It’s been quite the weekend for new stuff. I didn’t set out to have a shop-fest; it just worked out that way.

Friday: Tires. Woohoo. I got street tires instead of all-terrain this time because they should last longer. I’m tired of having to replace tires every 30,000 miles, which is just about every year. Looks just aren’t that important to me any more. If they were, surely I’d wash the truck more often, and maybe fix that dent.

Sunday: A bike. I took John up to pick out his birthday present. He liked the red one at first, until I pointed out that it was a hundred dollars more than the one next to it. So he said that one was fine and took it. He didn’t want to shop more. That’s my boy! Also a shiny new helmet to go with the bike compliments of Cowboy.

Monday: A BBQ. I’m tired of not grilling because it’s such a pain to get the charcoal started. I used to have a gas grill, but it was a hand-me-down from my ex-husband and completely fell apart. It needs to go to the dump; it’s not safe anymore, and I haven’t used it for a couple of years. I like my eyebrows where they are.

I’d been watching the ads somewhat, but I finally had enough after grilling salmon on the little Ge0rge F0reman in three shifts last night. That thing does a nice job, but it’s too small and a pain to clean.

So I got a nice grill with a side burner this evening. I didn’t need the burner, but the one without it was just too small. It looks all shiny and happy, and I’m looking forward to breaking it in.

Today, I also finally finished my antlers project. The leather at the top of the mount was really hard to get on neatly. Now I know why the taxidermists command the big bucks. I really enjoyed the project though, and I can see trying some more someday. Seems like a logical way to combine my hunting hobby with my sewing one. Or else quilting a gun cozy, but that’s not going to be happening.

My mom and dad came down to have lunch with John for his birthday, only we got our signals crossed and they didn’t want lunch after all. So I’m stuck with a couple of pizzas, which I’m not supposed to be eating. They hadn’t been here for a while, and hadn’t yet seen the trailer that I bought in October. So I showed it off, and Dad was duly impressed. He thought the last one was a little ridiculous, and thinks it’s very funny that we’re going to make a car trailer out of it.

Yes, the old trailer was old and run down, but it was one of the first things that I owned outright all by myself, and I sure did get my money out of that thing. It used to belong to my landlord/hunting buddy, and I used it too. Then Jeff bought it, and I used it then. Then Jeff needed to scrape up some cash quickly for a down payment on a house, and I bought it. It’s been mine for a couple of years, and I could look past the dry-rot just fine. Well, it was more like looking right through the dry rot, but it didn’t leak anywhere important. I got two more good seasons out of it, and used it a ton. Everything worked in it, except a water pump that I replaced myself. But man, was it ugly.

It used to be parked in the driveway when my landlord lived here, and I’m sure the neighbors all breathed a sigh of relief when he took it with him. They were certainly horrified to see it come back two years later. But I loved it and didn’t like to hear it get laughed at. My friends knew better, since they got to use it too.

This new trailer (well, a ’95 model) is everything that the old one wasn’t. It did leak around the front window the first time I took it out, but I fixed that. It has an air conditioner, a microwave, and a shower that I can actually fit in. Of course, since I don’t have a generator, some of that stuff is a little silly, but I always thought it might come in handy at rodeos. Well, until Cowboy went and bought that shiny new horse trailer. But guess where the kids are sleeping when my sister comes to town next week?

Speaking of Cowboy, he took that trailer on its maiden voyage this weekend. They did well at Chico, and made some money at the Potter Valley roping, but he missed his steer at the Potter Valley rodeo. Chris may have been in the money in the calf roping, but they’ll have to call later in the week to find out. They had a good time, and the trailer pulled really well.

It’s still in its shake-down period. They clearly need to get some portable corrals for these longer rodeos, and I know they went up there with nothing much in the way of kitchen supplies.

Next up is the roping at Mad0nna Inn, in San Luis Obispo. Last year I went down on Friday, since the roping starts on Thursday morning. This year, Cowboy’s thinking the only pots they’ll qualify for might be on Thursday and Friday morning, since Chris’ number got bumped up. If that’s the case, Chris might just bring the trailer home, and I’ll go down anyway. We can spend a night down there with no horses, which would be nice, since it’s my birthday.

