Do You See What I See?

Last Tuesday DD's life was changed forever. According to her, it will never be the same. What on earth could possibly cause such terror in a teenage girl? Well, at 14, it doesn't take much.

The news came in the form of a phone call. THE phone call.

Cue the sinister music:

Her glasses were ready to be picked up. Oh the wailing that ensued, "Noooooooooo!".

For some time now, she has been complaining about headaches and about her eyes aching when she reads for more than 10 minutes. This kids is a voracious reader. She is currently reading everything by Sherlock Holmes. So I made an appointment and had to drag her to Dr. Greg. After all the lights had been shone, the air had been blown and the charts had been read, he reached a conclusion and she received the dreaded news:

"Let's get you some glasses."

Oh the horror of it all! How unfair! (Remember that DD is 14 ~ everything is accompanied by a bit of drama)

She shuffled to the large display and began her search for her frames reluctantly.















Very reluctantly.



I only added to her grief by snapping a couple of pictures, "M-o-o-o-m-m-m-!"Hey, I'm a scrapbooker! These monumental moments should be documented. I don't think it will cause any permanent damage.








Hey, she actually found a pair that she liked! And they look wonderful! See, you've got good taste kiddo!




What do you see?

No, you do not look like a nerd (although most of them are pretty smart and people just call them that because they're jealous).

No, you do not look like a bookworm (although you are one).


No, you do not look like a scientist (although, what's wrong with that?)



Wish you could see what I see.

I see the beautiful, smart, funny, talented girl that you are and now you can read to your heart's content and give those beautiful eyes a rest.

Cowboy Days and Musician Nights

Our son plays the guitar and he's unearthed a musical ability that seems to have eluded his Mom and Dad. His sister plays a mean piano too.

This week he had 2 Christmas Jamborees. Monday was Jamboree #1. It made for a late night as wherever 2 or more musicians gather, music shall be played until the wee hours of the morning or in the case of school age musicians, their parents begin dragging them out the door.

Alas, we were scheduled to work those heifers I wrote about yesterday and those wee hours of the musician's morning were butting heads with the wee hours of the cowboy's morning.

Then enter Jamboree #2 on Tuesday evening. Can we say tired?

Here is David introducing DS and bragging on him. He's only been playing a year and although I think he has incredible talent (of course), it's really neat to hear other people recognize that. DS played some awesome improvisation solos. It's fun to watch his fingers fly over the frets and strings.

The past-bedtime hour was worth it. Two very cool nights of good music. DS's guitar teacher is just phenominal. His passion for music is contagious and he is extraordinarily talented. He teaches not only guitar (acustic, electric, classical, jazz, bass) but drums, piano, fiddle, mandolin and voice. I love it when someone is passionate about what they do for a living.

So the kids just played their hearts out. They played solos and duets and trios and quartets. DD played "Little Drummer Boy" on the piano as a duet with DS and although they bicker when they play at home, they both played harmoniously and were both very pleased with one another. For the quartet, they chose "Angels We Have Heard on High" and it was magical. Yes, he is my kid. Yes, music makes me cry. But it was still just beautiful to hear the 4 different parts come together so sweetly.

For some reason, DS looks mad when he plays. In every picture I snap he looks like he's not having any fun ~ until this one: Ahhh ~ there's a smile!

I guess he's just concentrating ~ way to focus kid! We'll gladly keep balancing those musician nights with those cowboy days. You just keep on strumming!

Vaccinating Heifers and Longing to Go Back to Bed

First off, let me apologize for the quality (or lack thereof) of these photos today. I think my camera is dying a slow death. Then again, the fuzzy spot may simply represent my present state of mind which is quite unclear at the moment.

I think I need to go back to bed.

Tuesday morning started at 4:30. I reluctantly stumbled out from under our flannel quilt and faced the cold, unfriendly kitchen. I rummaged about for the bacon, fumbled for the coffee and sighed when the coffee began to drip to the floor because I had neglected to replace the pot under the spigot. Sigh.

Can I please go back to bed?

Somewhere in the fog that is my mind, I realized that I should probably get dressed before the crew comes jingling in the door in search of a hot breakfast. That took me back to the bedroom where that flannel quilt was mocking me.

Can I please go back to bed?

Doesn't it seem to you that everyone is extremely chipper on mornings when you are not? Sigh.

This morning's agenda consisted of Bang's vaccinating the heifers here at headquarters. We also had to spend the rest of the day in town so I rushed around getting the kitchen cleaned up after breakfast and started dinner before loading the truck with the water bottles (the water here is just plain horrible so we have to haul it from town ~ sure do miss that mountain spring water!) and various asundry.

