mood, and style.

Features Include:

- Undercarriage with wheels

- Seat/Carrycot frame

- Carrycot fabric

- Seat fabric

- Sun canopy

- Under seat storage basket

- Mosquito net

- Rain cover

- Carry handle

- Maintenance kit

- Customizable tailored fabrics (one fabric color included)

- Reversible seat

- Reversible handlebar

- 2-Wheel position for sand and snow

- 3-Position tilting seat

- Folds compactly

- Wheel suspension

- Easy maneuverability

- Aerosleep mattress

- Adaptable to various car seats

- Carrycot can be used separately

- Weight - 19.8 lbs.

The pregnant Sprout proudly demonstrated all the features of this incredible stroller....forward, backwards, in, out, up, down, gadgets that attach and unattach with the press of a button.
It even comes with an optional port for your ipad2 and an electrical outlet for blending margaritas on the fly. Honest.

I confess...it's an engineering marvel. Amazing. But.....will this techie challenged, arthritic-handed granny be able to use it? Uh....we'll see. Maybe if it was equipped with an Icy-Hot dispenser. I'll write the company.

While in Dallas, I purchased a practical gift for the grandson.

One never knows when the grandson will need to trim the sails with his granny, Ms. Lustywhip. Best to be prepared.

Top-sider love to all.

stripper or granny?

2011-06-03T09:40:00.000-05:00

I'm admitting it. My thinking is just wrong on so many levels....but, I can't help myself.

The dilemma: the middle sprout is having a BABY!!! One of the male variety!! Isn't that just the most outstandingly happy, super-duper wildly wonderful-est news ever? Why.....yes it is!

Among the impending details....the Texan and I must think of our 'grandparent names'. Are we simply gonna be granny and grampa or grandma and gramps or what?

The trend among my savvy-grandma friends is to christen themselves with a cute and memorable grandma moniker. This is an outstanding idea.....BUT....I know I'm the WORST....they all sound like stripper names to me. When they read this, I will now have no more grandma friends.

Maybe I'm the sicko....but YOU be the judge. Here are some actual 'granny' names. I've taken the liberty of adding the flavorful and zesty last names.

Bubbles Glitzhaven
Mimi LaFeet
Sugar Mittens
Birdie Paradisio
GayGay NoSay

See what I mean? Stripper, stripper....stripper! I'm so wildly desperate, I visited the stripper name generator (don't even PRETEND like you haven't seen these links on Facebook. I'm not buyin' it!) to uncover my colorful, exciting granny name. My results:

Raquelle Lustywhip

What do you think? Appropriate? I kinda like it.

Anyhoo, I'm still mulling. May take the simple way out and just go by my first name......Kate, or Kathy. What do you think? The beloved, now-deceased mother-in-law was simply 'Trish' to my kids. It seemed to work really well all these years. As always, Trish set a fine example.

I value your opinion. Don't be afraid to speak up.
I'm also in the market for a good pony. You'll contact me if you know of one....yes?
What about Lexxxie?....oh....pity the poor grandson!
Raquelle-amour to all this week.

aftermath

2011-05-31T09:26:00.000-05:00

We escaped the hot Texas Panhandle for a mountain vacation over the holiday. Going to the mountains is a beloved summer tradition in our family. Here's our THRILLING BEAR STORY from last m-day.

On Saturday evening, we received a call there was a wildfire in our neighborhood. Some family members tried to make it to our house to maybe turn on some sprinklers, but they were turned back by law enforcement and heavy smoke. The area was closed. What could we do?......nada. We had (very slow) internet access at the cabin and we watched the local news reports. The news was grim......103 temperature and winds in excess of 40 mph.

In short, our house blessedly escaped the fire scare. The main damage was just down the road.

At least their outbuilding survived!

Upon arriving home, we surveyed the damage. It left me speechless.

This was just one of a row of 5 or 6 homes that were completely gone.

This was one of my favorite houses to drive by on my way home. It was a gorgeous Tudor-style house with impeccable landscaping.

The gardens and the seasonal displays were always outstanding. I marveled at the lushness of these grounds in the arid Texas panhandle. Someone put in lots of loving care to make this house an oasis of beauty.

Imagine driving through your front gate and seeing this destruction

This was the home of a popular local veterinarian. He and his wife lived here for 30 years. There was a gorgeous 3-story prairie-style home nearby. It was one of my favorites as well, with it's big wrap around porch and gorgeous windows. I could hardly find any remains of that house. The destruction was total.

I did what anyone would do: burst into uncontrollable tears for these losses. The years of memories, the family photos, the mother's day cards from the kids, the wedding photos, the favorite easy chair.....all ashes.
Made me think of this post about how much I love my home.

While much of the country is flooding, or being hit by killer tornadoes-the Texas Panhandle has received just 1/2 inch of moisture since January. The grasslands are barren and the cattle have nothing to eat. The wheatfields are generally total losses. The wind has been unending and it has been unusually hot. The day of the fires, the humidity was 7%.

Our gorgeous Palo Duro Canyon has not escaped the fire's grip. Remember the gorgeous photos of the canyon? Thousands of acres have burned around the canyon.

The hardy folk of the Panhandle are uniting to pray for rain. I've not seen conditions as dire in all my 34 years living here. I'm joining in the prayers.

Enjoy your home. Rising Phoenix love to all.

the wild bunch

2011-05-21T19:17:00.000-05:00

Dogsittin' the wild bunch while everyone is off watching the son-in-law be an ironman.

wiener, bichon, golden-doodle, bichon all looking for treats

The s-i-l finished the ironman with his best time EVER!

Good thing he wasn't raptured....or is it? I'm still here....is that a bad sign?? Hel-lo....hel-lo (tapping the computer) anyone still out there?

Left behind love to all.

rockin' with TSO

2011-05-12T08:02:00.000-05:00

We did something fun.

Some out-of-town friends (big Trans-Siberian Orchestra fans) invited us to accompany them to the TSO concert in our town last Friday night.

My exposure to TSO consisted of hearing bits and pieces about their wonderful Christmas concerts. I'd seen a few videos....that's about it.

We went and it was just....WOW! What they do is unique and thoroughly entertaining. The talent on display is stupendous. The visuals of the performers, the lasers, the stage lighting, the huge LED screens and the pyrotechnics combine to knock your socks off.

Wanna see some photos of TSO? Here goes.

The Narrator of our story

The title of our story was Beethoven's Last Night. It was an imaginary journey into circumstances surrounding Beethoven's talent and his unwritten Tenth Symphony. The narrator drove the storyline and set up the acts. This handsome fellow was mesmerizing. His voice bellowed through the auditorium in Shakespearean prose. We were all rightly smitten in the palms of his confidently upturned hands.

Our main character, Beethoven

Our Beethoven thrilled us with his passionate voice. This singer/actor had it all....he could sing opera-style, he could ROCK it, and he could break your heart and bring you to tears with his dulcet tones. I was in awe. His voice was inspiring. He really 'did it' for me.

Evil Mephistopheles

This guy is Lucifer personified....the handsome devil was always trying to trick poor Beethoven into giving him his music. There was lots of fire onstage when he sang. He possessed a hellacious voice.

A view of stage right.

Yep....we were on the front row!

Pyrotechnics. Don't sit on the front row if you can't stand the heat!

Look at this smile!

I adore this photo. Our violin man looks to be having the time of his life, yes? The expression is one of pure joy and all of us front-rowers were reflecting this attitude back to him. Does your job inspire you to smile like this?

The sultry love interest.

This young lady was simply bursting with talent and sexiness. Her singing was sultry and oh......that dress. PER-FEC-TION. At the end of the show, they introduced the cast. I didn't catch her name but they said she was from our little town. I couldn't believe it! Does anyone know her? If you do.....let me know. She had mad dancing skills, too!

Dancing girls.

As if the pyrotechnics weren't enough, TSO sealed the deal with sexy dancing girls. Think the Laker Girls or the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. The were radically gorgeous and they did double-duty as singers.

The show-stopper.

I didn't exactly catch her name, but this seductive red-head brought the audience to it's knees with her third hand. Other than her saggy chin, I thought she was damn sexy and she rocked the crowd with her raspy voice. Could this concert end any more perfectly??

The Texan and I got home at ***gasp*** eleven-thirty! I'm talking in the p.m.!

It was a great night. Thanks Roddy and Donna for asking this boring couple to such a hip and fun show. We loved it and we love you for asking us. You're rock stars.

