I’m a closet science fiction fan. Well, not so much in the closet, as all over the house. I’ve got overflowing bookshelves in the office and the living room, and books scattered here and there all over the house. And none of that fantasy stuff for me—I like space operas and post-apocalyptic novels.

I’m a quilter. True, I may not have actually picked up a quilt since I got divorced, but that’s just due to having no time at all. I have very good intentions, and my sewing machine is out, even though you can’t see it under the stack of clothes to be ironed. I’ve got several UFOs (unfinished objects) that I think fondly of from time to time. I bound one and hung it on the wall, but it’s not really finished yet. I was always very good at the little nit-picky stuff. The ladies in my guild thought I had a very nice hand-quilting stitch, and I’m a whiz at appliquée. 

I’m a Republican. I don’t broadcast that much on the internet, where everyone and his brother seem to be on the other side. But I’m a very liberal Republican, if that makes a difference. I’d probably be a Libertarian if I sat down and thought about it, but I don’t care that much, so what’s the point?

While I’m annoying people: I’m also an agnostic, unless I really get riled up about it, and then I’ll claim to be an atheist. I rarely get riled up about it—my philosophy is “don’t know, don’t care.”

I’m a card-carrying member of the NRA. That goes nicely with number three, but not so much with number four. At various points in my life I have run a small rifle range, held a concealed weapons permit, shot in high-power rifle competitions, and sold firearms (legally.) I always have good intentions about doing more shooting, but that time escapes me as well. I really enjoy it, and my next gun purchase will either be a rifle fit for elk or a .22 pistol.

I’m also a member of the Farm Bureau and the American Waterworks Association, but somehow those don’t seem to get people riled up. It’s like having a library card, I guess, although I don’t happen to have one of those.

Damn, I had intended for this to be a list of ten, but it seems that there just aren’t ten things about me that I’m not sure that everyone knows. I do live my life right out there, for the most part.

And clearly, it’s a slow week if I’m making lists. I’ve still got the ear thing, and I haven’t been to Cowboy’s in a couple of days. But you were all tired of reading about horses anyway, right?

Normally I wouldn’t be posting on this weekend; I should be at Cowboy’s, enjoying myself out in the sun.

But yesterday, while enjoying myself out in the sun, I got hit with the ear infection/head cold double whammy. I was fine in the morning. We went to the roping, just us and JR, since the kids are off roping elsewhere. I loped the Big Lip mare around until she stopped being a bitch (a lengthy process with her.) I watched the first two rounds, no problem.

But it started to get hot, even though it never did top 100˚, and I started to feel a little loopy and queasy.

“Could I be getting seasick, standing still on a horse?” I wondered for a while.

And then my ears started ringing, and the light bulb went off. OK, that explains the headaches and the noise sensitivity all week, and also why painkillers didn’t make a dent in it. I have my summer cold. I thought ear infections were pretty much restricted to the under-five set once upon a time, but I’ve traditionally had one twice a year for the last five years. I fooled the ear infection gods this winter, but they laughed in the face of my allergy medicine this time. Yes, I’ll go to the Doc tomorrow.

But I didn’t go with them this morning. On one hand, it was delicious to sleep in, but I’m feeling a little guilty for not going. Not because he needs me there, because he doesn’t, but guilty to myself for not doing something that I like to do. And it’s even on the other side of the Westside hills, and bound to be a little cooler. But the thought of standing around in the heat and the dust all day with a clogged up head just didn’t seem right.

So I came home to mope around at my own house, where there is no air conditioning, but the internet connection works. I let Angus in the backyard, and was very surprised to not see any little faces greeting me at the gate. Horrible thoughts of escaped dogs and pilfered goats flashed through my (addled) mind in the four seconds that it took for me to walk around to the back yard.

And there, looking at me with a “What??” expression on his face, was Elvis the goat. Looking from inside the house. I called him out, and out popped Jessie as well. Seems that my landlord has decided to fix my non-rolling sliding glass door (which will be very nice), and had to run off for some parts. And I haven’t yet fixed the Elvis-eaten screen door, which provided him with a convenient goat flap. Not every house has one of those, you know.