The sunshine promised to lift my mood and I was loath to head back inside so I grabbed my camera (surprise ~ surprise!) and trotted towards the fun. The crew had already gathered the heifers (a heifer is a young female calf that has not yet given birth) and were waiting for the vet to arrive. Finding themselves with some downtime, they shared stories (cowboys are voracious storytellers) and were entertained by Clint's bag of rope tricks. This is one talented cowboy folks. Not only is he good with a rope ~ he's got a voice that will knock you out, he can tell stories that will make you spew your tea across the table, he's a very talented guitar player, he's wicked smart and he's a heck of a hand with a horse. Sorry ladies ~ he's married to the coolest gal!


Suddenly everyone else wants to get in on the action:

Notice Clint's stance and skeptical expression. He doesn't hold much confidence in their abilities. Looks like they'll need a bit more practice:

How's that go again?

At this point, my cookly-duties called and I had to scamper back to the house and get dessert in the oven. My dessert loving crew would never forgive me if they had to go without.

I hurridly peel apples, mix the topping and pop it into the oven, glance longingly at the unmade bed and make my way back out to the pens. I can hear the cattle bawling in protest as they are herded through the alley and arrive to find my handsome cowboy working the chute. It takes some finesse and timing in order to make all those levers do what you want them to do. I do not possess either the timing or finesse. They open when I want them to close and they squeeze when I want them to release. Behind the camera is a good place for me to be.

DH gives a shot of Bovishield which is a vaccination for 7 different maladies ~don't ask me which 7 ~ IBR (Infectious Bovine Rhinotracheitis) and 6 something or others.


Clint sprays them with that purple stuff ~ it's called Cydectin and it protects against a broad spectrum of internal parasites and eternal parasites including the Ostertagia Ostertagi or more commonly known as the the brown stomach worm. Eww!

Then they receive a brand on their hip...

While the vet gives them a Bang's (guards against Brucellosis ~ a bacterial disease that can cause the cow to abort her calf ) vaccination, a tatoo and an ear tag on the other side of the chute:

Behind the scenes, Grandpa and Dave bring up small bunches of heifers and let them mosey into the chute. We don't work our cattle fast and furious. We are easy with them and try to keep the stress to a minimum. They bawl a lot, but 3 minutes later they are happy as clams. They're a lot like children.

Here's DD manning the alley. She nudges the reluctant youngsters towards the chute:

Here are DD and DS working the gate. They make a pretty good team when they forget that they are siblings, teenagers, in the midst of adolescence and are just part of the crew:

It's been a long day. Can I go back to bed now?

My Therapy

I love my life so I really have no need for therapy. Well that probably depends on who you ask! Ok, so I may be a bit odd, but hey, I'm an original! So anyway, I was feeling bloggers guilt (a friend clued me in on the fact that there is such a thing ~ who knew? Apparently it is contagious and I am inflicted.)about neglecting my blog and thought I should let y'all know where I've been. Besides the 4-H Banquet:

New Officers:

Part of the shooting sports team and the coaches:

I've been on a scrapping roll. I LOVE scrapbooking and yes, I am addicted. It is a sickness. I have always been drawn to photography so scrapbooking just seemed like a natural extension of that. And it truly is an addiction. I don't have a lot of time to devote to it, but this weekend I indulged myself. The boys went pheasant hunting and I played with paper ~ lots of paper. We won't go into how much.

I don't have a dedicated space although I do have a closet to stash my supplies. Funny thing though ~ scrapbooking supplies have a tendancy to multiply and they have a mind of their own. My addiction has outgrown the closet and tape runner and embellishments have run amuck. I like to scrap in the living room in the evening and although I watch very little television, I enjoy watching a good movie with my family when I am scrapping. Alas, this makes for a messy living room. Scrapping is not for the immaculate-minded soul. However, it is good for my soul.

I love recording our daily lives. I don't know whether anyone else will ever be interested in it, but I do know that I would give anything to have scrapbooks from my grandparents and parents. Scrapbooks that give me an insight into their souls and help me to understand who they were and are. I think people's lives are fascinating and everyone has a story to tell. I am presently working on DD's 10 year album (yes, she is 14). I get such a sense of accomplishment when I slip the page protector onto a completed page! My pages are not very artistic. I tend to keep them simple. For me, that keeps the focus on the pictures and story. I love patterned paper, but struggle with actually incorporating it on my pages. Here are a few recent pages:

And in answer to the obvious scrappers question: No, I am not caught up, but my joy lies in the creating and the journey. It simply makes me happy and it's what I do for me. Maybe I never grew up and subconsciously I am still a kindergartener at heart. There is something very comforting about playing with paper and adhesive and pictures and recording our stories. It is my therapy.