Finding Your “Want To”

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“Have a Coke?”
“Or…..have a bikini?”

https://guelph-real-estate.ca/r1bg1afiofq I’d love to lose 10 pounds. I’ve actually been saying this for a couple of years now. Everyday, I wake up, get dressed and depending on what the scale says and how my clothes fit, I usually think, “I’d love to lose 10 pounds.” Some days it’s 15. I adore cooking, enjoy eating even more and don’t really like to exercise. That’s pretty much the trifecta of doom when it comes to a productive weight loss strategy. Using the most accurate tdee calculator could help me better understand my daily calorie needs, making it easier to develop a realistic weight loss plan.

Order Tramadol Overnight Visa In my mission to wear a bikini in public again, I have armed myself with some pretty amazing tools to help me take off these stubborn last few pounds. We bought a used elliptical machine and placed it in our bedroom. I have at least 10 DVDs of numerous workouts ranging from kickboxing to stress relieving yoga. I bought a daily deal for 10 Zumba classes. For Christmas, I asked for “Just Dance 2” on the Wii so I can shake my groove thang while burning calories. I even got Zumba for PS3 so I can pretend that my groove thang is Latin when I want to switch it up.

go Strangely, even after arming myself with all of these amazing weight loss tools, I have not lost more than a pound or two. The ugly truth is this: Until last week, the elliptical was a great place for my husband to hang his laundry. The workout DVDs are gathering dust under the DVDs of Baby Einstein that see a lot more action these days. I went to two Zumba classes with my sweet friend and neighbor Berween but our schedules got busy and we have not yet been back. I have done “Just Dance 2” a few times but the Zumba PS3 game is still in the package. Continue reading Finding Your “Want To”

Stockyards City Cookbook Cook Through: BAKED APPLES ~ Plate Lickin’ Good!

get link

Whitni's friends are great "tasters."

follow url As I was flipping through the Stockyards City cookbook, looking for a healthier option for a desert, the baked apple recipe caught my eye. What an easy, healthy option for getting your friends and family to enjoy fruit!

https://www.mbtn.net/?p=h5cqlc84 go to site Baked Apples
By Annette Trammell

see url 4 med. apples
1/2 c raisins
2 T brown sugar
1/2 T cinnamon
1/4 T nutmeg
1/3 C apple juice

watch Core apples and peel a strip from the top. Place in small baking dish. Mix sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, brown sugar, and raisins together. Fill each apple with the raisin mixture. Pour apple juice all over. Bake at 350 for 40 min or until apples are tender. Serve warm. Can serve with drizzled cream or cool whip.

source site (I doubled the recipe and added extra brown sugar and apple juice. I also added Marzettis cream cheese fruit dip on top.)  For my tantelizing photo gallery covering this recipe, click the “read more” link below…

Happy Cooking!
[whitni]

Continue reading Stockyards City Cookbook Cook Through: BAKED APPLES ~ Plate Lickin’ Good!

Out of the Comfort Zone and Into the Target Zone

 

“…maybe I’ll take over for Jennifer Hudson!” ~ Kendy Cox

A year ago, the thought of joining Weight Watchers© was laughable to me.  My ignorant opinion was that Weight Watchers© and similar programs are for obese people who don’t know how to work hard in the gym and simply need someone to pry the Oreos out of their hands while they work through their deep dark emotional eating issues.

I most definitely did not need THAT.  However, I wasn’t exactly thrilled with the state of my physique.  I looked in the mirror and saw a mother of two who was destined to spend her life on an ongoing quest to get back into the beautiful, pre-baby clothes that longingly called my name every time I chose my outfit from the two-sizes-bigger section of my closet.  I’ve never been technically overweight, but the bottom line for me was that I wasn’t where I used to be and felt most comfortable.  Yes, I was younger then.  No, I hadn’t birthed two children then.  None of those facts made me feel any better, however. If you want to lose weight, you can find out the best weight loss supplements that really work here.

I was frustrated…frustrated that I was doing what I’ve always done (eating what I thought was relatively healthy meals and going to the gym) and that simply wasn’t cutting it.  I told myself that I just needed to prioritize going to the gym more frequently, jog faster and work out for longer periods of time.  I felt like I was living out that old adage about doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.

Fast forward to today. Continue reading Out of the Comfort Zone and Into the Target Zone

The Coolest Desk Ever [OR] “I Am Weak”

https://www.marineetstamp.com/0v9z6uy0 by Zac Logdson

A Guest Blogger Post for our MAN CAVE Section

Tramadol Sales Online Editor’s Note ~ This post is being reprinted with permission from the author.  Information about his company and other projects can be found at the end of the post. Thanks, Red Dirt Kelly

***

As you may recall from a little more than a week ago, I sold my office desk without really any clue as to what I was gonna do to replace it.  But after about an hour working from a tiny spare desk we had lying around, that barely held my 30” monitor, I decided I needed to act fast.

