tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12328065549064373072024-02-07T19:17:32.042-08:00High Heels On A Dirt RoadRanch Life and Rural Homeschooling in Far West TexasMichellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1232806554906437307.post-34978024088142952302013-09-18T04:31:00.000-07:002013-09-18T05:34:20.685-07:00Opening Another Gate<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSvBjXSw4CC2TFDltP4R2q0NYlMdzHCs3shtGl9PDxeTpAnGE58RX2pSAFQlytLqLcqlO7CVUQR1z-LT2D_sO38FtvsFsKnPwWOnRVV0oFf0aZOYfkPU8QrIiwR5HlHqZRbh6HJBpUlWiv/s1600/IMG_0350.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSvBjXSw4CC2TFDltP4R2q0NYlMdzHCs3shtGl9PDxeTpAnGE58RX2pSAFQlytLqLcqlO7CVUQR1z-LT2D_sO38FtvsFsKnPwWOnRVV0oFf0aZOYfkPU8QrIiwR5HlHqZRbh6HJBpUlWiv/s200/IMG_0350.JPG" width="200" /></a>My husband was doing very well as an independant contractor welding on a large project in our area. He was making more money than he'd ever made as a ranch manager. Way more money. The project was also supposed to last awhile so there was a certain sense of financial security, for me at least. For my husband there is never enough financial security. Just knowing the job would indeed end in the next year made him cautious enough that we lived like it was our last paycheck. Thank goodness. If it had been me making that much money, I would have bought every known appliance we needed, stockpiled clothes on sale, bought a new car, and so on....<br />
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He never really settled in to his new identity off the ranch. The new job gave him more time to be on his family's ranch, which was also a full time job, but we didn't live there. When the family ranch was split after his grandfathers death, his parents were able to keep their part but the other part of the ranch was sold.<br />
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The part sold was the headquarters which had the house on it and the part his parents retained did not have a house so there is no place to live and that is why we live in town. So even though he drove out to the ranch all the time, it wasn't the same as living there.<br />
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He likes to know what's coming, when it's coming and how much it's going to be. Being an independant contractor provides none of those scenarios. He would have made a great businessman because he's very talented at managing tasks, keeps his word, and he's extremely ethical. But I also knew that he would never be at ease and he would be in a constant state of worrying when the next job would end.<br />
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In April he received a call from a man who owned a large ranch in the area. I knew the man because he actually owned the resort I mentioned in earlier posts. He was a successful businessman and owned land in the area along time. He offered my husband a ranch job of a lifetime. My husband was thrilled to be offered the opportunity, but it wasn't an easy decision. He never makes hasty decisions so he thought about it for days. <br />
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When we first moved to town I decided that if the opportunity arose that I would probably not want to live so remotely again. I'd like to live 10-15 miles out of town maybe, but not drive an hour again. I had become accustomed in a short time to buying groceries and getting home before the ice cream melted, or frozen meat for that matter. I liked walking out to get the mail and not having to drive an hour to receive a package. I'd bonded with the UPS guy. And for the first time in years, we had people deliver pizza. Real pizza. (If you can call what we have here real pizza.)<br />
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On the other hand, writing out checks every month for the mortgage, the water, the electricity, cable, taxes, and insurance made me realized that it actually all evens out. Typically, when you run a ranch all of those things come with the package. Plus, we would be moving in to a very new house, which never happens on ranches, at least not in my experience. It didn't hurt that the ranch was beautiful. It's hard to go from having mountain vistas as your view to having a backyard fence. The quality of life that we'd led on the ranch way outweighed the threat of ice cream melting in my back seat on the way home from the store. And I can't eat pizza much anyway.<br />
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So he took the job and I instantly saw a sense of relief come over him. He would again be doing what he's always done, something he really takes pride in and is good at. Money is not the most important thing to him, saving money might be, but making large amounts of it isn't. He would again be dealing with cattle and deer, not clients. And as a family we'd make the decision to go back to homeschooling and leave the chaos of both parents working behind us.<br />
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<br />Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1232806554906437307.post-16000555251702436242013-08-14T06:19:00.000-07:002013-08-14T06:19:38.948-07:00A New Bend in the RoadThe move from the ranch taught me an important lesson: God does not want me to be comfortable. He wants me to be content and joyful in all circumstances, but not comfortable. In his wisdom he has reminded me that I have a job to do and that is to serve Him. Even though I was serving him through my role as wife and mother, He needed to me to know what it was to obey. And so when the headmaster of the christian school my children attended asked me if I'd consider teaching there, I knew that God had opened another door and I would obey.<div>
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So just when I got in to the swing of things as an event planner, I became a teacher; something I said I'd never be. And it's not because the profession is beneath me, but because when you grow up in a small town in Texas, its automatically assumed this is what you'll become, and I had spent most of my life, trying to surpass small town expectations. Plus, my entire family network is made up of teachers and I wanted to be different. </div>
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Homeschooling your own kids is different than being a classroom teacher in just about every aspect. So I went into the job with apprehension and insecurity because I wasn't trained for this, even though I had been homeschooling for several years. My safeguard was that it was a classical school and I had a grasp of the methodoligy and a fresh outlook on what education should be. I may have not been a trained, experienced teacher, but I felt like I could at least be passionate about educating the whole child. Plus, I felt it was an inspired calling so obviousely, the Lord would guide me.</div>
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I had a wonderful year teaching eight children. It gave me an entirely new appreciation for teachers and for private schools. I loved my class so much and felt like they were an extension of my own family. I was able to implement things in my classroom that I never had in my own education, in addition to intertwine God into the framework of the entire day so that not only was it an education but also a misnistry of sorts. And it was exhausting. Holy cow, who knew how much work it would be! </div>
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I had an unrealistic expectation that I'd be so much closer to my own children and could participate more in their classroom events, but was I wrong! I don't think I went to one classroom party for my own kids. I missed every field trip and didn't have the time to visit my daughters preK classroom once, like most other moms. I was so busy planning, grading, fundraising, directing the Christmas play, taking my own class on field trips that I missed everything my own children were involved in. </div>
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Even though it was exhausing, it was satisfying work. I was totally invested in the mission of the christian school, invested in the mission of classical education in a remote, rural town. I had great dreams for what the school would become and for the roles my children would play in its growth. It never surpassed our homeschool experience, but it came close. At the end of the school year I found a new self confidence that the next year it would be even better because I would know what I was doing... but there would be no next year, because things were about to change again.</div>
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Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1232806554906437307.post-26211539634742099682013-08-11T07:46:00.000-07:002013-08-12T08:11:30.688-07:00The End of the Dirt RoadOn January 1st of 2012, my husband received an email, (not a phone call, but an email) from the ranch owner (actually from his wife, weird) informing him that life as we knew it was about to change drastically. Without giving many details, we were instructed to sit around and wait for more information. It was a <i>fabulous</i> way to start the new year. <br />
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Without going into to much detail, and at the risk of sounding resentful and bitter, let's just say the next two months were disappointing and painful for our family. My husband resigned from his job because they had chosen to significantly downsize their operation. He'd worked for this particular ranch owner for ten years and we considered them family. The insensitivity with which they treated us was shocking, but we tried to handle it with grace and dignity. For my husband, it was particularly hard. The ranch was originally homesteaded by his great-great grandfather is the 1880's and had been in the family for almost 100 years before his uncle sold it to absentee owners in the late 1980's. My husband then was hired to manage it and had done so for two owners. The current family has owned it for ten years. <br />
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My husband had known no other job really. He was the only one who really knew anything about the ranch at all because the owners only came a few times a year. He knew it like the back of his hand. In addition to that, he still managed the part of the ranch his family still owns, which adjourns the ranch we lived on. <br />
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To live there we had decided to homeschool because the ranch was so remote from the nearest town. We had committed to a lifestyle that required sacrifice and at the time, we were glad to make those sacrifices. Now we faced the unknown. The unknown was commonplace in my life and I was quite comfortable with it. In fact, the house we lived in on the ranch was the only home I'd ever lived in for an extended period of time. I had grown up with a father that changed jobs frequently and I myself had moved more than twenty times in my life. I did not fear change, but rather lived to expect it. That was not the case for my husband, who had lived in one house growing up, had never left the county and had only one job in his entire life.<br />
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When we decided that we had no recourse but to leave the ranch, we bought a house in the nearest town, put our kids in a local christian school and I took a job in another town as an Event director at a resort. I felt much guilt putting my two and half year old in preschool, but my other two were very excited to go to school in town. It was a wonderful environment for them because the classes were small and they had friends for the first time that they could see on a daily basis. If they missed homeschooling, you certainly couldn't tell. In fact, I was the only one that seemed to feel bad about putting them in school.<br />
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I began to love my new job, which was actually a dream job for me if I did have to work. I had always worked until I became a mother at 34, but when I became a mom I was determined to stay at home with them. In my past life I was a wedding planner, theatre director, waitress, restaurant manager, paralegal, and various assortment of other things while trying to be a writer and actress, so needless to say I was used to having a flexible identity. However, I took my job as a stay at home, homeschooling mom very seriously and switching gears back to working in an office and being away from my children was difficult.<br />
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My husband became his own boss, independently welding for businesses while continuing to manage his family's ranch. I didn't expect that he would make that transition from employee to self employed as successfully as he did. He is the type of person who likes to know what he's making, when he will get paid, how much he will get paid and what exactly is expected of him. The paychecks were much more, albeit unpredictable, so thankfully he is a wonderful money manager.<br />
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During this time, I completely lost interest in this blog. We weren't on a dirt road anymore, it was just a sidewalk. No longer homeschooling, we were the typical family going in five directions and surviving the chaos of everyday life. I barely had time to do a load of laundry after work, much less bore anymore online with the details of my new found craziness. When I'd sit down to post something, I would just look at old posts and photos of what a good life we had and I would cry....<br />