That’s kind of the old home stomping grounds, since I went to school there. Last year we picked a restaurant out on the pier for this year’s dinner, and I don’t want to miss it. It’s worth driving down for four hours by myself. I don’t get all that much time alone with Cowboy, and I’m hoping it works out that way.

More ex bitching; skip it if you don’t like it.

Bastard. I let him have the kids this weekend as a favor to him; I guess they had some party to go to. The agreement was that I would pick them up Sunday morning after I went to the gym, not too early at his request. He said they’d be home and playing outside.

I knew it was a bad sign when I called as I was leaving the gym and they weren’t home. I went anyway, stupidly thinking they’d just be outside.

Nope. No kids there. I should bill him the ten dollars it costs me to go all the way to that town and back for nothing. I left him a message; he’s going to have to bring them up to my house now, but now I have to stay home and can’t go get stuff done.

I was planning on taking the kids up to Modesto today so John could pick out his birthday bike too. If he screws that up, I’m going to be royally pissed. And he wants me to keep them for two weeks straight so he can go on some vacation? While he bleeds me dry for swim lessons, saying he can’t afford them? Wish I could afford to go on vacation for two weeks.

I’ll keep them, no problem. But I’m not going to want to give them back. Life would be so much easier if I had full custody, and could live in the town of my choice, and send them to school where I think they should go. Fucker.

On a better note, Cowboy and son placed about sixth in the Chico Rodeo on Friday. I think that was the final too; slack was earlier that morning. I guess Chris broke out on his calf, and it was a straining son of a bitch, so his time was way too long in the calf roping. It breaks their rodeo streak though; they’ve been doing great at home and at jackpots, but it’s all been falling apart at rodeos.

They stayed in Chico Friday night, and got up really early on Saturday to get over to Potter Valley. I haven’t heard form them; that’s not a place with real good cell phone coverage. There was a roping there on Saturday, and the rodeo is sometime today. I don’t expect them home until late tonight or tomorrow morning.

I wish I could have gone, but I’ll go on the fourth of July with them to Taylorsville. It’s a big weekend roping, and that’s the town where Cowboy grew up. I’m looking forward to seeing it, and he promises to take me fishing too.

It’s sure going to be a quiet weekend around here, at least at first.

Cowboy and son are up in Chico at the rodeo. I would have liked to go, but with the minimal time off I have (I’m saving for a class for my business) and the other obligations I have this weekend, I just couldn’t.

I talked to him a couple of minutes ago, and the rodeo is about to start. They’re going to do really well—but then, I always have faith in him. Tomorrow morning, they’ll haul across the state to hit the Potter Valley rodeo on Sunday. There’s a roping there Saturday too, so they’ll be busy.

I get the kids on Sunday this week, so I have all day tomorrow to get some stuff done that’s creeping up my list. I’ve absolutely got to work on my water class homework some more, and the dogs are stinking up the place and need to be washed. I’d wait until I have the kids around to do that, since they think it’s fun, but the wash-N-wag will be closed for the holiday.

Add to that the usual weekend chores, and I won’t be as bored as I might have thought, feeling sorry for myself with no Cowboy or little people around. The lawn needs mowing, and the back yard needs to be whacked. I can get two more days in at the gym before I have the kids, and maybe I can also get some heavy duty cleaning done. I so rarely have time to myself at my own house that things get a little behind.

But I’d still rather be rodeoing. Who wouldn’t?

I met one of Angus’ latest pups last night.

The pup was supposed to be a replacement for one I gave our friend’s kid. He’s three now, and when his dog was run over and killed this fall, he was devastated. His uncle had a female from one of our lines, and she was coming into heat right about then, so I bred Angus to her in February.

She only had four pups, which isn’t too surprising considering he only bred her once.

They brought theirs home last night—she’s a ringer for the original one I gave them, although the red comes from a whole different line. She is a half sister to their original dog.

The kid went nuts when they brought her home. He said, “Rave’s back,” and, “she makes me happy.” He’s three; he doesn’t really get that this is a different dog. The parents tried to encourage a different name, but Rave she is. It doesn’t matter; the puppy won’t care.

