The 2011 Imaginary Family Project – Week 15

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follow site Order Cheap Tramadol Online #15 of 52 : DAVEY
enter site Imaginary Family Project Week 15

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follow link Tramadol Medication Online Imagine:
That’s my cousin Davey.  We were about the same age and lived just a couple of miles from each other for most of our youth. We didn’t have any brothers or sisters and so were pretty close — as close as anyone could get to Davey, that is.  Davey was a Cub Scout.  Always tryin’ to do good.  At least that’s how it seemed.   As for me, I’d do right if the situation arose, but I didn’t go outta my way.  Still don’t.  

follow Anyway…that dog in the box?  Well, there’s no tellin’ what its name was cuz it was just one of several strays that Davey had a propensity for takin’ in.  By the time we were seventeen, I betcha he’d brought in about five different dogs that eventually died or drifted off again. Why, so many dogs used to come around that I figure they must’ve had some sort of signal between ’em, tellin’ each other where to go when things got tough.  I guess in that respect Davey’s nature wasn’t so unusual; a soft heart for strays, be they animal or human, well, you hear about that every now and again.  Continue reading The 2011 Imaginary Family Project – Week 15

In Defense of the Pocket Knife

Ordering Tramadol From Mexico

go to site The following is a guest post from David Roberts, who is one of the best high school English Teachers in the land by day and a defender of all things awesomely manly by night. He also happens to be my brother-in-law. The next three Wednesdays will feature posts by him as I am take a few weeks off off blogging to tackle a few other written pursuits. Enjoy!

go [michael]

https://guelph-real-estate.ca/7g56ps8za ***************

follow link I won’t claim that real men carry pocket knives. What I mean is, pocket knives are neither exclusive to Real Men nor a requirement for Real Manhood.
However, if you carry one, have carried one, have thought about carrying one, or don’t know what a pocket knife is, please read on.

https://dcinematools.com/t81kjsg The giants of my childhood carried a knife in their pocket or on their belt: grandpa, dad, step-dad, uncles, Rambo. In my mind, the correlation was clear: men carried knives.

source site I saw my grandpa skin raccoons, open envelopes, cut rope, dig out splinters, clean fingernails, all with the same pocket knife. I suppose that’s the root of why pocket knives, seemingly a vestige of some older time when dudes needed to carry sharp objects to protect themselves, have continued to be popular: so many situations render them necessary. Have you ever needed to cut fishing line, slice open a package (particularly those 100-ply-polymer-blend-government-grade plastic packages that kids’ toys seem to come in), pry a flat object from an even flatter place? In such situations, the inevitable query is, “Anybody got a pocket knife?”

https://geolatinas.org/kd8n8urrc I’ll tell you what: it feels good to be able to say, “Yeah, here’s mine.”

https://www.yolascafe.com/mupjv6haro Many of the accouterments of manhood seem a bit like our appendix: nice to have, but not essential for existence. A pocket knife, on the other hand, has so much utility.

https://www.marineetstamp.com/7limyy4 So whether you carry Buck or Case, Swiss Army or Ka-Bar, Gerber or Browning, know that you stand in solidarity with me and many others. Carry on.

Music From The Man Cave: Sunny Sweeney “If I Could”

source url

source url There is a lot to be said for music that makes listening fun.  A lot of folks really take themselves and their music WAY too seriously.  There is also a lot to be said for music that you stumble across accidentally.

Tramadol Canada Online Yahoo! used to have a “radio” website and one of the stations they offered was called Americana.  I love just about anything categorized as Americana so I tried out the station and was introduced to all sorts of artists I’d never heard on commercial, broadcast radio.  And are they missing out!  Consequently, the rest of us may also be.

go to link So, in an effort to…no, to heck with the grandiosity.  We’re in the man cave so I’ll try to keep it real.

Tramadol Sale Online This song is a short little blast of joy called “If I Could” from an artist named Sunny Sweeney that is part rave-up, part rockabilly and a whole lotta toe-tappin’.  Let me know what you think!