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Although I felt sorry for myself, I tried to remember how good God had been to us and felt extremely blessed. It could have been different and much harder for us. I still longed for our old life, but tried hard to be thankful. I reminded myself that God was molding us through trial and expected us to serve him in our new life.<br />
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Months flew by. The boxes were never completely unpacked and I kept thinking we were just renting this house until we could move back home again. It took everything I had to keep my feet under me. I worked full time, catered events on the weekend. My husband cooked dinner - not something he was used to, nor did he enjoy. My children cried for me at night when I was working late.<br />
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I came home from a full time job to my other full time job as a mother, did homework with the kids, put them to bed and started all over in the morning. This is exactly why I never wanted to be a working mother. I admire women who have to work and do it successfully, but I am not one of those women. My ADD takes over and things start slipping through the cracks: bills don't get paid, kids don't get picked up on time, ovens are left on.<br />
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Truthfully, I really loved my job. After a few months I began to adjust to my new life. It was kind of nice to drop the kids off, go to an office, talk to adults all day, eat lunch with friends, plan parties with fun people, buy clothes that were somewhat fashionable and not just comfortable, wear heels and not clogs and all without feeling guilty about it. I had to look nice for work didn't I? My husband was a little confused at to why I could fix my hair and wear makeup for strangers at work, when in the six years I was at home it was all I could do to get out of my house shoes by noon.<br />
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So just when I finally got comfortable with my new identity, God gave me something else to do....<br />
<br />Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1232806554906437307.post-48067132533777047352011-11-02T12:23:00.000-07:002011-11-02T12:24:23.480-07:00Changing seasonsThis year we made the decision to send our oldest, our seven year old boy, to a private school part time. For a proud homeschooler, it was not an easy decision. And I have to admit, it's a decision my husband is still not very happy about. It was really all my idea.<br />
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</div><div>I love homeschooling, but there were challenges. My son was not reading at the level I thought he should and I was at a loss as to how to improve it. I read blogs, books, had him read for professionals and prayed. Most of the homeschooling advice I got was to just wait it out because boys read later than girls. But I couldn't do that. </div><div><br />
</div><div>We are very fortunate in my area to have a wonderful new christian school that uses the classical method. It's not a Charlotte Mason type school like Ambleside in San Angelo or Fredricksburg, but I think the classical method is the next best thing. I really felt like God was leading me at least visit with the school head mistress. Amazingly, she was open to letting our son attend part time. In other words, he would go there three days a week and the rest of the week I would do school with him at home. I thought it was an amazing opportunity to have the best of both worlds - private school and homeschool</div><div><br />
</div><div>My husband is beginning to come around. It is a logistical nightmare to get him to school, even for three days a week. Plus, he loves having his kids around full time. As do I. And I really believe homeschooling is the fabulous education if you do it right. For us, it has been a blessing. I wouldn't trade learning at home in a nurturing environment for anything. I would never do this if it was full time or if it was public school, at least not at an early age.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I have to say though, after a few months of doing both private school and homeschooling, my son is flourishing. His reading has improved dramatically. I think it has a lot to do with reading in front of other kids. Since he is of a competitive nature, reading in front of others who read well makes him try harder. That may not work with some kids, but it works with him. And he loves his school and his teacher and they really love him. We went to our first parent/teacher conference last week and his teacher told us that she had been praying for him. I was so touched. I can't imagine hearing those words from a teacher when I was in school!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He actually wanted to wear this tie to his first day of school.</td></tr>
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</div><div>I pray that the school continues to let us go part time and that my other children will have the opportunity to go there. That will give my children the chance to experience learning at home and still have a private christian school education. It's in God's hands, but I am so thankful.</div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1232806554906437307.post-46151820342346878112011-10-31T09:08:00.000-07:002011-10-31T09:08:10.077-07:00The Monarch Invasion<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO4sCBVv5qf6t2X2K6PuxCPaLj03qy0O-1-e4rZOOLHqrc-iuWrJAzl-EwFxLTM36NTx8y0AChM7VNN8uNKAW0_Q9biHlXrlov4R3d9jL2nnyNh8vz96t6whkuYsc5XTNP9FHgyR-_cvZP/s1600/ranch+monarchs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO4sCBVv5qf6t2X2K6PuxCPaLj03qy0O-1-e4rZOOLHqrc-iuWrJAzl-EwFxLTM36NTx8y0AChM7VNN8uNKAW0_Q9biHlXrlov4R3d9jL2nnyNh8vz96t6whkuYsc5XTNP9FHgyR-_cvZP/s320/ranch+monarchs.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>After the longest, hottest, burnt to a crisp, dry summer in history, I was shocked that we had the largest influx of Monarch migration that I've seen since being at the ranch. It seems every other form of wildlife has suffered greatly because of the drought, but the Monarch swarm was bigger than ever! <div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAFc0aJskytQfgWs_NLgq31_iff1LE4wAadhPVEqJKBdX2L14M3EdUaoZkz9Q5x2sRW4FsW6qkQtOoKJ2yTkg_eAl7lOQ2qUEo63MwkA8iVjEQ6MgscC-0JWkdxbSjhGg8Ujh7n96iUa4d/s1600/ranch+monarchs3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAFc0aJskytQfgWs_NLgq31_iff1LE4wAadhPVEqJKBdX2L14M3EdUaoZkz9Q5x2sRW4FsW6qkQtOoKJ2yTkg_eAl7lOQ2qUEo63MwkA8iVjEQ6MgscC-0JWkdxbSjhGg8Ujh7n96iUa4d/s320/ranch+monarchs3.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The kids loved walking through the trees, surrounded by butterflies. We have them every year, but not in the abundance we've seen this year. I know they're just moving through, but they brought us a little hope that not all is lost in this parched land.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjxDTf-caxNxeg9MFVNyA8Kil82yQ9hy-9FnGl1_-k_doGtcws4hSBdumN0PxvbIgMJ7oPiqEk8G-ftnk_Bq65QIxNvyOnbdFC_NgFRE9XjWRSwyNG5wbVXXtVK49v0suhXSDOvT3Wp9mg/s1600/Madi+in+tree.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjxDTf-caxNxeg9MFVNyA8Kil82yQ9hy-9FnGl1_-k_doGtcws4hSBdumN0PxvbIgMJ7oPiqEk8G-ftnk_Bq65QIxNvyOnbdFC_NgFRE9XjWRSwyNG5wbVXXtVK49v0suhXSDOvT3Wp9mg/s320/Madi+in+tree.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div>My own little butterflies enjoyed climbing the trees to try and touch the monarchs.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilutinKfCGTi7ML9Mu0dbo_WVZPraVj7c0IzastRi-ad3dwI7IpxVERELOTeLmqt0jqDQkAzz0vUzr6kROUomC_MisBziqCkqPsbqH4JFhcr4w2jQGsOi06aDKrc_0a4mtiHIuugxDXIT2/s1600/campbell.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilutinKfCGTi7ML9Mu0dbo_WVZPraVj7c0IzastRi-ad3dwI7IpxVERELOTeLmqt0jqDQkAzz0vUzr6kROUomC_MisBziqCkqPsbqH4JFhcr4w2jQGsOi06aDKrc_0a4mtiHIuugxDXIT2/s320/campbell.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXuL9tMktl1-zt5fj6oda-UmE4CVhUiqiUgZzwpqoIXLC55nos6AZof5hBCOcjAYMz75m8IS7ItP2utBRi5CXwED0mComecz0Q-aTEL0AvntM1zr-wKO8681BeNmQQpBXeFaXFO2_bgD1U/s1600/IMG_6439.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXuL9tMktl1-zt5fj6oda-UmE4CVhUiqiUgZzwpqoIXLC55nos6AZof5hBCOcjAYMz75m8IS7ItP2utBRi5CXwED0mComecz0Q-aTEL0AvntM1zr-wKO8681BeNmQQpBXeFaXFO2_bgD1U/s320/IMG_6439.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB-8Q89GaZveb9YbQSDmBhThTiWZ0LhxzajbFzPxLAmM6PlUV7KhBxZFxwYJr8WLzYhyEbtPukEgDOd9KYtbkTPlTtGQinWReN_qHlzhrSM4fYigJevm1GFfDimmsTVJUY8lEbAv1MpMVZ/s1600/IMG_6434.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB-8Q89GaZveb9YbQSDmBhThTiWZ0LhxzajbFzPxLAmM6PlUV7KhBxZFxwYJr8WLzYhyEbtPukEgDOd9KYtbkTPlTtGQinWReN_qHlzhrSM4fYigJevm1GFfDimmsTVJUY8lEbAv1MpMVZ/s320/IMG_6434.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1232806554906437307.post-44625825053704777592011-08-13T08:55:00.000-07:002011-08-19T06:58:45.276-07:00RANCH KIDS ON A MISSION Junior Ranger Day - Ft. Davis National Historic Site<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKULpPdqzLh_9o3K_nJUeWLggexGgSlBR2hjIjkls6O-r9qvoqKKuT0_h47RLB6XaTKorSefubJactAfLZqmomIDEjZmfpWz8tTk32-RzJkLidPlLp3LDGjhYrn1OZo6E_94rBYr55Qjgy/s1600/jr+ranger1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKULpPdqzLh_9o3K_nJUeWLggexGgSlBR2hjIjkls6O-r9qvoqKKuT0_h47RLB6XaTKorSefubJactAfLZqmomIDEjZmfpWz8tTk32-RzJkLidPlLp3LDGjhYrn1OZo6E_94rBYr55Qjgy/s320/jr+ranger1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Here we are back at the fort again and this time we're here for Junior Ranger Day and we've brought along a friend. We're so excited to be back after having so much fun a the fort's Frontier Christmas. The first thing we did is sign in and they even gave us bandanas to wear!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrRLVFc11qDK1XC7J4-49fBi08HZ3DntrAiBs6mSFztc-DTC_6AGpzUzPmqzmAj1hP6nmq0vWC-zrjqD1m2E9s2K3lMs9GMTIN4fbc3uln7rSC00-r7xYkHh1y33LIrVmhZTEH0n3tGlDQ/s1600/jr+ranger2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrRLVFc11qDK1XC7J4-49fBi08HZ3DntrAiBs6mSFztc-DTC_6AGpzUzPmqzmAj1hP6nmq0vWC-zrjqD1m2E9s2K3lMs9GMTIN4fbc3uln7rSC00-r7xYkHh1y33LIrVmhZTEH0n3tGlDQ/s320/jr+ranger2.jpg" width="218" /></a></div>We were given an introduction to the Fort and then they showed us the barricks where the enlisted men lived. The men slept in cots with wool blankets. They played games in their spare time and cleaned their weapons.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-IUIfGSEiaEDniBsbOSDg4xXmBO5rQZiiRoqdLknlPfXnHEWSrQ_SVb8maA-XTagxcfBvCiJd9POlzr6iSZFXsWcmj0mCC_jhvH0pGQwRXMclvJ_UDyT7KmuchsypQiVQHiP4ZJgvFe_2/s1600/jr+ranger3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="280" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-IUIfGSEiaEDniBsbOSDg4xXmBO5rQZiiRoqdLknlPfXnHEWSrQ_SVb8maA-XTagxcfBvCiJd9POlzr6iSZFXsWcmj0mCC_jhvH0pGQwRXMclvJ_UDyT7KmuchsypQiVQHiP4ZJgvFe_2/s320/jr+ranger3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the brave Buffalo Soldiers explaining the interesting history of the Buffalo Soldiers at Ft. Davis</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6vVjk4MzG18SBJHWC33Aj_3Tt4bRVsWAML8lP18Mwf1LGJNamOK-fAl8SBZ3oMmzCJuTf2yefOnQHRGNmKyscQT2OloXsYY3aL3Kv_csoZEvjUiyfntKwLvGzuuSaoD4yGEAKm7xkqsvf/s1600/jr+ranger4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6vVjk4MzG18SBJHWC33Aj_3Tt4bRVsWAML8lP18Mwf1LGJNamOK-fAl8SBZ3oMmzCJuTf2yefOnQHRGNmKyscQT2OloXsYY3aL3Kv_csoZEvjUiyfntKwLvGzuuSaoD4yGEAKm7xkqsvf/s320/jr+ranger4.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the names of the enlisted men still hang on their beds</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjABAI_hdmf9RmdEU08Gu0nheG9FE5NnlWJjt0M3vQupt76HAe4xazyxR4qrLKoCVxgzHAp2K7GH5pj96RvEY1p8Hx7DqkP9kYj6yujiuGBwapxARtBdrCySe6rpbVp6N8C3XSjJriP_F_s/s1600/jr+ranger5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjABAI_hdmf9RmdEU08Gu0nheG9FE5NnlWJjt0M3vQupt76HAe4xazyxR4qrLKoCVxgzHAp2K7GH5pj96RvEY1p8Hx7DqkP9kYj6yujiuGBwapxARtBdrCySe6rpbVp6N8C3XSjJriP_F_s/s320/jr+ranger5.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The card table where the men played cards<br />
<div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Then we split in to two groups and the girls went one way and the boys went the other. Girls went to the beautiful cotton wood trees and made handmade dolls, learned songs and made other crafts.<br />
<div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmeJJPdxpy0HezQQXffBoBnPqfHfEh16Kcl-OKVzN7f4_WgwRlB_S47iunfHYpR5ZURS1YnGyfHPvix1kp_h_smRB3ZNteFSz_csG4IEyRz2j1I2kU0XAXe_bzqxCSRQUAXQPdw7IhGzK0/s1600/jr+ranger6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="205" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmeJJPdxpy0HezQQXffBoBnPqfHfEh16Kcl-OKVzN7f4_WgwRlB_S47iunfHYpR5ZURS1YnGyfHPvix1kp_h_smRB3ZNteFSz_csG4IEyRz2j1I2kU0XAXe_bzqxCSRQUAXQPdw7IhGzK0/s320/jr+ranger6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border: currentColor;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="border: currentColor; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT7Sn0HFjbMXVV2luNwRH4aeQL1atsYQsnLuMAfVsxPasZMA9KvTIgs0ByZxO6Zr92Nub0XTRPXGW4jVr5IOONw0nLjQejh_q0hIqmYqyPXiryWAItpEflMwod0d07qmKPXBqPD_-hXwhq/s1600/jr+ranger7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT7Sn0HFjbMXVV2luNwRH4aeQL1atsYQsnLuMAfVsxPasZMA9KvTIgs0ByZxO6Zr92Nub0XTRPXGW4jVr5IOONw0nLjQejh_q0hIqmYqyPXiryWAItpEflMwod0d07qmKPXBqPD_-hXwhq/s320/jr+ranger7.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The staff were very nice to help me make my doll. They have alot of pretty fabric to choose from.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border: currentColor;"></div><div style="border: currentColor;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="border: currentColor; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSkmMALMWq8JTwd5o0C1ap0IlOFJKEUV5tB5xqQ0NONdg5sIYNbmwtpc0HHDHEyCejVErIkdOlAlxmsc4UODRcQw52S3DYS0WD1PEkE-6m5jQPsh7MEmaBBDkWcgQrOoG56ItQ29yaZlFA/s1600/jr+ranger8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSkmMALMWq8JTwd5o0C1ap0IlOFJKEUV5tB5xqQ0NONdg5sIYNbmwtpc0HHDHEyCejVErIkdOlAlxmsc4UODRcQw52S3DYS0WD1PEkE-6m5jQPsh7MEmaBBDkWcgQrOoG56ItQ29yaZlFA/s320/jr+ranger8.jpg" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look at the pretty doll my friend made<br />