My goal was to buy or build a custom desk made from something that wasn’t intended to be a desk.  And I wanted it to represent ME a lot better than the old one did.  I wanted people to walk in my office and have my desk be so mind-blowingly awesome that they’d have to turn away to shield themselves from the glory of it all.  I wanted my desk to send people into seizures.  I wanted it to cause children to weep and old people to wet themselves.  I wanted my desk to be both loved unconditionally by all who saw it AND feared by those who heard folk tales about it.  So I built that desk… and in the process, I became an extremely weak individual.

https://danivoiceovers.com/xhlnhco Back Story

A few years ago, I read somewhere (no idea where) that having pictures of your family on your desk was a sign of weakness.  I don’t know who made that claim or where that perception originated but whoever put that in print is a tool.  I can see where it might be accurate but do I really want to do business with anyone that thinks I’m weak just because I have a picture of my family on my desk?  That said, I think that concept always kinda stuck with me.  On my old desk, I had various photos of my family on the area behind me, plus drawings and notes on my bulletin board from my kids.  But like I said, they were behind me.  Definitely not the focus of my office.  So I decided to change that.

source Building the Perfect Desk/Becoming Weak: Step 1 – Concept

There’s an architect in the basement of our building that had some really old (maybe a hundred years) wooden windows he was storing in a nearby shed.  I asked about them to see if he’d be willing to sell them. Continue reading The Coolest Desk Ever [OR] “I Am Weak”

The 2011 Imaginary Family Project – Week 11

https://dcinematools.com/gh24nzt #11 of 52 : MATT, BILLY, and JOHNNY

https://alldayelectrician.com/m70wzo5cc External Photo Clues:
None

Cod Tramadol Online Imagine:
I remember that hot summer morning like it was just yesterday.  That’s me, Billy, there in the middle.  My best friend Matt is to my right and my other best friend Johnny is to my left.  I remember that morning well, not only because that was the day my mom got her new camera, but that was the day me and my two best friends got into a lot of trouble…

Now don’t get the wrong idea, we were basically three good kids.  It’s just that things kind of got a little out of hand that day.

Early that morning, even before the sun came up, Matt was knocking at my bedroom window.  His dad had died when Matt was two years old and his mom worked about three jobs just to make “ends meet”.  On the nights that his mom worked all night, he seemed to just show up at my house.  I opened my bedroom window and let Matt sleep in my room for the rest of the night.  My parents were really cool and didn’t really mind…they liked Matt a lot anyways.  That morning we woke up to my mom screaming for joy.  My dad had given her a new camera for their anniversary.  My dad had always told me that he knew how to make a woman happy.  Hmm…I guess he did.  As I sat down to eat some cereal, I noticed Matt eating out of the box and drinking milk from the carton…”hurry up dude, you’re wasting time”, Matt yelled at me.  We finished up and headed outside.  As we opened the front door to step outside, the sound of gun fire went off.  Matt and I launched ourselves onto the front porch deck covering our heads.  It seemed like forever before the noise stopped.  We looked up and we saw Johnny laughing, “you two are a couple of girls”.   Johnny, the joker of the bunch, had rigged my front door with a bunch of black cat fireworks.  Matt yells, “Dog Pile” and we commenced to tackle him and give him a monster wedgie.

Once we got through rolling around on the ground, we headed for the old cotton mill bridge.  I don’t know what it was about that old wooden bridge, but it seemed like the place where we always started our day.  The old mill had been abandoned for as long as I can remember, but the bridge was still in use.  It was pretty cool; it was one of those old wooden tunnel bridges.  We use to screw around underneath that thing for hours.  At times you would see some smaller vehicles cross it, but I’m not sure I would have tried to drive a truck over that old thing.  When we got to bridge we knew there was going to be trouble.  Four punk kids from the next town over were in the middle of the bridge throwing rocks at the old cotton mill.  Not that breaking the windows to that old place really mattered, but it was the fact that we pretty much thought of that place as our own.  Johnny, being the “outspoken one”, yells at the biggest kid in the group…”hey fat ass, you throw like a girl”.  Matt, being the momma’s boy of the group, basically slid behind me and made himself look as invisible as humanly possible.  I was like, “great Johnny…here we go again” and the time last summer when we got in a fight with the Hennessy twins suddenly flashed before my eyes.  I’ll still have bruises from that fight…damn those girls fought dirty.

As the four boys slowly walked toward us, I noticed Johnny kneeled down and got some sort of “make-shift” contraption out of his back pack.  Knowing Johnny the way I did, I knew this was about to get really exciting.  As the boys came closer, they got louder and more vulgar.  I told Johnny…”whatever you got planned…you better do it quick”.  That’s when I saw the lighter…then I heard him say, “you guys better run…this is going to be loud”.  Johnny lit the device and threw it in the middle of the pack of boys.  The boys weren’t to the end of the bridge when they saw the lit make-shift bomb and they scattered quick.  One took off to the right, one went left, one went straight, but the fat loud mouth wasn’t so lucky.  BOOM!!!! It was LOUD…the ground shook, the mill windows rattled, and I could swear I saw a mushroom cloud.  It was the loudest thing I had ever heard.  The three of us hit the ground laughing our butts off.  As our laughter halted we heard, “hey…where’s Bobby”.  It was then when we all three realized that we never saw the fat kid run.  Was he dead?  Did Johnny blow him up?  We didn’t know, but we knew this was going to be bad.