Bic Lighter love to all this week.

how a wiener views a wiener

2011-05-04T21:15:00.000-05:00

In an effort to bring you the latest in breaking news, Chicken Wing presents:

How does a wiener view a wiener? or

It takes one to know one.

Thought we should have a record. Some evidence in case anyone asks.

You agree?? Thought so.....

Is this a set-up?

Bingo. Eye contact.

Sittin' up. Sometimes good things happen.

Sweet aroma....so.....close.

Almost tasting it.

Ah...sweet mystery of life at last I found you (music swells!)

Hope you savor the rest of your week.

Thanks for stopping by.

Anything else important happens, readers of Chicken Wing will be the FIRST to know!

Nitrate-laden meat love to all.

very good Friday

2011-04-22T20:38:00.000-05:00

Lately my 'get up and go' has 'gone down and went'. Some days I want to stay in bed... have a headache...can't think straight...wanna eat pralines and cream straight from the carton. But TA-day, with the help of the middle Sprout and the Texan, I finished a project! Do I hear a BOO-YAH?

The back patio

This was the perfect day...Good Friday...to work on the patio. Hauling out the succulents I kept in the sunroom through the winter, and planting some pots with a few annuals. The weather: warm. The wind: still. Un-freakin-believable.

Brought out the radio and cranked up K-LOVE to be inspired on this Holy day. Praise and worship music perfectly tuned to plant petunias.

where I worshipped this Good Friday

This song spoke to me....Who Am I, by Casting Crowns

http://youtu.be/othmFqaw0Yk

I am a flower quickly fading, here today and gone tomorrow....a vapor in the wind.

Get to growin' plants!

Proud I finally finished something. Break out the margaritas, Texan. It's patio season!!

Thanks to my fellow gardeners. You helped me cross the finish line. I'm grateful.

Good Friday love to all. Hang on....Easter's comin'.

a hallelujah doxy

2011-04-14T14:48:00.000-05:00

"There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle or you can live as if everything is a miracle." Albert Einstein

Roxy Doxy enjoying her Easter outfit 2010

Sometimes I overuse sarcasm and hyperbole in my storytelling for dramatic and humorous effect. It's fun to get your goat, and you fellow chicken-wingers, are kind to follow along.

Today, I relate to you a dog-story as truthfully as I can. What really happened?? You tell me.

Practicing water safety at the Lake last summer

Last evening, as I was returning from church, I pulled into the big circle driveway. All the outside lights were on. It seemed odd because the Texan is ~~cheap~~ economical and he preaches turning off unnecessary lights. I entered the house through the sliding door from the garage to the utility room. I immediately experienced a sensation of something not being 'right'.

Enjoying Veteran's Day from her 'watchdog perch'

Usually, the wiener dog sees me from her watchdog perch in the window, and she scampers to greet me. Ambled through the back of the house to the living room....no Doxy and where is the Texan? As I make my way back toward our bedroom, I see the stubby dog walk to me (kind of hesitantly, like she's in trouble) and she does her usual 'I'm sitting up...please pick me up!' and I gladly oblige. She smells strange. What is it? She is reeking of burnt rubber, asphalt and dead animal.
The Texan appears from his shower and tells me, 'The Doxy got run over by a truck!' He is clearly shaken, and I request he repeat it for me. 'The Doxy got run over!'

'How is this possible, as I am holding the wiener and she is alive?' Smelly, shaken...but alive.

He explains, voice cracking, that the watchdog wiener spied a cat from her perch in the window. I'll not go into all the gory details, but suffice it to say the dog got out...chased the cat into the busy street in front of our house and he thought he saw a truck run over her. In his horror, he ran into the street and scooped her up from the asphalt. He reported she was stiff....eyes open, but unresponsive. She was not responding to his voice. He laid her on our bed while he called the vet. As he observed her, she seemed to be getting less stiff and more alert so he told the vet he was going to watch her. He jotted down the 24 hour emergency animal hospital number.

She was getting better even though there appeared to be a little blood mixed with urine/or saliva? on the sheet. Was she bleeding anywhere?...he couldn't see anything. Was anything broken or any leg poking the wrong direction? No. She continued to improve until I came home and she walked up to me.

Ringing in 2011

After the Texan finished, I laid in a fetal position on the floor for a minute. You see, we adore this ridiculous rock-fetching wiener. She has been the child in our empty nest. Since we both lost our Mothers in the last couple of months, we are feeling kind of.....raw. Some of the planets in our universe are extinguished and we feel a little wobbly on our axis. Neither of us wants to live in our universe without the little dachshund planet. Not now.

Roxy Doxy loves America

I put Doxy in bed with me (like usual) and laid awake waiting for her to convulse and die. She did not. We just got checked out by the vet. The nice veteranarian asked that I work on better restraining my dog and she gave me some light pain meds for soreness. She found nothing amiss.

This little dog keeps me engaged politically

I'm spending most of this day hugging and kissing the wiener dog. Can't help myself. Grateful for the comfort of my sausage dog during this wobbly time. The Texan? Safe to say he feels the same. I'll probably love and slobber on him when he gets home from work. Poor Texan.

What really happened? Was she hit, or not?

Me?....I'm treating it as a miracle. An Easter Doxy resurrection! Strike up the Hallelujah Chorus! I am over the moon for a small, smelly sausage-y miracle.

Hope you recognize your miracle today. Hal-la-LOO-ya love to all.

boots an' jeans an' opera

2011-04-03T15:33:00.000-05:00

Can Saturday be my own personal Groundhog Day??

I wouldn't mind re-living yesterday a few thousand more times.

Woke up. Went to the gym and spun my legs off with my fitness buds. While riding nowhere fast, I racked up 25 miles and got the heart rate up. I'm grateful for the imperfect ticker...it's workin' pretty good lately!

Went to the horse barn to work with my horse trainers, Doug and Patti Pratt. My western footwear of choice:

Rode with my horse-buddy, Helen. We're both mature ladies who are trying to improve our riding and killer horsemanship skillz. Helen always has a beaming smile and a contagious laugh. I like being around Helen cuz she's a 'glass half full' kinda person. We both attempted riding our western horses in perfectly round circles. Patti declared 'you can't ride a good straight line until you can ride a perfect circle'. We circled and circled with Patti's encouragement.
The 'best old-lady horse in the world!' was his usual easy-going self. After riding him, he kissed me and sneezed on me...then the wind kicked up and my face was streaked with dusty horse snot. Patti was astride my big English horse and she asked if I'd like to climb up. Moi?? Now, this horse is a WHOLE different ballgame....tall...lanky...big-strided...thoroughbred...and did I mention TALL? I stuttered 'sure' and I tortured my inner thighs getting Big Guy around the pen. With Patti and Doug's directions, I was able to guide him around the pen. Pure exhiliration for me getting to spend time with quality horses and friendly people.

Came home and headed for the shower. It was soooo windy....how windy was it??....my face was streaked with dirt, you coulda planted a California redwood in my ear, my normally red hair was an earthy, dull brown and my nose was filled with massive, crusty dirt-boogers. Is this the perfect day, or what!?

My perfect day was about to get perfect-er.
You'll never guess what I did next.....I went to the OPERA. Opera in Amarillo, Texas you ask? Most certainly! We have our own reknowned Opera Company....Amarillo Opera. I cleaned up and made the Texan take a picture to commemorate the rare occasion of my cleanliness.

You know I went solo. The Texan doesn't 'do' opera. Roxy Doxy adores opera and was ticked at the 'no wiener dog' policy.

My foundational garments were so tight, I popped a massive vein in my temple....covered the gruesomeness up with my bangs.

Anyhoo, back to the Opera. Here's the low-down: they performed (flawlessly) the Italian Straw Hat. It's a farcical comedy and the performers sang in English.

Now, I could get arrested for showing you this next photo....I'm not usually such a brazen rule-breaker...but I wanted my fellow chicken-wingers to see the glorious art deco set. Uh, maybe I didn't really take this unauthorized photo at all....maybe my neighbor did and gave it to me. Yeah, he gave it to me! Here's a glimpse of the colorful stage in our first-class performing arts center.

used by persmission of person who gave me this photo

The Italian Straw Hat was entertaining, colorful, and contemporary-this coming from a person who doesn't know her Puccini from her panini! I enjoyed it. All the singers were stellar, but a special shout-out to my friend and opera-diva, Sarah Beckham. A home-town girl turned opera's next superstar. Sarah, you were divine!!!!.... 'toy, toy, toy' or whatever!! I'll cover all my bases by shouting, bravo, brava, bravi, and bra-ssiere!