A Father-Son Moment on an Ethiopian Balcony

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Editor’s note: Five and one-half months ago, Josh submitted this post as a dedication to a turning point in his life of Fatherhood.  Last week we submitted a post on “Five Questions to Ask Yourself” about adopting and/or fostering a child.  We’re re-submitting this piece as a human experience complement to those questions.  ~ RDK

by Josh Bottomly

Staring down at my adopted son’s new visa and passport for the first time, I did a double take when I noticed something very odd.  The bold print read:  Tesfamariam Josh.  I asked Tafesse, our Ethiopian driver, if there had been some kind of misprint or mistake.  Tefesse grinned and then explained:  “In Ethiopia, a child’s last name is his father’s first name,” Tefasse explained.  It’s our tradition.”  I looked over at Amy in confusion.  “So my name would be Josh Roc,” I asked Tafesse, “and Amy’s would be Amy Glen?” Tafesse nodded and said, “In our culture, naming one’s child is a sacred act.  It’s a blood ritual.  It denotes a very special bond.”

Later that night, I woke up around 4:30 a.m. to Silas’ whimper.  Since it was my turn to take the night shift, I gathered Silas up in my arms and took him out onto the hotel patio, the only “cry proof” place in the hotel.

As I scanned my eyes across the city streets hushed under a blanket of fog and mist, I rocked Silas in my arms and sang quietly over him.  Suddenly, an image surfaced and bobbed on the wake of my mind.  It was of a photograph of my father and I, now yellow and faded with time.  In the photo, I was scrunched up close to my dad like a koala bear.  I must have been no older than Silas.  Dad and I were at the beach, both wearing lemon-colored swim shorts.  The sun reflected against our pale white thighs, and because of the sunhat on my tiny head, it was hard to see my freckled face or any of the tufts of my reddish-blond hair.  Dad’s face unforgettably was contorting and howling like a wolf as ten pounds of squirmy flesh scratched up against his chest hairs, sending tickle bumps through his body. Continue reading A Father-Son Moment on an Ethiopian Balcony

My Little Victory Garden: Entry 8 – My Veggies Are Talking!

"Spinach - it's what's for dinner." That's all I said. One day, I'm out picking spinach while whistling a theme from the ballet Rodeo, and my spinach has been making fun of me ever since. Taunting me...seriously. It fancies itself Dana Carvey, and talks to me in "Western" vernacular, and makes fun of the fact that I like to read. How 'bout this. I'll even let you hear what it says...

(Link)

Black Seeded Simpson Lettuce: We're eating SOOO-O-O- much lettuce right now, because there is so much! When I go to the garden and cut some more, this is what it says: "I have been chosen...."

Continue reading My Little Victory Garden: Entry 8 – My Veggies Are Talking!

Meanwhile Back at The Ranch: Back in The Saddle

Blame my parents.

It’s easy to blame parents these days.  For example, have you seen how many kids have cell phones?  They were all bought in the spirit of “convenience.” When I was a kid, there were no cell phones, so my parents bought me a motorcycle.

The motorcycle was also purchased in the spirit of convenience.  I was about to be fourteen with two much younger siblings at home.  It was going to be so much easier for me to put my ballet and tap shoes in a little backpack and head to dance class on my Honda CB 125 than it was to load up the previous items along with two other little people.  At least that’s what I’ve heard.  So, one day I drove my motorcycle down to the Chickasha Bank, took my written test, and hopped on my motorcycle.  I drove it in front of the bowling alley and passed Taco Mayo.  I made a right hand turn and circled the Braum’s and turned left from the center lane back into the bank parking lot.  Voila!  I had a motorcycle license.

Now along with the convenience of me getting to drive myself where I needed to go, was the inconvenience (to my parents) of me driving where I didn’t need to go.  There’s too many place to list, but let’s just make a note that no other sibling was allowed to have a motorcycle after me.  Sorry for ruining that guys.

In the fall of 2010, my husband and I decided to take the motorcycle course offered by our local Harley Davidson dealership.  Let’s just say it was quite a bit more involved than the experience I had at fourteen.  We spent an entire weekend studying the state laws and then spent Saturday and Sunday driving Buells around the dealership parking lot under the scrutiny of our peers and two instructors.  After completing the one hundred question test (we both made 100’s) we  had one obstacle left: the driving test.  Late on a Sunday afternoon, the participants went through the maneuvers described and then demonstrated by our instructors.  They held clipboards and scored us with an unknown rubric.  At the end of the weekend, the scores were calculated and we were escorted into a little room to hear the results.  Greg and I were the only married couple in there, so they said we could go in together if we wanted.  It was devastating….for Greg.  He learned that I was number one in the class, and he was number two.


