The best horses

When you’ve had a good barrel horse it can be a pretty rewarding experience. Especially when it’s one that you have trained yourself. Goals were met and accolades were achieved and it can feel pretty good.

I sometimes hear all it is to running barrels is three turns and go as fast as you can. But in reality there’s a lot more to it than that. You have to help set up the horse to make a fast and efficient turn and allow them to take the quickest path through the pattern.

When things go wrong it can make you feel like a total loser. I’m a perfectionist and hate to lose. Especially when there’s money on the line.

I’ve had my mare for a long time and this year might be the year for her to retire from the barrel pen. I need to get something younger going but it is really hard to step off one that you know so well and one who still really likes to go and run (and win).

It’s an emotional choice for me to retire her and if I hear one more “suggestion” to make this her last run I get a little defensive. It’s my choice and hers when our last time around the barrels will be. Don’t think I’m being selfish still running a 21 year old horse because I’m not. If I stopped riding her and running her I think she will take a downhill slide into old age and not act like she’s young at heart. I believe she will let me know when she doesn’t want to go.

Remembering

Tags

family, farming, History, remembering, Shaun, wedding

Sometimes there are people in your life that you expect to always be there. You never expect something to happen to them and for them to not be there. Especially if that someone is somebody you don’t see everyday.

When my father-in-law died last year, the thought, “never in a million years did I expect him to die,” kept running through my brain. I know I said it more than once at the time. In all honesty I never expected Steve to be gone before my own dad simply because my dad is diabetic and has had heart surgery in the past. Steve was relatively healthy to me.

Last week, my sister texted me and asked if I had heard anything about Bertis. “Nope, why?” was my reply. Bertis was Steve’s best friend and for many years a great family friend. Bertis helped look for Steve when my mother-in-law couldn’t get a hold of him. He and Fletch were the ones who found Steve. Never in a million years did I expect Bertis to die. But he did.

So many emotions came back to me because it’s only been a year and a few months since Steve died. It was just all too familiar. My first thought was of Bertis and Steve meeting in heaven. I thought, I sure hope they are having a cold beer and catching up.

Then I thought back to my wedding day when he handed me a $100 bill and made some joke. Wish I could remember what it was. Then I thought of his own daughter who is getting married this Saturday and how she won’t have her dad to walk her down the aisle and that he will never meet his future grand kids. I remember Bertis giving me my first beer after I had Shaun and shooting the breeze in his farm shop.

For the life of me I can’t remember when the last time I saw him was. It’s not really that important in the grand scheme of things, but my mind wants to focus on it. I thought I had a photo of him, but the only one I can find is from my wedding of him carrying ice. But it’s how I most remember Bertis – at the farm with a short-sleeved shirt, an East Kansas Chemical hat and his Wranglers. Only thing missing was the cold beverage in his hand.

Lois and Bertis at our wedding reception in 2009.

Best April Fool’s day of all

Tags

barrel racing, family, horses, kids, love, money, rodeo, Shaun, Sweet Heart Slew

Fifteen years ago today I was a freshman at Hutchinson Community College. I had money burning a hole in my pocket earmarked for a new horse. I wanted something young and fast, and that fit in my limited price range. When my sister told me about a consignment sale at the local sale barn, I just knew we’d find something there. At least it was easier than calling on classified ads in the paper.

We walked through the pens out back before the sale and I was beginning to get disappointed because nothing really caught my eye. Looking back on it, I’m not even sure I laid eyes on the 6-year-old brown mare that eventually would be mine, but I do remember when she went through the ring. She was long, lean and seemed pretty nice. Brown, with a black mane and tail and not a speck of white on her. The trader who had her had his kid crawling under her and weaving in between her front legs. Then they started talking pedigree. All I remember hearing was Seattle Slew, and I was hooked. He was the 1977 Triple Crown winner and is still the only undefeated winner.

I’d conned my sister into bidding for me, and we got my mare bought, $125 more than what I had so I had to sweet talk her and mom into loaning me the extra money. Mom still claims she owns the tail.. Probably the best $1,125 investment I’ve ever made.

It’s been a long 15 years with a lot of highs and some lows. From the first ride on her when she about run off with me, and to realizing how fast she really was. The first jackpot we won in Holly, Colo., and our first rodeo check at Ashland, Kan., to the knocked down barrels that “would have” won, we’ve been through a lot. I about lost her twice (July 2005 and April 2006) to colic and have been sidelined with our fair share of injuries. I’d always wanted to get her bred, but never could find the right stud to pair her with, and when I had settled on one I didn’t have the money. Now she’s 21, and I’m perfectly content with just having her healthy and happy. I wish we could have another 15 years together, but with horses you just never know how long they will be in your lives. I hope she’s around for a lot more. There’s a little boy who adores her, and someday he wants to ride her all by himself.