I pondered, as I crawled into my bed finally free from clamping undergarments ....where else in the world could I have spent the morning smiling atop great horses, and then dress up for an op-er-a gala in the evening?

Do ya see why Saturday gets my vote for groundhog day? You with me?

Hope your weekend was uplifting.

Big, bright musical love to all this week.

remembering Trish

2011-03-28T08:53:00.001-05:00

Today, chicken-wingers, we are remembering our beloved Trish (the Texan's mom and my mother-in-law extraordinaire). She passed over last week and we honored her on Saturday. The Texan and I are happy and sad...happy because Trish had been in hospice care since the first of the year, and we didn't want her to linger and suffer. Sad, because she was doing GREAT in hospice and feeling pretty well (as well as one can possibly feel while in hospice care, I guess) and we thought maybe we had some more time with her.

Her last days at the nursing home were filled with visits from children, family and friends. Her room was flooded with light and happiness, and she had many sunshiny chats. She made friends with the nurses and she called them at home (when they weren't working) from her cell phone. Just wanted to be sure everything was OK. She worked on her crocheting and she liked to blare the Old-Time Gospel Hour on her TV....said the music made her happy.

She blessedly died in her sleep, after a full day of family visits and fun-just the way she wanted to exit this life.

She was a meticulous person and she valiantly tried to show me the value of living an organized life. She loved me anyway; even when she realized she'd failed miserably at changing this right-brainer. I spent most of the day Sunday polishing her silver and counting and labeling her flatware. This mundane chore somehow made me feel close to her, and I wanted to let her know I will still try.....try to take some of her best qualities and make them my own.

I'm guessing this is around 1949

Trish grew up as a child of privilege. She was grateful for the opportunities, but her privilege never defined her. I love the above photo of her...isn't she gorgeous?

For all the photo's beauty, it doesn't reflect Trish.

Ah.....now this is more like it.

Christmas 1987

This is the Trish we all cherished. The fiercely loving mom and grandmother. I honestly don't think I could have raised my Sprouts without her calm reassurance...she WAS the mother of 5, you know! A veritable well-spring of child rearing wisdom.....I saw no need to reinvent the wheel.

See you on the other side, Trish. For now....I think I have a few more silver pieces to polish.

Shiny love to all this week.

mid-week quiz

2011-03-23T08:31:00.000-05:00

Time for a visual acuity test!

Are you ready for a challenge?

Try this one without your glasses.

Focus.

What 'thing' doesn't belong?

It's difficult, so take your time.

You may have to study the image carefully.

Ready.....what thing doesn't belong?

Go.......

Here's the answer to the problem:

Speedy Gonzales, Tweety Bird (doesn't belong...only non-mammal), Garfield the Cat, Roxy-Doxy, Snoopy, Odie, and Eeyore.

How did you do?

Thanks for taking the mid-week quiz. Now, carry on.

Remember...love always belongs in the picture...sending love to you for the rest of your week.

we're baa-ack

2011-03-18T12:09:00.000-05:00

Our tricked-out ride carryin' us from south Texas. Wish this was OUR trailer, but it's not...so we pooped in it.

Are we there yet...are we there yet? Corky lets us see out. Yep, the wind and dust are blowin'...it smells like cows...looks like home!

Backin' out very careful.

Helen gives me a chance to get my land legs.

'Back on out, Big Guy!'

Where ARE my legs?

A fine meal after a loooong (500+) drive and a trip to the vet.

We'll visit after I eat.....K?

Hay....I remember this barn cat!

Whydoya keep lookin' at me and repeatin' 'best old-lady horse in the world?'

the horses is coming!!

2011-03-06T09:16:00.000-06:00

No matter how hard she tries, she can never fill their horseshoes.

I've been pining for my horses. You see, back in late November my horse-trainer decided to move down state. It was a difficult problem for me: I wanted to keep the horses close but I didn't have the resources or the time to deal with them. Mom was getting sicker and I had zero spare time to manage or clean up after horses. I made the decision to let them move with the trainer, until I could make some rational decision in the future.

Death and dying are outstanding refiners of attitude. Through Mom's illness I missed being with my horses....missed being outside, missed touching their muzzles, missed the stress relief riding a great horse can be for me.

The wiener dog instinctively knew I had a horse-shaped hole in my heart. She gamely tried to humor me. She patiently endured my enthusiastic demonstration of how to make a cool cowboy string halter.

Isn't she having fun?

See, Roxy-Doxy....with just a little bit of soft rope, a creative cowboy can make an effective horse-leading device!

Don't ask her about the day I hand-galloped her around the circle driveway.

Lucky for the wiener...the horses is coming! the horses is coming!! I've been planning. Death has made me realize how much I truly and deeply enjoy my equines. I don't want them out of my life.....yet. (sorry, Texan...he thinks horses are expensive!) They will be returning around the middle of this month.

happy times at a horse show in Albuquerque, NM

I'm giddy. Can't wait to brush and lead and ride and get horse kisses and be outside with friends.

Roxy-Doxy is glad, too. She wasn't looking forward to feeling these in her sides.

I hope you are spurred to achieve great things this week!

Rope halter love to all.

proud 'person of walmarts'

2011-03-02T17:45:00.001-06:00

It was our familiar ritual for six years.

Mom and I trekked to walmarts weekly to fetch supplies. It would have been easier for me to do her shopping for her, but how much fun is that? Picking her up at the home, assisting her to the car, driving to walmarts, and situating her old bod in the zippy electric cart was the stuff of Joy legend.

It irritated Joy that the ~~elderly~~ advanced-aged greeter liked me. She thought his crush was unbecoming and she expressed her displeasure.

What am I supposed to do, Mom? Run from the old guy? My hugs make his day! You're just jealous!

She would've LOST it had she known he stalked me while I was shopping and plied me with free candy. Texan, are you reading this??

I offered to help her shop. She replied she didn't require my assistance. After she laid a tire track up the back of my skinny ankle, I was ecstatic for her independent spirit! More time for me to hang out on the ammo aisle. I was always ready to hear the announcement.....

Attention walmart choppers, because of an unfortunate motorized cart incident, we will no longer have fresh eggs available for sale today. Would the daughter of Joy please report to the security office?
****slinking out of the store****

As her world grew smaller, the forays to walmarts became more important. It was one place she could have independence. She'd gleefully drive where she damn-well pleased in her motorized cadillac.

Sometimes I'd catch a glimpse of her in the aisles....I swear the woman touched each blessed item in the store! She'd buy everything from nicotine gum to brassieres, sugar-free yogurt to micro-fiber panties. She desired the best deal and she'd study the advertised discounts. Stopped counting the number of times she carefully checked her receipt and we had to go back to customer service for the $.50 or $1.00 they'd stiffed her.

The last time this occurred, I bribed her with $2.00 cash if we could just let it go and go home and put our groceries away. She was unamused and muttered I hadn't learned the real value of a dollar.

It usually required Joy about 1 1/2 hours to complete her basic shopping. The time she wanted to purchase a digital camera and a photo printer required a little longer.

What are you wanting a digital camera for, Mom?

I want to take pictures of my friends (at the home). I want to print pictures of them so I can remember what they looked like. (This was after a couple of her bestest girlfriend bridge buddies passed on)

The 83 year-old woman was a picture-snapping demon for weeks on end. She took pictures of all the residents, the office help, the girls in the cafeteria, and the maintenance workers. All photos were taken 'down-low'...wheelchair perspective only. The photos were odd...always looking up at the subject, but she was proud of them. On special occasions, she would frame them and give them to the person as a gift.

I went to walmarts by myself this week. Didn't see my greeter boyfriend...must've been his day off. I got my shopping done....quickly....efficiently. Home in a snap. Sigh.

Check out this website and chuckle
http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/

Can you spot Joy and me?

Discount shopping love to all.

her birthday

2011-02-26T16:01:00.000-06:00

Today would have been her 84th birthday.

Joy and her older brother, Scott

She was just six days short of the big day.

Her passing makes the memories of her 83rd birthday all the more precious. I think we devoured a dinner of steak and crab legs last year to celebrate. Had some family over. She relished every minute of her birthday. Said they NEVER served steak and crab legs in the retirement home.

The mood of our chicken coop here On a Chicken Wing and a Prayer has been...well....sad, is what it's been.