"Are you sure you're in first?"

In October one used Harley Davidson was purchased.  I had to be the passenger, but I

knew how to work this deal.  Whenever we were at a stop sign and we would pull out into the road, I would ask, “Are you sure you’re in first?” This was really the only suggestion I ever made, but I made it a lot.

Today, I picked up my very own Harley Davidson.  I don’t have any tattoos and don’t have any plans to get any.  My hair is short, so it looks absolutely terrible when I take off my helmet at my destination. (Today it was Pizza Hut…not really a HOG hang out, but it was open and we were hungry). I wear jeans with my Harley boots which seems a lot safer than the swimsuit, concert t-shirt and flip flops I used to ride around in at Fort Cobb Lake.  I am a confident, safe rider, and a woman who knows she can do anything she sets her mind to.

Blame my parents.

Silent Sunday: Poetry and Flowers

Today I’m providing a photo or two from one of my gardener friends, Alice Woodrome.  I’m also sharing a poem written by a family friend, Marvellena Scott, for her husband, Kermit.  Both of these guest contributors clearly have the wisdom and beauty of more years of life and love behind them than I.  I’m so glad to share their work with you today.  Happy Silent Sunday ~ Kelly

Taken at the Dallas Arboretum a few years ago - By Alice Woodrome of Oklahoma City.

https://lpgventures.com/htb1iki96 Together Still

by Marvellena Scott

Let me hold your hand as we go downhill,

We’ve shared our strength and we share it still.

It hasn’t been easy to make the climb,

But the way was eased by your hand in mine. Continue reading Silent Sunday: Poetry and Flowers

Barbershop Theology, Part 3: Table or Booth?

Now that I live in a metropolitan area I have adapted to the magic of the business lunch. “Hey, let me buy you lunch sometime and we’ll talk about that.” Recently my schedule called for three breakfast meetings, four lunch meetings and a couple of dinner things.

Lunch was altogether different at the barber shop. I recall watching the clock, growing hungry and for a lull that would allow us to go eat. Since my family rarely ate outside the home, walking across the street to Woody’s Café loomed as a Saturday treat. Over the years I passed the hamburger-and-fries stage and grew to anticipate a cheeseburger with onion rings.

One day I ordered with Mom. (She was the Saturday help, extra barber, and that’s another story to be told later.) Anyway, she ordered a chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, and corn. And I learned to love cottage cheese with peaches. Taking my break from the shoe shine chair and eating at the café was a welcomed relief. The food was a much anticipated treat. For an extra dose of relaxation after, mpo888 offers a fun way to unwind and enjoy a little more downtime.

To this day one of my small habits is to seek out a rural diner/café/restaurant. One where there are family pictures on the wall, a sports schedule for the local high school team, out-dated décor and pictures with horses. Continue reading Barbershop Theology, Part 3: Table or Booth?

Maturity? That’s Asking A Lot!

It’s depressing to write this, but I will turn 30 later this year.

You would think at this point in my life, I’d be past the all the irrational behavior associated with one of my sports teams losing.  You would think I’d leave behind the rage, the despondent face, and the shutdown of all normal neuron activity.  You would think I could count to ten, take a deep breath, or at the very least keep some perspective.  You’d be wrong.

Three full decades into life and I can’t keep myself from reverting back to child-like behavior when I’m met with massive sports disappointment.

https://mocicc.org/agricultura/snhvzhx51 https://dcinematools.com/799mpaom

It's like looking in the mirror. (courtesy cdn.bleacherreport.net)