At that time, the three of us and the three punk kids started to make our way back towards the cloud of dust.  Then we saw it…Johnny’s make-shift bomb had blown a hole right through that old wooden bridge and the fat kid had fallen down into the creek bed.  “You guys killed him!”, one of them said.  “Good”, said Johnny.  As we made our way down to the creek bed, we saw he was laying half way in the water and completely covered with mud.  “Check his breathing”, Matt said as he bends down to pick up one of the kid’s shoes.  One of his buddies leaned down and put his ear next to his mouth.  “Good…he’s breathing”.  “Too bad you girl!!!”, Johnny said, with a slight kick of dirt on the poor boy.  After several attempts of his friends trying to make him “come to”, the kid’s eyes opened.  “What happened, am I dead?”, he said.  “These jerks tried to kill you”.  The three of us stood up and gave him a nice sarcastic “golf clap”.  Looking up at us from flat on his back, the kid points and mumbles a few slurred words.  Not even understanding what he said Johnny barks back at him, “you want more you girl?”

But the next words out of his mouth we did understand…”Truuuuuuuck!!!”.

We all looked at each other in total fear.  We already knew that old wooden bridge could barely support a regular sized car, but here comes this moving truck, and on top of that, Johnny just blew a huge hole in it.  Matt and the other three boys all grabbed an arm or a leg and darted down the creek.  I hurried up the creek side wall as fast as I could thinking, someone had to stop the truck from crossing the bridge.  By the time I made my way out, it was too late.  The truck was already half way across the bridge.  I ran to the opening of the bridge and started to wave my arms yelling, “STOP”.  Not sure if it was my yelling or if the driver saw the huge hole in the bridge, but he stopped the truck and got out.  “hey kid…what’s your problem”, he yelled at me.  I yelled back at him, “dude!, the bridge is going to collapse…run!!!”.  The bridge creaked as the flooring started to give way.  The trucker turned and ran towards the other end of the bridge.  Just as he made it to the other side, the entire bridge collapsed into the creek bed.  As the trucker and I stood there and stared at each other across the bridgeless road we could hear the faint sound of a congratulatory “golf clap” from the boys.  I thought to myself, we are in big trouble.  Should we run, should we stay and face up to our mess.  We decided to stay.

By this time the fat kid had made his way back onto his feet and the boys were all walking towards me to make their way out of the creek.  I convinced them all into not saying anything about the bomb and just see what happens.  By then the trucker had made his was down his side of the creek, out, and up to us.  “you boys OK?”, he asked.  Johnny says, “hell man…you about killed us all.  Don’t you know that old bridge won’t hold your big ass truck!!!?  Looking down at his fallen truck he says, “I’m sorry guys, but what the heck am I going to do about all those pop bottle rockets I was hauling”?   We all looked at each other and smiled.  Not even saying a word, we all knew how lucky we were.  Johnny looks at the fat kid and said, “you ok?”  “Yea, I’ll be ok”.  “See you tomorrow”, Johnny says.  The fat kid replied, “I’m not sure, you guys play pretty rough”.  As we started to walk back home, I looked back.  I could see two of the boys helping the limping kid along and the truck driver was still standing there staring at the bottom of the creek.  I put my arms around my friends and smiled.

Now as I sit here staring at this old picture, I can’t help but think about all the great times we had together and how I throughout my entire life, I never found any friends as good as I had when I was ten.

Tramadol 50Mg Buy Online Uk About The Author:
John Hare is a Senior Regulatory Coordinator for Oklahoma Gas & Electric. A 39 year old family man that enjoys spending time with his wife, Carrie, and his three kids, Colton, Ashton, and Donovan.

source Authoring For The Imaginary Family Project:
Oops!… we are temporarily oversubscribed.
We’ll open this project up for new Authors later this year.

https://paradiseperformingartscenter.com/343lmekyszg About The Imaginary Family Project:
The 2011 Imaginary Family Project is a year-long collective art endeavor coordinated by occasional amateur artist Quentin Bomgardner and co-sponsored by The Red Dirt Chronicles.  This project is based around “lost” vintage photographs, which have been acquired at flea markets, garage sales, estate sales, and eBay – heirloom collections, with no heir.  Every week a different author will “find” one photograph by creating an imagined history around one of its subjects.  At the end of the year, the collection will be compiled and presented as a group.

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What are your N.U.T.s?