But we take solace in sharing our fond and funny memories of Mom....Grandma.... Aunt...Sis.......Joy. She was one-of-a-kind and we will miss her. The hospice nurse told me I would never go anywhere without her and she'd never go anywhere without me. I think that's right.

With her ornery grandson

Birthday Joy love to all.

search for Spring

2011-02-18T09:13:00.000-06:00

On a mission to document Spring! Grabbed the camera and tromped around the homestead with my wiener sidekick to take killer, artistic shots of the emerging season. I envisioned tender buds on shrubs, trees preparing to burst forth and shy crocus revealing their purple crowns above the snow. I desired to show you, my fellow chicken-wingers, the gloriousness of the changing seasons.

Sniffing out Spring

What I found: dead (or gravely injured) nandina, boxwoods with brown and frost-damaged leaves, and a couple of brave daffodil bulbs peeking up only to have their green tops brutalized by the recent cold snaps. Who wants to see a photo of such winter's carnage?? Not me.

Spring seems far, far away.

Like a distant galaxy. Like Pluto. It's there, but we can't see it with the naked (I said naked!!) eye.

I'm sure it's charging up the hill, streaking like a meteor.

But I must use the telescope to catch a glimpse. Hey!....did you just see that....that shooting star??

The reminders of Winter are so.....ever-present.

And the promise of Spring is still just that.....a promise.

Winter and grayness are still the focus. Spring may be coming....but it's blurry.

And it's carrying a ball.

Anticipatory love to all.

tough guy

2011-02-13T14:16:00.000-06:00

Sunday found me at Mom's nursing home visiting with the residents. My sidekick today was the amazing, famous waving bichon freee-say Sophie.
Remember her CHRISTMAS ANTICS?

She's the BEST nursing home dog...she'll do anything for a treat. Can we say time to diet?? Wave, speak, play dead, shake, sit up....you name it and Soph will do it. Sometimes she waves out of the kindness of her little white heart, but mostly she waves her paws off for foodical tidbits. The dog loves the nursing home!

enjoying warmer temperatures at the lake last summer

The residents have different reactions to the famous waving bichon. One nice lady (whose head is always perilously close to dropping into her mashed potatoes) manages to lift her heavy head and smile. Sophie waves. Another resident (who is barely verbal) speaks and wants to pet her. Sophie waves. Another resident gives her a very hearty 'HEL-LO'. Sophie waves.

I met a new friend...a resident named 'D'. D spoke slowly and articulately of his two poodles he dearly loved. Sophie waved. Said his children had to do something with them when he went into the hospital last June. He never had the heart to ask what they did with his two beloved pets and his children never volunteered the information. Sophie waved. I told D he looked too young and healthy to be at the nursing home. He proudly related he was 80 and he had had 15 strokes. (15!!) He asked if I would visit room 17 whenever I came around with the dogs.

Of course, I will. You must be a some kinda tough guy, D, to have survived 15 strokes!

No, I'm not a tough guy....I have a big God.

Sophie waved. I waved. If you can't find me in Mom's room, look for me in Room 17.

The spirit of Room 17 love to all.

doppelganger dolls

2011-02-09T11:40:00.000-06:00

Never cared much for dolls. I was more of a singin', dancin', makin' up plays sort of drama kid.

To tell you the truth, dolls kinda creep me out. Any of you remember the Twilight Zone episode with Agnes Morehead, where the little alien people landed on her roof? She went nuts and tried to kill the little folks (looked like dolls to me) with a butcher knife?

Pediophobia (fear of dolls) must be universal.

Need any proof other than the ghoulish Chucky movie series?

Chucky in Child's Play #3!

Isn't he getting more and more adorable? So loveable, he took an evil bride.

Who could forget Seed of Chucky...a very bad seed, indeed.

****best Rod Serling voice imitation****
Imagine, if you will, my shock and utter horror when I was confronted with these 2 characters at our office recently.

Over my screaming and the embarassing puddle on the carpet, the middle Sprout struggled to explain.......

Mom, they're dolls of me and GP from iamastuffedanimal.com

See.....they make dolls to your likeness. Can you tell that GP is dressed as a triathlete-sunglasses, swimming goggles and cool Ironman outfit?

I dunno about doppelganger dolls. Seems kinda sinister, Sprout.

Can you guess who had -0 temps last night, with 50mph winds and lots of snow?
Beastly abomindable snow dolls!

OK, Sprout. Promise me you'll keep them away from the DVR. You're a goner if you see Chucky on your Netflix bill.

Snowy love to all you Chicken Wing dolls.

Super Sunday

2011-02-06T15:02:00.000-06:00

What a week! Not one I want to re-live anytime soon.

Like much of the country, West Texas was in Old Man Winter's icy clutch last week. Temperatures below 0 degrees Fahrenheit. Wind blew for three days straight 40 to 50 mph. Wind chills registering -30F!!

The Texan and I did battle with no gas (not the stomach kind, the house-heating kind), no water in the house because of frozen pipes, and a big water leakage freeze-a-palooza with our well. The Texan is seeing money signs flying around possible replacement of the well.

Checked out some of our cattle at the grow-yard yesterday. Lots of the young cattle didn't make it through the cold blast. Some of their sad, lifeless bodies were drug to the side of the yard. Other bodies were still littering the pens. The owners and employees of this cattle grow-yard looked drawn and weary. They'd worked their butts off under unbelievably bitter conditions to save cattle. Talk about good people....they are my heroes. Crazy storms.....s**t happens. Let's keep on keepin' on.

But hey, we're still here and we have lots for which to be grateful. Today it is snowing, and it almost seems warm compared to the frigid weather of just a few days ago. We desperately need this moisture.

To kick-off your Super Sunday, I'm sharing this little, short (har-har) video. It gives you a taste of what it's like to live with a highly interactive wiener dog. She's doing what she was born to do. Perhaps it will make you smile??

Now....lean back in your recliner. Light the fire. Gather family/friends and the young'uns around. Grab your favorite adult beverage and scoop that chip deep into your favorite carb-laden dip. Savor this Sunday. Eat a brat for me, will you?
Highly interactive love to all.

early-emergent polyester toxicity

2011-01-29T20:01:00.000-06:00

I think I've found the origin of my heart problem.

The racing, thumping and quick starting and stopping.

Some doctors say I was probably born with mitral valve prolapse syndrome, but I'm not too sure.

While cleaning out some of my mother's stuff, I ran across THIS damnable photo.

It's enough to scare the bejesus out of ya!

I think it started my heart palpitations.

Not to mention the number it did on my visual acuity.

Don't look if you are prone to seizures.

Or, if you have a sensitive stomach.

Or, if you've ever read ANYTHING by Tim Gunn!

That's right....the Texan!! He's responsible.

His checked (skin-tight...woo-hoo) polyester pants.

I was only 19 and the sight of this must have overwhelmed my sensitive cardiovascular and neurological systems.

It feels so good to place blame where blame is due.

Now, go wash your eyes out with saline. Grab a National Geographic and stare at the pictures (the topless ones are probably the best). Anything to erase this troubling image. Don't want YOU to end up like me.

Checkered love to all.

what's in a road name?

2011-01-24T08:07:00.000-06:00

Received a sweet note from a friend a few days ago. I was struck by the descriptiveness of the note writer's street name....Rippling Creek Drive. Doesn't that conjure up picturesque images?? No way you'll find a street name like that 'round these arid parts of West Texas. Any road name including the terms 'creek', 'stream', 'springs', 'lake' or 'shady' and you know some street namer's lyin'! Got me wee mind a'wonderin'....how would I describe the roads and boulevards I frequent every single day? What would I name......

1. Our circle driveway?
Roadrunner Roundabout

Prickly Pear Parkway
Hangontoyerhat Alley
Tarantula Trail
Rattler's Den Road....too obvious??

2. The nursing home road where Mom lives?
Sundown Lane
Goin' West Way
Polident Path
Last Leg Lane
Dulocolax Drive
Ancient Avenue

3. The road to my #3 Sprout's house....where a hot grass fire just missed burning their house down?
Tinderbox Turnpike
Blazing Saddles Boulevard
Great Bonfire Way
Conflagration Course
Still Standin' Street

4. The footpath to Cadillac Ranch? A popular tourist attraction on Interstate 40 just outside the city limits.

Dead Auto Alley
Gas Guzzler Drive

5. The internet route to On a Chicken Wing and a Prayer?
Chicken Coop Terrace
Hen House Highway
Rue la Menopause
Heart Attack Overlook
Cock-a-doodle-do Concourse
Winding Wiener Way

What would you name the byway to your house? C'mon and tell me.