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<div style="border: currentColor;">The boys learned how to hold their rifles, shoot the canon and build a tent to sleep in.</div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-WuYKgOmvjNGBVg-RfIhn9Vsl5ZGFfwDeZOuc49_bNIkZQZKTpJ0pzBsUNDuK0iCA6PDSJCF4U0tlgqOszgmuR-Cepj-LFxEeArS_HapQ2WCMLeuLQj4uH1f7QUeE26Ct3CbKaKK3acWI/s1600/jr+ranger9-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-WuYKgOmvjNGBVg-RfIhn9Vsl5ZGFfwDeZOuc49_bNIkZQZKTpJ0pzBsUNDuK0iCA6PDSJCF4U0tlgqOszgmuR-Cepj-LFxEeArS_HapQ2WCMLeuLQj4uH1f7QUeE26Ct3CbKaKK3acWI/s320/jr+ranger9-1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1FPaWtUM1qMN_ZSwUSIIdA25kavJySLMpO5UkUbey-tvItxo0us-FNZcWejrGaGlnu-gs9VpD0cln-nbba5AlV3xWXomqb6Q2cYSanK8RUNrtTM4n5s1aGczz-V4Yl7yvAdiRp-GLHX84/s1600/jr+ranger10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1FPaWtUM1qMN_ZSwUSIIdA25kavJySLMpO5UkUbey-tvItxo0us-FNZcWejrGaGlnu-gs9VpD0cln-nbba5AlV3xWXomqb6Q2cYSanK8RUNrtTM4n5s1aGczz-V4Yl7yvAdiRp-GLHX84/s320/jr+ranger10.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br />
</div><div style="border: currentColor;">Later on, the girls also got to learn how to hold and shoot weapons. </div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9roH6FxLRITObguBlbYnTbtQJRTl-3hyphenhyphenuU8OVy4FymTGkv7SK1bSCcmoCap9L9zX5Py5F3rY3o6F6UIxjFvSd3dDjU_YlJMVlBQbv6ikfPQq9Uf4KUZl4WyAam_AvQ0wPvCT-hNkZpJf4/s1600/jr+ranger12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9roH6FxLRITObguBlbYnTbtQJRTl-3hyphenhyphenuU8OVy4FymTGkv7SK1bSCcmoCap9L9zX5Py5F3rY3o6F6UIxjFvSd3dDjU_YlJMVlBQbv6ikfPQq9Uf4KUZl4WyAam_AvQ0wPvCT-hNkZpJf4/s320/jr+ranger12.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br />
</div><div style="border: currentColor;">Then everyone was taken to the kitchen and the nice ladies showed us how they made homemade ice cream by kicking around a can with milk and cream in it. Afterwards, we even got to eat the ice cream!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8o3EpLbyYYrou0EOw12qnl3vWw5RY0QZRynGUPfUrRb-JLWazRSsS4dGXb4S8fYr9VtOpo2c9Lt-wnUNOUMxjHLttMotCF7Ob5zgvp32CexScy4Ppp3s_nXAYj0h3G1h203UeNzzBg43X/s1600/jr+ranger12-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8o3EpLbyYYrou0EOw12qnl3vWw5RY0QZRynGUPfUrRb-JLWazRSsS4dGXb4S8fYr9VtOpo2c9Lt-wnUNOUMxjHLttMotCF7Ob5zgvp32CexScy4Ppp3s_nXAYj0h3G1h203UeNzzBg43X/s320/jr+ranger12-1.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As usual, we loved our time at Fort Davis! The people that work there are so nice and helpful and we learn so many interesting things! It makes us appreciate how easy it is for us to live here now thanks to the sacrifices the early settlers made at the fort.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-o4zSQGsnEhtWNexUrgY3ewmpWDRDLSpmGXyFgED3b1DQ76_ntZoXuFuBo0PFfSSowU8r-_3eYPzsyGKydyddw0qOjjlnI_rtWyEjDdEwcJOf2mewNTgnTf-srjRMUYBkVSLeHaoeyxPK/s1600/jr+ranger11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="276" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-o4zSQGsnEhtWNexUrgY3ewmpWDRDLSpmGXyFgED3b1DQ76_ntZoXuFuBo0PFfSSowU8r-_3eYPzsyGKydyddw0qOjjlnI_rtWyEjDdEwcJOf2mewNTgnTf-srjRMUYBkVSLeHaoeyxPK/s320/jr+ranger11.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsD9QTg93Gftu_uPjezGZj2tuYL16C2CPi4BrN2wXPPDlUYlWhjj5zB3dmJZBINY3DF5eX66g5F92oYULwIPv4wVWOut_p3vAa66uQgDWZbk3U_97ogDKP85n0RLuD2Y-DfAGR8z7TREWR/s1600/jr+ranger9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsD9QTg93Gftu_uPjezGZj2tuYL16C2CPi4BrN2wXPPDlUYlWhjj5zB3dmJZBINY3DF5eX66g5F92oYULwIPv4wVWOut_p3vAa66uQgDWZbk3U_97ogDKP85n0RLuD2Y-DfAGR8z7TREWR/s320/jr+ranger9.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRdxr4vmpTO3Loqn41aJWbEbUL-D5-LKi32lyDa-O6WGb0Ymi5AWnG9nXYRT748JYf2y85ko23JfPfiIeSWVFdau3R_Bt0r2B5hO0TDXS6hTb8xQrSdJt854fy0Um5rCu-oKxGwa2l-mpL/s1600/jr+ranger12-2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRdxr4vmpTO3Loqn41aJWbEbUL-D5-LKi32lyDa-O6WGb0Ymi5AWnG9nXYRT748JYf2y85ko23JfPfiIeSWVFdau3R_Bt0r2B5hO0TDXS6hTb8xQrSdJt854fy0Um5rCu-oKxGwa2l-mpL/s320/jr+ranger12-2.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1232806554906437307.post-8941674393359622052011-07-04T12:00:00.000-07:002011-07-05T04:14:32.083-07:00Independence Day in Rural America - 4th of July in Ft. Davis Texas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglL-UJx5VQcmTkSfHsNy-05B0dFS3kfKKv80-wcCD4PtxsXRjccEdvulSDNqXfhFCMbtaqnwCvMxh-RayKTtn331UtQakVmJCejzrLht4DManaycdkXlXsWnfV5ZLAqPtfhmBInkTk9N9M/s1600/campbell3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglL-UJx5VQcmTkSfHsNy-05B0dFS3kfKKv80-wcCD4PtxsXRjccEdvulSDNqXfhFCMbtaqnwCvMxh-RayKTtn331UtQakVmJCejzrLht4DManaycdkXlXsWnfV5ZLAqPtfhmBInkTk9N9M/s400/campbell3.jpg" width="171" /></a></div><br />
Patriotism is still alive in rural America folks! In fact, few places in the United States showcase the resilience of the American Spirit more than this small little town. It was only a few months ago that Ft. Davis was ravaged by a wildfire that burned 314,000 acres. Many families lost their homes. Ranchers lost valuable grassland already devastated by drought, livestock were lost and hundreds burned, fences were burned to the ground. Most ranchers had to sell off what cattle they had left because they had no where to put them. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiulQtACFnKtfztrvcTM0E9lQDnI-XLyhyphenhyphenwNg35boB8GKYvluoA3a3Q0566CrjfOQSh6oJZTd8pPEs6AtLVKxaXVbBUtTdzZXclAfXtNdE2G84xacBPsng2vGrttB6fDAgtXzhneDAE_8a6/s1600/carolyn+miller%2527s+photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiulQtACFnKtfztrvcTM0E9lQDnI-XLyhyphenhyphenwNg35boB8GKYvluoA3a3Q0566CrjfOQSh6oJZTd8pPEs6AtLVKxaXVbBUtTdzZXclAfXtNdE2G84xacBPsng2vGrttB6fDAgtXzhneDAE_8a6/s320/carolyn+miller%2527s+photo.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo by Carolyn Nored Miller</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>During the wildfire, this small town did what other small towns like Joplin, small towns in the South and in Minot, North Dakota have done - they banded together and took care of each other. Ranchers and cowboys fought their own fires beside the volunteer fire department and Foresty Service, they looked for each other's cattle and lended what little land they had left to pasture cattle for those that had lost everything. Neighbours took in those that had lost their homes, restaurants shut down to donate their time and their food to feed the hungry, churches opened up to serve first responders meals and volunteers poured in immediately to assist in distributing resources. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFcX9kOcCEvuJ6QnCoyKbjtapgm9vAHa8vVW37xmhFygZX5_Ly9gjUFZSxICmgr0_ZmkexzeK1fFa9pPYFFUlW05-50euPgv5rtvTpfCowRKVBSksAhGnRMtGAxLZ38aOyD3bT7C0V-ZP9/s1600/ft+davis+parade+201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFcX9kOcCEvuJ6QnCoyKbjtapgm9vAHa8vVW37xmhFygZX5_Ly9gjUFZSxICmgr0_ZmkexzeK1fFa9pPYFFUlW05-50euPgv5rtvTpfCowRKVBSksAhGnRMtGAxLZ38aOyD3bT7C0V-ZP9/s320/ft+davis+parade+201.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
This weekend, Ft. Davis was ready for a celebration. The town was determined to show it's true colors and red, white and blue were displayed everywhere. And thank God, people showed up. Hundreds of people from all over the state came to celebrate the 4th with the townspeople. The parade seemed even larger this year. Several long time residents had their family reunions and were in the parade, the Prude Ranch summer camp kids filled flatbed trailers, the Ft. Davis National historic site Buffalo Soldiers marched, the Martinez family rode their horses, the Baize family rode side saddle, and anybody with a four wheeler or a dune buggy roared loudly down the parade route. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkp_qPilnC0nHt7MiowJhxtsPCF-KzuDAc8CRe4WtHhi8mZBvYJuaKutuO1hgl9TL3Ry1pcJOr_OD7QJ1l5n_1EXR3AwKqtmYeQn5B8uYRwBUrOjVAZ3Kyn-09HR4vhReqKjedRt3dBjpW/s1600/buffalo+soldiers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="293" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkp_qPilnC0nHt7MiowJhxtsPCF-KzuDAc8CRe4WtHhi8mZBvYJuaKutuO1hgl9TL3Ry1pcJOr_OD7QJ1l5n_1EXR3AwKqtmYeQn5B8uYRwBUrOjVAZ3Kyn-09HR4vhReqKjedRt3dBjpW/s320/buffalo+soldiers.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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Every type of law enforcement or civic organization imaginable was represented from the Sheriff's Department, the Fire Department, EMS and Border Patrol. Apparently, the only rule is that there are no rules and anyone with a siren can be in the parade.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIRnvc7nzDQ1RJCq7MoQgw0zNj_XUK_QZz7tODne7TnRzde7whSCoz2aCYBFj_eBRr9-pXDgCn8TeDQlHfdOUgG1Sfkqv1ybYDfB44HbxiZrXIA0cmaRigV_a8jOo4uPup4QgN876kClpI/s1600/IMG_5821.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIRnvc7nzDQ1RJCq7MoQgw0zNj_XUK_QZz7tODne7TnRzde7whSCoz2aCYBFj_eBRr9-pXDgCn8TeDQlHfdOUgG1Sfkqv1ybYDfB44HbxiZrXIA0cmaRigV_a8jOo4uPup4QgN876kClpI/s320/IMG_5821.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK7jBkI3rdU-YoRrLejDfHz4Q-N3caRPkHHwjFdvtgm0dglEJMMHNk_YxHBQan5HJyQe3PvDprStWk7axYeOGBZtDJgEU3MBf9g1BeeUjsQf1LWR9aRi7Hss1GALx6JJUIfmXJFSlfMGy7/s1600/IMG_5818.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK7jBkI3rdU-YoRrLejDfHz4Q-N3caRPkHHwjFdvtgm0dglEJMMHNk_YxHBQan5HJyQe3PvDprStWk7axYeOGBZtDJgEU3MBf9g1BeeUjsQf1LWR9aRi7Hss1GALx6JJUIfmXJFSlfMGy7/s320/IMG_5818.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>After the parade, people gathered around the courthouse lawn (the only green patch of grass anywhere in the tri-county area, by the way) and enjoyed a very eclectic array of culinary choices from food vendors. You could find anything from the 4H crew selling BBQ, Menudo to Turkey Legs and Shrimp on a Stick. Of course there were the wide assortment of booths selling everything from lavender ice cream to handmade rocking chairs. We even had a barbershop quartet serenading people. And at the historic Ft. Davis National Bank they had a bank robbery re-enactment for those that wanted to see the mayor, local pastors and other townspeople, dress up and shoot each other.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Unp9BbLWe805PZCsn0m6vljpEDs6OUtOO5Amna5nLaxCQAMfR6B2QfdN2OLgyjjR-YdJT0BYeHoBYUVUH6PpxB5EjjsQsuX2-pRpXyK2vKmtqLXYjht5265JDqLVbTbM22YYa0qZwXin/s1600/church+float1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="230" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Unp9BbLWe805PZCsn0m6vljpEDs6OUtOO5Amna5nLaxCQAMfR6B2QfdN2OLgyjjR-YdJT0BYeHoBYUVUH6PpxB5EjjsQsuX2-pRpXyK2vKmtqLXYjht5265JDqLVbTbM22YYa0qZwXin/s320/church+float1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ft. Davis Methodist Church Float</td></tr>
</tbody></table>My two year old melted down about half way through the festivities and so we didn't stay for the shoot out or the street dance that evening. The kids were actually on a float this year instead of watching from the side lines so we left the ranch early to be at the parade route in time. I'm glad they had the chance to be in the parade for once, but it's also nice to sit in your lawn chair and get pegged in the head with candy by kids that don't know how to throw, while watching all of the interesting characters go by. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN6FmKrxTo2ePXoGBo_qXSDxqLwMeW4ChdCak0rms-0iTOLIO2_hAWOE3Mqb_oI-GUewAO-Hg2QkUfXU3SHX4KHylwwd71X7Xi8ppR06YwpCoQ4iQIGT7uL792uA11LQU80IMh7onIPL-7/s1600/4th+of+july+parade2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN6FmKrxTo2ePXoGBo_qXSDxqLwMeW4ChdCak0rms-0iTOLIO2_hAWOE3Mqb_oI-GUewAO-Hg2QkUfXU3SHX4KHylwwd71X7Xi8ppR06YwpCoQ4iQIGT7uL792uA11LQU80IMh7onIPL-7/s320/4th+of+july+parade2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
So if you ever want something different to do for the 4th of July, and you feel like driving a long way to Far West Texas to a little town in the mountains called Ft. Davis, please do. It will be worth the drive. They'll probably even put you in the parade!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkIVl_1HB3-hhFR07XwhWNxL6vbPoF7I6GokZDQOs4nLxsceUSuZ0yv8LHb9cm_iZxfYZEJkCDpQkEjsuzpH732rPaXBtONbHP6RUdo1lnDOfmQOv-BSENcwy2vGPqYpnrJ_EgE_JueQAb/s1600/campbell+and+josiah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="271" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkIVl_1HB3-hhFR07XwhWNxL6vbPoF7I6GokZDQOs4nLxsceUSuZ0yv8LHb9cm_iZxfYZEJkCDpQkEjsuzpH732rPaXBtONbHP6RUdo1lnDOfmQOv-BSENcwy2vGPqYpnrJ_EgE_JueQAb/s320/campbell+and+josiah.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Patriot and Rooster Cogburn - can you get any more American that that?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1232806554906437307.post-53233251395390412622011-06-24T08:35:00.000-07:002011-06-24T08:35:51.684-07:00Couponing for Country GirlsAre you one of the millions like me and others that have become addicted to coupons after watching TLC's 'Extreme Couponing'? Have you thought to yourself, "I can totally do that! I would love to pay $2.00 for $600 worth of groceries too!"<br />
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My couponing transformation has shocked a few of my friends and family because I'm not known to be what you'd call 'thrifty'. As one of my bff's said, "aren't you the girl who spent more on a dress for my wedding at that Japanese boutique in NYC than I did on my wedding dress?" But as I say time and time again, 'I'm a shell of my former self'. For instance, this morning I got up extra early to hang around Facebook waiting on a Bounty coupon. Pathetic. <br />
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Saving a lot of money by couponing is a great goal if you live in the suburbs, but if you live in a rural community, on a farm or ranch, then its a little harder to do.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><strong>And here's why</strong></div><br />
