Well, if that wasn’t just the weirdest thing.

I was sitting at my computer minding my own business, and I realized that the fuzzy spot I was seeing wasn’t a figment of whatever I’d last looked at. In fact, it was both eyes, and it seemed to be a blind spot just right of center. I could look at the J key, but I couldn’t see the K key at all, although I could see the ones farther away just fine.

That was getting freaky enough, but it started getting bigger and flashier, and I was getting queasy looking at the computer. My friend Marci said it sounded like when she starts to get a migraine, so I figured I’d go home and lay down for a while.

But I’ve never had migraines. When I was younger, I used to get awful headaches that were sensitive to light, but the doctors never thought they were migraines because of the lack of flashy things. They went away as I got older anyway. Now all I have is a constant sinus headache, but I can usually live with that.

I was a little uncoordinated driving home, so I called Cowboy and asked him to call me back in a little while. He said I was crazy, and I should be going to the doctor for something like that, so I did. Of course, it all went away (except the headache) while I was sitting in the waiting room. I never heard of a migraine that’s gone in an hour.

The doc said that probably was what it was, but he’s sending me to a specialist later this week to make sure. He’s a good doc, and doesn’t make you feel silly for going in when it’s gone away. I did also mention to him that I couldn’t eat with a plastic fork to save my life, it shakes so bad. Of course, I couldn’t demonstrate it with his pen—the shakes come and go as they please, but always with a plastic fork. Simple enough solution to that—eat with a heavier fork.

Oh, mom? Don’t freak out. I’m fine, it was just weird.

Well, that sideways blowing rain has shot my lawn-mowing plans all to shit. Oh, too bad.

I did at least go out and split some firewood before it got too wet, so we could be cozy inside. That tree I picked up from work is still green, so I’m back to using the wood I cut the year before I broke my leg. It’s a crapshoot as to whether it’s rotten or not, but at least the rotten stuff lights quickly. Stinks though.

I had just finished my wood-cutting project two years ago when I broke that leg. I didn’t burn much that year because schlepping it in the house was next to impossible on crutches, and I stayed at Cowboy’s most of the time anyway.

And by last fall, my source had dried up. I was cutting giant downed Ash trees on base, lopping limbs off and leaving the trunks. My 16-inch chainsaw couldn’t handle the big stuff, which was fine with me, as I couldn’t have hefted those logs into my truck anyway. I got a lot of exercise out of the project, and it was surprisingly calming. I’d have my earmuffs on, just cutting away in my own little world. Then I had to load it in the truck, unload it and wheel it back to the back yard, and split most of it by hand. That wood warmed me three times before I ever burned it. I think I still have about half a cord left, enough for this winter.

The other night at Thanksgiving, my dad noticed my belt buckle. He decided that I should have Grampa’s buckles, and told me the story behind both of them.

One, his regular everyday buckle that I don’t really remember him wearing, is a small silver buckle with an F on it. One of the family’s neighbors that was displaced when Beale Air Force Base was built (and tell me we’re not still resentful about that) became a silversmith after the move. He made this buckle for Grampa, and Dad remembers him wearing it every day until he died. Dad says the belt fits him in the exact holes—too bad I didn’t inherit their shape along with the look of my face.

The other must be chrome, because it doesn?t have a speck of patina on it. This was Grampa’s “Sunday go to meetin’” buckle, and it’s the one I remember most. Probably because he was usually dressed up when we were around. It’s got some kind of stone on it, but I don’t know what kind. Maybe an agate?

Anyway, I got to thinking about them on the drive home, and I had to stop because I was tearing up missing my Grampa so. He died a few years ago, but we were always close. I have some things of his that really mean a lot to me, and it also meant a lot that Dad wanted me to have those.

Cowboy wanted to go to his family’s, and I wanted to go to mine, so that’s exactly what we did; no fuss, no fighting. My mom had brought my grandparents down, since we’re all getting a little twisty about them driving, especially in holiday traffic, and I really wanted to see them. Grampa’s not doing so well with his heart lately, and I’d hate to miss him.

So Wednesday night I fixed up some of the Artichoke Stuffing that my sister hates, with her antipathy of “A” vegetables. Since she was safely in Colorado, and I didn’t know she hated it anyway, it was fine. Even my dad choked some down, but I think that was just to be polite. Dad doesn’t much like stuffing.