A lot of the blogs I read have written recently about the need for men to have a firm grasp on their non-negotiable, unalterable terms or as Wayne Levine (the man who coined the term) calls them, our N.U.T.s.

To quote Levine:

To be the man, father, husband or leader you want to be, you must develop and maintain a firm grasp of your N.U.T.s

N.U.T.s – non-negotiable, unalterable terms—are the things that define you as a man. They’re what a man is committed to. And when these N.U.T.s are compromised, men become angry, unhappy, frustrated, depressed. They would rather blame others than take responsibility for their own actions. They’ll play the victim as they take out their negative feelings on those they love. They’re also the guys who will try to drown their sorrows in alcohol, drugs, porn, and a slew of other equally destructive behaviors.

I’ve borrowed a list of a few examples of N.U.T.s from Levine’s website and have listed them below:

* I am faithful to my wife.
* Compassion for my family trumps my need to be right.
* I am a risk taker.
* I do what I believe is in the best interest of my children, even if they disagree.
* I do not ask for permission.
* I do not indulge my addictions.
* I take my problems to men, not to women.
* I do whatever it takes to keep my family in our home.
* I honor my daily spiritual practice.
* I do not sell out who I am to please others.

Although I suspect I have an unspoken list of N.U.T.s, I don’t think I’ve ever actually voiced many of them to myself or anyone else. In the coming weeks, I’m going to spend some time thinking about my non-negotiable unalterable terms and will be posting them here on the RDC as a permanent reminder to myself of those things that I will hold to no matter what. Some of mine will be fairly similar to the ones above and some will be quite different. Either way, I’m looking forward to the process of considering, defining, and listing my own N.U.T.s.

What are your N.U.T.s?

My Little Victory Garden: Entry Four-Ever, I DO

About Thursday at noon last week I realized that even Queens of Multi-tasking have limits.  Actually, I think it was 11:45 a.m. when I stopped and wrote three e-mails.  All of them canceling appointments I had previously set up because “I was going to be running errands around town for my daughter’s wedding and might as well take care of (X).”  I took off my multi-tasking crown and tossed it somewhere into the back of my SUV; it landed alongside three bags of clothes (dry cleaner, gym bag, sack of clothes I had to buy because I forgot my gym bag last week), four boxes of Mason or Kerr canning jars (drinking glasses for the wedding), six wedding presents for my daughter and her fiancee’ I had collected from church and friends over the last week, school books (both teaching and learning) and five crumpled pieces of paper.  If unwadded, lists of 10-15 things “to be done before the wedding” would be revealed on each of the paper balls.  They rolled to and fro on the floor of my car as I drove madly around town, forward when stopping and backward when I took off again.

Five days later, the crown is still resting haphazardly in the back and I’m not quite ready to don it again.  Rather, I’m still thinking about all the seeds planted in my Life Garden last week: memories, new friendships and relationships, a new marriage in our family and, well, more memories.  I’ll talk about those in just a minute.  First I want to honor this post by reporting on my garden.

“My Little Victory Garden” was neglected most of the week.  I took solace in the fact that our neighbor’s sprinkling system was watering my seedlings nightly.  Evidently last summer during a long hot week, Dennis (my neighbor to the west) told Mick that he was watching after my garden by adjusting two of his sprinkler heads to rotate 360 degrees, thus also covering my garden as well as a portion of his yard.  Nine months later, I thanked him in my head for that little gesture by commenting to myself, “Well, at least the garden is getting a little water at night. You rock, Dennis.” Continue reading My Little Victory Garden: Entry Four-Ever, I DO

Meanwhile Back at The Ranch: I’m Braking For Spring

What a day!  It was the barn with the Daffodils that caught my eye first, and after that I just kept noticing glimpses of color and new life all around.  If you haven’t already, stop and notice. (Click photos for a larger view).  Have a great week!

On my way to Wal-Mart, I noticed these beauties in front of an old barn.

 

 

It looks like my strawberries survived the winter. I'm going to clean out the dead leaves and start watching for blooms.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is a welcomed sight coming up the drive. Looks like it's time to get out the rake.

Continue reading Meanwhile Back at The Ranch: I’m Braking For Spring

Simple Sabbath: Comanche County Burgs

Postcard showing Meers Burgers and Store in Meers, Oklahoma.

Down in southwest Oklahoma there are a group of burgs that are filled with great people. Ninnekah to Rush Springs, go west from Rush Springs and you’ll hit Sterling. Keep going you can roll through Elgin. Turn right in Elgin and you can find Fletcher or Cyril. Keep going west and stop at Porter Hill.

Now if you’re really savvy you know where we are headed. Maintaining westerly course you’ll find yourself on the Meers Porter Hill Road that runs smack into Meers itself. They tell me it’s famous, but I grew up not that far away and it’s just Meers. I don’t have a great spiritual thought regarding Meers and Meers Burger. I just want you to know that I know where it is.

