I Think My Ass is Bipolar...

Woooweee!  It's been a while y'all! 

It's not that I haven't had anything useful or brilliant to say, I've just been really busy.  Well, maybe not THAT busy.  But busy enough. 

I've managed to check a few things off of my summer "To Do" list.  I still have 723 things left but I think I'm entitled to a little break having completed, like, 2 things!  Right? 

Anyway, I've spent the last few weeks hiding in a dark corner, under a blanket, sucking my thumb.  You see, I showed my ass "Ms. Emma" in a donkey & mule show here in my home town a few weeks ago.  I was just certain that we were gonna kick some serious ass at this show!  We've worked really hard over the past few weeks and made (what I consider) some real progress.  Emma decided that she could actually trot a few circles without freaking out at random trees, rocks, butterflies, leaves, etc...  She also decided she could back up a few steps if I asked really nicely (while digging my spurs deep into the soft flesh of her belly).  We worked on trail patterns, side passing, walking over bridges and poles.  We practiced 360's and 180's, pole bending and straight away barrels.  We had heart to heart talks and a few "Come to Jesus" meetings.  We went on long, relaxing trail rides, crossed creeks and navigated gullies and washouts.  I thought we had it!  We had finally worked out some of the kinks!  But guess what?  I was WRONG! 

You know how you study really, really hard for an important test and when test day finally comes, you sit down with your freshly sharpened pencil, feeling all prepared and just a tad bit cocky and self-righteous.  Only when you look down at the test you studied so hard for...it might as well be written in Japanese?!?  And then your whole world starts to unravel.  And you say to yourself "What the hell? I studied so hard!  I knew this crap yesterday!"  Yeah, that's kinda what happens to Emma and I on show day.  Everything falls apart.  In extra slow motion.  Only we have an audience. Friends and family.  Watching.  Waiting.  Wondering.  It was like that damn donkey forgot EVERYTHING we had ever worked on!  Forget backing up or 360's!  She wouldn't even walk forward!  Spooky stuff was everywhere!  Puddles of water on the ground, shadows, bales of hay in the alley, water hoses, shadows, dirt.  And shadows.  And ceiling fans.  The ceiling fans made shadows.  Moving shadows.  The ceiling fan shadows pushed her right over the edge.  So let's just say that the whole "We're gonna kick ass at this show!" idea came to a screeching halt.  In order to kick ass at a show it is necessary to actually get your animal into the arena.  Minor detail. 

So after the first couple of attempts (and subsequent failures) to complete a class, Emma and I tucked our tails and spooked our way back to the stall.  We quit.  Cut bait.  Gave up.  Called it a day.  There is only so much humiliation a girl can take, right?

The show wasn't a complete wash though!  The kids did great! 

Garrett won reserve champion with his little donkey, Amelia.  Heather & Hannah both did awesome with their minis and big donkey, Dainti.  Dana (my stepmom) won reserve champion.  They all came home with pockets full of cash and shiny new buckles!  And I came home with renewed determination to kick my ass' ass into high gear. One of these days Emma and I will come home with a pocket full of cash and a shiny new belt buckle!  We might both be old and grey, but it will happen!  But first I need to score some donkey lithium.  And perhaps a little Valium.  For both of us.

Keep it real, y'all.

Attention span of a fruit fly (on a GOOD day)

I've never considered myself a morning person.  I'm very lazy by nature and, given the opportunity, I will sit around in my pajamas all day napping, eating, and watching Law & Order reruns.  But alas, that NEVER happens.  After I drop the chillens off at school in the mornings I head for the barn.  I start by taking blankets off of the donkeys if it's warm enough outside, turning them out in the pasture and then cleaning the stalls.  Sounds straight forward, right?  Should probably take a maximum of 45 minutes, right?  For a normal person with a normal attention span that would be true.  However, I get distracted by the least little thing.  (Especially it it's shiney!) 



For example;

I walked into the barn after turning all the donkeys out and noticed a piece of chain laying on the ground.

I thought to myself, "I could do something really crafty with that chain!"

So I stood there a while looking around, trying to decide what to do with the damn chain.

While looking around I noticed there were some halters that were not hung up properly.  (Keep in mind we have 6 donkeys and 2 horses, yet we have 726 halters and 658 lead ropes.  Go figure)

I spent the next 20 minutes hanging up halters and lead ropes, arranged by size and color, spaced evenly, ropes all hanging level.



I finished that up and started cleaning stalls.  BUT.  I noticed that the winter blankets were all jumbled up and looked like a hot mess.  The next 45 minutes were spent hanging blankets (arranged by size and color), evenly spaced and all facing the same direction.

Back to cleaning stalls.  I actually finished 2 stalls, went to dump the muck bucket, and noticed there were several rakes, shovels, and post hole diggers leaning against the side of the barn.  A light bulb went of in my feeble little brain!  I remembered seeing this brilliant piece of art on Pinterest:

Eureka!

Pallets!