We headed up there yesterday, and found surprisingly little traffic to deal with. It was almost like it wasn’t a holiday, and I started to wonder if I had the wrong day until the usual clog in Jamestown.

Right when we got there, my mom told us to go look off the back deck. The local deer herd was right there, and the big four point buck was sniffing around and chasing off the lesser bucks. We watched and admired for a while, and I sneaked downstairs to take some pictures. It didn’t take much sneaking; these deer are used to people. It was a little frustrating to be within bow distance of the first buck I’ve seen all year, and to have season closed and no bow in sight. Mom won’t let me hunt her deer anyway (and especially not in a subdivision, I know) even though they wreak havoc on her landscaping.

We kept an eye on the deer, and later noticed the big buck sniffing around a doe that seemed to be in the mood. Grampa thought it very funny that we all trooped out to the deck to watch them getting it on. We called it “the floor show” for the rest of the evening. Yes, we had four generations of family out back watching deer p0rn!

We also convoyed up to Mom and Dad’s new house to admire the progress. It was a little funny getting Gramma up into my truck, but that was easier than shoehorning either of them into the back seat on Mom’s car.

They have the floor poured on the Lego house, with the tubes for the heating set in the concrete. The walls have the forms in place, but are yet to be poured. I forgot to ask Dad how they pour around the windows. The construction details are fascinating; I guess they use this technology back East a lot, but not much out here. I took some pictures, but they’re still in the film camera, sorry!

On the way back, the kids and I made a tiny detour across the road to Diestel Turkey Ranch, but the gate wasn’t open. Mom says you can walk up to the fence and the turkeys come rushing up to you. I imagine they’re probably pretty low on turkeys this time of year; we ate one ourselves, and it was very good. You can see Mom and Dad’s house from their gate, but they’re not quite next-door neighbors. Some cattle have that privilege. What a nice place to live!

The rest of the day was just remarkably low key. The kids were extraordinarily good—I kept wondering what got into them. They ate their dinners without complaining, and even tried new things. Seamus doesn’t much care for cranberry sauce, but he was polite about it. I didn’t force the issue; I don’t like it myself, and he was eating plenty of other things. Well, mostly turkey and three helping of stuffing, but that’s OK.

We took off when I was so stuffed that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stay awake. The kids zonked for most of the ride home. We should have turkey more often, if it will put kids to sleep. I did miss the other family, and I called Cowboy, but he’d already left. He had a good holiday too; it was much easier to split up than to worry about who was bored or who really wanted to be elsewhere. Since I have to juggle the kids for Christmas, I’ll stay down here, and I really wanted to see my family for at least one of the holidays.

Now, it’s off to the dump! I hope, anyway. I may not get it in gear, but that’s OK, there’s no law that says I have to do it today. And loading some of the stuff with only a ten-year old to help might be tricky. Marci, we’ll bring those dog houses by this afternoon. I’m on a yard-cleaning kick!

I have a lot of things to be grateful for.

In the last five years, I’ve:

• Found my independence.

 

• Found the love of my life.

 

• Finally had no children in diapers.

 

• Come a long way towards living the way I want to—a goal I’ve been working towards all of my life.

 

• Found a family of in-laws that love me instead of hate me.

 

• Made some lifelong friends.

 

• Established a respected position in a career, not just a job.

Over the last year:

• I’ve developed a strong relationship with said love.

 

• I’ve watched my kids grow up to be pretty responsible. They’re not “little” any more.

 

• I’ve started my own business, including all of the legal paperwork and continuing education required by the State.

 

• I’ve become a much better rider, to the point where Cowboy will put me on horses he wouldn’t let just anyone ride. His respect means as much to me as the actual horsemanship.

 

• I’ve made and carried out some hard decisions as head of the household. The hidden blessing in that is that I now AM the head of my household, and have the spine to do what’s necessary, where I once might not have.

Hmm, that’s not a lot of things for an itemized list, but I think it about covers the basics: family, friends, and goals.

Sure, there are a lot of little things to be thankful for, like my new set of sheets, and the business stickers on my truck that make me happy, and rodeoing our butts off this summer. Oh! And I caught my first fish this year! Too bad it was too small to eat.