The other night my hockey team, the Calgary Flames, was officially eliminated from playoff contention.  As I sat there watching the game online, I began muttering to myself incessantly.  Let’s just say it’s a good thing I was alone, because my soliloquies weren’t exactly meant for the ears of children.  I know that’s awful.  I know it is, but it was like a reflex.  As the night went on, and it became increasingly clear that my team would be making tee times, my anger turned to sadness.  I took off my t-shirt with the team insignia emblazoned across the chest and folded it neatly while whispering, “So close. I just want one more game.”  When times are desperate I’ve also been known to don a hard hat with my team’s logo and the inscription: Hardest Working Fan. (There’s nothing more mature than a grown man sitting alone, wearing a hard hat, wallowing in self-pity).  I slid the hard hat back onto a shelf, and then proceeded to check the standings over and over and over again.  I stared at the point totals like a mathematical equation I just couldn’t solve.  I let out a long sigh, and then said, “Thanks for a good run boys.”  I said that out loud as if I was in their locker room expecting one of the players to embrace me.  In the moment, none of this lunacy seemed odd or weird or the least bit desperate.  But it is!  I know it, and I still can’t stop it!

Of course I had my share of temper tantrums as a kid.  On Thanksgiving Day in 1993, Leon Lett decided to ruin my life by fumbling a ball in the snow to set up a Dolphin’s game winning field goal.  With my Cowboys defeated, I was inconsolable.  I ran to my room, sobbing, and refused to come out for hours.  I wasn’t just crying, I was wailing.  I remember shaking and seething in my bed just as vividly as I remember the look on my parents faces.  You know that, we’re-mortified-by-this-and-no-longer-proud-of-you look?  Yep, that’s the one.  Sure it was embarrassing, but in my defense I was just a kid.

Now fast forward to the present day.  Has my maturity level evolved?  Recent events point to no.

Continue reading Maturity? That’s Asking A Lot!

5 Questions to Ask Yourself Before Becoming a Fostering or Adopting Parent

The process of thinking about, seriously considering, then finally embracing the decision to adopt or foster a child is big.  Really big.  You might be getting opinions or advice from many different directions.

In Oklahoma, you could have a number of opportunities to consider this question for yourself; we have a great many children waiting to be adopted through our state agency system, as well as a serious need for more safe and stable foster care homes.   A recent series of events and activities have led to a greater awareness of this need in our state, and with the message being spread, more people than ever before might be considering the “big decision.”

When it comes right down to it, however, regardless of the information you get at a conference, a church service, or from your family or friends…YOU are the one meeting a need.  So, having a conversation with yourself, or intentionally walking through a process of checks and balances with those you care about the most could be helpful.  That’s why I’ve provided this list of five questions to ask yourself.  I hope it serves as a guide for at least the beginning process to your big decision:

follow link 1)    Is my marriage or committed relationship healthy? Or, am I healthy and ready? Many times, the desire to bring children into your life to nurture and support comes from healthy attitudes about providing for those who have needs not being met.  Being willing to support and raise another human being is extremely admirable.  However, one of the key conversations you’ll need to have with yourself first and foremost is – am I bringing this child into a healthy environment?  Is your marriage or committed relationship strong? If you plan on sing-parenting, are YOU emotionally healthy and strong? Can you serve as a model for your potential child or children? Can your marriage survive tests of stressful events, transitions and challenges?

If you answered no to those any of those questions, then perhaps you need to shore up your home-front first. Continue reading 5 Questions to Ask Yourself Before Becoming a Fostering or Adopting Parent

Chocolate for breakfast anyone?

If you are trying to lose weight and are a chocolate lover I think you probably want to avoid  this recipe.   When two people submit the same recipe to a cookbook you know it has to be good!  And let me tell you it was.  I ate this delicious chocolate cake pudding right out of the oven, with ice cream, for BREAKFAST!  Don’t tell my husband, he probably wouldn’t approve.  This is a very easy recipe to prepare and the nice thing is, you mix it up, pop it in the oven and forget it for the next hour.  That is if you can ignore the wonderful chocolate smell that will be wafting through your home. Continue reading Chocolate for breakfast anyone?

RDC News and Updates: 4/7/11

Good morning, dear friends and readers of the Red Dirt Chronicles.  Occasionally we publish a highly intriguing informational piece about RDC stuff in general.  If you feel you may fall out of your chair because newsletter-type posts are simply too much to handle, please put precautionary pillows on your floor.  We would like for you to have a soft landing.