Apparently she was the only true red and white dog in the litter, so they were lucky she was a female. There was one black and white, and the other two red dogs are red tri-colors, which isn’t real common. I’ve only bred one, and seen one other. I guess they have a lot of white on them too, which makes sense. That particular red line throws a lot of white. I’d love to have one of the red tri’s, but I think they’re all spoken for.

I can’t deal with the dogs I have anyway. Jessie has been demoted to strictly pet. I’m not going to bother working with her as much as Angus. Three years, and she’s proven somewhat less than trainable. She does keep the goat happy in the yard, and I think that if she weren’t there, Angus would do a lot more running. So I guess she’s my pets’ pet. She likes me, but she just doesn’t answer to me, and I can’t get Angus to tell her what to do.

I guess I can live with having a pet dog, but all of these years of Border Collies (and our one red Heeler) have got me somewhat spoiled for dogs that actually do things.

Happy Birthday John! Wow, my goofy little kid is ten today.

So, I got through my first day at the gym last night.

It wasn’t too bad either. I can say that it makes a huge difference having someone show you how to do things right. The trainer is this little athletic woman, but she’s really nice and I wasn’t intimidated at all. In fact, looking around, I saw that fully half the people there were at least as fat as I am, which was much easier to be around than a bunch of gym rats.

Last time I was there, I was at least 30 pounds lighter than I am now, and much fitter. Even when I started though, I was nervous and shy. I think part of my increased confidence must be just because I’m that much older and more settled in who I am in general, but a big part is also that my radar used to be on all the time. I was always hyper-aware of how I looked to other people; it was at one of the most blatantly single times of my life. In every situation, I was very aware of what men were around, which ones were single, and what I looked like to them. Gah, I must have been as annoying as all hell. Now though, no radar. Men? I’m sure there must have been men there, but I don’t really notice them any more than women now.

The trainer weighed and measured me, and we talked about dealing with asthma while exercising, and she showed me how to use the elliptical machine and the treadmill. I’d used the elliptical a lot the first time, but I was always afraid of the treadmill. It takes a certain amount of coordination that I just didn’t have.

It seems that riding the horses for the last few years has been pretty good for my balance, as was starting the machine slowly. I did not fall off, although I can’t guarantee that I won’t in the future.

I’m keeping my goals reasonable, and I think that if I work at it, I can do it. I have no desire to be a marathon runner or supermodel; I just want to look like I did a few years ago. I thought I was fairly hot then, and I just want to be able to wear what I want and ride without having to heave myself up onto the horses.

And since weight loss blogs bore me to tears, that’s all I’ll say on the subject until my body actually matches my self-image. Or unless something juicy happens at the gym; that’s fair game.

Our friend’s wife died yesterday, and her death was the direct result of a leg waxing gone wrong.

She was in her late fifties, but in pretty bad health with diabetes and kidney failure and some other things wrong with her. She didn’t like us much, and never really came out of the house when we were around. Our friend took good care of her; he was the one who did all of the cooking and cleaning, and he did a lot of driving back and forth for dialysis.

A few months ago, she went to a local salon to have her legs waxed. I have no idea why she wanted to do that; our friend was the only one who saw her much, and he’s a hairy old fart. And her skin was fragile due to her age and medical conditions.

When they put the wax on her legs, apparently it was way too hot. She got third degree —burned the tendons even. That’s not just slightly hot that someone with tough skin could handle; that would have burned anyone.

Well, with diabetes and poor circulation in her legs, the burns never did heal right. She spent a month or so going back and forth to a wound care center on the other side of the valley, but they never could get her healed.

Eventually, they hospitalized her, and then amputated her leg. From waxing burns. Last week, they had to amputate further up, and yesterday, she died. Her death wasn’t just from the burns, but the complications that led to her death were directly related to that initial injury.

Damn, I expect a major lawsuit there. I don’t know why a salon would wax someone with skin and health that fragile, or why they wouldn’t check the temperature of the wax a little more closely. It’s just bad news all around. I guess I won’t be going there any time soon.

I don’t know how our friend is doing. He’s a tough old bird, so I think he’ll be fine. This is the second wife he’s outlived though, and I guess he did some serious drinking the last time.