And I learned how to skin a frog, although that may be one of those things I was better off not knowing. They expected me to skin that squirming bucket of catfish I found on the back porch last month. They were terribly surprised when I refused, but hey! They were still alive! Not my job man.

Wow. It’s not every entry that starts out with the meaning of life and ends up with a bucket o’catfish. That’s too good to not leave there.

Have a Happy Thanksgiving all of you!

…but I found him a really good home.

He’s been driving me nuts with the lonely since his dog has been gone. He screeches like a banshee if I take Angus out of the yard, and since Angus is nearly always with me, that’s pretty often. Goats aren’t meant to be alone. Also, the head butting of the house was getting really old.

So on Friday I put up a sign at the feed store. I didn’t want to advertise him in the paper because I didn’t want him eaten. And on Saturday, a nice lady called and said she had room for one more goat.

I took him over last night. He was a little freaked about being in the crate, and I made the mistake of bringing a dog onto a dairy, so the other dogs were going nuts trying to fight with Angus in the truck. I know better, I just didn’t have time to double back and get Angus after I dropped the goat off.

She has three other pygmy goats; a nanny, a new baby, and a billy who stunk to high heaven. She said that she plans to get rid of the billy, since he’s getting aggressive. I put Elvis in her pen, and we watched them get to know each other for about an hour. Elvis seems to have forgotten that he’s a goat; he was trying to love up on the dogs through the fence.

But after a while they got it sorted out. She penned up the billy for the night so he didn’t beat the crap out of Elvis. When I walked away, he freaked. “Why are you leaving me with these things?”

I actually did a little horse-trading. She was talking about having too many chickens, and jokingly asked if I needed any.

“Sure!” I said. “I could use a rooster, actually.”

So we went to he chicken house and I picked out a big strong rooster. Our last rooster Rodney (because one of the horses beat the shit out of him and he lived and went on to rooster another day) disappeared a couple of months ago. Of course, that was right after I finally found the nest of the broody hen, and took her eggs away so she would lay more. She’d been sitting on a nest full of duds all summer.

And just as a side note, dropping rotten eggs into a burn barrel is NOT a good idea. Phew!

But the hen hadn’t started laying yet when Rodney took the big coyote walk. Louie wants chicks, so I hope this rooster will last until spring. That’s one expensive rooster to be worth a whole goat.

So now the yard is mine again. It’s really kind of nice. I can fill in the holes and actually mow instead of weed whack. I can take the dog kennel off of the bushes I was trying to protect. I can take off for the weekend without worrying about feeding critters (since Angus comes with me.) I can plant some roses if I want. Not yet though. Maybe in spring.

After a full week of not seeing the sun, I fully expected more of the same on the weekend.

But lo! The sun did shine, and it was good!

I got to sleep in on Saturday while Cowboy went to work (supposed to be a little while, but he ended up there until dark. You just can’t pull that man off a grader.) I wandered over to his job site late morning, and rode around with him a little while he surveyed his building pad, and then got to go to lunch with him. I really didn’t fell like riding on the grader with him, so I went back home to ride horses.

The arena had almost dried out—not enough to rope on, but enough to ride in. So I saddled up Jack and loped and trotted him around for a couple of hours. He’s sore in the front feet again. I don’t know what we’re going to do with him, but he’s due another trip to the vet. If he’s not completely sound by spring he’s for sale. That’ll teach me to have a favorite.

Chris was out there with one of his friends working some of the younger horses on the Heel-O-Matic. Corey pulled the thing, which is a heeling dummy with battery-powered legs that hop up and down, around in circles with a four-wheeler. Chris would then follow with the horses, teaching them to track the steer at the correct distance. It’s a good way to get consistency, since practicing with a real steer is hard on the steer and not too predictable.

So there they were going around in circles; Corey on the four-wheeler, the Heel-O-Matic, Chris on a colt, and Bailey, running back and forth behind Chris the whole time. It looked like a circus ride and was just one more reason why I need to get a small digital camera to keep in my pocket for surprises.