Wordless Wednesday

Tags

agriculture, camera, Canon, wheat, Wordless Wednesday

Wheat near the Clark County/Ford County line, March 27.

A whole month?

Tags

agriculture, Canon, cold, family, fun, Shaun, snow, Work

Has it really been an entire month since I blogged last? There’s no excuse. Well, there is a couple – I have been busy, it snowed and I’ve traveled.

Here’s some photos of my adventures.

This guy and I spent about 5 days in the house when we got snow not once, but twice from Feb. 21 to 25.

Wizarding World of Harry Potter was our stop after a BASF media event at Universal Studios.

Kashe decided to take his own adventure from Feb. 3 to 12. Luckily he came home.

So God made a farmer

Tags

agriculture, Dodge, family, Farmer, FFA, Grandma, Grandpa, History, horses, husband, kids, livestock, Ram, Rancher, Super Bowl

Facebook and Twitter blew up last night after the Ram Trucks commercial aired during the Super Bowl. I would have done the same to my own news feeds, but my battery was dead on my iPhone. This morning I watched the 2 minute clip again and again, and again. See it here. Every view/share it gets Ram will donate up to $1 million to  FFA.

I was at my sister’s house watching the game and socializing. There was about a half-dozen kids around and the house was loud. When the commercial started her and I both stopped and she turned the TV up pretty loud. We hushed kids and watched intently. I was impressed. Paul Harvey’s voice and the impressive photography sucked me in.

Now, I may be partial to the whole Dodge trucks and farmer concept. For as long as I can remember, my folks had Dodge and Chrysler products. It’s very hard for me to even consider driving another brand. I own a Dodge truck now and I am very proud of it. My dad farmed for a number of years when I was growing up, worked at the local John Deere dealership and now has his own cattle herd. My grandparents farmed on both sides. My great-grandparents did too. Some of my relatives even homesteaded in the county I live in. My husband is now trying to carry on the small farm dream with our own little family.

The third time I watched the video of the commercial I noticed of the 577,000 views it had at the time, 900 people gave it a thumbs down and didn’t like it. I was a little disgruntled by that fact. I guess I need to take off my rose-colored glasses and see how the rest of the world thinks, not just my agriculture-industry peers feel. I don’t have many friends or family for that matter that aren’t involved in agriculture in some way or another.

Scrolling down through the comments you see anything from how Monsanto rules the world, or big corporations are killing the small farmers and ranchers to GMOs, to how the government provides farmers welfare and some blatant inaccuracies. I was not impressed. I had to stop reading these idiots’ comments. Where is the respect anymore? Hide behind your computer screen and complain about things. I’m not complaining. My face is out there and I’m not hiding.

Others have blasted that the ad wasn’t selling anything or it was hard to tell what was being advertised. For real? Does a commercial always have to shove “buy this” down our throats? Why can’t a million dollar commercial remind us where our roots lie?

It’s not about the kind of truck you drive or the kind of combine you use or what you think about Paul Harvey. Farming is a way of life and a pretty darn important one. Food, feed, fiber and fuel. I’d like to see how long people can live without farmers, ranchers and agriculture.

Proud Dodge Ram owner and farmer’s daughter.

Maybe it’s just me

Tags

family, History, husband, peeves, perfectionism, sister, twin, words

I blame being the middle child on a number of my personality faults. Even more things get blamed on being a twin. Don’t get me wrong, I had a great childhood and even though dysfunctional at times, I love my family and my twin sister. But I believe people are a product of their environment and there are reasons why I am the way I am. When talking to other people I still have a tough time saying I or me instead of we or us.

When I am upset, I yell. The less I feel as though I am heard the louder my voice goes. My husband hates it when I yell. I would guess it stems from my small frame and the desire to feel as though I am bigger (or more right) than someone when I have a disagreement.

I despise being “told” what to do or how to do things. Just ask my husband or sister. If you ask me to “check something out” or “research” a subject, I am all over it. Tell me to do this, buy that, do it this way or visit that (just because I had fun there and you should too) and I will turn a deaf ear and most likely get ticked. Likely this stems from having a bossy older sister, but it’s something that really bothers me.

I am a thinker. I think way too much about how to handle a situation and can stew about a relatively simple decision for a week. Ask my sister, we had a text conversation about over thinking paint today. I’ve painted exactly two rooms in our new house in the nearly three years we’ve lived there. A kitchen wall and a living room wall. The same color. I want to paint a wall in our bedroom to accent the new DIY tufted headboard, and I’ve agonized over what color of turquoise to paint said wall. Her suggestion, “Go cheap in case you don’t like it you can do it over.” Good call sis. I blame over thinking on my perfectionism fault.

i despise a know-it-all. A person who knows every thing about every one, I can’t stand. Or one that has a story for everything. Throw in some negativity and I tend to write that person off and avoid them. Just does not mesh with me. I do tend to be a little on the negative side myself and when I have to listen to someone else complain besides my own internal whiner it sends me over the edge.