Okay, now that we have the safety-first message out of the way, here is a short list of what we have going on, coming up, and thinking about…

1) The most recent addition to our contributor group is Nancy Osborn.  She’s now written two “Red Dirt Dives” posts and has another one in the works.  She and her friends have a penchant for checking out Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives-style restaurants across the state and sharing what they found with you along the way.  You can find her first two posts by simply selecting “Red Dirt Dives” in the category box on the right hand side of our site.

2) We have several series going on right now, and they all are unique and speak nicely to their particular topic: First, on Wednesday morning one of our Man Cave authors, Michael Mitchell, is writing a series about his “Non-Negotiable, Unalterable Terms” or N.U.T.s. These can all be found in the “Man Cave” category.  Following that up on Wednesdays at noon is The Imaginary Family Project – 2011, managed by Quentin Bomgardner.  With a photo to stimulate their thinking, authors across the state and nation write what they dream up about the image they see.  This project is approximately one-third complete, and with each week comes a new take on a vintage photograph.  Simply click “The Imaginary Family Project” to pull up the complete series.  Dallas Caldwell is working his way through essays he’s entitled “Barbershop Theology.”  The life lessons he picked up around Apache, Oklahoma while working in his father’s barbershop are being turned into moments for spiritual thinking.  You’ll find these under our “Faith” section.  Julie continues her work out on the Ranch and shares it with us every week in her “Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch” series and I’m growing a garden, as well as checking in with local producers in “My Little Victory Garden,” both released on Mondays.  Finally, Mark has begun a series entitled “Music for the Man Cave.”  He’s having all kinds of fun with that one!

3) And speaking of “series” work – We recently began rolling out a new category of podcasts called “The Sports Void.”  These are released late every Monday night and recap the previous week’s sports news, and include questions, harassment and banter with our two sports guys, Rob and Troy. Continue reading RDC News and Updates: 4/7/11

The 2011 Imaginary Family Project – Week 14

https://penielenv.com/7h1chmu4mp #14 of 52 : BOO
Imaginary Family Project Week 14

https://geolatinas.org/112j6pq4yet 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

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https://alldayelectrician.com/kct5zzs7 Imagine:

Mrs. Gracie

“Hey Boo, look this a way.  Come on.  Look at your Maw Maw.  Smile big.  This is for your Momma.  Smile.”

Click.

Mrs. Gracie felt sure she got it, the perfect shot to send off to Eugenia so her daughter could see just how big her little boy was getting to be.

There were 18 pictures left on the roll.  Well, she would just have to use up the rest of the role so she could get the photographs back from the drug store to go out in the Monday mail.

Mrs. Gracie looked over at Boo, the garden hoe long forgotten, squatting with his heels firmly planted in the ground, examining some grub he had unearthed.

“You stay just where your are, Boo.  Maw Maw is just going in to fix us some lunch.”

Mrs. Gracie turned and headed to the back door.  A robin was perched on the pump handle.  Click.  “Eugenia sure will like that one.”  Boo had placed Teddy on the rocking chair so the bear could watch him working in the yard.  Click.  “And that one, too.” Continue reading The 2011 Imaginary Family Project – Week 14

N.U.T. #3 – I live below my means.

In the not too distant past, there used to be a fairly tried, true, and tested piece of advice for financial stability. If you wanted to be financial stable, all you had to do was live within your means. Or, as my favorite double negative phrase of all time says, “DON’T BUY CRAP YOU DON’T NEED WITH MONEY YOU DON’T HAVE!”

Just a few short years ago, this timeless piece of advice was enough to keep just about anyone in just about any financial situation above water if they were willing to put it into practice. Sure, sure… there were and still are other more sophisticated financial axioms for people who really wanted to get ahead, but if you just wanted to be financially responsible, all you had to do was live within your means. To better prepare for your family’s future, you may look into the top choices for junior ISA investments.

And up until sometime in late 2008, that was good enough. But then the markets crashed here in the U.S. and around the globe, and like most pieces of conventional financial wisdom, the idea of living within your means went from being a great financial axiom to being not quite enough. In fact, after 2008, most people (myself included) stopped believing in the idea of financial stability completely.

With the events of the last few years as context, I (likely along with millions of other people around the world) started reevaluating my finances a little over a year ago. Continue reading N.U.T. #3 – I live below my means.