1. Small town grocery stores are much more expensive that large super market chains. I'm a big believer in shopping local, especially when your local grocery store contributes so much to the community and hires alot of local people, but items at our local grocery store are at least $1.00 per expensive than at stores in larger communities. If you use your coupons you may end up paying the same price as you would at a large store so it's still worth it to use coupons. I generally save about $10 on small shopping trips.<br />
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2. It is a long way to cheap. My nearest Walmart, Target or large supermarket chain is 3 hours away from the ranch so I have to figure in the high cost of gas into the savings equation. Carpooling with a girlfriend is your best bet.<br />
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And that is why I love Dollar General. I know, I know, some of you are shaking your heads, but in my little town we have the Neiman Marcus of all Dollar Generals. And I did a price comparison with WalMart the last time I was in the city, and Dollar General is cheaper. (on the items I purchased at least) Granted, you can't find everything there, but that is where I buy all of my household cleaning supplies, paper products, cereal and diapers.<br />
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3. If you don't cook alot of processed or convenience food then you're not going to find alot of coupons. I have yet to find many coupons for flour, sugar, eggs and other basic necessities. And meat! Not alot of meat coupons. We're blessed to have free beef on the ranch, but I also like to cook chicken and pork and pork.<br />
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There's a ton of deli coupons for sausage, hot dogs and sandwich meat, but if you stay away from foods with alot of nitrates then you're out of luck. And forget about finding healthy, organic alternatives from brands like Natures Path, etc. (if I"m wrong and you have info on alternative brands that I should know about please, please correct me b/c I'd love to know)<br />
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4. Unless you have access to large volume newspapers, coupons are hard to come by. That is why I print most of mine, which means you have to sign up for every internet offer, website and facebook page. You also have to factor in the cost of printing in to your savings equation. Therefore, I have found my favorite source for coupons is :<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"> <a href="http://www.thecouponclippers.com/">http://www.thecouponclippers.com/</a>.</div><br />
Please visit their site. You can pick and choose from their large data base of coupons and they will clip them for you and mail them to you at a rate of about .08 per coupon. So instead of saving $1.00 you might only save .92 but still! It beats paying and average of $6.00 a week for Sunday papers to find coupons. And you can order multiple coupons for the same items.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><strong>How to start</strong></div><br />
Get a coupon organizer. I bought this one from Target the last time I was in the city. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqpYtN4s7IlCQEz29C7Z558pHfYOISWeF6LfRCGWYFNjHqbLWU2ydVkCEJsDqhEX8kVywN-LI7WGSngBnz_Xe-RccF6USUiR3pah-HfIxPREnuYB4Vls5uIpJGizBNmLjQhWtnDXdAy2Vd/s1600/coupon+organizer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqpYtN4s7IlCQEz29C7Z558pHfYOISWeF6LfRCGWYFNjHqbLWU2ydVkCEJsDqhEX8kVywN-LI7WGSngBnz_Xe-RccF6USUiR3pah-HfIxPREnuYB4Vls5uIpJGizBNmLjQhWtnDXdAy2Vd/s320/coupon+organizer.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><strong><em>it's hard to get a decent photo of anything without my silly kitty sticking her nose in it</em></strong><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>You can also buy them off of amazon.com. Don't go hog wild and buy one of those massive binders just yet, until you know your commitment level. <br />
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Get a group of girls together to carpool with and maybe swap coupons when you have too many of one kind of coupon. <br />
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Join sites such as <a href="http://www.coupons.com/">http://www.coupons.com/</a> (they have a great toolbar that prints coupons), <a href="http://www.thecouponclippers.com/">http://www.thecouponclippers.com/</a>, <a href="http://www.commonsensewithmoney.com/">http://www.commonsensewithmoney.com/</a>, <a href="http://www.shopathome.com/">http://www.shopathome.com/</a>, <a href="http://www.mommysavers.com/">http://www.mommysavers.com/</a>, <a href="http://www.couponcabin.com/">http://www.couponcabin.com/</a> and I know there are many more. Alot of these sites have the same coupons but sometimes you get lucky. And sign up on your favorite manufacturers sites. <br />
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If you cloth diaper, make everything from scratch and use only natural cleaning products, God Bless you! but you are not going to get alot out of couponing. In fact, one thing I noticed from watching Extreme Couponing is the amount of junk people bought. One lady bought like 24 cases of soft drinks and 50 bags of chips and candy. Well, who cares if you save $200 if it ends up killing you!<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Here are a couple of tips</strong></div><br />
Don't try to use your coupons on a shopping trip with your kids because its very frustrating to flip through your coupon book, double check your prices and keep an eye on your little ones at the same time.<br />
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Resist the urge to buy stuff you don't need or would never use just because you have a coupon for it. I'm still wondering what I'm going to do with the 4 bottles of chocolate syrup I bought last week. <br />
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But you could also use this as a great ministry for your community, church or local food bank. Maybe you don't have kids in diapers, but since diaper coupons are readily available you could stockpile diapers and donate them. <br />
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Couponing is labor intensive to a degree, but anytime I can save money on a grocery bill it's a good day. The last time I drove 3 hours to the nearest city with my massive, well planned grocery list I ended up saving $60 on top of factoring in what it would have cost me to shop at our local store. After I factored in gas and the price of coupons, I saved quite a bit of money. Next time I plan on carpooling with friends and saving even more.<br />
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So if you're even remotely interested in couponing, but you don't know where to start and the long dirt road seems endless, I say go for it! The worst that could happen is you're stuck with a coupon book and a case of chocolate syrup.<br />
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<div align="center"></div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1232806554906437307.post-70910675877483915682011-06-18T09:48:00.000-07:002011-06-18T09:48:51.547-07:00Remembering Cody<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today snuck up on me for the first time in 18 years. Usually, I know it's coming for weeks to come. I feel it in my muscle memory and it haunts my self conscience. But this year, I remembered it only when someone said the date and I said to myself, "hmm, what is today, besides the day before Fathers Day?" I should have remember and terrified I realized that the time had finally come that I would forget the day my only sibling was killed. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Instead, I saw a hawk on Spanish dagger, my little boy walked by me in his cowboy hat, I heard the jiggling of my husbands spurs and in the background I heard someone playing Tejano music. Clearly Cody came back to me in a very peaceful way and not in the sudden, grief filled explosion of the first ten years after he was gone. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He has almost been gone as long as he was alive and that also brings a certain sadness. Sometimes it feels like a hundred years ago and sometimes it feels like yesterday. I know as an old woman I will still remember his smile and all of our wonderful times together and yet it feels so good not to constantly relive the pain of the loss, but to celebrate that he was here at all.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Remembering Cody</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(1973-1993)</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho2GMZqNXg1p0dthm12RL7m9zJm-pl2fHlhp3EdNDrYwvXMLyHVmxn3nti6Dvoh_Lsl3D0ZwZCTOg9TrLHgXVnmeTiNhDlVrpCfhonTAsB3jthcqHM68ZYwsW9j3WOYeYS7p9OfD8HYt0_/s1600/cody3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho2GMZqNXg1p0dthm12RL7m9zJm-pl2fHlhp3EdNDrYwvXMLyHVmxn3nti6Dvoh_Lsl3D0ZwZCTOg9TrLHgXVnmeTiNhDlVrpCfhonTAsB3jthcqHM68ZYwsW9j3WOYeYS7p9OfD8HYt0_/s200/cody3.jpg" width="153" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Cody at two years old</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqmtnq-5Ere3sgC5RVHIWgYsYo7FLVtJ7Q_2j9p__ihwa-Ht-41Bl0Ow527G8gC-NnMXUNLuJjX2nLI1yaLLvQal87vX2hh0gzMYFzIC6XhtX3iyT-zsZu_eszzgCJyab_XSd1bKHgtmat/s1600/cody+and+me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqmtnq-5Ere3sgC5RVHIWgYsYo7FLVtJ7Q_2j9p__ihwa-Ht-41Bl0Ow527G8gC-NnMXUNLuJjX2nLI1yaLLvQal87vX2hh0gzMYFzIC6XhtX3iyT-zsZu_eszzgCJyab_XSd1bKHgtmat/s200/cody+and+me.jpg" width="168" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">our first trip to a mall to see Santa</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix30PAVM5jHuYlRQvw-Z8qF8MnxjUUiVjG5kLxkkKT4AHpxpjj-SK69x0K3HojFYR9H3NiGAUQkKrilSKjBE___dqf2oyO3rn6l0P4iWevWhWtHPm8f7LTmdE-k0Ve4DFP2z2Q7t-UcAN5/s1600/cody2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix30PAVM5jHuYlRQvw-Z8qF8MnxjUUiVjG5kLxkkKT4AHpxpjj-SK69x0K3HojFYR9H3NiGAUQkKrilSKjBE___dqf2oyO3rn6l0P4iWevWhWtHPm8f7LTmdE-k0Ve4DFP2z2Q7t-UcAN5/s200/cody2.jpg" width="165" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Cody at eight years old</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVkNnnEWzxs-Z8bvyNWV9KpIiTbTvlma7dvEVxzXFu_lo64-IaQkVhNApgqZHwfft7OjmS80Ct1Qfoqi49rBI-AO7GbKCKhjuNFG7noMk61a9h1Vqs3Dl755ziTsleznqwEx4bUp2SEmsV/s1600/cody+and+me+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVkNnnEWzxs-Z8bvyNWV9KpIiTbTvlma7dvEVxzXFu_lo64-IaQkVhNApgqZHwfft7OjmS80Ct1Qfoqi49rBI-AO7GbKCKhjuNFG7noMk61a9h1Vqs3Dl755ziTsleznqwEx4bUp2SEmsV/s200/cody+and+me+1.jpg" width="151" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">His ninth birthday</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJtMwZfux5sO35goxpzG-Mkx2D4hM4mxNLNhRFPlqAfL5-I2nVZF8kVMRZnSyP5N_aaSQJ68dcNTzgW1IMzxNghUawW0q-yjoofKpRo779CoEyJgKwI4a4OomdU6nQk1kYe8bADgQfRY7O/s1600/cody4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="170" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJtMwZfux5sO35goxpzG-Mkx2D4hM4mxNLNhRFPlqAfL5-I2nVZF8kVMRZnSyP5N_aaSQJ68dcNTzgW1IMzxNghUawW0q-yjoofKpRo779CoEyJgKwI4a4OomdU6nQk1kYe8bADgQfRY7O/s200/cody4.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Cody at eighteen years old</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGmTPuvsVkrkTg7-qAuuh4eUMFTlkBjV6S6vftKWFWBqpSBcU-pwZZYm8yQBISIyMKRhJcNXObiEdWaxpOAOMuAsWJzWAyE2o4QIiXS1exvtsieEqc264XdwslHDfG4CBUkEfJlGSOZQKr/s1600/cowboy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGmTPuvsVkrkTg7-qAuuh4eUMFTlkBjV6S6vftKWFWBqpSBcU-pwZZYm8yQBISIyMKRhJcNXObiEdWaxpOAOMuAsWJzWAyE2o4QIiXS1exvtsieEqc264XdwslHDfG4CBUkEfJlGSOZQKr/s200/cowboy.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">His side kick Cowboy</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK9lp1asucOkoaCY9vEUjYO0Ntz11HB0xQua_DJdxNwczgUVl7LemmJOp_w-PbdIsUv8tB1PXnavAOebXFzcgyIp7eywjwqMUOKMFyxKVhWi8K6r5Aeb3_1m5gIE6OtNGNU2DDOqd9npDo/s1600/cody6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK9lp1asucOkoaCY9vEUjYO0Ntz11HB0xQua_DJdxNwczgUVl7LemmJOp_w-PbdIsUv8tB1PXnavAOebXFzcgyIp7eywjwqMUOKMFyxKVhWi8K6r5Aeb3_1m5gIE6OtNGNU2DDOqd9npDo/s200/cody6.jpg" width="186" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On a rodeo trip to Montana and Wyoming</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNn9eWRSBawDBu6o6D4WRP87vKMwZLkI0L2nAGwHY9N93-kcjjewfONB63FDpqWr8pVXIJpqOELJYc31lJ4SBCGMZa833lm55sJOrZTpv22P_Ujs4XvtZzIrGmXDu1zdvI-HXmTf2yJko7/s1600/cody7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNn9eWRSBawDBu6o6D4WRP87vKMwZLkI0L2nAGwHY9N93-kcjjewfONB63FDpqWr8pVXIJpqOELJYc31lJ4SBCGMZa833lm55sJOrZTpv22P_Ujs4XvtZzIrGmXDu1zdvI-HXmTf2yJko7/s320/cody7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; Great is your faithfullness. I say to myself, "The Lord is my portion, therefore I will wait for Him</em>. - Lamentations 3:17</span><br />