Here's wishing your week includes a trip down Lover's Lane.

it's a blog party

2011-01-19T09:26:00.000-06:00

My bloggy friend, Margaret, over at Nanny Goats in Panties had a clever idea. What if all her blog friends exchanged white elephant gifts? What if they all got linked up and wrote about it?

Margaret is cool. She writes about goats and other satirical stuff. I like goats, so I like Margaret and her blog. Does that make me cool? You decide. I'm so IN, Margaret!

My gift comes all the way from the Left Coast-Sacramento! My generous gift-giver is Eileen. You can read Eileen's blog at

http://justeileenandsue.blogspot.com/

Eileen sent this fun western frame to me. Does it just shout West Texas, or what? My life includes cactus and horses....just like what is on this frame! One can see how something like this might not fit the decor in Sacramento. But out here....where the wind and the buffalo play....where seldom is heard, a discouraging word....O.K., you get the idea.

Inserted this ~~steamin' hot~~ mildly lukewarm western-y photo of me at the ranch last summer. Perfecto subject matter for this frame, right-o? Whaddaya think, Eileen? I think this gift is WAY too nice to be considered a white elephant gift.

I thank you very kindly.

I sent a gift to another blogger. My gift was truly white elephant.

See what I mean? Who wouldn't simply adore having a bright green ceramic goat creamer??

If you care to read about all the wacky white elephant gift exchanges, head over to

http://www.nannygoatsinpanties.com/2011/01/my-white-elephant-gift.html

Green goat love to all.

more sun, less stress

2011-01-14T20:49:00.000-06:00

I still find the Solar Oven highly entertaining; like a 3rd grade nerd proud of a science project. Some would say it's weird...perhaps bordering on the obsessive. Me...obsessive?.....naaaaaah! You can see the Solar Ovens here:
http://www.amazon.com/Global-Sun-Oven-Solar-Cooker/dp/B00286KQ1W
***the Sun Oven folks do not know I exist nor that I have made an idol of their oven***

This week is one I'm ready to put in the record books. Don't mean to complain, mind you. Especially in the light of all the innocents who were wounded and killed in Tucson. Those families have had one helluva week-mine is but a gnat bite in comparison.

Moved my mom into an extended care (nursing) facility this week. (Hi Mom!) She reads this blog, so I won't badmouth the old ~~witch~~ bat too badly. She would admit the move was stressful. We (God bless the Texan, his bro, and our niece and nephew) moved her into this very lovely facility. The staff is nice and trying really hard to please her. She's been complaining of back pain...INTENSE back pain. The pain has been ongoing for three weeks and it puts a huge hitch in her get-along. This condition is a big reason for her move. She finally saw the doctor today and he thinks she has a compression fracture in her back. Ouch and ouch. We'll get through it together....like we always do...OK, Mom?? Keep hangin' in.

Before I went to the nursing home, I placed some pork ribs in the Sun Oven. Just put a dry rub on them and placed them in this glass dish. Didn't put any moisture in the dish-just the ribs.

Doesn't this dish remind you of your Grandmother? It does me..love ya, Lucy!

The ribs safely placed in the space ship solar pod.

Returned from the facility and checked on the ribs. The heavenly odor was wafting around my backyard. One of these days, I'm gonna find a pack of wild dogs devouring the Sun Oven and it's contents-but, not today.

While admiring the juicy ribs, the highly interactive wiener dog dropped a prized rock at my feet she had dug up just for me.

Don't know why there's a yellow parking stripe on my back driveway, but there it is. Odd.

Charmed, I sat down and we partook in some rock-retrieving, rock-digging, rock-rolling (with the nose), and general rock whup-ass.

Please do NOT tell her dentist she is playing with rocks!

Count these moments among my 'stop and smell the roses' time.

This is not meant to be a Doxy anus shot. You are to notice the flying leaves and how intently she is pouncing on the rock.....ears flapping!

Notice the dusty snout? She rolls the rock with her pointy nose.

Sorry about the crappy focus. Sometimes the grass is very BAD and must be punished simply for being near her beloved rock. She tears it out by the roots and flings it side to side. It must be taught a lesson and stay away from her precious boulder!

These activities are my natural beta-blockers. How can one have a heavy heart while interacting with a silly, stupidly-serious sausage dog? It simply isn't possible.

Oh, and you must see how the ribs turned out. We'd already eaten a few of them when I snapped this picture.

These would have been perfect with some sauerkraut, if you ask me. The Texan thinks sauerkraut is nasty, so we didn't have it. Made a fresh salad and Pioneer Woman's Dilly Bread (http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2011/01/jans-dilly-bread/) as the side dishes. Mmmmm....food....another highly effective beta-blocker.

Press forth into the glorious weekend, bloggy friends. Have fun.

Juicy, pork rib love to all.

my heart, the watchdog

2011-01-11T21:46:00.000-06:00

You've been panting with wild anticipation to hear of my experiences with the heart Holter Monitor, no? To refresh your memory, I was supposed to wear this contraption for 48 hours.

The monitor was supposed to record the hoofbeats of the proud, wild mustangs inside my chest cavity. It would allow the cardiologist to discern what planet the alien hailed from that was freeing itself from the jail of my breast. I was pumped (har! cardiac humor)...this was gonna be some kinda FUN.

The helpful nurse at the cardiologist's office hooked me up. She gave the monitor a hard slap with the butt of her palm and said under her breath,

'What's wrong with this unit? Maybe it's on the fritz!'

She then smiled and wished me well and I skipped out exuding confidence. As was my fear, the first night I awoke in my usual sweatbath and two of the electrodes slid off my chest. The nurse had assured me,

'If they come off at night, just stick them back on with some tape. The monitor will resume working.'

I stuck them back on, but the readout on the monitor kept reading 'data not analyzed'. In the morning, my chest was a mess o' medical tape as I futiley struggled to get a readout. Called the dr's office and a very annoyed nurse told me to come back in to let her look at the unit.

'What's the matter with this thing? We may have to mark it as not usable. OK. You're good to go. Good luck!"

I was ecstatic I had the privilege of paying the doctor a bucketload of cash to hook me up to his broken Holter monitor.

The NADIR (that means the worstest) of the heart monitor experience came about one hour later. I hear a beep from the monitor (located in my pocket) while I am driving my car. I take the box out of my pocket and it reads....I kid you not.....WATCHDOG ALERT! (with an exclamation). I slammed on the brakes cuz I didn't know if I had already died of a heart attack, or if I had committed a crime and was being hotly pursued by the local dogcatcher. My call to the doctor's office was a comedy of

'We've never heard of WATCHDOG ALERT!? Are you SURE it says WATCHDOG ALERT!? did I forget to tell you guys I love to play heart monitor jokes??

sorry...my obligatory Roxy-Doxy photo

YES LADY, IT SAYS WATCHDOG ALERT AND I'M POSITIVE IT IS NO LONGER RECORDING MY HEARTBEAT. IF IT WERE RECORDING MY HEART RYTHYMS, YOU WOULD KNOW I AM NOW IN FULL-BLOWN CARDIAC ARREST!

But....I digress.
I guess the cardiologist got enough information from the monitor to see a problem. He started explaining Mitral Valve Prolapse Syndrome . What it means. What I should do. I couldn't believe I had an issue with my heart. He marched me directly into the echocardiogram room where a very nice man looked at my heart with sonogram technology. Valves busily opening and shutting. Chambers filling and emptying of blood. When he turned the sound on, there was lots of watery whooshing and swooshing. He showed me the mitral valve opening and closing. A small amount of blood was being allowed to 'wash back' into the chamber. Not a terrible thing, but not the best either. Lazy, flaccid valve.

I've been coming to terms with this (they say common) condition. At first, I felt kinda bummed. I've been reading about it...I'm understanding it more. I'm taking my meds and trying to make changes in how I react to stress.

Here's where I am today:
Every beat of my heart, before I found out about my MVP, has been because of the grace of the Creator. I'm content knowing every flawed beat from here on out is in His hands as well.
Watchdog Alert love to all.

the sun also rises (dough)

2011-01-06T21:02:00.000-06:00

Naw, I haven't been reading too much Ernest Hemingway.