I really just want to go back through Elgin and stop between there and Sterling. I used to drive from Apache to pick up my high school sweetheart out there. I met my Sterling girl (that’s where she attended all twelve years of school) in 1972. We’ve been sort of an item ever since.

Right out of high school I married a Sterling Lady Tiger. It wasn’t an Elgin Owl, not a Fletcher Wildcat, not a Cyril Pirate or Cement Bulldog. This Apache Warrior thought that country girl was the catch of his life. And now, nearly forty years later, I still think she’s the one.

https://www.mbtn.net/?p=h17u1j1 We Got Married

Ok, this is where we transition to that faith part of my writing assignment. When we got married she took my last name. How about that? Or, as we Apachean’s say, “Ain’t that sumpthin?”

We were way too young when we got married. The odds were stacked against us in many ways. Continue reading Simple Sabbath: Comanche County Burgs

What Do You See When You Glance at a Police Horse? Perhaps More Than You Think.

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Me and Traveler on "the boxes." This is an obstacle to develop precision in foot placement when crossing obstacles or climbing stairs. (Photo provided by the author, courtesy of the OCSO)

https://purestpotential.com/vdti0pi by Sam Chesnut

The concept of using horses in law enforcement is as old as law enforcement itself.  But the requirements placed on the law enforcement horse, and the methods used in its training, are constantly changing.  The Sheriff, or Marshal, of bygone days did not have the many different venues that a modern police horse has to deal with.  The law enforcement horse of the 1800’s did not have our traffic, crowds, or complexity of civilization.  And with special circumstances comes the need for special training.

What you see as the modern police horse is the result of many hours of this special training.  Recently Oklahoma County Sheriff John Whetsel and the Oklahoma County Mounted Patrol supervisors conducted a five day school dedicated to the implementation and training of the police horse.  The officers attending came from several different law enforcement agencies including the Oklahoma County Sheriff’s Office (OCSO) and the Oklahoma Highway Patrol (OHP) with other participants traveling from as far away as Indiana.  Through Sheriff Whetsel’s supervision the school has been a great success and has grown in attendance every year.  The school and its instructors are known nationwide.  On many occasions Deputy Randy Garner, OCSO Mounted Patrol Section Leader and chief instructor, has been requested to teach mounted police tactics to units in other areas of the nation.  The following is a brief glimpse of how the training is conducted:

The first matter of business is an extensive warm-up time that allows both the horses and riders to become accustomed to their surroundings and the training aids they will be using.  Police horse training is similar to that of the police K-9 unit development.  All programming is initiated by letting the horse play with a certain object.  Then the “play” is directed toward “mission oriented” tasks.  For example, the beginning of the Crowd Control training is accomplished by using a large (four foot in diameter) inflated “beach ball.”  The horse is directed to push it and soon he is pushing and kicking it around like a child playing with a ball. Continue reading What Do You See When You Glance at a Police Horse? Perhaps More Than You Think.

Does Capel Deserve More Time?

Could Jeff Capel's tenure at Oklahoma be over? (courtesy thespread.com)

Jeff Capel is a good basketball coach.

“Good” will cut it in just about any profession, just not Capel’s. Good coaches get fired every season and some in this state believe now is the time for a change in leadership of the Oklahoma program.

Capel’s detractors have a case. The Sooners finished the season last night with a 20-point loss to Texas and an overall record of 14-18. For the first time in 46 years, OU has posted back to back losing seasons.
Capel’s squad will also miss the NCAA tournament for a second consecutive year. The Sooners haven’t been left out of the dance two years in a row since 1994.

There was a brutal string of nine straight losses at the end of last season. At one point this year, OU dropped eight in a row and wound up losing nine of its last eleven.

Can Capel win without Blake Griffin? So far, the answer seems to be no. (courtesy sportige.com)

The Sooners have fallen close to the cellar in the Big 12 conference. Only Iowa State finished lower than OU in the standings, and ten of the Sooners conference losses were by a margin of ten points or more. It isn’t just that Capel’s team was losing, it’s that his team wasn’t even consistently competitive. It looks worse for OU when you look at recent history against the top teams in the conference. The Sooners have now dropped four in a row to Texas, four in a row to Texas A&M, and six straight to Kansas.

Critics also love to point out Capel’s recruiting history. Willie Warren, Tommy Mason-Griffin, and Tiny Gallon were all McDonald’s All-Americans and were supposed to be the next wave of Sooner superstars. They were going to pick up the slack after the departure of Blake Griffin, and continue to keep the program in a position of prominence. Warren played two seasons and bolted to the NBA. Mason-Griffin skipped town after only a year and was quoted in the Houston Chronicle saying, “School work was just not in my comfort zone.”  Gallon also left Norman after his freshman season amidst allegations that he and his mother received $3,000 from a financial adviser. OU assistant coach Oronde Taliaferro was rumored to be connected to the adviser and the NCAA launched an investigation into Taliaferro’s actions.

