Maybe it’s just me

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.

Sunrise Jan. 28, 2013.

Choosing to remember

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.

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

Happy blog anniversary!

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.

A beautiful Friday morning sunrise.

It doesn’t take much to make me happy any more

Since horses are a big part of my life, and their care is a priority to me, I often look for ways to make chores a lot easier. In the mornings, I normally hit the snooze several times and don’t get out of bed the first time the alarm goes off so my day’s often start out in a rush. Not much fun, but I make it work most mornings.

On New Year’s Eve we got a snow storm. This time it was pretty snow that fell from the sky with minimal wind and ended up being about five or six inches in places. Most often in Western Kansas, our snow doesn’t fall, it comes horizontally, blown by cold, gusty North winds. This time too it was bitterly cold, but not quite as bad because of the lax winds. However, single digit temps made feeding horses a bigger chore than it really was, plus with the snow on the ground it just made doing chores cumbersome and take longer.

First you had to bundle up like you were in the Arctic (Ok, not true but I despise the cold). In regular weather a Carhartt coat and heavy sweat pants (shorts in summer) and tennis shoes comprise my feeding attire. During this week of cold and snow, I donned the Carhartt, bib coveralls and snow boots.

Then you had to chop ice. I don’t mind chopping ice in a big tank. One that has some size to it and there’s no fear of puncturing it or breaking it when the axe hits the ice. Plus, when its zero degrees out any liquid freezes where it falls. That could be your face, your eyelashes or coat. By the end of the second day my horse’s tubs were frozen solid and no amount of chopping could clear out enough room for a bucket full of fresh water. I finally resorted to a small plastic tub that wouldn’t be a total loss if I broke it and it could easily be picked up and dumped out. In the last two days it has gotten warm enough during the days where the ice bricks/blocks have melted a little. Last night I was able to dump the big ice cubes out and fill the tubs with clean water. Success! I got my coat and gloves wet and my hands were cold, but NO MORE ICE! I was pretty excited.

However on my walk back to the house my excitement over the victory against the ice was dampened some by the fact that I realized ice-free horse tubs made me happy. Really? In my 34 years on this earth, that’s something that makes me happy? I guess I’ve gotten simple, but it works!

Kate waits for her evening meal, Jan. 1, 2013.

Kate waits for her evening meal, Jan. 1, 2013.