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</div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1232806554906437307.post-79834879707811605822011-06-14T13:07:00.000-07:002011-06-14T13:19:44.910-07:00Okay...the abyss still has me...<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I just thought I was back. It wasn't really a technical abyss I was in after all, but more of a spiritual, physical and mental abyss. I've told those of you before that have read my blog that springtime is not the best of times for me. Here on top of the rocky mesa the wind blows hard and non stop for months. That, coupled with almost 8 months of no rain and then one of the largest wildfires in Texas history, has made me a little blah. Oh, and my garden has failed miserably! My husband gets a bit irritated that I keep pumping money into a futile obsession, but he has no idea how much gardening means to me. Gardening makes me happy. When it doesn't work because of high winds, a drought, plagues of grasshoppers and roaming varmints, I'm drawn in to a bit of a depression. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr6pyh8Is6n__2jSCzQvue01Ak7pZZ2FFIFRZI-PhsCOEMGdGHaYD3O6AbtiwvsJvyHpgUC7mmkUa0pzVn-B8TqXnjqlJ9X9qNtiu1OhwZc309FV1HqvD48DCiruu6aUh7qGIQMnQpBEZ8/s1600/fire+pictures+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr6pyh8Is6n__2jSCzQvue01Ak7pZZ2FFIFRZI-PhsCOEMGdGHaYD3O6AbtiwvsJvyHpgUC7mmkUa0pzVn-B8TqXnjqlJ9X9qNtiu1OhwZc309FV1HqvD48DCiruu6aUh7qGIQMnQpBEZ8/s320/fire+pictures+002.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><em>This is what most of the Davis Mountains area of Texas looks like now</em></strong></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>This is why I haven't even stepped foot in to this blog in months. I don't have really have anything fun or inspirational to say and no one wants to log on to a Debbie Downer blog and read some housewife whining. But I am failing miserably at <em>Everything</em>. I've even ditched homeschooling so that my kids can go part time to the private school in town. Yes, I'm willing to drive an hour each way so that my kids can actually learn something from someone else other than me! If I can't grow tomatoes, then how in the world can someone expect me to teach my children to read.<br />
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I know so many of you also struggle with the same feelings of inadequacy. Those feelings seem to come with the territory if you're putting alot of effort in to being a good wife and mother. It would be easier to be one of those moms who sit their kids down in front of Sponge Bob with some Doritos and a Mountain Dew while you smoked and watched soaps in your bedroom (not that there's anything wrong with that). But if you're putting 100 percent in to your family, it's easy to put too much pressure on yourself. Ask any homeschooling mother about pressure....<br />
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But I love my blogging community. Sometimes I need to be the one that finds inspiration in another's words and I need to take a rest from my own expectations. I've had to admit to myself lately that it is hard to be so remote, even though I'm probably more prepared for this life than most. It is hard to home school, even though I absolutely love it. And it is hard to have a garden in the desert when the devil birds are stalking your squash seedlings and the javelinas eat your tomato plants. I just keep praying and remembering...<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.</strong></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">(if I had a picture of a cute fuzzy kitten I would put it here)</div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1232806554906437307.post-70975440434133115062011-04-04T10:02:00.000-07:002011-04-04T10:02:58.854-07:00The long walk back from the abyssFor people who want to live 'off the grid', I say come live at my house. I'm not even near a grid. <br />
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The last few months have been a struggle to maintain this blog. I might as well be Amish, with as much access to water, electricity and technology as I've had. But now our phone and Internet is working, we have water and electricity and unless a wildfire wipes us out because it's so darned dry around here, life should return to normal. Whatever normal is.Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1232806554906437307.post-65174125634735941722011-02-22T16:28:00.000-08:002011-02-23T07:23:59.486-08:00Hiking with familyIt is remarkably warm here at the ranch in contrast to the sub zero temps we had almost two weeks ago. Typical of this area, we go from ten to 80 degrees in a very short time. But I'm not complaining because we had a very mild winter compared to most people in the U.S.<br />
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</div>Now the water problems are slowly being repaired, my house is returning to normal and the sunshine beckons us outdoors. I've spent so much time trying to dig out of the piles of laundry and dishes left over from going without water in the house that I was really getting cabin fever. So when we had our first warm day that wasn't windy (those days are few and far between February - May) our family decided to go arrowhead hunting for the first time in almost a year. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFRWlUtsJ1W2VH2QKv3Me1rJdELt7hNTKF_TvPkRbKlohz8VsVgb95_NObRK8SMS0RtIy-j_sLl1KjcT9dUrKQaORaZJtzcDtrWr5CGBwzmBnIfikL9JdfIimKCyAqIoyYYJcog9kk0T_m/s1600/IMG_4867_5416.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFRWlUtsJ1W2VH2QKv3Me1rJdELt7hNTKF_TvPkRbKlohz8VsVgb95_NObRK8SMS0RtIy-j_sLl1KjcT9dUrKQaORaZJtzcDtrWr5CGBwzmBnIfikL9JdfIimKCyAqIoyYYJcog9kk0T_m/s320/IMG_4867_5416.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNeHb_jJfCGFNi5YVwJgZjGXnxEHISu7a12KkBtn70uxmuQgSfOxM6_m19214pP6i6qwFaCH-68GDwiODmeqSLjzgst5MruaAbj3bSpX_iM8F81noyvkZZUgSrdBLH86ro7RpkPs1ju_v6/s1600/kids+on+rock1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNeHb_jJfCGFNi5YVwJgZjGXnxEHISu7a12KkBtn70uxmuQgSfOxM6_m19214pP6i6qwFaCH-68GDwiODmeqSLjzgst5MruaAbj3bSpX_iM8F81noyvkZZUgSrdBLH86ro7RpkPs1ju_v6/s320/kids+on+rock1.jpg" width="320" /></a>We have to take the ranch dune buggy to the area we like to hike. And when I say 'hike' let me clarify my version of hiking. It really means walking on big rocks. We live in terrain that is hard to really go hiking in because we're surrounded by things that will poke, cut or bite you. </div><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">This will be the first time to take the Punkin since she has really started walking and it will be good to get her out in the rocks and get her used to it. I have always carried her in a backpack, but now that she is two she will be able to get around with her brother and sister, who navigate the rocks like little Auodads. </div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcMITY2DuKIYV1D6-Od_ySccD7TQVNdDMbC-KTcFC3iz7QD7EF6bgnMs49lgtFQuToFpYPq624HDuSecmaa72cznnScBGTwkwEt0Rf4kW_Fg0TX2knz_mJawAa25spMScCWoqoVsodHmM4/s1600/annaliese+hiking+2011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcMITY2DuKIYV1D6-Od_ySccD7TQVNdDMbC-KTcFC3iz7QD7EF6bgnMs49lgtFQuToFpYPq624HDuSecmaa72cznnScBGTwkwEt0Rf4kW_Fg0TX2knz_mJawAa25spMScCWoqoVsodHmM4/s320/annaliese+hiking+2011.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Punkin is not as excited about walking around by herself as I thought she would be. The grass is really high.<br />
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Thankfully her big sister likes to hold her hand and walk with her. She loves to be a little mommy. She babies Punkin more than any of us.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbxi7XxAey-Sqnqt5sRks6VJKDscQJF2pTeG0o6XZGe74KeDL9cKxxwJezCrmcrog1rAnJbKOSXrh6G2XtbxNcAyWBCRSTTl91pQZzgrUiwk4J6TTEBGURuvzKOgF84VzVKP8MTXhRR929/s1600/annaliese+hiking2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbxi7XxAey-Sqnqt5sRks6VJKDscQJF2pTeG0o6XZGe74KeDL9cKxxwJezCrmcrog1rAnJbKOSXrh6G2XtbxNcAyWBCRSTTl91pQZzgrUiwk4J6TTEBGURuvzKOgF84VzVKP8MTXhRR929/s320/annaliese+hiking2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
My son is little too adventurous and so most of my time was spent making sure he didn't fall and break his arm. Our dog Diego never leaves his side.<br />
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We're only out and hour or two before someone starts crying for a diaper change, a snack or because one of them finally falls in to a cactus. Daddy has taken all the whining he can stand and waits patiently in the dune buggy.<br />
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Now that Mommy has been outside to get her much needed Vitamin D, I feel much better. Sometimes it just takes a little sunshine and exercise.<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4bm3YXabLCUU_xR6tjJYVF-LiYvI3HyOvWRKdmodKPDCQbPhAl-k3zVIXEdITYHz2C0YveappmsNdYxLZcCbpBoldYI2scWmXnYrA4hYcNIiwKbl3syTM9xg3Xx2JxRPzIcs3mReu_bLJ/s1600/annaliese+hiking7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4bm3YXabLCUU_xR6tjJYVF-LiYvI3HyOvWRKdmodKPDCQbPhAl-k3zVIXEdITYHz2C0YveappmsNdYxLZcCbpBoldYI2scWmXnYrA4hYcNIiwKbl3syTM9xg3Xx2JxRPzIcs3mReu_bLJ/s320/annaliese+hiking7.JPG" width="274" /></a></div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1232806554906437307.post-13411120100742796952011-02-15T11:32:00.000-08:002011-02-15T11:40:48.742-08:00Bad Mommy Days<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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Sometimes I have a bad Mommy day. There's nothing else I can do that sufficiently explains why everything just goes wrong inside this house. I can blame it on all different kinds of factors, but sometimes...its just me. <br />
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As anyone that knows me can tell you, I have the patience of Job. I seldom lose my temper. However, I feel like I am at maximum capacity today. The deep freeze of the millennium has left us without water for almost two weeks. Apparently the freeze burnt a pump out and although we had water, it was nary a trickle and I couldn't wash dishes, do laundry or take a bath for over a week. You can imagine the pile up that has occurred in a house with three small children and a working man.<br />
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This is unusual for this part of Texas and even more frustrating, it was unaccompanied by any type of moisture, which we desperately need. Apparently, according to the older folks in town, this has not happened since 1962, a tale that has now local folklore because all of the women who told me about this also remember their husbands being out for days busting up frozen water troughs while they stayed home giving spit baths to their own children. Of course, dishwashers and washing machines were still a bit of a luxury and they weren't smack down crazy trying to figure out what to do with themselves without these appliances. I thumb through my mother in law's grandmothers journal trying to find some reference to how she handled something like this but....she had people! I don't. I AM the people.<br />
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I haven't mopped the floors, the towels lie molding in the corner, no one has clean sheets, dishes pile up in the sink still swimming in their pre super bowl glory, and laundry is stacked up in piles waiting to be put away as I've loaded and, then unloaded them after two hour round trips to town to wash. <br />
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Anyway.... back to the reason I'm so grouchy. I'm frustrated and overwhelmed and I'm projecting this on to my children. The chaos is everywhere and I think chaos is breeding chaos like jackrabbits around here. Not to mention all three of the children are sick which makes them whiny and temperamental. It's a trifecta of craziness! So apparently all of the habit training Charlotte Mason talked about is out the window! No one is cleaning up after themselves, there's UFC fight championships being held over stuffed animals, the littlest scrape sends them over into full throttle breakdowns, the baby keeps getting into markers and using them for makeup, school doesn't get started until 9 a.m. and even when it starts it just stalls.....and I find myself whirling through the house yelling like a character out of some Edward Albee play.<br />
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When children sense frustration, instability and chaos, it makes them nervous and when they're nervous they take it out on each other, you and the living room furniture. Slowly but surely, you have to redirect their energies to something productive and then get back on a schedule. I have to calm down. I've resorted to using my Mary Poppins voice. I don't really mean anything I say with my Mary Poppins voice, but it's like being a greeter at the Gap, eventually you'll start believing yourself and the mood is changed.Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1232806554906437307.post-21832785543246752412011-02-11T11:34:00.000-08:002011-02-11T11:34:05.568-08:00Ten Days of Charlotte Mason with www.ourjourneywestward.com<a href="http://ourjourneywestward.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/Cindy-button-300.png"><img alt="" class="size-full wp-image-3479 aligncenter" height="300" src="http://ourjourneywestward.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/Cindy-button-300.png" title="Cindy-button-300" width="300" /></a><br />
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I sometimes have a hard time explaining our homeschooling method, the Charlotte Mason philosophy, to people who are interested in how we teach our children. I say it's a philosophy because it's not a curriculum but a way of life. <br />
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Cindy, at <a href="http://www.ourjourneywestward.com/">www.ourjourneywestward.com</a> is hosting <strong>Ten Days of Charlotte Mason</strong>, sponsored by Heart of the Matter's blog hop. She is doing a wonderful job of explaining the intricacies of the Charlotte Mason method and explaining key points of the method such as narration, living books, copy work, artists and composers and nature study. So if you can, join us for a great discussion!Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1232806554906437307.post-53578376581806949722011-02-07T11:49:00.000-08:002011-02-07T11:49:28.738-08:00Five goals for FebruaryFor February I'm following the lead of Jess at <a href="http://www.makinghome.blogspot.com/">http://www.makinghome.blogspot.com/</a> and posting five goals I've made for myself. As I told her, I tend to make lofty, unattainable goals that leave me feeling like a big loser, so this month I'm going to keep it simple.<br />