Continue reading Does Capel Deserve More Time?

What’s For Dinner Mom?

Have you ever looked at your watch and realized it is dinner time?  You haven’t started dinner much less decided what you are going to fix and someone walks in and asks “what’s for dinner Mom?”  It seems like this happens to me more often than not.  I have tried to plan ahead and buy my groceries for the week, but life gets in the way, dinner gets cancelled and the next thing I know the meat has to be thrown out.  So I  go to the grocery store several times a week to at least purchase meat.   These trips usually occur after 3:30 and most days closer to 5.  My family is shrinking and planning meals seems to be getting harder instead of easier!

If any of this sounds familiar, you will love this week’s recipe.  From start to finish you can have dinner on the table in 30 minutes or less.

Tramadol To Buy Microwave Beef & Tater Casserole
by Jana Lowry

1 lb Frozen Ground Beef

1lb Frozen Tater Tots

2 T Minced Onions

1 Can Cream of Celery Soup

1 Can Cream of Chicken Soup

Paprika

Crumble beef in a 2 qt. casserole.  Microwave on high for 5 minutes.  Drain the liquid off the meat and top with onion and tater tots.  Mix two soups together and put on top of tater tots.  Microwave on high for 15 minutes.  Sprinkle paprika on top.

I have to admit that I was hesitant to eat this.  I’m not very adventurous when it comes to food.  I tend to find something on the menu, at restaurants we frequent, that I like and stick with it.  Why?  Two reasons, one it irritates everyone that I am https://guelph-real-estate.ca/htixpv52m always the last one to make up my mind and two I know when I get my food I will like it! Continue reading What’s For Dinner Mom?

The 2011 Imaginary Family Project – Week 10

enter site #10 of 52 : SAMANTHA with CHARLENE, NOVA LEA, PAULINE & JEANETTE
https://geolatinas.org/4syv5hr Imaginary Family Project Week 10

Buy Cheap Tramadol Overnight Note to Our Readers: The Imaginary Family Project short story collection may occasionally contain adult themes or situations due to the framework of the project and the various paths our authors take.  However, the content will not contain lewd or explicit material.  We suggest that this particular entry is better suited for adult readers. Thank you ~ The Editor

https://www.mreavoice.org/mayhg0qftl External Photo Clues:
None

https://mocicc.org/agricultura/bkbkp3mcy Imagine:
Samantha would kill me if she knew I had this photograph. She’s the one flinging her skirt around while Charlene, Nova Lea, Pauline and Jeanette, her 1948 senior classmates, egg her on. They’re standing in front of the old Dempsey High School building where Samantha cut a wide swath as a teenager. She has just whipped off her wrap-around skirt covering her “playsuit” as those blouse-and-shorts sets were called in the 1940’s. The matching skirt was to be worn in public for the sake of modesty. Only the most daring girls took off their skirts at school, because keeping them buttoned on was a condition of being allowed to wear them. (Come to think of it, that Jeanette was none too modest herself, huh?)

Anyway, she was a cut-up, that Samantha, my father’s youngest sister, my favorite aunt. All the girls at Dempsey High, wanted to be her friend. Every boy from the squeaky-voiced freshmen to the gruff, burly football players wanted to be her boyfriend. She was vivacious and funny, witty and clever, but also capable of deep thought and solemn earnestness. On rare occasions, even in the midst of frivolity, sadness would come over her face. This doesn’t seem as strange now as it did then, seeing as how things turned out. Continue reading The 2011 Imaginary Family Project – Week 10

Real Men and Fear

I’m afraid…

I’m afraid my daughter might grow up not realizing how much I treasure her. I’m afraid my wife might not know how much I really love her. I’m afraid I will get to the end of my life and realize that I’ve wasted many of my days chasing things that don’t matter. I’m afraid of insignificance. I’m afraid of not being awesome at everything I attempt. I’m afraid of people who would do me and my family harm with no concern whatsoever to the consequence of their actions. I’m afraid of the consequences of some of my actions. I’m afraid of getting passed over and left behind. I’m afraid my life doesn’t matter and my contributions aren’t significant. I’m afraid of getting cancer and dying before I’ve lived the life I always imagined for myself. I’m afraid of knives and guns. I’m afraid of not being liked. I’m afraid of snakes and poisonous spiders and velociraptors… yeah I went there. You would too if you happened to be a child the first time you saw Jurassic Park… those terrible bird-like buggers are some nasty creatures.

I’m afraid of all those things and more, but I don’t let fear paralyze me.

A real man knows that he’ll always have fear. No matter what he does or who he is, there will always be some things that cause him fear. And he’s OK with that because a real man knows how to experience his fear.

He doesn’t shy away from fear. In fact, he doesn’t even try to resist it. He wants to experience the feeling of his fear fully. He acknowledges the presence of fear and seeks to understand its cause. He knows that fear, much like happiness or anger or any other fleeting emotion is just that… a fleeting emotion.

