Welcome to my ranch. Today's ranch woman does more than ride horses, drive farm machinery and cook. We fight for our freedom. I've been forced to put these first loves on the back burner and now wear the name "activist". Federal overreach is destroying our way of life- America's food producers. It's a daily battle, I'm here to educate you on that war.
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Glorious Christmas Chaos
"Apunzel" Escorted by her Grandfather Ralph to Michael Martin Murphy's Christmas Ball
Oh What Fun It Is To...
Perform 8 hours of holiday house cleaning THEN watch it "kid"destruct in 7 minutes
Watch 9 little faces, mouths watering, wait patiently for "Grandma's Crepes"
Clean up spilled milk, mac and cheese, juice, puppy chow (human and puppy), and Grog
Find an appropriate "potato replacement" for the potato guns Santa dropped off ---w/0 the potatoes. FYI according to five year old boys an onion, an apple or hard provolone works just
Forgo sitting down, visiting with adults, eating at the table, or participating in the adult gift exchange in order to protect my home from the "In-House 9 Demolition Crew"
Forgo sitting down, visiting with adults, eating at the table, or participating in the adult gift exchange in order to savor the antics (good and bad) of the same 9
Savor the flavor of each person's food speciality: Stromboli, Maryland Cream of Crab Soup, Cinnamon Rolls, Russian Tea Cakes, Spiced Tea, Cranberry Gorgonzola Cheese Balls and Grog
Suppress the guilt of consuming it all
Kick yourself when your jeans leave "2 hour button indention's" in your belly
Give rather than receive
Wake up next to a warm little body snuggling next to you
Wake up next to a warm, MOIST little body snuggling next to you
Return the little body to the rightful parents
Question the sanity of your husband-"Every five year old boy needs a pocket knife"
Question my own sanity: PERIOD
Receive...rather than give...just sometimes...especially when the receiving includes homemade Fire Roasted Green Tomato Relish and Cranberry Almond Biscotti and...Grog
Witness the effort put forth by two 4-year old princesses in an attempt to brush their patient aunt's hair to the length of "Apunzel's" (Rapunzel's). After an hour long brushing the exasperating conclusion by one---"You tan dust be Apunzel's mother, otay?"
Watch, listen, soak in, savor, absorb, inhale, video tape, capture in pictures this brief, precious moment in time.
For My Crazy, Chaotic, Glorious Christmas Blessings...and Grog
I Say Thank You Lord!
8 cups cranberry juice
2 cups golden raisins
1/2 cup sugar
4 cinnamon sticks
This recipe did call for 4 cups of ruby port. It's great without it. Simmer for 15 minutes, strain spices, serve and enjoy!
Cease from Anger.
That’s what my daughters suggested I do when one of them had the idea that we exchange New Year’s resolution recommendations for each other. Brad thought that was a bad idea, but we did it anyway.
They think I’ve been overly distressed. A little angry. Afraid I’m going to “stroke out.”
Well I probably am, have been, will continue to be, will try and work on it, and probably will.
But I’m betting that anyone that realizes what’s going on in our country is probably feeling pretty angry right now too. If not, ignorance is bliss, or they have a government job.
I’ve experienced a lot of emotions during my life: sadness, jealousy, embarrassment, fear, and anger to some degree.
Anger doesn’t just occur. It stems from something. I believe in my case it’s fear and frustration.
I grew up during the Cold War. Nothing was more feared than the A bomb during the 50’s and nothing scared me more than the “test” performed daily on our black and white T.V. suggesting that “i…
This is my backyard. This is our office. It's located in my backyard. So are the loading chutes, sheds, barns, silos and molasses tanks (tanks full of molasses that cattle find extremely tasty and nutritious.) Loading cattle here has been a common sight for as long as I can remember.
Tonight we loaded bulls. It started to snow when they were loading. I hope the driver and the bulls get to their destination safely.
The bulls have been in my backyard for several weeks. Getting fat. Getting ready to go north. Getting ready to...uh... go to slaughter, or should I say "harvest." Not too long ago that word reminded me of wheat. Kind of like the word "gay" used to make me think of someone happy.
Anyway, today our "politically correct" friends recommend we don't refer to the word that actually describes what has taken place since Adam and Eve. The word that describes what has taken place for centuries to insure human survival. No, today we mus…
I’m back…for a while, barring I don’t slip on another
tutu or fall over another tombstone. The morning after Easter 5:45 a.m. to be exact, I slipped on
a princess tutu and tore my rotator cuff. In June I had surgery and spent the summer
going to physical therapy three times a week 60 miles away.In August my Grandmother Hazel passed
away.She had lived a long, happy,
successful, life.She was 96 years old
and it was hard to say goodbye to one of my best friends. My shoulder was on the mend, but at Grandma’s graveside service I fell over
a tombstone.During the service I’d been
watching near misses and worried about someone tripping over the one on my end
of the tent.I didn’t realize there was
another on the other end.Remember I
have 10 grandkids, 7 of them under the age of 7.I had my hands full of water bottles, mine
and theirs. As I hurried out of the tent to speak to some relatives I fell
head, neck and face first over the tombstone my rear and high heels in the air
and my mouth full of …