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1. eat healthier. <em>This doesn't mean I'm going on another crazy diet with my friend Rachel. I did the Cinch diet last month and actually gained two pounds. How anyone can gain weight from eating spinach and raspberries for five days is beyond me. </em><br />
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<em>No, this time I'm concentrating on eating more whole grains, fruits and vegetables and staying away from fried foods and sugar. I'm also going to stick to the Deceptively Delicious and Sneaky Chef cookbooks and trick my kids in to eating healthier as well.</em><br />
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2. Posting more regularly on my blog.<br />
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3. Keeping my school room more organized.<br />
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4. Start my mornings off by reading scripture.<br />
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5. Pay more attention to my toddler during school hours instead of parking her in front of Dora.Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1232806554906437307.post-15286851944400901622010-12-23T10:39:00.000-08:002010-12-23T10:39:21.080-08:00If you need a good laugh this Christmas...Go on over to the Prairie Mother. She has a post that will make you wet your pants its so funny. And in the middle of cooking, frantically cleaning and getting ready for the onslaught of hunters arriving the day after Christmas, I needed a good laugh:<br />
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<a href="http://prairiemother-prairiemother.blogspot.com/2010/12/christmas-letter-of-failure.html">http://prairiemother-prairiemother.blogspot.com/2010/12/christmas-letter-of-failure.html</a><br />
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MichelleMichellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1232806554906437307.post-24784961407265381092010-12-21T11:51:00.000-08:002010-12-21T13:09:43.341-08:00A Frontier Christmas<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The kids had the privilege to attend the Ft. Davis National Historic Site's Frontier Christmas last week with the local home school association. We are so lucky to live in an area where we have an amazing historical treasure like Fort Davis and their living history presentations are a true gift to our children. It was completely authentic, interesting and interactive. Their volunteers and experts were engaging and friendly and the reconstruction of the fort and the day to day operations of the fort and the culture of the frontier is awe inspiring. It's hard to put in to words how wonderful it really was so I'll let the kids tell you.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">We met our friends at the Fort</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIXu_-6DJrDt3jSpnrbzo7kYht9dR2Gm9UVgas1jlBYeEQdOjTFeFASzTd6nKqgjeL6_X01KWrqSEEEGtEoJjkrmDGzbBshpA2MlIaZrOim51IWZaV66HUDZvUzW1RYNHOaYbPqzak3j_V/s1600/fort+sports.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIXu_-6DJrDt3jSpnrbzo7kYht9dR2Gm9UVgas1jlBYeEQdOjTFeFASzTd6nKqgjeL6_X01KWrqSEEEGtEoJjkrmDGzbBshpA2MlIaZrOim51IWZaV66HUDZvUzW1RYNHOaYbPqzak3j_V/s320/fort+sports.JPG" width="320" /></a></div></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">We learned old fashioned games like pushing a hoop and the ring toss. </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWLz_IpLk994ikT2wXBiIrlp6m6Sxr8umextnkeU9uBGt5n8TB-CMZtVIfm5b2_YXEOzv5K4SS8X87pQ-bU1iTlQNBULyx7ZUaxeP6_9B0p1pPY1DN-IYtx72MjMZSg6mZ-4W9I8wDXYPR/s1600/hoop1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWLz_IpLk994ikT2wXBiIrlp6m6Sxr8umextnkeU9uBGt5n8TB-CMZtVIfm5b2_YXEOzv5K4SS8X87pQ-bU1iTlQNBULyx7ZUaxeP6_9B0p1pPY1DN-IYtx72MjMZSg6mZ-4W9I8wDXYPR/s320/hoop1.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">It wasn't as easy as it looked.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcMB_dgLtmqKtT-dDIoSt5mj5RYFbbDaZPlltB5VV72S5C88ptiZZW0A5cC4RA6CJ5wufh467lIE-MXpEd0OHwExZYNNztp-MI8vuG6WlC6WSIt8wByqzR6CKEl07G27E1uiSoxmZKgq8A/s1600/fort+soldiers.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcMB_dgLtmqKtT-dDIoSt5mj5RYFbbDaZPlltB5VV72S5C88ptiZZW0A5cC4RA6CJ5wufh467lIE-MXpEd0OHwExZYNNztp-MI8vuG6WlC6WSIt8wByqzR6CKEl07G27E1uiSoxmZKgq8A/s320/fort+soldiers.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Then we went in to the barracks and the soldiers showed us the uniforms they have to wear. They are mostly made out of wool.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxx12pPMc378YulCOOKhcIUkCXkaRJcmipeSJSaTGkmNkFoSBW79h52ysrTJG_JlDEoTOa0fYGFIQFbsFWA_3iOr0dIwFP6vvrdRK8jQgHZL08ZWFmHUP_3TIepbQjiyWwTsjrZ9LygT0k/s1600/fort+soldier+uniform.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxx12pPMc378YulCOOKhcIUkCXkaRJcmipeSJSaTGkmNkFoSBW79h52ysrTJG_JlDEoTOa0fYGFIQFbsFWA_3iOr0dIwFP6vvrdRK8jQgHZL08ZWFmHUP_3TIepbQjiyWwTsjrZ9LygT0k/s320/fort+soldier+uniform.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I like wearing the soldiers hat. Later on, they showed us how to stand at attention and hold our weapons.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeDUQamRe9IaG_IZRSCP9lWyJVtKyp5xzVZWN8DAH73DlL1h-d-OWmYagVSyNWkJ_s59BIyj7HNO55JwtT5WDbyBJrUHXy-6JM2-PYdXS8yAZsJsulT60SR98wBYvdoKvzOBNH-7T8ZMU7/s1600/fort+ladies+wear.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeDUQamRe9IaG_IZRSCP9lWyJVtKyp5xzVZWN8DAH73DlL1h-d-OWmYagVSyNWkJ_s59BIyj7HNO55JwtT5WDbyBJrUHXy-6JM2-PYdXS8yAZsJsulT60SR98wBYvdoKvzOBNH-7T8ZMU7/s320/fort+ladies+wear.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The ladies of the fort showed the girls what kind of clothes women had to wear in the 1880's. There were bloomers and slips and bustles, corsets, capes and bonnets.</span><br />
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</div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Some of the girls got to try on clothes that little girls would've worn back then.</span><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">There were many nice people who told us about what it was like to live here back then.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"> There was only a few stops between San Antonio and El Paso and the road was very dangerous. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">It was hard to get supplies</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglRkrk2ZhbZnWDLGOWGy9BBYyXo3DdMUabLnZrDAXNVTlLPFFhFIc0Wmhm3_oNZTUn5vXIVauWfNdd625YD_3N9yurIuunMzEk2zkjhws0O_Bd9CJXByjJxj-jrq2bLDGV8H7fqNZ-SYNE/s1600/fort+wagon.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglRkrk2ZhbZnWDLGOWGy9BBYyXo3DdMUabLnZrDAXNVTlLPFFhFIc0Wmhm3_oNZTUn5vXIVauWfNdd625YD_3N9yurIuunMzEk2zkjhws0O_Bd9CJXByjJxj-jrq2bLDGV8H7fqNZ-SYNE/s320/fort+wagon.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">All of their supplies had to be transported by wagons from very long distances away.</span><br />
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</div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">All of the supplies were kept in the commissary, which was like the grocery store at the fort.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3wsW4DDihrIqiZ6hdqZEksSOcbRGx0Vv-i-qU8qQvrHohjDFgJF4nbHnewkk2Pu2Dbu9bNR4m_s9XnVXiUT8O3fxcabBez-9NDGugefmdU-DWHgTIhdwPP_4T6JwgDK_1PY2LYOgMvxbN/s1600/IMG_4421_3838.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3wsW4DDihrIqiZ6hdqZEksSOcbRGx0Vv-i-qU8qQvrHohjDFgJF4nbHnewkk2Pu2Dbu9bNR4m_s9XnVXiUT8O3fxcabBez-9NDGugefmdU-DWHgTIhdwPP_4T6JwgDK_1PY2LYOgMvxbN/s320/IMG_4421_3838.JPG" width="320" /></a></div></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">We then went to a house where soldiers wives showed us the wood burning stove and let us make cookies using an old recipe. </span></div></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0sl4vH_gnXAP6d7fR2HPCGQQ7FW2NEGr3iEUY0p7EjUvDbDj0DUsjwA_n6tLYknfi_PoFmEUXpYF1yHkj8OHbCUkjJLV73o1koLo5LVBnnru8naJJpaTA8i8DjLAx_qUaIFulVmZ0x_En/s1600/fort+stove.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0sl4vH_gnXAP6d7fR2HPCGQQ7FW2NEGr3iEUY0p7EjUvDbDj0DUsjwA_n6tLYknfi_PoFmEUXpYF1yHkj8OHbCUkjJLV73o1koLo5LVBnnru8naJJpaTA8i8DjLAx_qUaIFulVmZ0x_En/s320/fort+stove.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The wood burning stove was very hot.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwxC-iEF536vGXFqzlF2hKAooemR3p9bb2RqhtbYaNjS9I49g_atAE_ykqAPCeRHFxpol5fTIdkilGItAmPLD7sVLcqb9giM8CF0DCFsr4kwiwfi-glKOfTS-hAuirZODqQDp9sEAPU8Gc/s1600/fort+baking.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwxC-iEF536vGXFqzlF2hKAooemR3p9bb2RqhtbYaNjS9I49g_atAE_ykqAPCeRHFxpol5fTIdkilGItAmPLD7sVLcqb9giM8CF0DCFsr4kwiwfi-glKOfTS-hAuirZODqQDp9sEAPU8Gc/s320/fort+baking.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Because the wood burning stove is really hot, the cookies had to be very small.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWU4Dhm8s3-sw1JNc7lseKKtp83gy2fz6QB-5CpIY_KXBt1DkCAn8sAPkZJj64UHyQltuCp-syEXlQjDorHQxx9xQ-3UgXCvxqt00j0OWh5BVzbqVi4wJzKF6fiC589JknZiyGNSmw8EsO/s1600/fort+cookies3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWU4Dhm8s3-sw1JNc7lseKKtp83gy2fz6QB-5CpIY_KXBt1DkCAn8sAPkZJj64UHyQltuCp-syEXlQjDorHQxx9xQ-3UgXCvxqt00j0OWh5BVzbqVi4wJzKF6fiC589JknZiyGNSmw8EsO/s320/fort+cookies3.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I really like the cookies</span><br />
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</div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">We made old fashioned Christmas cards to send to our soldiers</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Our friend, Mary, gave us a tour of the Officer's house</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">It was beautifully decorated for Christmas.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Mary also showed us the beautiful hand made ornaments on the Christmas tree</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">We hiked up a trail to see some old photos posted along the trail.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDxL3Ce4pvQ36LRZUtB5fW27oKmFpFxTevSlULwm8VsqItkKRgnR89rmAh_QpqNfDgHXh9bXQrQY7d-leDHfm4jEvFHYbAVve3Qj7snbNvX13UwCXFxHsLFgI1zfPhbm-bDzzmdNpmQN8L/s1600/fort+overview.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDxL3Ce4pvQ36LRZUtB5fW27oKmFpFxTevSlULwm8VsqItkKRgnR89rmAh_QpqNfDgHXh9bXQrQY7d-leDHfm4jEvFHYbAVve3Qj7snbNvX13UwCXFxHsLFgI1zfPhbm-bDzzmdNpmQN8L/s320/fort+overview.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">We had a great view of the entire fort</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">As an added bonus, we got to meet Santa Claus for the first time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"> I guess he stopped to deliver goods to the commisary.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">We had a great time at Fort Davis. I hope we get to come back next year.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Merry Christmas!</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: right;"></div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1232806554906437307.post-90708244672762185692010-12-14T14:27:00.000-08:002010-12-14T14:28:41.965-08:00Decorating in a land without Hobby LobbyFor those of you who are geographically challenged as I am, it's sometimes hard to find decorations that are sophisticated and affordable. Our nearest source of any home decor items is the local Dollar store or the hardware store, neither of which are very inspirational. Now don't get me wrong, I like folksy, americana style made in china versions of snowmen and santas as much as the next girl, but I am always on the hunt for something more authentic. So I started looking in the pasture.....<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-SOBHYGjHYCIlH9LE9-AP_ckqgWjrtmsBTLlgw7SOM4-9GRd-ShuD5OlNykgf6LycW1ipnTm7lOxrWelKPfIYLIdx6XrnX2Y5ODJqvcGWFUmZtUbM4pm1DcbHuFIa7y5Xz_aJVeVJBOa9/s1600/campbell+and+diego.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="259" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-SOBHYGjHYCIlH9LE9-AP_ckqgWjrtmsBTLlgw7SOM4-9GRd-ShuD5OlNykgf6LycW1ipnTm7lOxrWelKPfIYLIdx6XrnX2Y5ODJqvcGWFUmZtUbM4pm1DcbHuFIa7y5Xz_aJVeVJBOa9/s320/campbell+and+diego.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
A friend of mine, who I have to say I've never met but we've become great friends through the miracle of the Internet, has proven to be a big decorating inspiration to me. She lives on a ranch in southwest Texas, in a lovely rock home that has been her family for many generations. She is wonderfully talented for using indigenous materials to decorate her home. The photos I'm posting due her no justice, but I've had a downloading malfunction so bare with me.<br />
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I tried to copy her idea this year by taking a large, shallow, wooden bowl and placing antlers, leftover pine sprigs and pine cones in it with a ribbon garnish. She used fresh apples and pine cones, which I think is a better idea. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOvWGGZBmnOk37vDkbXwR3REyslpluq9Ql52btV9Oj7aEi0apiKoCSkqnY7_-FNvpbyii2KAj7yT6VjTVfAOACtfVElruEGvDyubxFmUDxSHiaGI4SFQptZY3iIGbTC8xvsBclyCQ061gD/s1600/IMG_4338_3773.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOvWGGZBmnOk37vDkbXwR3REyslpluq9Ql52btV9Oj7aEi0apiKoCSkqnY7_-FNvpbyii2KAj7yT6VjTVfAOACtfVElruEGvDyubxFmUDxSHiaGI4SFQptZY3iIGbTC8xvsBclyCQ061gD/s320/IMG_4338_3773.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My version of my friend, Shawn's, centerpiece - I like hers better</td></tr>