There were a lot of cars over there last night, and Cowboy had already talked to him. Cowboy and son are going to be gone rodeoing this weekend, so it may fall to me to be the family’s representative at the funeral. Wish I had a dress that fit.

So today starts the gym adventure, and I’m a little nervous.

I went shopping yesterday, and bought spandex that actually fits, and some other things to make it possible to go during lunch when I have the kids. That will have to be a short workout though, since I really only get a half hour for lunch. I can stretch it to 45 minutes some days, but not too many.

I have an appointment with the trainer this afternoon. I’ve been going a mile a minute for the last couple of days, and I’m already worn out. I’m just promising myself that the gym will make me feel better once I actually go. It’s the getting there that’s the hard part.

Melissa, going through the buildings has its moments, but it does get old. I was really into it the first time, but I’ve been through all of these before. I’m just updating a document I wrote a year ago. Now it’s tedious; I have to look for specific things and keep notes, and then spend almost as long writing it up as I did inspecting.

Sometimes last year, I’d get so wrapped up in the fascination that I’d forget to pay attention, and have to go back and redo my notes. It is interesting to see the parts of people’s lives lying around though. This place was a huge part of daily life for a lot of people. It’s been ten years since they left. I find things with names on them, or old calendars, or old drawings left as goodbye messages when they were leaving.

It’s a little sad, and it’s also a little sad that we’re finishing up our work here cleaning the place up (environmentally.) Some of the plants and projects that got me started in this industry have done their jobs, and are now up for demolition and decommission this summer. Nobody else seems to feel melancholy about it, but I remember all the hours we spent starting it up, and the good friends I had working on the project, and I see that in the empty pipes and tanks.

There are a few people left working with me that have been here longer, but I’m becoming one of the old-timers. I never thought when I was hired as part time help for one specific project, that I’d make this a career. I’ve outlasted most of the people that were here then, and I’ll probably be one of the very last to go.

This place has been good to me. It was the first step towards my freedom, and it gave me my independence. I’ve never worked in any one place so long, even if it has been through several different companies. I’m loyal to the place, not the jobs. I’m not the only one; if you look, you’ll find people that have job-hopped to stay here all over the place. There’s a lot of history around, if you know who to ask.

Ah, well, I’ve got at least one more year.

One of the things that tilts my world upside down a little is running into an ex-boyfriend.

In this case, today, it was the last boyfriend before I met Cowboy. We were real casual, so I wasn’t worried about dropping it with him. I think he was in the process of dropping me anyway. But we’ve always liked each other and been friendly.

He works on base, so I run into him now and then, but I hadn’t for months and months, so I thought he had moved on elsewhere.

Nope. I was doing my biannual building inspections today, and who comes walking out but JJ? (No, not the same JJ I’m friends with.)

We spent a good half hour getting caught up. He’s married! It hasn’t even been two years since we were seeing each other, so that came as a little surprise. I don’t know why it should, since I could see myself married too, but there it is. He’s married to someone he was friends with, and he had told me when we were dating that he had one of those agreements that they would get married if they couldn’t find anyone else.

I guess they decided they weren’t going to find anyone else. Good for him. It’s always best, I think, to be married to a friend. They’re building a house and everything.

I just hadn’t pictured him as a marrying guy.

Things are going a hundred miles a minute here. That could be because I decided to start taking the diet pills again, and they always make me hyper.

Couldn’t pick a better time to be hyper though, because all of a sudden I have a deadline on my building inspections with someone breathing down my neck about it. I’d been putting it off to give the County time to clean up the problems I found last time. Sorry County, you’re out of time.

It’s easier this time than the first though; I don’t have to go in every abandoned building, just the ones that have had a change. The first time, it was really creepy. The buildings were all full of cobwebs, pigeon poop, and disintegrating asbestos ceiling tiles. I had the flashlight in one hand, since they were usually without power, and a spider whacking stick in the other. I’d make Angus go in ahead of me, in case there were any cats or possums or other vermin in there. I did find a bee’s nest and a skunk.

At least once, I just missed finding a person skulking around in one of the abandoned dorms; I saw evidence of quite a few people. That creeped me out the most. Not to mention the County guy who keeps the keys; sometimes he’d go in with me, and he’s an old pervert.