After I went home and Cowboy finally got home, a strange thing happened. We actually went on a date! Sort of dressed up and all (I even wore makeup, can you imagine?), which we only do about twice a year. We went to see National Treasure, which was very good for an Indiana Jones knock-off. No, it wasn’t rocket science, but all we expect out of a movie is that it be entertaining, and this one was. Would have been more entertaining if the volume wasn’t maxxed out (that’s fun with an ear infection) and the row before us wasn’t full of squawking, cell-phone calling teenagers. Ah. This is why we watch DVDs, I remember.

But it was fun overall, and we went out to dinner after. Actually, I didn’t have to cook all weekend, because we went out last night before our late grocery run.

By yesterday, the wind had picked up and scoured the air clean and most of the moisture out of the arena, so we roped. At this time of year, we’re lucky to get to rope every other weekend, but the horses haven’t dropped out of shape too far. They’re certainly getting fuzzy though.

I rode my Jack again a little, but then handed him off to Dennis’ girlfriend. The younger horses were feeling a little fresh from the inactivity and the weather, and Cowboy didn’t want to put a stranger on them. So I loped Frosty to warm him up, and what a change he is from Jack! I’d got used to Jack’s jackhammer gait, which is rough even when he feels fine, and Frosty was a real treat. He’s the smoothest horse Cowboy’s got (Chris’ are all very good too.) I’d forgotten how nice that can be.

So I rode Frosty, chased a few steers on him, and then traded off with Cowboy and ended up with Dually. Now, Dually’s a little jittery, but I’m learning to deal with him. I was down at the stripping chute giving the steers a lesson on getting out of the way promptly, and one of the ropers pulled a rope right in front of us. That shouldn’t have been a problem, but another steer lunged right at the same time and it freaked Dually out. He jumped straight in the air and flung himself sideways, and I collected him right up.

I didn’t think anything of it, but Cowboy was right behind me. He congratulated me on not panicking and falling off, and I had to point out to him that in two and a half years, he’s never seen me panic and fall off. He must just be expecting me to for some reason, maybe because he always seems to be watching when I screw up, but not when I do something right. But he’s taught me a lot in the last few years and I guess he might be thinking I’m still back where I was when he met me. That’s fine; I was 30 pounds lighter then too.

But after we roped and went home and watched some rodeo and ran the monthly Wally World gauntlet, it turned out to be a nice weekend. Certainly better than being holed up in the house with a raging sinus headache. Took me a few weeks this time around to remember that it feels better if I go out in the cold and the wind than if I stay comfortable in the house. Counter intuitive, I know; going out seems to be the last thing I feel like doing when I wake up with the Sinus Pressure of Impending Doom. But it works, and I don’t waste the weekend.

Some days, it’s entirely about the little things.

For instance, did I mention that an extremely thoughtful coworker brought me a nice bluebelly lizard the other day? I put him in my pocket meaning to release him at home outside, but I ended up having to go out in the field and I was worried about squashing him. So I popped him into a houseplant, where he stayed for a couple of hours.

You can see where this is going.

He was gone when I came back in the office. Part of me is thinking, “Cool! Fly control!” But I was a little worried about his little lizard self. I did take the precaution of warning the secretary up front. She’s pretty cool, but I don’t know how she’d feel about something scaly popping up at her desk.

I hadn’t seen him for a week or two, but on Friday when I was here alone and the office was nice and quiet, I heard something scuttling behind my bookshelves. I crawled on my hands and knees looking for it, and saw his beady little eyes peeking out from behind a loose baseboard. I left him an offering of a capful of water.

He came out again yesterday, and got caught up in a box of hanging file folder frames I have under the shelves. So I caught him, and I was on my way outside with him when he took a leap of faith. He ended up on the floor right outside my office where there are plenty of nice spiders for him to eat.

And then when I started to walk out again, there he was, glaring at me from right in the middle of the doorway, before he dashed back into my office. So it seems that I have a pet.

This morning marked my first real foggy day commute for the year, and it’s early by at least two weeks. Visibility wasn’t all that bad, really, but the fog brings out the morons. Cowboy would like me to commute on the highway on mornings like these, but I’d rather deal with the occasional tractor and cotton truck and less traffic overall. Those idiots out on the highway have a wreck a day even in good weather.