</tbody></table>One thing you will never have a shortage of when you live on a ranch is antlers or horns of some kind. You find them lying all about the pasture. I have used antlers for many things. In fact, in my house you find a lot of wood, antlers, leather and rock. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyP94X7lPL0clSHU3B48z5WCpvAQLhM0L2J29_Q4LcUpJa_BYkWXYUm3prRbqyUp19zER8sGC7ov0m6PREZGgQDb8Kv7IOiLBpd9EC4MSdouQA3Qe-fy2-bY6c6Tn5MrelsP8O-uSgR3t9/s1600/trophy_edited-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyP94X7lPL0clSHU3B48z5WCpvAQLhM0L2J29_Q4LcUpJa_BYkWXYUm3prRbqyUp19zER8sGC7ov0m6PREZGgQDb8Kv7IOiLBpd9EC4MSdouQA3Qe-fy2-bY6c6Tn5MrelsP8O-uSgR3t9/s320/trophy_edited-1.JPG" width="192" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I used an old Hereford Association trophy to make a floral display and added ribbon for the holidays</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwmqWJMkraYPxOolOZ7pE00A96ReCzvgrdVL_JgeKcqCc4jCH4dSKpTcrmSEIEMcLaG3Zm1WP7x5Eo24CUeaVh8bvHf-P7L1dOjt6SUf31Rd3TyaXxMn0VoaJSV5lPwX2kkzv486VjUczY/s1600/rosemary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwmqWJMkraYPxOolOZ7pE00A96ReCzvgrdVL_JgeKcqCc4jCH4dSKpTcrmSEIEMcLaG3Zm1WP7x5Eo24CUeaVh8bvHf-P7L1dOjt6SUf31Rd3TyaXxMn0VoaJSV5lPwX2kkzv486VjUczY/s320/rosemary.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I gathered rosemary from my backyard and made something to hang over the door so my husband can complain about it every time he walks in the door. falalalala</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;">I am sparing you anything made with bandannas or barbed wire. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And I would love to hear ideas you have as well!!!</div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1232806554906437307.post-38924345876468532732010-11-30T13:17:00.000-08:002010-11-30T13:20:10.594-08:00Lonely and ForlornThe prevailing question I get from most people when they find out where I live is, "who's your nearest neighbor?" I think they're going to pass out when I tell them that I don't have a nearest neighbor. The only neighbor I have is about 20 miles away, and they're nearest neighbor is about 15 miles away in the opposite direction, which is town. <br />
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For a beautiful fleeting moment we did have neighbors and they were great. They were a young, newly married couple and they were new to the area. He was about 6'8 and the only person I think my husband has ever looked up too, literally. She was 5'3, bright and cheery with a great sense of humor. And could do anything. <em>Anything.</em> She rode horses, worked cattle, made her own comforter for their bed, she probably made the darn bed, she could weld, fix the tractor, haul cattle, bake a cake, raise chickens, make jewelry. Last summer the ranch they lived on caught on fire during a thunderstorm and by the time the fire department showed up she had made a fire path with a maintainer and put out most of the fire with tow sacks.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja2OI93yx02s_0HRdHSujCp53UACkVWXHyPUn2huwAa9erJYH5DVhaRdZqLtjkGihvCfgvdEmg6vPIm9WjU530F3zJKnJll9qSuZE3ppdT3ib_lQ3cRubmWPFV4L2-jaMF5AsVkMmuL8I9/s1600/kylia1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="252" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja2OI93yx02s_0HRdHSujCp53UACkVWXHyPUn2huwAa9erJYH5DVhaRdZqLtjkGihvCfgvdEmg6vPIm9WjU530F3zJKnJll9qSuZE3ppdT3ib_lQ3cRubmWPFV4L2-jaMF5AsVkMmuL8I9/s320/kylia1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I was so excited to find out the extent of her skill sets that I tore my honey-do list up for the husband and set out to make her my new best friend. And she <em>Loved</em> my children! And they would do anything for her. We had so much fun together. We didn't have a whole lot in common as far as interests, but who needs to talk about art and literature when you're new best friend can build you a dining room table!<br />
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And it was so wonderful to have someone to depend on way out here in the middle of nowhere. If either of us went out town, we could depend on each other to watch the ranch and feed the animals. Hayes and Andrew could help each other work cattle, work on water problems and feed. Kylia and I had plans of gardening, raising chickens and sharing milk cow duties. But now it's all <em>gone, gone I tell you!</em><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZCkQq0CuwM9RFaUsoYJUdv9yZebvro8Fe4xs-IMCNxtyzYMzIG0sjHpW8aTJoN_Xi2G5KE-1g6bhqyyAzkcwAsWK6fg2RDE2ezYkmQFB2rIcht29vyGKpezsgzZoE-C6pQTFho4NIxA2I/s1600/kylia+and+andrew3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZCkQq0CuwM9RFaUsoYJUdv9yZebvro8Fe4xs-IMCNxtyzYMzIG0sjHpW8aTJoN_Xi2G5KE-1g6bhqyyAzkcwAsWK6fg2RDE2ezYkmQFB2rIcht29vyGKpezsgzZoE-C6pQTFho4NIxA2I/s320/kylia+and+andrew3.jpg" width="198" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">kylia and andrew</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We had so much fun having them over for football, game night, dinner and holidays. My husband and I were looking forward to their having children so our kids could play with them. We had it all worked out and then they destroyed the dream by leaving and moving back to where they came from. We still drive by their house on the way to town and wish they were here. And no matter who moves in there it will never be the same. Now it's back to being just us and whoever the border patrol is chasing across the mountains. <br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqu8U4bGWhNpzj3Wm_HPhBsyV3v_Kh-MzRcbBlM2AUEuber46suhrQnE-HHZlbiDQabQ1nL_ZeBFtHzTQQ3HC6InInct5NFPw1DD-ObSwaV2OuRFRWCLq3kiaz84ZMgx45TwrRfuFhDOE7/s1600/cowscopy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="220" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqu8U4bGWhNpzj3Wm_HPhBsyV3v_Kh-MzRcbBlM2AUEuber46suhrQnE-HHZlbiDQabQ1nL_ZeBFtHzTQQ3HC6InInct5NFPw1DD-ObSwaV2OuRFRWCLq3kiaz84ZMgx45TwrRfuFhDOE7/s320/cowscopy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1232806554906437307.post-12603141780865227272010-11-22T11:53:00.000-08:002010-11-22T11:53:37.357-08:00A Season of Plenty<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge4xitSvxfdAKCfA1uJYEFqLjTuiRirLO3HxoeITSEtyQ8tTwxXJKQK83RY56WFm9mfPlK2OwVpPaFrtkZwc3sNEOMZGlLL-Nej6ZxdLhdBH5mGSFWeTCUtCXuAoubOH_s0s8Z4lVPHAA6/s1600/IMG_3926_1800.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge4xitSvxfdAKCfA1uJYEFqLjTuiRirLO3HxoeITSEtyQ8tTwxXJKQK83RY56WFm9mfPlK2OwVpPaFrtkZwc3sNEOMZGlLL-Nej6ZxdLhdBH5mGSFWeTCUtCXuAoubOH_s0s8Z4lVPHAA6/s320/IMG_3926_1800.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I live for this time of year! Some people love summer, but I love autumn and the holiday season. It goes by way to fast for me. In fact, I begin to get in a manic state about September and then go through a major let down in January when I have to face the long, crazy windy months of February and March. This time of year is a time for me to go into super Martha Stewart mode and plan a craft bonanza. My craftiness is always derailed by the constraints of potty training, homeschooling and housework, but I still dream of a house accented with natural substance arrangements, fall foliage garlands around the fireplace and every turkey handprint craft imaginable. <br />
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<em>Speaking of crafts...does anyone know what these things are? They came off a huge tree I found on a remote dirt road and they resemble some sort of weird fruit. Please tell me they're not poisonous.</em><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgySfuyiQOBQ-gU_8rB9Rld-Eou5IS_ZsHcGtRtzDwQEYIDpNy-pXwugOcW_C7RNCUVApixnex3UHGgihlcvNd6ExKVgR5mAwHHhcgzm-cMQO4m-C-n6c81xZ_REnJcejVYdkGfJxf7wm6G/s1600/IMG_4186_1865.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgySfuyiQOBQ-gU_8rB9Rld-Eou5IS_ZsHcGtRtzDwQEYIDpNy-pXwugOcW_C7RNCUVApixnex3UHGgihlcvNd6ExKVgR5mAwHHhcgzm-cMQO4m-C-n6c81xZ_REnJcejVYdkGfJxf7wm6G/s320/IMG_4186_1865.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This next photo is of the Indian Corn we miraculously grew by accident about three years ago. I had bought some decorative corn at the store and thrown it out for the javelinas after Thanksgiving. Well lo and behold a year later it popped up in the midst of some cactus and algerita bushes! It was absolutely beautiful and I immediately had fantasies of starting an indian corn empire (because I paid about $2.00 a cob at the store - hello.) We call it our miracle corn and we bring it out every year for decoration. Unfortunately, that was the only year we grew corn successfully, decorative or otherwise.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif7i5_H8iTljnZTog4s8Ml8g_o6ISgQ9fXi5vlzlRgB99iuCiKj0jwKv8ECy1cqxYfc6wOs9BJyVB7p_lnESsiMrA3pc0t4H2fjXuDyAKj4u8nUmPRjoI-gKtbWAcLGz3cT_blXujnOWvy/s1600/IMG_4187_1866.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif7i5_H8iTljnZTog4s8Ml8g_o6ISgQ9fXi5vlzlRgB99iuCiKj0jwKv8ECy1cqxYfc6wOs9BJyVB7p_lnESsiMrA3pc0t4H2fjXuDyAKj4u8nUmPRjoI-gKtbWAcLGz3cT_blXujnOWvy/s320/IMG_4187_1866.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>We survived Halloween without any peanut allergy related incident, thank the Lord. We came home with tons of nasty candy that I'm sure was made in China so I immediately threw out anything that would pull out a tooth if chewed and hid the rest in a cabinet. Every year I make a declaration not to celebrate Halloween and every year I buckle under pressure and buy cheesy, badly made polyester costumes and drive an hour in to town so my kids can run around collecting candy they can't eat. The next day we suffered the mother of all post Halloween apocalyptic meltdowns due to too much sugar and not enough sleep. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZNwvt3jmylUgQqXerprVSi2CChhHqyRNYcK5NWVUBkKMU8rph4ooeiAc-v_mTFa3cRGZK5rhA-7fusLEsoO7M2wlXBfXFBZUFxAynkXvwXLf4H7kG4hMOJvKMGoGDZ_K_vqPm-Oy9i5jC/s1600/IMG_4103_1607_edited-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZNwvt3jmylUgQqXerprVSi2CChhHqyRNYcK5NWVUBkKMU8rph4ooeiAc-v_mTFa3cRGZK5rhA-7fusLEsoO7M2wlXBfXFBZUFxAynkXvwXLf4H7kG4hMOJvKMGoGDZ_K_vqPm-Oy9i5jC/s320/IMG_4103_1607_edited-1.JPG" width="262" /></a></div><em>This is Pidgeon's fourth year as a princess, go figure, and Punkin was a fairy and Rooster was a Knight's Templar (a fact that was lost on everyone). Note to self - next year don't buy costumes at Gymboree because everyone and their dog will have the same one.</em><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSbPqdlR-BccAF__uD8bqJRFYtESG-KZl5wk6yVS0zKMNogmpCA_mrMZeND0sMihbCLhZnatyuYB_cTMe4UQVChWgCKhpWxifqolSTBnGFsM_qAaigUZJJcE4P5I1TSMYbccvrD5Nw3LID/s1600/IMG_4184_1863.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSbPqdlR-BccAF__uD8bqJRFYtESG-KZl5wk6yVS0zKMNogmpCA_mrMZeND0sMihbCLhZnatyuYB_cTMe4UQVChWgCKhpWxifqolSTBnGFsM_qAaigUZJJcE4P5I1TSMYbccvrD5Nw3LID/s320/IMG_4184_1863.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>We've been very busy with home school. I've had a wonderful time sharing my obsession with colonial America with my children and as kindergartners and first graders I'm sure they know way more about the Wampanoags, Puritans, Jamestown and the destruction of the first peoples than they ever wanted to know or could even absorb at this age. November is Native American Heritage month and so we've had fun comparing the natives of Virginia and Massachusetts to the native people that lived on this ranch at one time. We all agree the people here got the short end of the stick because there's nothing to eat here and it would be hard to grow corn. (believe me - we've tried)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcLoxso84bksWp-pd_R8metvVsfXNOkI-TX8D6_CshuCkC_y9W3XPpQ1P7N3mSqpkiKHyjPtc3oERp8G8p7wMbNZS1k_jeANAUvFaaalCNQN-Mbh8NEviiwilW_juX0kNtdvhsD44n96T6/s1600/IMG_4180_1802.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcLoxso84bksWp-pd_R8metvVsfXNOkI-TX8D6_CshuCkC_y9W3XPpQ1P7N3mSqpkiKHyjPtc3oERp8G8p7wMbNZS1k_jeANAUvFaaalCNQN-Mbh8NEviiwilW_juX0kNtdvhsD44n96T6/s320/IMG_4180_1802.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em>If my son went to school in town he wouldn't get to wear this ensemble to school, would he? (notice the duct tape around his boot as a finishing touch)</em></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtd-pE8it_-M9cN5rnnsVmFkjGftMxRrs1uaqU12e5M6HTZv8t43KbHsFz_s5DTxeRM-z5jXL-sANkjRT8yw92BiquruTXLeOxYqe-nn7xh4aKaynOwXuNikeFQmbWu9NRQQk88uiwp2_7/s1600/IMG_4099_1661.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtd-pE8it_-M9cN5rnnsVmFkjGftMxRrs1uaqU12e5M6HTZv8t43KbHsFz_s5DTxeRM-z5jXL-sANkjRT8yw92BiquruTXLeOxYqe-nn7xh4aKaynOwXuNikeFQmbWu9NRQQk88uiwp2_7/s320/IMG_4099_1661.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">And finally, my baby is going to be two this week. On Thanksgiving no less. She may not talk but she is great at getting her point across. Here she is wearing the new hat her grandmother made her. She seldom takes it off. And she has developed an obsession for those tacky Disney princess shoes, which I would have never seen coming. I would have pinned her for more of a cowboy boots kind of girl. I guess she's following in her big sister's foot prints. <br />
<span style="color: #990000; font-size: x-large;"><strong>Happy Thanksgiving Friends!</strong></span></div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1232806554906437307.post-90536118296689968562010-10-26T10:47:00.000-07:002010-10-26T10:47:40.987-07:00Trip down the river road<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">For Columbus day, my husband decided to take a day off and go on a road trip. Huge! So we piled in the Ford flatbed and overloaded on sugary drinks and processed food and away we went down to Presidio for lunch and then followed the river road (that river being the Rio Grande) down to Lajitas and Terilingua and then back up through Alpine.</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Presidio was the same as it's been for hundreds of years - hot. We had a great lunch at a Mexican restaurant - not unusual for the Mexican border. The ride from Presidio to Terlingua takes along time, but it's even longer when you have three small children, three car seats, diaper bag, camera bag and snacks crammed into a truck with a not so great air conditioner.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">We enjoyed the scenery from Presidio to Lajitas. It's a great time of year down here, not too hot or cold. The mountains are beautiful along the river and I wish now I'd taken more pictures. Here are some...</div><br />