I've been tramping around my yard....proudly wearing my oven mitts....trying to find the most direct line to the sun. I've been cooking in my NEW SOLAR OVEN!!

What's the h is a solar oven, you ask? Here's what it looks like.

Stop here, Mother Ship, stop here!! The Sun Oven consists of a black box with a glass lid. All four sides have reflecting shields to magnify or intensify the sun's rays. The shiny shields easily fold down to make the oven easier to carry. The inside of the box is black to better absorb the heat. The instructions say one can cook almost anything as long as one has enough sunlight.
I tested it yesterday. Try cooking a loaf of bread on a mid-40 F degree day Mr. Stud Sun Oven! Whaddaya gonna do?

Well. Look there! The oven temperature is 350 degrees and the dough seems to be.....rising. In-ter-es-TING. We shall see......
One hour later. What do we have here? A pretty appetizing, golden loaf of wheat bread. It tasted absolutely magnificent. A taste of the sun in every bite! Bread de Soleil.

What about meats? Can the Sun Oven cook meats? And baby carrots? And green beans with pearl onions? How is it possible to perfectly cook meat with the sun?

I dunno. Something akin to being inside a vehicle on a summer's day with all the windows rolled up. This was our dinner tonight. I even had a guest. I served this with the Bread de Soleil. Told him the entire meal was cooked from the sun's rays. In my YARD. With the gophers. No electricity lost it's innocent life in the preparation of this meal. He was impressed alright. Shoulda seen the look on his face. Has she lost her ever-lovin-mind??

I suppose the LARGER question might be "Why are you cooking with a Solar Oven? Why don't you just turn on the stove in your home like everyone else in the world?!

Uh....I don't know. Very astute question. I'll hafta get back to you on that. Questions like that are why you read this blog.
Warm bread love to all.

the alien is comin' out

2011-01-04T21:45:00.000-06:00

Maybe I'm judging too harshly. I'm not sure I like it....it's not what I expected. Can I send it back?

No, I'm not talking about a white elephant Christmas gift. I'm talking about 2011. I won't bore you with too many details, but I'm finding my existence kinda...um...stressful. Nothing happening many of you haven't faced, but I'm having issues. Already had several Serenity Prayer 911's..

2011 finds me with one of these beauties strapped to my chest.

Not my ACTUAL chest. Did you honestly think you would be so lucky?

It's called a Holter Monitor.

Your friendly physician slaps one of these on you when you tell him a marching band of ginormous bass drums is using your chest as their practice field. Or when you complain the alien is finally gonna pop out. Or when you nickname your heart Secretariat.

I really am healthy as a horse. Low cholesterol, low blood pressure, decent weight and good overall fitness. Maybe my heart knows something I don't, and it's suspicious of 2011. Maybe I'm having a breakdown. Maybe its the dreaded WHORE-MOANS. run!!

Can't wait to sleep the next 2 nights with the cord-y contraption. Hope my sweating doesn't short circuit the mother board. Hope the Texan doesn't receive a nasty shock when hoping to get lucky. Hope Roxy Doxy doesn't hang herself in it and have to gnaw through one of the electrodes. Calling Serenity 911!

I'll keep you posted. Hope 2011 finds you with no aliens in your chest.

Marching band love to all.

a bloggy anniversary

2010-12-28T22:04:00.000-06:00

Self-aggrandizing. That's how the Texan described my idea for this blog post. Read on?.....you decide.

I'm shouting from the tippy-top of my chicken coop:
On a Chicken Wing and a Prayer is celebrating it's one (1) year anniversary!!

A year ago, I was just another middle-aged lady with unwanted facial hair armed with a new Nikon camera and a copy of Blogger for Dummies. It was an enormously bodacious bite, but I've managed to keep pecking away in 2010. Naw, I don't have a barnyard full of followers. Only losers measure success solely by those numbers! Ever hear of quality over quantity? Ever hear of sticktoittiveness?
Here's the self-aggrandizing part the Texan was warning you about. I want to take a moment to recognize some of OCWAP's best moments....chosen by.....me.

Here's some of the best chicken scratch of 2010
You have a favorite on the list? Puh-leeze flap your wings and cluck it out in the comments section. It would tickle my gizzard to hear your cock-a-doodle-doooo!

BEST QUIZ POST
1. dog or dishrag?
2. are you suffering olympic withdrawal syndrome?

BEST PHOTOGRAPHY POST
1. in the meantime-part deux
2. rising above

BEST ROXY-DOXY ARGUMENT
1. march madness
2. addictive as crack

BEST INSPIRATIONAL POST
1. don the life vest
2. gracias Senor!

BEST LIST POST
1. leapin' what? 6 lessons we learn from frogs
2. 10 questions-is it love or obsession?

BEST SATIRICAL STORY
1. frenzied fawn gets his whup ass on
2. mountain mysteries

BEST INFORMATIONAL POST
1. day in the life of a show horse
2. signs, signs, everywhere a sign

POST ABSOLUTELY NO ONE UNDERSTOOD (but still makes me laugh. Ever hear of Our Town..... Thornton Wilder? You know the famous play?? nevermind
1. our (prairie dog) town

Loved this year of blogging my guts out. Loved learning about my camera. Mostly, I've loved sharing the craziness (and effective facial hair remedies) with you. Your comments have continually cheered me. You readers make my day...uh...year.

Again, cluck out your favorite, if you are so inclined.

New Year's love to all. My resolution, you ask?? Put down the camera and walk away from the prairie dog......

thanksgiving at christmas

2010-12-27T21:47:00.000-06:00

Exploding with gratitude this evening. It feels like Thanksgiving, only the calendar says it's Christmas time. Remember my post Divine Weekend where I talked about visiting Sprout #1 and the D-I-L's new home in the country? I took this sunset shot of horses in the front yard.

Today....that gorgeous new home was threatened by a wind-driven grass fire. The news reports said the flames came within 20 feet of the home. This pasture is blackened.
You can read about the drama here:

http://amarillo.com/news/latest-news/2010-12-27/deaf-smith-county-fire-aggravated-wind

Prairie fires are an unwelcome fact of life in West Texas. This time of year we experience low humidity and high winds; any grass left standing is brittle and bone dry. We've had lots of livestock, horses, ranch houses and pastures threatened and damaged by wildfires. But, geez....this feeling of extreme fear and wild gratitude is unsettling.
Life is sure a crap-shot isn't it? Expect the unexpected.

We've celebrated Christmas and we're looking forward to ringing in the New Year, but for me...today...it's all about Thanksgiving.

christmas marvel

2010-12-24T08:10:00.000-06:00

It's here...ready or not. No matter in what circumstance you find yourself this Christmas, please know the Creator's love for you in the birth of His son. God made flesh....pretty awesome stuff. No wonder the barnyard animals will speak tonight. Keep watch.

The promised Marvel of the Night video. This song captures the lovely mystery. Take a listen:

Verse 3

The love that we have known, our joy and endless light
Now to the loveless world be shown, now break upon it's deathly night
Into one song compress the love, that rules our universe above
Sing love, sing love, sing God is love-sing love, sing God is love!

marvel of the night 2

2010-12-22T08:47:00.000-06:00

Verse 2 The Marvel of the Night.
Verse 3 Friday with a link to the song.

Awake the sleeping world with song,

This is the day the Lord has made

Assemble here, celestial throng, in royal splendor come arrayed
Give earth a glimpse of heavn'ly bliss,

A teasing stast of what they miss:
Sing bliss, sing bliss, sing endless bliss, sing bliss, sing endless bliss

marvel of the night

2010-12-20T08:24:00.003-06:00

It's usually a little thing that makes me a weepy mess at Christmas. I'll be going through the seasonal motions, decking this and that, nogging it up with friends and family and the small Christmasy moment will sneak up on me..and...suddenly.....the heavens open up, multitudinous angel choruses sing and I receive the Spirit of Christmas.

One year, I was going about my usual holiday preps with the three young sprouts. I was sleep-deprived and functioning on a pure daily fudge and egg-nog high. We hurried to and fro the sprout's Christmas events: the school Christmas program, the church musical, the class parties and the caroling forays. Christmas didn't hit me that year until my youngest sprout's piano recital. Sprout #3 was never much of a piano (or anything else for that matter) practicer, but he had prepared a little ditty for the recital. Maybe it was the fact I was actually sitting in a cozy chair for first time in weeks, or maybe it was because I adored his saint of a piano teacher, but when his 6-year-old fingers stroked the simple melody of Silent Night.....Christmas came to me. My heart had suddenly been sprinkled with meat tenderizer and I revelled in the magic of the season.