So I shooed the livestock out of the house. They must not have been in too long, since there weren’t any little raisin trails and nothing was chewed up. Elvis is now wearing his long distance stick, and when he sneaked back in while I was cleaning some things, he got chased back out with some remote-controlled encouragement. He’s smarter than Jessie, and won’t be back in.

(Hah! Just checked after typing the above, and he is indeed being a good goat, minding his own business.)

The kids dragged back in late last night. They had a very busy week. They started on Tuesday, dragging the trailer up to a rodeo in Woodland. On the way, they blew out two tires on the same side, and had to wait to get that fixed. After that rodeo, they hauled over the Winnemucca, Nevada, for a roping. Then the next day, on to Susanville—I don’t know if that was a roping or a rodeo, but I do know Chris calf roped at least twice this weekend, so that might have been there.

Coming home from Susanville, they hit up another little rodeo in Gridley. After that one, they blew out a tire on the other side of the trailer. Cowboy’s going to have a word with that salesman on Monday, since they weren’t exceeding the rated weight of the trailer or the tires.

While they were getting that fixed, we were roping in Turlock. We elected to skip the Patterson roping that evening, even though it’s in the same county. That one would have got over late, and we were planning to leave early for today’s roping. It’s driving me crazy that I can’t remember the name of that place.

The kids drug in around one o’clock. I overheard Chris’ girlfriend telling Cowboy this morning that she’d won the high money saddle at Patterson. I was talking to that arena operator yesterday, and I know she had a High Money overall and a High Money Women’s saddle, and I think the girl won the overall saddle. She’s really a very good roper, and traveling with her has gone a long way towards reenergizing Chris in the sport at the end of a long, drug out season.

And now I shall sign off, go watch some Olympics, and generally feel sorry for myself. Fun, no?

I’m feeling just a wee bit nervous right now.

You see, I’ve kept this journal quiet from all but my closest friends, and two of those three don’t ever use the internet. So I’ve been writing for strangers, for the most part, which is easier. I like the anonymity; if someone doesn’t like what I say or my writing style, they’re free to stop clicking on me. Won’t hurt my feelings a bit.

But I’ve been thinking about sharing this link with another of my longtime friends. He could have stumbled on it anyway, and I’d rather give it to him up front. I cleaned my archives up a little, because you don’t want friends coming around with dishes in the sink. Mostly, I just locked down a couple of uncomplimentary entries regarding other people in our social circle. I didn’t want those ones googled anyway, but I also don’t want to erase them, as they do truly reflect what I was feeling at the time.

I don’t doubt that I’ll be doing a little self-censoring for a while. This is someone whose opinion matters to me. Instead of pissing off some random stranger, I could alienate one of my very favorite friends. I hope not though, and I haven’t written anything to wad his shorts before. And this is someone that I’ve shared major life events with, so there really isn’t a need to feel so self-conscious. I do feel that though. It’s like standing before someone you’ve always seen in topcoat and tails, and whipping off all of your clothes. Except *ahem*, that analogy doesn’t quite work, after those topless days at the lake, now does it, Big Jeff?

Wow, crazy busy week. I’ve been infested with bosses at work, and caught up in Olympics at home. You can hardly blame me if I choose to work and not get fired in lieu of updating once in a while.

I chauffeured my client-boss, his boss, and my counterpart from Texas around all morning yesterday. These are the people that I directly report to—and I only see them once a year or so, if that. Sounds like not much fun, but I do love to show my site off, and to have them to myself to give my opinion of sites without other people’s interference was great. I could show them places where things were going on that I may or may not approve of (although it was all good this time). I feel that it’s important that these people making the big decisions and parceling out the money for us actually have a grasp of our physical site, and of the people doing the work.