The buildings themselves have kind of a haunted feel to them, although I never did have the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Some of them haven’t been tenanted since the Air Force left. There are remnants of them everywhere. A lot of paperwork was just strewn about, with old dates on them. I found a carton of petrified milk in one building. Did you know milk could go completely solid?

The buildings that have stayed empty are falling apart. Before I started this project, about 40 of the oldest ones were demolished, so none of those remaining are actually falling down. There is one that I simply won’t go into, because the ceiling tiles have completely disintegrated and are in powder all over the floor. Since some of those old ceiling tiles contain asbetos, there’s no way I’m inspecting the interior of that one. We’ll just call it “damaged” and go on.

My deadline is June 10th—at the rate I’m going, I should have it done by then, but my contractors are all firing up the fieldwork too. I’m going to be out doing what I like best about my job for the next few weeks.

I did zip over to the gym today at lunch, and signed up again. There’s nothing like spending my own hard-earned money to motivate me to do something. They had a special this time, so I get four free sessions with the personal trainer. I didn’t have that last time, but I think I really needed it. I have no idea what I’m doing in a gym and I need some instruction.

I have to run down to town after work and buy some new workout clothes though. There’s not much more humbling than not being able to fit into your old spandex. So today, shopping; tomorrow, the gym. I’m not thrilled that my schedule is so tight that I can’t do both, but that’s how it goes. It’s not going to make getting there any easier. I just have to remind myself that I’m tired of being fat. The cashier at the drugstore isn’t making it easier either, when she says, “You’re not fat.” Thanks honey, but I’m at least 50 pounds over what I used to be; I’m just dressing appropriately. I haven’t been able to wear anything clingy, not even a t-shirt for a while now, and I’d really like to be able to again.

I’d hoped to have a good “Summer of Fun” story to tell here today.

However, I learned an important life lesson last night; hot sauce does, indeed, go bad.

And as theme parks and food poisoning are best kept apart, we didn’t go.

Poor John was really upset, and the other kids weren’t happy about it either. Well, neither was I. I hate to be the one to let them down. Marci and I decided to reschedule later this summer for sometime in the middle of the week, whenever I can get a day off. That’s going to be a little tricky, but we’ll get it done. The park won’t be as crowded as on a weekend, and we’ll have fun.

Next weekend, my parents are coming down for the day for John’s birthday, and on Sunday, we’ll go pick out his birthday bike. He didn’t want one at first, but he’s been playing with Seamus’, and I think it’s just a good thing for him to have.

Maybe later today, I’ll go to the grocery store and get fixin’s for cupcakes. That ought to cheer him up.

I’m going to make a resolution here, in semi-public, in order to keep myself honest.

I need to go on a diet.

I’m as fat as I’ve ever been, except while pregnant, and I’m not too far away from that either. I’m in lousy shape; it’s hard to get on a horse, and I run out of breath for the stupidest things.

A few years ago, I lost a lot of weight. I was doing really well at keeping it off, until I met Cowboy. I’m not blaming anything on him, but I started to cook a lot more. Before that, I’d barely been eating on the weeks without the kids. Cowboy liked to eat out too. Eating well every day started to take its toll.

And then I broke my leg rather spectacularly. I was seriously impaired for about six months, and my activity level went down the toilet. Didn’t stop me from cooking though, or from eating. Even now, a year and a half later, I still feel that leg every day. It still doesn’t function like it used to.

In the last couple of years, my asthma has gotten worse too. I kind of quit going to the gym because I was having an asthma attack every time I did any cardio. That, and because I chose spending time with Cowboy over the gym.

I still have that thin person in my mental image. I’m always surprised when I glance in the mirror, and see someone fat there out of the corner of my eye. I’m optimistic, and had given away all of my fat pants. I kept the skinny ones, but I had to go out and buy some larger sizes. Not too many though, because I won’t be this size for long, I thought.

But that’s it. No more excuses. No more buying larger sizes. No more over eating. No more average eating even.