A real man stares fear right in the face, tries to understand it for what it truly is, and then he acts. Continue reading Real Men and Fear

My Little Victory Garden: Entry Three

Yukon Gold potatoes ~ the debate remains on whether or not you need more than one "eye" per chunk when you plant.

I was talking to my dad on the phone Saturday, sharing with him that I was getting ready to plant potatoes.  He said, “You’re not waiting until St. Patrick’s Day?”  I didn’t even know that was a THING. (Later, I felt slightly better when Mick told me ‘the sign said sometime between February 20th and March 15th.’  Heck, I wasn’t even being risky if we were using the sign’s standard!)

I wonder how many THINGS I don’t know?  I found out another THING while on the phone with him.  He recalled for me that my grandmother Porter (Julie At The Ranch’s great-grandmother as well) used to peel her potatoes fairly thickly, then simply plant the peelings, saving the core to cook for a meal.  Then he, my mother across the room speaking “through” my dad, and I had a third conversation:  How many eyes do you need per chunk of potato planted?  She said two, he said probably just one.  Knowing me, and my inability to identify exactly what constitutes as a bonafide eye, I’ll probably plant three or more.  It’s one thing for roots to be growing forth from the potato, hence easily identifiable makings of a plant.  However, are the little dents with tiny dots in them ALL eyes?  Who knows.  My potato chunks may have four eyes or more due to my lack of experience.

So, earlier that morning, prior to speaking with my dad: I was feeling a little guilty having only purchased three seed potatoes from the feed store.  I looked around a bit more and found a packet of last year’s cucumber seeds for fifty cents.  A discussion ensues…this time with Mick.

Mick: “Don’t you want to buy THIS year’s seeds?”

Me:  “Why?  Don’t you think LAST year’s will grow?”

Mick: “I don’t know.  It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Me: “Okay, first of all – that’s silly.  Of COURSE they’ll grow.  Secondly, I’m simply trying to find something to add to my potato purchase so the total will be over a dollar.  These are nice people and I’d like to spend more than eighty cents with them!”

Mick (known for always tipping the employees at Sonic more than he should): “Oh, yeah.  Good idea.” Continue reading My Little Victory Garden: Entry Three

Meanwhile, Back at The Ranch: Estate of Confusion

 

There were TWO of these.

I can’t say that I have always loved garage sales, but in my adult life I have hosted and helped friends with several of them.  I love cleaning out closets, getting up early, and putting similar items together.  However, this weekend our family hosted an estate sale at the home of my father-in-law who passed away last November.  Most of the family showed up to help organize and price the artifacts left behind by their father.

Price.

That’s where I drew the line.

It started a few weekends ago when I went up to help get ready for the sale.  I had cleaned out a few of my own closets and found several things I could do without.  They were donated to the cause without a thought, but then this question kept resurfacing: “Julie, how much do you want to put on this?”  No matter what I said, my suggestion was either too high or too low.  No matter how many times I declined to answer the question, they continued to ask. However, a few of my items were taken home by the family for personal use.  I guess “free” was a good price for those. 🙂

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Goodbye washer and dryer. Hello $100.

One week before the sale, I let a friend do some shopping in the trailer.  She spent $67 on two chairs, a quilt rack and a cat food bowl.   Another friend bought the stereo for $50 and a pair of boots and a napkin holder for $10. Then it happened. “How much do you want for that outdoor furniture?” he asked. “It’s not priced?  Are you sure it doesn’t have a price on it somewhere?” I replied. Really, I looked everywhere.  My husband and I looked at each other.  I had already told him that I was NOT going to price one single item because my prices were always rejected by his family, but he wouldn’t say anything so I decided. “$25 for the two chairs and table.” Needless to say, when I revealed that information on the day of the big sale, it was not well-received.  All I could do was shrug my shoulders.  I mean, someone walked out with a free $129 Tempur Pedic pillow, and the other pillow I donated was sold for $1.  I guess I’m still not clear on the pricing procedure.  I’m just glad it’s over.

I'm not surprised this didn't sell. Go POKES!

We still have a trailer full of some over-priced and some under-priced goods. I just hate that I still can’t tell which is which.

[julie]

 

Silent Sunday Afternoon Edition: 3/6/11 ~ Jessica Wolloscheck, Senior Portfolio

https://onlineconferenceformusictherapy.com/2025/02/22/obka0xbbk Jessica’s words about this series: This album was put together my senior year of college while studying photography.  The inspiration was derived from a box of old family photographs I found. The end result was a series of self-portraits in which I wanted to bring to life the Valium, drug, and alcohol abuse of women during the 60’s and 70’s.

https://danivoiceovers.com/lp36nazpx Editor’s note: Next month is Alcohol Awareness Month.  We’re publishing this series now in order to provide a short moment of time to think about whether or not you, your loved ones or someone you know could take advantage of the multiple free screenings or help and resources that will be available beginning April 1st.  Thanks, Red Dirt Kelly

Continue reading Silent Sunday Afternoon Edition: 3/6/11 ~ Jessica Wolloscheck, Senior Portfolio

My Little Victory Garden: Entry Two

One week before a business down the road from our home opened, torrential rains came and took out their entire retaining wall. In three days, however, the mess was cleaned up and crews worked around the clock to rebuild the wall and the structures it had pulled down. Now restored, the first business is OPEN.