My Little Victory Garden: Entry Seven…Miles from Downtown Tryon

Sunday night I’m standing over the sink washing my “first fruits” of the Black Seeded Simpson heirloom lettuce from my garden.  I’m probably drooling because there is just nothing quite as tender and mild as a first bite of the first cut from garden greens.  I rinse the leaves, put them in a big bowl, cover them with cold water, and began dreaming about my first salad.  I already have my Cordero Farms Sweet Italian sausage browning on the stove and my mission tonight is a beautiful ravioli dinner.

Here’s the story of how I made the dinner, how I visited Cordero Farms and loved on some lambs, and how I enjoyed a few moments with new friends of the RDC:

click Two course dinner

When I make something like “first fruits” salad and homemade ravioli, I don’t mess with extras.  Sometimes, food is just too good to get distracted from by having extra vegetables or dessert.  Such was the case tonight.  First up – prepping the simple salad… Continue reading My Little Victory Garden: Entry Seven…Miles from Downtown Tryon

Tall Tales by Pistol Pete: “Studying Bed Bugs”

An early color photograph of Pistol Pete on his front porch. Photo courtesy of: http://www.eatonhome.org/

A few “Truthful Pete Says” articles were published in the Perkins Journal around 1950 featuring the tall tales of Pistol Pete Eaton.  We opened this series with his “Toad and Snake” tale, and thought it was about time to grace your literary sense with this masterpiece. Enjoy!

Cheap Tramadol Overnight Studying Bed Bugs

While reading the paper the other day I came across an item that said there was a man who had made enough money just studying bugs that he could afford a clean shirt every day and four pairs of socks and could drink most any brand of liquor that he wanted.  I took this paper down to Fred and asked him about it and he said sure was a fact, many men like that made money without working just like fellers working on government jobs and the Triple-A fellers, so he guessed playing with bugs was as useful as many things.  He said it was called Entomology.  I tried to say entomology, but nearly lost my chaw of tobacco and since I was low on money and couldn’t afford another chew I didn’t try and say it again.  But then and there I made up my mind to study bugs.  I took off my shirt and didn’t find nothing new so after thinking a while I started up for Stillwater.

I got me a room at a high class joint and decided to take a bath before retiring.  The porter brought in a big tub of hot water, so I jumped in, jumped back out, dried off on my handkerchief, combed my hair, cleaned out the comb and throwd the hair in the wash tub, blew out the candle and put some matches beside it.  I hardly laid down when I felt something crawling around.  I jumped up, lit a match real quick and caught a mess of bed bugs, red handed.  I threw them in the tub and in went the burnt match sticks.  After many bed bug expeditions, I finally dropped off to sleep, but awoke to the sound of beautiful music and song, much like a choir.  Upon investigating, I found the sound came up from the tub, and there all those bed bugs, had formed rafts from the used match sticks, they made hair-strung harps and were sitting floating in the middle of the tub, singing, My Bonnie, and Pull for the Shore Sailor.  Taking my bottle I spilled a few drops in the tub and shortly arose the harmony of Sweet Adeline.

With no further ado I swore off studying bugs for I find they are much like a politician, suckling from the people.

Originally published August 10, 1950

Meanwhile Back at The Ranch: Life is TWO Good

If you asked me if I liked even or odd numbers, I would say “odd.”  There is something about the numbers one, three, and five that intrigue me.  You would never know this fact based on what’s going on out here at the ranch.

go to link Cats: When we moved to the country in 2004 we brought along our two cats.  Of course, back then we were “city” people, and I won’t even begin to tell you the exorbitant amount of money that was spent on each of them.  A third cat eventually joined the group but died of an unknown illness.  Really, I insisted on an autopsy…of a cat…and the findings were indeterminate.  We were left with two.

watch Horses: Our Mustang, Jet, came to live with us because our neighbors had one too many horses.  We were clueless new horse owners, but our friends are very experienced and have followed through on their promise to guide us in the right direction.  “The right direction” included buying a horse friend for Jet.  Roxy came to live with us just a few months after Jet’s arrival.  It was great fun watching them get to know each other while they lived in the midst of all the goats.

click Cats….again: Last summer my husband brought home two three week old kittens who had lost their mother.  He claimed we needed barn cats.  Here’s a little secret….we didn’t have a barn.  We nursed them along and let them stay in the garage with a heat lamp during this cold winter.  They are our outside cats.  They enjoy bird watching and hopping in my car when I am late for work. Continue reading Meanwhile Back at The Ranch: Life is TWO Good

Silent Sunday?: Vroom, Vroom! Images by George Thomas

1957 Chevy Nomad - photo by George Thomas. All images in this post are copyrighted by the photographer and are not to be used without his express permission.