Being around the horses and our crazy donkey during the holidays held special meaning for me, as well. Running out to feed the animals on Christmas Eve, I'd tell them of the special role their ancestors played in the birth of Jesus-especially the role of the ass. Asses are blessed creatures in the Christmas story and on Palm Sunday. Aren't we glad the Bible holds a special affinity for asses?? Gives me hope.

This year, the small thing setting my stone-heart to mush is a song. We practiced it in church choir. It rattles in my brain like the Salvation Army bell-ringer. It's called Before the Marvel of this Night, by Carl Schalk. I want to share verses of it with you this week as we prepare for Christmas.
Maybe it will be the small thing encouraging your heart to a fuller understanding of Christmas.

Verse 1

Before the marvel of this night, adoring fold your wings and bow
then tear the sky apart with light and with the news the world endow
Proclaim the birth of Christ and peace, that fear and death and sorrow cease
sing peace, sing peace, sing gift of peace. Sing peace, sing gift of peace!

The marvel of the night is coming! I'll reveal the rest of the verses as we lead up to Chrismas eve.
Keep looking up.
Angel-wing love to all.

elf actualization

2010-12-16T22:21:00.001-06:00

Santa and his perky elf made their yearly appearance at the retirement home Christmas Party. The big guy doled out exciting door prizes to some lucky residents.

Joy watches Santa's helper lead the group in a carol sing-a-long.

The elf marvelled at how strongly the folks sang when a microphone was suddenly thrust in front of them.

Lots of huggin', lovin', singin', jingle-bell ringin' and general yuletide merriment.

The fun program was topped off with.....with.....

ta-da...........

The Christmas Dogs!!

Christmas goldendoodle, Reba, was a little unsure. In her humble opinion, Santa is loud, wears too much red and talks scary. She couldn't warm up to him. She did wag her curly tail and she eagerly licked most of the residents. She cheerfully modeled her 'Merry Christmas' fleece dog outfit. She did her puppy best.

But the real star? The dog who pants and whines to be in the Christmas limelight? The adorable, waving bichon freee-say.......
Sophie.

The elf introduced her to the crowd and she proceeded (the dog) to wave her fat little paws off to choruses of 'Isn't that the cutest thing?' and 'Awww' and 'She looks like snow!' and other adoring comments. We wondered as to her motivation for the great performance (she even 'spoke' on cue into the microphone!) this year. The Sprout said Soph had been sitting in the dark, cold car and suddenly she entered a warm gay room with overwhelmingly delicious food odors. At that moment, she realized she was born for the Christmas spotlight this day and she wasn't going to let the parade pass her by. Carpe diem, Soph!

When the program was over, Santa held Sophie and she graciously allowed everyone to stroke her curly, snow-white fur. As if that performance wasn't enough to win her the Christmas Oscar for a starring role for a bichon, she eagerly padded down the hall to the assisted living area. There she greeted residents, while the elf passed out candy canes. She even made a stop in the break room to greet a group of surprised card players. Her starring role was completed with a visit to the assisted living beauty shop. The elf realized she had been lucky to be in the presence of pure Christmas greatness.

Thanks for sharing in the Christmas fun.
Here's hoping you discover what YOU were born for this Christmas.
Special purpose love to all.

divine weekend

2010-12-13T22:01:00.000-06:00

Sunday was a busy...typically Christmas-y type day. Moving from one activity to the next, while savoring each unique holiday experience.
The day burst forth with singing at church. It was my church choir's Christmas musical. It's a great day not only because of the festive singing, but because we have some uber-talented members of our local symphony join us.

The chorus and orchestra warming up before the service.

I slapped back my own hand as I was about to relate my recent flute dream to our actual talented symphony flautist. It was for the best. I would've scared her.

The sanctuary is dressed up in her Christmas finery. I'd fought a nasty sickness all week and didn't know if I'd be able to participate. I did and I am grateful.

After a nice visit and lunch with my mom at the retirement home, I skedaddled home and began the process of making divinity.

Now...if you don't know...divinity can be a pretty persnickety candy to make. It's a humbling candy and I've bawled, pulled my hair out and tossed out many a batch.

The weather was perfect for candy-making on Sunday-dry and calm.

Completed several batches to give away as Christmas gifts.

I also gave away cherry-infused vodka in mason jars. The Texan thinks it looks weird, but it's my favorite I tell you! Handpicked those cherries myself on a humid, hot summer day. The cherries have been lazing around in that alcohol for 6 months! Could use a sip right now.....hmmmmm.....

Doxy said she was 'quality control'. I didn't buy it!

Just a shot to show you how perfectly pretty the divinity turned out.

Then, it was a drive to the (farther out) country for dinner with Sprout #1 and the gracious daughter-in-law (D-I-L). Their house is rugged, lovely and relaxing.
The Texan and I sat by the fire on the oversized chair. We made pigs of ourselves while watching the Cowboys. I didn't lift a finger. The D-I-L kept bringing me warm cider. The evening was enchantingly relaxing. This was the view out the front window.

Check out all the trees on the horizon! Wow. That's the Texas Panhandle for you!

Made out like a bandit when D-I-L sent me home with a jar of wasabi mayonnaise from Trader Joe's and a jar of her own prickly pear jelly. My condiment cup runneth over...and other cups, too.

Hoping this blog finds you enjoying your Christmas activities.

Divine love to all this week.

turkey necks

2010-12-09T09:09:00.000-06:00

Had a funky dream I was playing the flute with our local symphony orchestra. It was odd, because I'm not a flautist (even though I have harbored a secret desire to play the flute). I played the jazzy alto saxophone in junior high and high school. The dream scenario had me tucked away on the back row because I wasn't very talented and the conductor was angry with me. It was horrifying when I was supposed to 'tune' my flute to the oboe-guy. I think a squeak came out and I didn't know what to do with my instrument.
Let's just chalk the dream up to cold medications, OK? Oh, the pain and humiliation. I'm getting over it....slowly

On our recent trip over the Thanksgiving holiday, I took some wonderful sunset photos.

I still marvel at the gloriousness of the sky!

We got to messing around, and I suggested some 'hi-fashion', 'vogue-y' type poses.

(by the by, the lovely young lady in this photo is a talented flautist. really!)
One must look angry or at least extremely disinterested for high fashion photos. NO WAY I can pull off the anorexic look. Ambivalence...yes. Starvation...no.

I'm so hungry, disinterested and moody, I'll just turn my back to the camera and think about food. How high fashion is that??

Anyhoo, I'm sharing a secret with you. Shhhhh....look, I totally photoshopped out my turkey neck! Don't believe me? Check out the original.
Turkey neck.

Ok, ok....maybe I airbrushed my face, too. Aren't you an astute observer? Smarty.
I despise my neck. It's forever waving in the West Texas wind. It insists on flopping over my dapper mock turtlenecks. I'm trying to make peace with it, but I want it to disappear just like the conductor wanted the incompetent flautist to disappear in my dream story.

Too much honesty for you? Pictures traumatizing you, eh??

A branch of my family tree??.....no...no...too much information! (I did find a turkey in my photo files!!)

Ahhhh.....there now.....all better. I'm 25 again....YAY!!

Lessons for today:

Don't believe everything you see or read.
Pose with chin up to avoid turkey neck syndrome.
The judicious use of photoshop is a good thing.
Start early with the flute lessons.

Ageless love to all this week.

you decide

2010-12-03T09:17:00.000-06:00

Question for your pondering.

Can turtles 'do' yoga?

Do they comprehend the warrior position?

Can the downward dog be far behind?

Anyone....anyone??

apres Thanksgiving

2010-12-02T08:25:00.001-06:00

Don't you despise reading those blog posts concerning why said blogger hasn't blogged in sooooo long? Blah, blah, blahdy, blah-blah. Just climb back on the blogging horse and ride on into the Christmas sunset...right?

A pic is worth a thousand words.
This one explains my absence aplenty.

Traveling at Thanksgiving has been a blessed tradition in our family; one we have whole-heartedly embraced. Turkey is way overrated in our estimation. Now....tequila....well, we're mighty grateful.

Jen doesn't want a starfish for Thanksgiving dinner!

C'mon Sprouts......a spitting duel??

Why isn't the Texan a-sceered of the purple, hippie sea monster giving the peace sign??