<img alt="" border="0" src="http://localhost:49173/89aa3e2a009fd2e9a5e050133d0f7538/image/1bb99d2d2f8d2430.jpg?size=320" /> </div><br />
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<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://localhost:49173/89aa3e2a009fd2e9a5e050133d0f7538/image/81d3194573d34c8c.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://localhost:49173/89aa3e2a009fd2e9a5e050133d0f7538/image/81d3194573d34c8c.jpg?size=320" /></a> </div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1232806554906437307.post-89562857391656869072010-10-01T08:46:00.000-07:002010-10-01T08:56:20.459-07:00In the pens with a cameraRecently, we worked cattle and shipped calves. Let me clarify this by saying I did not work cattle - I cooked. Contrary to popular belief, most ranches don't use chuckwagons anymore. Most ranches don't have cattle drives, stay out for days on end, or have their cowboys sleep under the stars and sing to each other. Some larger ranches do, but for the most part, small family owned ranches like my husband's family's ranch just hire guys for a day or two during the fall or spring. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ObsLut7OdpNpmuVzmgFOj_EdAtaBqGFi9geiZtoZwCtP9a50bUHhWIuORN5eZwhzGYeWQUZRc__oxeYUSzCAlHKjT6VJxQtnPL_Mi0yUKH5Z4-Uecb1__4qR7Gm1QF0XAZ7IbL5bU0fM/s1600/ranch+works+matt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ObsLut7OdpNpmuVzmgFOj_EdAtaBqGFi9geiZtoZwCtP9a50bUHhWIuORN5eZwhzGYeWQUZRc__oxeYUSzCAlHKjT6VJxQtnPL_Mi0yUKH5Z4-Uecb1__4qR7Gm1QF0XAZ7IbL5bU0fM/s320/ranch+works+matt.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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I have a lot of girlfriends that that make great hands and are better help than alot of men, but I am not one of them. It's very hard work and I would get in the way or get somebody hurt. I am not a very good cowgirl. I am just fine with my role as the event caterer and my husband loves to have real food for the men to eat and not just burritos served on the tailgate of the truck<br />
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</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The guys are used to me hanging around with my camera. I'm no Bob Moorehouse, but I enjoy trying to capture our life in a sincere, moving way. </div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTP-F0fgWZlNSkrRo2ILeMiJEccmyeFk_ta6_Yx8i7K8bsugAZVE8T4gwgsmcabJD3_x35o1hKQ4BGNWs5zCGniXjjA4rCE37gFU8fvtzfSbgQetzfgrvKbTy-Md7pcw9wZ7KvmSioravz/s1600/ranch+works+trailor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="304" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTP-F0fgWZlNSkrRo2ILeMiJEccmyeFk_ta6_Yx8i7K8bsugAZVE8T4gwgsmcabJD3_x35o1hKQ4BGNWs5zCGniXjjA4rCE37gFU8fvtzfSbgQetzfgrvKbTy-Md7pcw9wZ7KvmSioravz/s320/ranch+works+trailor.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxLnXEStVJQrIrC6b4kyRntDd7uP2lgJII6ZmisM2dqOxOHnRnviBSWPcYMzrkuR4ct7AV1BOp9CT8G3Sx5wvsuJgM7vdgSf4BARoOtmqVCngI7HRcwObtxID597GTZri0yXuUd5yUo7iZ/s1600/ranch+works+sky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="197" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxLnXEStVJQrIrC6b4kyRntDd7uP2lgJII6ZmisM2dqOxOHnRnviBSWPcYMzrkuR4ct7AV1BOp9CT8G3Sx5wvsuJgM7vdgSf4BARoOtmqVCngI7HRcwObtxID597GTZri0yXuUd5yUo7iZ/s320/ranch+works+sky.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My son is old enough now to start helping his Dad on horseback. He's so excited! It's wonderful to see him follow in his father's footsteps, and his grandfather's, and great and great great grandfather's. That doesn't mean he's off the hook for med school, but I hope he is proud of the ranching tradition. My mother in law's family has been on this land almost 130 years.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1KDezGw_PoXms2sZxL22QyHktl31cnv8hKWdY06nYfAcfgsQoaUQuQH4HcWfNs2pR8KZ-bPGV2PbplXPeo4A8lB_HSgFO-8oZUItYEdBTQ0H3QsnSayLvn8ahc40PqbqSdzEqFR7tZy6-/s1600/ranch+works+campbell.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1KDezGw_PoXms2sZxL22QyHktl31cnv8hKWdY06nYfAcfgsQoaUQuQH4HcWfNs2pR8KZ-bPGV2PbplXPeo4A8lB_HSgFO-8oZUItYEdBTQ0H3QsnSayLvn8ahc40PqbqSdzEqFR7tZy6-/s320/ranch+works+campbell.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjivNUj3WMNHvUq-6hyC6USwV2bgeFBd4vsS8psUAHGhq_ilmxdoFJG-6ZGcEknMSPxuL1SpjZIuNzSKZOplpLxvL3WWSLPbYXvFgY6kJoot5Ok77HiV-S8vV7svBg4oMtHsfOvW4rXRAlW/s1600/ranch+works+campbell-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjivNUj3WMNHvUq-6hyC6USwV2bgeFBd4vsS8psUAHGhq_ilmxdoFJG-6ZGcEknMSPxuL1SpjZIuNzSKZOplpLxvL3WWSLPbYXvFgY6kJoot5Ok77HiV-S8vV7svBg4oMtHsfOvW4rXRAlW/s320/ranch+works+campbell-1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Next year, it will be my oldest daughter's turn to help. I'm not sure how much help she will be unless we buy her a pink horse and let her wear her tiara, but at least she can try. One of the many things I love about my husband is how involved he is with his children. He spends every free moment with one of his children and he takes the girls with him as much as he does his son. But that day the girls were purely spectators.<br />
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<div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1232806554906437307.post-86860057492455101562010-09-16T08:50:00.001-07:002010-09-16T08:50:47.075-07:00I'm taking a Challenge!Are you up for it? I am taking the Homemaker’s Challenge (link: http://tinyurl.com/2a9ma3m). It is fun for the homemaking, cooking, baking, wife, simple living mom, organizing, decorating, money saving, fashionista, and blogging “expert” in all of us!Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1232806554906437307.post-27231949605222095122010-09-08T13:38:00.000-07:002010-09-08T13:41:27.732-07:00Who is Eating My Cats?<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVVLQvH4Vhaj47pd04eEHaLIjMOUvo8-zAWNdMt8TEVtHStEjYDEi7iG7nA6r16w6sqPLyFtHCzGUgeajx7Cbtbom_GI1Q_xc1cTBQWmSs5l0RYkOm6zLFJ75naOuhP3iSragF5O5EUDrU/s1600/annaliese+and+puppy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVVLQvH4Vhaj47pd04eEHaLIjMOUvo8-zAWNdMt8TEVtHStEjYDEi7iG7nA6r16w6sqPLyFtHCzGUgeajx7Cbtbom_GI1Q_xc1cTBQWmSs5l0RYkOm6zLFJ75naOuhP3iSragF5O5EUDrU/s320/annaliese+and+puppy.jpg" /></a>Nothing beats having a good kid dog. We are lucky to have the sweetest, dumber than a rock puppy named Diego who loves nothing in the world than following my little children. He would do anything for them I know it. Diego was getting a little lonely because our sixteen year old Aussie died last fall (more on that later) and he needed some company so he would quit running off to the headquarters to play with the blue tick hound so we bought him a girlfriend. She is precious. She is a red Australian Shepherd with beautiful green eyes and we named her Chispa, which means 'spark' in spanish. (or so I've been told b/c I don't speak spanish....yet). But deep down, I am a cat person. If I'm ever left alone to my own devices in my old age I will be the hometown 'catlady'. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Unfortunately, now my cats are disappearing or I guess <em>have</em> officially disappeared. These are not house cats so don't pull out the tissue yet and I was the only who even knew their names. They were recycled versions of four generations of barn cats without a barn. They lived in the pasture, underneath the broken down jeep or in my garden. They wouldn't let me tame them or pet them unless they were in labor with kittens. Isn't that weird? I fed them everyday, much to the chagrin of my husband who thought I was ruining them. I tried to explain that there wasn't much more ruining you could do because if you can't love on them and talk baby talk to them or buy them sparkly collars, they were pretty much useless to me. I'm not even sure they hunted or kept away the snakes. I guess we'll find now out won't we? Because they're all gone.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>The evidence was left in the middle of the dirt road going up to our house. Daisy had met a bad end but made a coyotes dinner. Tom disappeared entirely. Bob was run over and left her kittens underneath a catclaw bush for me to try my luck with. I can't even begin to tempt them up to the house. I hear a big owl at night trying to find them as well. So now this is exactly what I need. I go out every night with my flashlight and a bowl of cat food and try my best to get these kittens out of the catclaw so they will eat and not be eaten. As if I don't have enough to worry about.Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1232806554906437307.post-80425888774029491672010-09-06T10:41:00.000-07:002010-09-06T10:41:56.967-07:00Sewing together your past<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEistVNBAw_vYRk8XoyLjbUhVxKT1tbZuGQdEhSx7EJiAsIixUwpnQ1kgOQFlN9h-JUqgzu0asaBg7AoZYNkBGo7OHc_gHtg4NfsZ1oGnB-bfsKD79oS1JBThP6AN7q2oW9dQgc1HAwPZIqF/s1600/Robert+Addie+Daisy+Temple+Edgar+Kirkpatrick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEistVNBAw_vYRk8XoyLjbUhVxKT1tbZuGQdEhSx7EJiAsIixUwpnQ1kgOQFlN9h-JUqgzu0asaBg7AoZYNkBGo7OHc_gHtg4NfsZ1oGnB-bfsKD79oS1JBThP6AN7q2oW9dQgc1HAwPZIqF/s320/Robert+Addie+Daisy+Temple+Edgar+Kirkpatrick.jpg" width="232" /></a></div><br />
One of the many things that kept me busy this summer was trying to finish up the genealogy projects I started a year or so ago. I am from a long line of history nerds so when I got bit by the genealogy bug it became almost an obsession. Seriously, it’s almost what we Christians call a ‘stronghold’. I don’t fit the typical demographic for this hobby, so most of the people I can share this addiction with are over fifty years old. I call it my old people sport. We trade emails and secrets and mutually feel sorry for our neglected family members who barely tolerate our habits. I’ve met some really neat people through this hobby. <br />
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Unfortunately, my research is limited to what I can find on the internet. It would be nice to travel around the U.S. looking for documents and taking pictures of old headstones, but as of now I have to rely on the research that others have done. I was surprised at the massive amount of information that is readily available online.<br />
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I originally started my husband and my combined family tree so that someday my three small children would know their family history. My husband’s maternal tree was relatively easy because he comes from a well documented and historically interesting old Texas family. Through Ancestry.com I was able to piece together his history relatively quickly. However, there were huge missing links in my own tree and his paternal family tree, some of which I may never find. It goes with being rural, migratory and poor. It’s very discouraging to not be able to find the missing pieces of the puzzle.<br />
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This is what it’s like for African Americans who try to sew together the fabric of their history. Most of us, if we know what we’re doing, can trace our family tree back to the early 1700’s or earlier. African Americans can barely trace their families back to the late 1800’s, if that. While slavery existed Africans and mulattos were listed only as first names on ledgers of inventory, not allowed to marry, attend churches and not documented when they died. It didn’t get much better during Reconstruction, especially in the southern states. What little information came by way of Census records in the later years of the nineteenth century. That is while oral family history is so important to African American researchers. <br />
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While on my family search I had the misfortune of viewing many, many family documents online which list slave ledgers, wills and estate documents of my family. This was invaluable for my family research as far as documenting names and dates of my family members, but it was a cruel reminder that I am a by product of a slave holding legacy. And as one who is interested in African American history and the origins of slavery, it is ironic and painful for me that one of the progenitors of my American family was a man who brought the first Africans to the New World.<br />
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I realize that I am not responsible for the sins of my forefathers any more than I’m responsible for the transgressions of my parents or grandparents, but it was lesson for me. What does it mean to be an American? I think all of us carry the collective history of our forefathers. None of really know who we are. So as much as we think we are one color or nationality, we can always be surprised and educated by our past. <br />
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My search for my ancestors made me both sad and proud to be American. For me it meant that I am the slave and the slave owner, the Native American and the Indian Scout, the pilgrim and the unwanted immigrant, the land owner and the sharecropper, the sinner and the circuit riding preacher, a culmination of the hope and tragedy of the history of the New World. I am an American. My tapestry is colorful, torn, ragged and valuable and whether we are black, Hispanic, Asian, Indian or Anglo we can all say the same of the garments we carry.Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13810349825531375139noreply@blogger.com0