What ever it is that sets me off, hopefully by writing this out I can let it go. Set it free. Happy Tuesday.

Sunrise Jan. 28, 2013.

Choosing to remember

Tags

barrel racing, family, Grandpa, horses, husband, kids, love

My brain is pretty weird, and I don’t understand the way it works some times. Remembering is often difficult. I tend to blame it on not listening or being distracted or the fact I gave all my good brain cells to my son.

I remember faces just fine, but often have a tough time paring them with names. I can remember the date of my first rodeo win and most details about the day my son was born (parts are still foggy because of the drugs). However if you were to ask me what I wore a week ago or what I had for supper two days ago, I’d have to consciously think about it. But clothes and food memories are pretty irrelevant in the grand scheme of things, aren’t they?

There is a particular day coming up that I haven’t decided if I want to even remember yet. On Monday it will be the one-year anniversary of my father-in-law’s death. I sure as heck don’t want to relive the events of that day a year ago, as I think about it often as it is. More often than not I have to remind myself that God has a plan and he needed Steve more than we did. That’s still hard to do.

However, I am choosing to remember more often the times we spent fishing or sitting around in his shop solving all the worlds problems over cans of Coors Light. Or how he taught me that red beer is much better with salt and pepper. I’d like to think I was the one who introduced him to red beer, but again my crazy brain won’t let me remember.

I won’t forget the time my husband and him decided to start raising chickens. After a trip to Buffalo, Okla., to a “rather strange” guy selling all kinds of baby chicks (that my husband found via Tradio a radio program on a Woodward, Okla., station). My husband, my in-laws and I piled into the car and away we went. Unfortunately the car broke down and the chicken guy let us borrow his pickup (a single cab) to go back home. What a nice guy!  The weeks after were spent looking at the chickens planning a business selling eggs. And then came the butchering since the “hens” we were sold turned out to be boys.. Oh man, that was a good time! But I will spare you the gory details.

Another time I had gotten a different pickup and didn’t have a gooseneck ball in the new one it yet. Sometime during that particular day while I was at work my horse decided to try to cut her back foot off. She was squirting blood when I found her and needed a trip to the vet. My husband was still working and I was without a vehicle to take her to the vet with. I was bawling and called Steve. Being the softy he was he brought his pickup down and while we waited on Spence, I couldn’t stop crying because of the horse. We stood in the yard and bawled together. The horse survived and Steve bought me a gooseneck ball for my pickup for my birthday.

That wasn’t the first time Steve would come to my rescue. During the summer of 2010 my husband went on wheat harvest. My sister and I decided to go to a barrel race one evening after work. It was 100+ degrees and it took longer than normal to catch her horses because they didn’t want to be caught. By the time we got to Ashland we were running late and she was driving faster than she probably should have on a light (ok, very light) tank of fuel. Who knew a 1/4 of a tank wouldn’t go 50 miles. Right outside of Ashland her pickup died and luckily there was a nice farmer who pulled her pickup and trailer to the fairgrounds. Her husband was gone trucking and mine was in South Dakota. I thought who do I know here that could help us? Steve! I called and told him what had happened and he brought some fuel with him. I called my dad too and he brought my pickup just in case we didn’t have a vehicle to get home with. We went ahead and warmed our horses up and ran. By the time the race was over Steve and some others had managed to get us running. Always gracious to me he wouldn’t take any money and I stuffed some cash in his shirt pocket and gave him a huge hug.

While I may not remember his reaction the first time I met him, I do remember his reaction when I won my first saddle; when Spence and I announced our engagement; his face at our wedding; and when we announced we were expecting our first child. He was one to show his emotion and not be embarrassed about it.

Until we meet again, I will continue to remember all the good times and smile when I think of you.

My father-in-law Steve and his dog Dolly.

Wordless Wednesday

Tags

heart broke, Le Creuset

Who knew a broken Le Creuset pan could break my heart. This sight sure did!

Happy blog anniversary!

Tags

blogging, fun, iPhone, words

Yee haw! I’ve made it through a whole year blogging and didn’t scrap the idea after the first month or six months. Here we are at 78 posts, and when I was thinking about what to write about I went back to the beginning and re-read some of my posts. Ironic enough my second post was about the howling wind, and you know what, the wind is again howling outside my window! Some things never change.

A lot has happened in the past year. Some bad, others good and some fun in between. I’m not much of a resolution maker, but I try to improve myself each year and not digress into the bad habits I have already accumulated. Easier said than done at times.

Thanks to everyone for reading, and I hope you continue to do so. Here’s to another year blogging!

A beautiful Friday morning sunrise.