So I spent the next hour and a half digging pallets out of the burn pile.  Then I gathered up every rake, shovel, t-post, broom, hot shot, 2 x 4, and straight stick in a 2 mile radius and made a beautiful tool display right outside the barn door.

(*on a side note:  while digging pallets out of the burn pile, I nearly ran my dad's tractor off in a big ol' hole.  My life flashed before my eyes.  Luckily my cat-like reflexes kicked in and disaster was averted.  This time).

So finally, 3 1/2 hours after I arrived to perform a 45 minute task, I headed back home just in time to jump in the shower, hop back in the truck, haul ass across town, and slide sideways into the parking lot at Weight Watchers...only to learn that I lost a grand total of 2 ounces over the last 2 weeks. 



But considering we spent 3 days at the San Antonio Livestock Show eating fair food, I'm pretty excited that I didn't gain 75 pounds. 

Damn corndogs. 



And funnel cake. 

And beer.



So I'll count my blessings and be thankful that 

1.  I didn't run my dad's tractor off in the big ol' hole.

2.  I not only didn't gain weight, but actually lost 2 ounces!

3. 

Take it easy y'all!  Keep all 4 tractor wheels on the ground and find

something to repurpose or recycle today!

I have a lot to say...

Let me preface this whole blogging thing by posting a few disclaimers:

1.  I type just like I talk.  Which ain't good.  I want so badly to be a grammar snob, but that would be completely ridiculous.  I end almost every sentence with a preposition.  So prepare yourself.

Example:

(Me) "Hey there!  Where y'all from?"

(Correct sentence structure) "Hey there!  Where y'all from, bitch?"

(Shout out to Designing Women)

See what I mean?  I'm 40 years old.  I give up on good grammar.  But I'll damn sure criticize somebody else's!  Because I like to be helpful.

2.  I love Jesus.  But I have a potty mouth like nobody's business.  So I apologize in advance for the fifty-eleven times I will offend folks with my language.  Okie dokie?



3.  I'm a redneck.  My children are little rednecks.  My parents are rednecks.  (My mom will never, ever, admit to this, but she is).  My brother is a redneck.  My husband is a work in progress. 

4.  I am a pillar of strengh and good judgement.  Except I'm not.  So.  There's that.

                   

I'm a "stay at home mom".  And by "stay at home mom" what I really mean is:  I don't have a paying job.  Well, not really anyway.  I take a few pictures for folks every now and again.  But I have approval issues.  Which means I never really want to charge anyone for work that I do, I just want them to be happy and like me and tell me what a wonderful photographer I am and validate my existance.  Which can certainly be a problem when your trying to make a living as a photographer.  So what generally happens is someone (usually friends or family) calls me up and says "Hey D'Anna!  I need some family pictures taken!  How much do you charge?"  To which my response is usually "Oh don't be silly!  I'll do it for you for free!  After all, what are family/friends for?".  And I spend the next week or so painstakingly editing photos (whitening teeth, reducing double chins, smoothing out skin tone, etc...), and the whole time I'm cursing myself for not charging at least a little bit for the hours of work I put in to this enormous project.  But anyway.  I'm working on that.  Maybe by the time I'm too old and weak to hold up a camera I'll be able to put a price tag on my work.  But probably not.  I'll more than likely still be searching for that allusive approval...

So here are my objectives for this blog (as of this minute...but which may change by the time I get through typing - because I'm fickle - and change my mind every thirty seconds or so).

1.  I have a lot to say.  But I spend the biggest part of every day alone, or with my donkeys, dogs and goat and they are not very good listeners.  By blogging, I can spill it.  Say everything I need to say.  And pretend that tens of readers are riveted to my every word.

2.  I have lots of opinions.  And I like to share them.  And (as of this moment) no one can slap me through a computer screen.

3.  Provide useless information.  I like to turn junk into useful objects.  I love wooden pallets, empty buckets, milk jugs, bailing twine, feed sacks, etc...  I could totally build a mansion with pallets and zip ties.  I would like to provide a forum for other junk junkies out there to share their brilliant ideas.

4.  Brag about my kids.  Please don't tell them I said so, but I have two pretty brilliant, tallented, super-cute boys.  The oldest is a surly teenager who thinks his parents are morons.  He also plays a mean fiddle (which he mistakingly calls a "violin") and does pretty darn good in school.  He's a city boy.  He stays as far away as possible from anything remotely agricultural or country.  I'll fix him eventually.  The youngest boy is a redneck.  But he tries so hard to be ghetto.  He wants a gold tooth really, really bad.  Asks for one daily.  He listens to rap music.  He also shows donkeys.  So I think the two cancel each other out.  How hardcore gangsta can you be when you spend your weekends riding a jackass?

5.  Complain about my husband.  Josh is pretty perfect.  He's quirky.  And corny.  And sometimes a little high maintenence.  He can't pull a horse trailer or drive a stick shift.  He refuses to read directions.  Ever.  But otherwise, just an overall incredible human being.  And he's smart.  Crazy smart.  Which is good.  Because I can't add, subtract, or spell.



That's all for now, yo.  I gotta go play with my donkeys.  Make it a worth while day!