Wined and Dined....

This is Stan Wines. He's a great man. His wife (Catherine) and he live out in the sticks. They are some of my favorite people in the world. Either of them would give you the last crumb of bread they had, the shirt off their backs, or any time they had to spare. They are just some of the absolute best Christians I know. They are the ones that show up on the widow's door when I don't. And the ones to take in the stray puppies. And turn them into masterfully obedient dogs. They are the ones that will be there when times get tough. Really. No fair-weather friends here. Just magnificent people! They are great fun to be around, too.

This is Stan's truck (white, of course). He logs land (one of many skills and jobs). Sometimes he gets (ahem)... "scraps". Yesterday, Stan brought me some "scraps" from a job. I couldn't have been more giddy. Really. Seriously.Now, Stan is lifting TREES with his toy. I mean, truck. Entire trees. Multiples at once.

This is what the truck looked like when he came. A wee bonnie load. Yup. HUGE! I about died. In a good way.

After it was unloaded, it looked like this. Please note the size of the COW, fence (4'), and boys in the pictures. This is a huge pile of "scraps". So, we spent the rest of the afternoon trying to keep up with Stan and his saw. Me and the girls would load and stack the wood after Stan sliced it off the pile (like butter), and Dakota split it. Dakota did a great job splitting. I was very happy he could do that for us. We were tired at the end of the day...and not much of the pile is gone!! We have much more work to do!
So, once it was unloaded, Stan loaded his truck. I've always wondered how they get the back half onto the front half. Logically, they pick it up and put it there.... duh. I should've figured.

And after all that work, we ate. Like pigs. We had a full dinner (the first real one we've had in weeks due to traveling), and a nice dessert of peach crisp with vanilla ice cream. Stan stayed to tell us all some stories. I tell you, he's a MASTER story teller. He has us all on the edge of our seats waiting for the story's next detail. And then we all laugh until we cry, pee or choke! It's so much fun!!! I slept well last night...heart, mind and tummy all at ease. I love that. Thanks Stan and Catherine. I appreciate all you do!

You can't take your eyes off it, can you?

As a mother, I can point out the very nice hair on this little guy. I can point out how clean he is (after his bath). I can even try to distract you with the nasty white marks on my bookshelf that our dadgum vacuum leaves when we rub against it. But, no matter what I try to point out...you keep lookin' at this little guy's search for buried treasure, don't you??
And, as a mother, you have a strong impulse to go fix it that you're trying to repress. You want to sneak up quietly and pull that finger out, and wipe it down with a handiwipe. You do. I feel it.

But, you can't.

Yes, even she knows the urge is there. She also knows how WRONG this is to a mother's psyche. She can't help but laugh hard as the poor, sleepy little cherub snoozes blissfully unaware of where he left is finger.

I'll bet you're snickerin', too, aren't you??? We really can't "pick on him", now can we? He's little and innocent, and has NO clue what is up that little tunnel on his face. NO clue.

And he has no idea I'll show this sweet little picture to his girlfriend someday, either. Shhh...Ellie....Don't tell!

Buddy, can you spare a dime?

With all these little ones, there is no way I could afford to pay allowance. I've always been against getting paid just to exist. I also think regular stuff should just be done, and not paid for. So, around here they have regular chores that are done daily. No pay for that (unless you count good food, nice sleeping arrangements, clean clothes, etc.).

But then there's other work that needs done. Hard work for little hands. We have weeds. Quite a few have cropped up in our new garden area by the barn.

So I hatched a plan... they want money, I want fewer weeds. So, I got a few buckets out. And gave them a visual (for motiviation, right?)... I have this coin machine that I feed frequently after grocery shopping. It's really cool, actually. I've rolled lots of change over the past couple of years. So, the children picked a bucket's worth of weeds for $1. I had $40 in change, so I thought this would be win-win. I didn't mind getting rid of some pennies, nickles, and dimes.

This is what they did! I'm impressed!

And, I'm out $20!!

A Girl and her Horse...

What is it about us girls and horses? I was horse crazy as a child. I knew everything there was to know about Man O War, Kentucky Derby, Triple Crowns, etc. I went to polo shows with my mom in the summer...eating cheese and crackers, and watching the Ladies in their summer hats glide by me. I wanted to be a Lady, too. But, the Ladies didn't ride. They watched. I wanted to run in the summer fields as fast as the horse could go. Someday I will.

My girls are horse crazy, too. Finally, summer has sprung in our house (looonnnnggg school year!) which means freedom to PLAY! J loves this. We appreciate Sister B teaching my girls how to ride. She's a great teacher. Many of her students took prizes at the local fair, which is nice. So, we're beginning training into a wonderful world of freedom. And manure. And blue jeans, boots, and did I mention FREEDOM?

After the lesson comes the love. The time to care for your horse, and let them know you appreciated their time. This is where the heart gets tied to the sport.

She's got it down.

It's just a gentle way of life...standing there slowly brushing off the steed. Love that.

COWBOY LOGIC

Three strangers strike up a conversation in the airport passenger lounge in Bozeman , Montana , awaiting their flights. One is an American Indian passing through from Lame Deer. Another is a Cowboy on his way to Billings for a livestock show, and the third passenger is a fundamentalist Arab student, newly arrived at Montana State University from the Middle East .

Their discussion drifts to their diverse cultures. Soon, the two Westerners learn that the Arab is a devout, radical Muslim and the conversation falls into an uneasy lull. The wind outside is blowing tumbleweeds around and the old windsock is flapping; but still no plane comes. The cowboy leans back in his chair, crosses his boots on a magazine table and tips his big sweat-stained Stetson forward over his face.

Finally, the American Indian clears his throat and softly he speaks, "At one time here, my people were many, but sadly, now we are few." The Muslim student raises an eyebrow and leans forward, "Once my people were few," he sneers, "and now we are many. Why do you suppose that is?" The Montana cowboy shifts a toothpick to one side of his mouth and from the darkness beneath his Stetson says in a drawl, "That's 'cause we ain't played Cowboys and Muslims yet, but I do believe it's a comin'..."