We regularly assembled to give thanks for the sunsets. Our sanctuary was our balcony. Every evening there was an awe-inspiring display of God's creation.

Didn't I tell you it was awe-inspiring?? The camera self-timer and my little tripod came in handy.

A great holiday and I feel blessed all these folks will put up with me.
Now, let's throw our leg over the pony and get back to it. We're riding into Christmas and I'm feeling inspired. You with me?

Post-Thanksgiving love to all.

this our joyful hymn

2010-11-22T09:05:00.000-06:00

Not a traditional Thanksgiving pic....sorry, no turkeys in my files

Getting into the Thanksgiving spirit. Thought I'd share this heavenly tune with you. The words are from the traditional hymn, For the Beauty of the Earth. The old lyrics were set to a new tune composed by famed English composer, John Rutter. This is a perfect fusion of lyric and melody, in my humble opinion. I've sung this many times in various choirs. It never fails to make my spirit soar. I've yet to get through it without tearing up.

Simple aural loveliness. Hope it inspires your thankful spirit.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_iRxZMudrAY&feature=related

Remember to thaw the turkey in the fridge. It may take a couple of days.
Giblet gravy love to all.

excuse to stay home

2010-11-17T08:47:00.000-06:00

Most of my friends would describe me as an extrovert. I enjoy talking to people, don't freak-out in a party crowd and don't possess a fear of public speaking (this previous post explains). However, what makes my heart leap is glimpsing this warm light from my front window. Home. It means the Texan, the wiener, the talking bird, and the craggy hill rising behind the house are waiting to welcome me.

Are you making preparations for the upcoming holiday season? I am. I'd gladly spend day after bustling day here if I could. Baking, putting up decorations, organizing closets and cabinets....my homebody side surprises me sometimes.

Today we have our constant West Texas companion-Mr. Wind. He's feeling blustery and bold today. He might even enjoy ripping my car door from it's hinges if he had a chance. Think I'll deprive him of that opportunity and just stay home as long as possible today. In your face, Mr. Wind!

Hope you carry the warm light of home in your heart today. Midweek love to all.

the war on.....

2010-11-15T06:00:00.001-06:00

What do you think about the war on......

1. Fat? Haven't you read about the restriction of the use of trans-fats in NYC restaurants? Wave good-bye to fried chicken and doughnuts. Is salt still allowed, or is that outlawed too? Vanilla and nutmeg....you're on notice!!

2. Light? Those damnable compact flourescent light bulbs drive me batty. Heard about the law to prohibit all incandescent bulbs. (oh, George W..what did you do??) The (enviro-friendly and ~~cheap~~ thrifty) Texan has installed the outrageously efficient, money-saving cf bulbs all over our home. I grew weary of switching on the lights in my pantry and waiting 5 minutes to see the canned corn. Same for my closet...lots of days I was wearing navy and black cuz I couldn't see my clothes. I gave up and changed back to the incandescent bulbs. Light on, light off...easy enough. Hoping the Texan wouldn't notice my anti-enviro radicalism. No such luck. He just noticed the quick, bright light on the pizza box resting our kitchen island. Busted! Light bulb hoarding, here I come!

3. Christmas? This time of year we hear about the war on Christmas. I don't care if you wish me 'Happy Holidays' or you say a hearty 'Merry Christmas!' Whatevs. I DO resent having to remove every Christian Christmas symbol from city, state and federal property in this great land. The first amendment to the U.S. Constitution talks about not establishing a state religion. I don't think not establishing a state religion means we have to remove every last remnant of our Judeo/Christian culture at Christmas time. I believe the U.S. is a Judeo/Christian country and our body of laws flows out of that particular cultural and religious mindset. Last time I checked, the Senate of the United States has a Chaplain who prays every day before the esteemed body conducts business. If the Senate can have a chaplain, can we keep the creche at city hall?

4. Dogs?? China now has a new law. Only one dog per family, please! Makes me glad I live in the wilds of West Texas. Don't want anybody limiting my number of kids, dogs and horses and other things.

5. Wiener Dogs? I was astounded when I read this article about dachsunds being one of the most aggressive breeds of dogs. Is nothing sacred? Stubby-legged sausage dogs are the new pit-bull? Protect your toes and ankles! Run for them thar hills, people!!

6. Fun? I have laughed myself silly over San Francisco's ban on Happy Meals. This is excrutiatingly dumb and an outlandish intrusion into the lives of American families and American Happy Meal Lovers. Most fast food restaurants are now offering healthier choices, such as fresh fruit and salads. People seem to like these offerings and they are popular menu items. When a city government instructs a restaurant chain in what they can and cannot put in a meal....a Happy meal...we've lost our marbles. Can't folks decide for themselves if they want to eat HAPPY? Can't parents decide if their kids can eat HAPPY? In San Francisco, the sad answer is 'no'. Legalize pot, but good gracious.....don't put fries and a toy in the Happy Meal!! Can't believe I just said that. I'm ranting now.

What should we do about all this nonsense??

We should meet in the no salt, no transfat capital of NYC. We can join hands and gaily skip our way to see Pee Wee's Playhouse on Broadway. Now, there's some fun....watching Pee Wee back in the Playhouse zanily interacting with Chairy, Miss Yvonne, Cowboy Curtis and Pterri. We could even go out for a happy meal and a milkshake after the show. Pee Wee's Playhouse runs through Jan 2nd. Doesn't look like NYC is in the cards for me this year. Break a leg, Pee Wee. I still love you!

Oh...and remember...the secret word for today is....tyranny!

Here's wishing you fatty, bright, holiday, canine, fun love this week.

the audacity of snow

2010-11-12T09:25:00.000-06:00

Yesterday was a near-perfect 70 degree day. We were blythely performing our autumnal tasks in shirt sleeves. Last evening, a thunderstorm rolled in and ruthlessly drenched our town. Almost 4 inches in one hour! We don't get lots of rain in this high desert of the Texas Panhandle, so the storm created mucho misery for motorists who were stranded on Interstate 40. Businesses flooded, roofs leaked and all watery hell broke loose.

The night was ominous and thunder-y. Definitely a covers pulled tight over the head type of night. I told the Texan the air was reminiscent of a summer storm in the mountains. While we were TRYING to catch our required shut-eye, the sky snappily flashed, the wind rattled the rafters and the incessant booming rolled.

This, fellow Chicken Winger, is the icy slap I received this a.m.

Check out the Texan's hammock. Looks like his swinging days are over. Catch the detail of the Christmas lights on the house. Yep, he was putting them up before the winter weather hit. The man is GENIUS!

Care for a picnic on the back patio? Don your long-johns and have an ice scraper handy.

OK....the Hacienda in back looks kinda......picturesque. Cold, but picturesque.

Here's the view from my office. Yes people, this is where the storms of Chicken Wing creativity rain down. Most of the time, I'm just praying for inspiration. This is the sacred cradle of OCWAP. Presenting my view this fine morning. You're welcome.

*****alert*****Just fielded a phone call from the Texan on his way to work! He reports the snowflakes are as large as napkins and the first snow is causing a hellish traffic snafu in town. He also observed this morning that my tall purple fountain grass waving proudly in patio pots looked more like smashed weeping willows. Really funny, Texan....har-dee-har-har. So much for the 'purple fountain grass looks pretty in pots ALL winter!' kind of talk. sigh.

A certain someone has stubbornly crossed her legs and refuses to go out for her morning business.

She's taking the 'ignore it and it will go away' position. Good luck with that, wiener.

One thing is certain. Everything changes. I will appreciate the beauty of this day even though winter, and cold, and ice and snow aren't my cup of hot chocolate. I think the weather gurus are saying 70's again next week. Oh, joy!

That's it from here, friend. Sending snowflake love and best wishes to you from my West Texas ice bunker. Enjoy yourself this weekend.

dog skills

2010-11-10T09:23:00.000-06:00

Nothing earth-shattering today....thank God.

Here's a treat.....helping you scale the mid-week hump.

****Presenting****

two short videos for your Wednesday chuckling pleasure.

Beautiful, intense grand-dog Rose playing her favorite game with the Texan.

Equally intense wiener dog. This is her default setting when she wants for anything...food, a hug, going outside, her blankie, a rawhide chewy, to be picked up, etc. I witness this scene numerous times a day.

Does this explain my......err....hmm....certain unique mindset? (freakin' crazy!)

I'm sitting up enthusiastically waving to you...right now!! Give me a treat and revel in the rest of your week.

That's all, people.