I'm not compaining, I'm just say'n....................

My husband came back from a week of ‘meetings’ at some ranch in northern New Mexico, followed by a few days of scoping out hunting spots in the cool mountains of Colorado. He brought me back a shirt.

He was so super excited about my ‘surprise’ and how it was my favorite color (green) and had that hunting resort logo on it. I played along and made a big deal out of it. It was a nice shirt.

What I did not play along with, was the taste of freeze dried ice cream sandwiches. Brandon went on and on about how they tasted just like a regular ice cream sandwich. Well, they don’t. They are gross, and do not let any male convince you otherwise. Not everything that comes from Cabella’s is wonderful, and certainly not freeze dried ice cream sandwiches. I don’t even know what possessed him to buy one. I guess he was trying them out to maybe take hunting in Colorado. He would’ve been better off with a can of Vienne sausages.

The ice cream sandwich is just one of the many things he came home with in Cabella bags. And I don’t know how I can stress enough that I don’t think it makes a flying fish difference if arrows have two pink and one yellow fin or two yellow and one pink fin. However, this was debated upon for at least fifteen minutes in his head before he finally went with two green and one yellow. I’m sure it will make all the difference in the world.

I love that he has his hobbies and gets so wrapped up in them. My dining room has somehow turned into an archery shop, but whatever. We usually eat on the couch in front of the TV anyway. We tried that whole eating at the dining room table thing a couple times when we were first married, but I think it’s more cut out for more than two people. Conversation can be exhausting.

I’ve decided to just wait until after his bow hunting trip in September to try organizing his hunting gear so it’s a little less out in the open. I know, though, that it will only then turn into Texas whitetail and mule deer season.  So I guess I’m really looking at setting my hopes for getting the Christmas stuff out and putting the hunting stuff up. Until then, my house will be the one with archery targets in the front yard. You can’t miss it.

This picture and the one above is from Rusty's field in Meadow.

I think Brandon has daydreams about them now.

The Help....

My definition of a great movie is one that makes you laugh, cry, feel sad, feel happy, and leaves you walking away with a good, warm feeling in your heart. The Help is just that kind of movie. I wish I would’ve read the book, but of course, I didn’t. I’m sure it is even more amazing. Thankfully, though, for people like me who do not read as much as I should, they make good movies like this.

It was refreshing to flee the completely ridiculous and obnoxious reality shows that now consume television and enter into a screen of true reality. Although it was based decades ago, it hits home on the life lessons that ring true to this day, and everyday from now on. Where the main characters are not rich brats famous for their false looks and immaturity, but rather hard-working women with common sense and hearts of gold.  

It tells of friendship, family and the importance of the truth, all that seem to be easily looked over by common day television, and unfortunately, many common day people. The main thing, however, is that this movie leaves you wanting to be good. Good to your momma, good to your friends, good to your waiter at Chili’s, good to the lady checking you out at Wal-Mart, just plain good in general. So go see it! It’ll do ya good.

What do you call that stuff? Rain?

This is Brandon's pride and joy. You may notice that even after our engagement and

wedding photos, this remains his Facebook profile pic. I try not to take it personal. 

You know when you are at the casino and you hear those bells ding, ding, dinging, and lights flashing and you cut your eyes over and think “Dang it, I knew I should’ve sat down at that machine instead of this piece of junk.” And you smile and clap like you are happy for that person when deep down inside you just wish it was you. Well, I was finally that center of envy.

I’m usually the one that sits with shaking hands as I feed $20 into a machine thinking of how many gallons of milk and boxes of fruity pebbles it could buy and choking back tears as I watch the number under ‘credits’ dwindle down to big fat 0. While my dad, on the other hand, laughs and jokes as he places green chips on the blackjack table like they were Monopoly money.

But, like I said, I finally hit a lick, and I scrame and bounced up and down in my seat, and it felt good. Real good.

Most of all though, we got to see RAIN. Like the real wet kind that falls out of the sky and actually covers the entire ground. Riggin didn’t know what to think of it. Pretty much the closest thing to that he’s ever seen has come out of a water sprinkler. And it smelt SO good. Couple that with 50 degree nights and it will make a person quit their good job and become a car-hop at Sonic just to live in Ruidoso, and don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind.

But we did come back home, watching the temperature reading in the car go up number by number until it finally reached 104 and we realized we were home sweet home. I picked a tub full of squash hurried and started laundry because Brandon’s leaving this morning for a full week of meetings at some nice ranch in Raton, New Mexico, then on up to scope out hunting areas in Colorado. I know, he sucks.

So here I was ironing at 9 last night, thinking to myself how I should start a Facebook fan page titled “I hate ironing my husband’s fishing shirts,” when I see Brandon walk into the kitchen with all his backpacking hunting gear on. It reminded me of Ryder, when he gets in cowboy or pirate mode and must dress in full character. He walked back down the hall, then back outside, I have no clue, I guess he was just breaking it in. I didn’t even ask. Kinda like when I drove up the other day and there was a camping tent fully set up in our front yard. Or when the Fedex man kept showing up at my door last week with packages from places like Outdoor Outlet. Apparently Elk hunting requires more accessories than senior prom, so like I said, I’ve quit asking.

Cutie, Patuties........

Calving season has begun, and oddly enough it seems as if a lot of our friends are ‘calving’ as well. Either way, cattle or kiddos, it is a season of long days, longer nights, and lots of cuteness. Kinda like the cutie above. Miss Braxie Sloan, little baby to proud parents Marti Kay and Bryan Albus. Pretty stink’n adorable, huh.

So whether it’s cute white-faced Herefords, brockle-faced crosses, or dark headed baby girls, you better believe our camera’s are about to get a work out.  

 

These two are of Riggs, in his tiny days.