So I’m driving along looking for landmarks, and remembering worse days. There have been days when I’ve had to navigate by the fog lines on the right side of the road, and you have to figure out where you are by the texture and landmarks looming up at you all of a sudden. This wasn’t one of those days; I had plenty of notice to navigate the sharp turns and didn’t see anyone in the drainage ditches. I’m sure I will before winter’s over, but I won’t be one of them.

The fog is kind of mesmerizing, especially in the dark. You have to concentrate so hard on the road ahead that you don’t dare take your eyes off it, even for a second. And on the really bad days, you creep along with the windows rolled down to try to hear if morons without lights are rushing up at you in the dark. And there’s always a moron without his lights on.

This time of year is depressing—there’s not much sun to see, what with driving to and from work in the dark, but when it should be daylight, it’s a dull murky grey. Last year wasn’t bad, but if it’s started this early this year, I fully expect to go for weeks at a time without seeing the sun. Nothing dries out. There’s mud everywhere; although we’ve rocked the driveway and it’s much better, I still have to wade through the sticky clay to get to the cat’s dish. I may put a pallet down to reach it.

The house is always dirty. It can be spotless on Wednesday, but as soon as we come home, the mudroom is a disaster. That’s why it’s called a mudroom, and also why we don’t wear shoes in the house.

On the rare sunny day on a weekend, we’ll celebrate like we haven’t ever seen the sun before. Too bad the arena will probably be too wet to ride in; the horses are about to get fat. We don’t have a pasture to put them in this year either, so they’re all penned up, getting crabby and stinky feet.

So we’ll hole up like little hermits. Cowboy will work daylight to dark, but that’s only twelve hours now. There will be lots of cooking, and we’ll get as fat as the horses, but not as shaggy.

Welcome to the foggy day schedule.

Welcome to my boring season.

It’s at this time of year that the irrigation canals are empty and drying, so now’s when Cowboy goes to work six or seven days a week. And with the sun going down so damn early, I always feel like the day’s over when it’s only six o’clock. I tend to hole up and keep to myself this time of year; it’s the time for rereading all of my old favorites and cooking comfort food. I guess the diet’s not going to withstand Fall very well.

For once this year, there are at least things to keep me occupied at work. But since this is also the rainiest year I’ve seen in seven, we’re being put off a lot. Guess I better dust off my raincoats.

And with us all trapped in the house, it feels like there’s so much more cleaning to be done and I can never get ahead of myself, even with only living here every other week. I spend all weekend straightening up, and then the week comes and it all goes to shit again. Oh well, at least the lawn was still too wet to mow.

I noticed something new in front of my neighbor’s house while I was out inspecting the terrible state of my front yard. It seems that he’s got his house for sale. Yes, this is the same neighbor that I killed my dog for. I wish he’d just stayed away from that side of the fence if he knew he was going to move anyway. I feel worse than ever about it, and the only thing that I have to console myself is the thought that she probably would have gone down that road sooner or later anyway, and it’s better that she didn’t come unglued on the kids.

But damn. That doesn’t make this year any better.

Meme stolen from Robyn:

Press each letter of the alphabet in your browser bar, and own up to what pops up first.

A - Allconsuming
B - bastion.diaryland.com
C - Cabela’s
D - Darn-Tootin
E - Earl’s Leather
F - Awakened: Treading the Dawn
G - Gallery of Guns (I must have been looking for parts to my old .22)
H - herworship.diaryland.com
I - Redneckin
J - Jane’s Guestbook
K - kitchenlogic.diaryland.com
L - la-the-sage.diaryland.com
M - Mapquest
N - National Cowboy Museum
O - Okanagan Saddlery
P - packsawallop.diaryland.com
Q - I have no Qs. How can that be? I’ve had this computer forever.
R - ranchermom.diaryland.com
S - Sacramento History Online
T - Tater Salad   Ron White’s homepage
U - unclebob.diaryland.com
V - Vanguard
W - Webmail
X - No Xs either
Z - Zon Books

Yeah, I guess I do look at a lot of Diaryland diaries, but that is somewhat to be expected, isn’t it?

I have the day off, and I’ve done errands out the wazoo, so I have time for weird coding entries like this for once. Now I’m off to get my business cards printed!