I do love being a tour guide, and I’ve been a part of this project so long that I feel sort of proprietary about it. I think they were rather impressed that I could rattle off site history as we drove by; I hope it makes up for my being a dunderhead regarding documents and regulations. But, after all, I am the field representative, not a document reviewer or a regulator, so I am just doing my job.

It’s like showing off any project you’ve worked hard on; it’s nice to have it admired once in a while. And admired by the people who sign the checks!

Chris and his girlfriend were on their way up to Nevada last night, and blew out a tire on the trailer. The new trailer, yes. And the other tire on that side was bubbling. So Cowboy had to send a tire guy two hours up the road to get them on their way, and he’s going to have a talk with the trailer salesman about what kind of quality they’re using. He had planned to switch the tires with Orca, the old trailer, because they’re 14-ply and these are 10-ply. He didn’t have time, but I guess he’ll make some now.

Cowboy’s getting the rest of the apron around the barn/shop poured today. It’s been all summer without siding on the two back sides, due to lack of a sidewalk under it. He’s finally slowed down a little on commercial work, so he’s getting the barn finished and bringing dirt in to raise the level of the arena. For someone used to taking the summers off, he sure has worked a lot this year. He’s kept all of the boys busy, and we haven’t even got to our own stuff yet. We’ve got a goal of getting the arena put up and a horse barn built by fall. The cotton comes out for the last time this year, but I don’t think we’ll be getting the pasture fences up any time soon. Next year is good enough for that.

Later today is what will probably be the last group luncheon before the other office closes next month. We’ve been having them every couple of months this year; it’s going to be very weird without those people here. I have to give up those two orchids, which are currently decorating my desk.

As things get more determined in the reorganization, it’s becoming clearer and clearer that I will indeed be the only client representative left on site all the time. The other two had good intentions of coming down a few days a week, but that’s already going by the wayside. Good. I don’t want them breathing down my neck, and there’s nothing they can do here that they can’t do remotely. I’m really the only one that gets out and kicks dirt.

Too many bosses spoils the internet surfing!

I posted this on my favorite message board, but since the situation is getting weirder and weirder, it really deserves its own entry.

You see, someone who is not me decided that I needed new window blinds in my office. I’m really OK with that, since the old ones were falling down. True, I have north and east facing windows, and lots of houseplants, so I will never have the blinds closed. But they will look nice, and I have never had a pretty office in my life. This is an old military installation, after all.

And they hired a contractor to do this installation. After several weeks involving measuring and consultation with me, random office resident, about mechanisms with which to hold up said blinds up in a cinderblock window frame, the glorious day is finally here.

Whoopee. You can sense my excitement at having my little personal space invaded. I don’t like people in it, much less strange little muttering men with spectacular ear-to-ear comb overs. We’re talking a horizontal carpet here, people.

This would be a mere annoyance, however, if it weren’t for the fact that on what seems to be every other breath, the man hawks himself up a nice juicy loogie. This must be a nervous tic, but it’s driving me to distraction. I clearly must regain my sensibilities, and post about it on the Internet.

Perhaps he will throw some more tools at me, and be done soon. He has just stapled himself to the window frame. And then farted. O glorious day!

Just a quick picture before I have to go out and do stuff:

My newest orchid is blooming, and, as promised, it is pretty ugly! It’s really kind of neat; all complicated in the center with a sticky pollen trap and everything.

Those little turkeys, spend all weekend driving me up a tree, what with the “He’s annoying me,” and the pushing of the annoying one off his bike, and the groundings, and the not eating.

And then, just before bedtime on Sunday, they go and pull something cute like this:

John was reading Captain Underpants to Seamus. I don’t care about the choice of material—anything that gets them reading is OK in my book. And he was actually reading with some inflection for once.

You can sure tell which one is my little Irish throwback, and which one is the Italian. And yes, they’re full brothers; genetics is funny like that. Seamus is almost a strawberry blonde, and John doesn’t really have to wear sunscreen.

So I guess I’ll let them live. For now.