We’re busy tomorrow, but Monday, I’m going to go sign up at the gym again. I won’t have time to work out when I have the kids, because I still choose to be with them in our limited time rather than throw them in a different childcare. But at Cowboy’s, we eat dinner later anyway. So after work and after my second job, I’ll go to the gym. I’ll rent a locker this time, so all of my stuff is ready, and I’ll work out before I go home. I should still have time to ride when I get over there. I know Cowboy’s feeling fat too, so he won’t mind cooking a little leaner.

I’ll bring my inhaler to the machines with me. I already have a nice walkman—time to make a new workout CD. I need to find a gym bag. I think I gave my old one to the kids. And I need new shoes. No problem, I can do those things.

I have been pretty good at breakfasts, and I’m going to keep that up. Just one cereal bar to get my motor going. I remember that if I do it long enough, I get used to being hungry and don’t notice it so much. I’ve been eating salads for lunch for the last couple of weeks, and I’ll keep that up. Or have a slim-fast, and go to the gym during lunch. Dinners are going to have to drastically reduce. I’ve been so hungry that I really want dinner, but I’m just going to have to get over that.

Less cooking, less eating, more exercise.

So that’s it; my promise to myself all written down and unavoidable. No more fatass.

Well, the bet’s still up in the air. Pepino was open, so she’s back at the breeder’s, and Thistle was a “maybe.” What’s a “maybe?” I guess they couldn’t quite tell if she was pregnant, so we’ll have to try the ultrasound again later. I still think she’s not in good enough shape for it.

Or else we could both win. Heh.

I’ve had the training collar on Jessie lately, to teach her not to howl at the trains in the middle of the night. That seems to be working all right, but today was another story.

The other day, I started running the dogs like I always do, down on a dirt road on base. I could see a car parked where we start, but I sometimes run into joggers or other dog people, so I didn’t think much of it. I just put the dogs in the truck to go by other people, and it works fine.

But I came around the corner that morning to see a guy walking with a little kid, maybe three. And too late, I noticed that he also had a little dog with him. I’d already put the dogs in the truck, as usual, but Angus noticed that little dog when we were really close. And he and Jessie jumped out of the truck as it was moving, which is a huge bad dog thing. Had I seen the little dog in time, I would have turned around, because Angus isn’t at all people-aggressive.

Angus went for that little dog with his hackles up, looking fierce. Jessie rolled right on by. That poor little kid was terrified. I jumped out of the truck and called Angus off; he minds well enough to do that, but it still scared the little guy. I could not call Jessie back to the truck for anything, so I had to haul ass up to her and physically catch her and throw her back in.

I told the guy as I went by that other people come out and run their dogs off leash too, so this might not be the best place in the world to take your kid who’s afraid of dogs for a walk. He had to go right by the dog training place to get in there; they run Rottweilers and German Shepherds all the time. I don’t know why he would want to go out there in the first place. It’s obviously used, or else there wouldn’t be a dirt road there, and it’s surrounded by weeds. Not a terribly fun place for a kid.

So the next day, I thought I’d do a little stop-and-go training on Jessie with the shock collar. It wasn’t even phasing her, mostly because it was out of batteries. I charged it last night, and did the same this morning.

I’d let them out to run, and then call them back in. They did that part perfectly every time, at first, but Jessie was really bad about getting out of the truck when I hadn’t told them to. I zapped her a few times for that, and it seemed OK. Further down the road, though, I called them back in. She didn’t come, so I zapped her again. Well, that time, it freaked her out. She took off, and I couldn’t even see her.

It seems that the shock collar might not be the best way to train Jessie. I’m not sure that Jessie’s even trainable. She’s so submissive that I can’t discipline her at all. She doesn’t respond to reward training. She looks to Angus, not to me, and if she doesn’t feel like minding, she just runs off. She’s done it before when I was just walking and downing them on the canal bank, and she ran all the way home. It’s incredibly frustrating, especially with one dog that will do anything I ask him to, once he understands it. I can’t even make her stay in the yard when I only want Angus; I have to chase her around and catch her.

Jessie’s just becoming more and more useless. If I can’t control her when we’re out and about, she’s going to find herself becoming strictly a yard dog. And I really don’t see why I need one of those. She’s OK for a pet, but these are supposed to be working dogs. She may be finding another home here one of these days. Anyone want a quiet yard pet? She’d actually be a pretty good housedog. If I liked dogs in the house.