I love it when one photographer mentions another, and they in turn mention another, and so on.  That’s the beauty of Oklahoma.  Talented people, willing to share the love.  That’s how we found our photographer for this week.  George Thomas is a resident of Stillwater and was referred to us by Michael Stano, our featured artist last week.  George spent a good deal of his life right in the heart of the automotive area of the U.S., then came to Oklahoma with that experience to share.  And, to love through his lens…at car shows.  This week, we’ll be featuring photos from his Flickr account taken at the Perkins Car Show in 2010, and the Stillwater Elks Car Show in 2009.  However, he has many more and we encourage you to visit his site to view more of his work.  This particular selection is ONLY cars…but his tastes and shots include a wide range of interests.  Have a great Silent Sunday, and we hope you find yourself behind the mental wheel of some of these absolutely beautiful specimens! Continue reading Silent Sunday?: Vroom, Vroom! Images by George Thomas

Hey, HEY, You, YOU, Get Off of my Tree!

There are two behaviors that get under my skin more than most.  The first is the act of someone harming people less able than themselves.  This action could be the result of power differentials in size, age, power, social status, mental capacity, etc.  The second? Those who clearly know the right or better thing to do, but ignore it at the expense of all those around them.  This essay is about both issues and I’m warning you right now: I’m angry.

The scene? A beautiful afternoon in Oklahoma:  hardly any wind, a temperature in the high 50s, the air is clear, gray and cool and wherever you look in nature, the onset of Spring is apparent.

I had worked most of the night before, and gotten up early this particular morning in order to complete enough of my workload to leave work just a bit early.  I was on a mission, and had racked up enough miles on my keyboard writing reports and grading to feel good about leaving campus.  In fact, my mood was especially fine.   Why?  Because I was getting ready to take short road trip through the Oklahoma countryside and, quite frankly, there aren’t too many more activities that ease my mind as much as these drives.

My destination was a sheep farm south of Tryon, Oklahoma and I was driving south on highway 177, listening to Jesca Hoop.  I could write chapters on Jesca Hoop’s creative take on music, but not today.  The opening lyrics to “Whispering Light” were belting out at a fairly strong decibel level:

“As we walk the road, as far as the road goes…
And we try to dodge the rock the valley throws.
Revealer…caught a fever…we all, have a sink-ing stone..”

Okay.  I’ll write just a few sentences.  The opportunity might not come again.  If you’ve not had a chance to check out her music, I would encourager you who love singer-songwriters to do so.  I think her, “Love is All We Have” she wrote about the Katrina Hurricane got me permanently hooked on her haunting style and voice.  And spirit.  Here is a video of that particular song she’s singing in New Orleans.  You can see she’s clearly verclempt as she sings directly to those about whom she wrote.

I’m sharing this moment in my car with you because it sets up the juxtaposition to what happened next. Continue reading Hey, HEY, You, YOU, Get Off of my Tree!

Barbershop Theology: Relationship before Rules – Part II

Quanah Parker "...is arguably the perfect representative of the good, bad and ugly of the treaties, tribes and tumult of America's westward expansion."

We do not become good so that God will love us.  Rather, it is the love of God that makes us good.

Quanah Parker is arguably the perfect representative of the good, bad and ugly of the treaties, tribes, and tumult of America’s westward expansion. Quanah’s story is remarkable and more particularly, his mother’s story is a plotline in many of great movie westerns. Indeed, hers is a remarkable tale as well.

Growing up in Apache, Oklahoma I had school mates who were direct descendants of the Comanche Indian chief, Quanah Parker. Parker has many descendants. He married seven times, though he never kept more than three at a time. When an Indian Agent told him that he would have to choose only one wife, Quanah replied, “You choose and you tell ‘em.” Continue reading Barbershop Theology: Relationship before Rules – Part II