The majority of Oklahoma experienced a sustaining drought throughout last fall and on through Winter 2010-11. No rain.  Zero.  When this kind of thing happens in the winter, it’s not quite as noticeable as it is when green things are growing.  However the situation was pretty bad: until just a few days ago fire warnings had been published, all our snow had only amounted to mere tenths of an inch once melted and the winter wheat was really suffering.

Then last week the rain came.  In torrents.  Although our whole state didn’t get moisture, a good deal did and that “good deal” included My Little Victory Garden.  Two days after Mick had plowed up the beautiful soil into a soft loam for planting, the rain came with a vengeance.  My yard still has “wavy grass” reminders, my garden was flooded and the aftermath is a now uneven, cracked plot with sand in it.  Why sand?  The rain was so hard it found a weak, lower area in our neighbors yard and drilled down behind our retaining wall, oozing out the native sandy loam through the cracks.  But that wasn’t the worst damage.  My garden got off easy.

Did you get a big rain? Did your yard look like this once the water subsided?

Continue reading My Little Victory Garden: Entry Two

Simple Sabbath: Suffering the Indiginity of it all

Image by the Associated Press.

If you’re a country kid in Oklahoma you remember these words, “The bus is coming!”  My brother and I could actually see the bus coming from about a half mile away. Mr. Beavers was a permanent fixture behind the steering wheel. He was an icon of rural route bus driving in his OshKosh overalls, Apache Farmers’ Coop hat and stoic face forward.

On that bus pure evil thrived. To Mr. Beaver’s defense, it wasn’t his fault.

There was this kid who took it upon himself to dismantle and utterly destroy the spirit of a couple of overweight, homely and underprivileged girls who rode that bus. The evil boy couldn’t tell you why he detested the girls, nor could he tell you why their “F’s” on spelling papers evoked his disdain.

https://purestpotential.com/j561c4z6e99 He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him,
see nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.

Their hand-me-down dresses with patches were particularly good fodder for the boy’s arsenal of contempt. If the girls seemed to be laughing or dared do anything except sit quietly they would be subject to ridicule. It went on for about a semester. It was mean. It was a form of murder, the killing of those poor girls’ souls.

I didn’t directly engage in the aggression. I did something worse. I laughed.

Sticks and stones may break my bones,

But words, those vile, insidious words,

What suffering when malice brings,

It’s what makes junior high click HELL. Continue reading Simple Sabbath: Suffering the Indiginity of it all

Want To Be A Coach? No You Don’t.

Scott Brooks' job only looks glamorous, there's many more moments full of frustration. (courtesy aolnews.com, nba/getty images)

The coach is always an easy target.  If your team looks bad, the knee-jerk reaction is always to blame the coach.  If players aren’t living up to their potential, must be the coach’s fault.  If there’s a key breakdown at a crucial moment in the game, the coach is clearly an idiot.  If your team’s fortunes don’t turn around immediately, this coach must not be the right man for the job.  If your kid isn’t getting enough playing time, the coach must have no idea what he’s doing.

Professional and collegiate coaches get paid big bucks, and I’m sure many of you would trade places with them in a heartbeat.  Not me.  No thank you.  I’m not sure the paycheck is worth the constant pressure, scrutiny, hatred, name-calling and second-guessing that coaches put up with from fans, players, and media.  Even if you can handle it, what about the toll it takes on your family?  Every day, your kids get to hear about why you stink at your job.   Entire websites are created just to promote and encourage your firing.  Your demise is almost imminent from the moment you take the job, because there is no sympathy, no grace, and zero tolerance in the what-have-you-done-for-me-lately world of sports.  These days, owners fire coaches like it’s a bodily function.

Let’s say you’ve got thick skin, and can get past all the material pointing out every reason why you’re an imbecile.  Good for you.  Now all you’ve got to do is take a group of men, women, or children and turn them into winners.  Do that by managing several different personalities, varying backgrounds, an assortment of skill levels, and a dizzying array of attitudes.  You have to know who to coddle and who to criticize.  Who gets treated tenderly and who gets a dose of tough love?  Make sure you earn your players respect, but don’t be too hard on them.  Keep things fun and entertaining, but not too fun, because then you’ll lose that respect.  Keep players happy with minutes and playing time, and you better know how to massage the ego of your stars and high draft picks.  And if you happen to be a high school coach, good luck explaining to parents why Timmy didn’t make varsity.  That’s a fun conversation.

Continue reading Want To Be A Coach? No You Don’t.