Thursday, April 12, 2012

The Today

I unzipped the camera bag this morning and there was a carrot. No camera, but a nice plastic carrot from the play kitchen. It seems daily, I'm losing my marbles a little bit more-I have no idea if it was Taylin who put the carrot in there, or if I did.
Right now, as I'm about to press publish, big wet flakes of snow are coming down. It's springtime in Alberta and no one knows exactly what that means.
In further news that Sugar Bear got to see a wet calf yesterday and it's been all the talk. Even more perplexing are the earrings on the calves.

New calves and new hounds. Yes sirree, we also got a new hound. He arrived for Easter and has dug his way into our hearts. He can't help the fact he was formerly named Wolfie or that sometimes he boos like a coonhound, despite being a wolfhound cross. He doesn't chase cattle or people, but oh, my oh mighty, the barn cats have been hanging out in the loft. They don't strut around here ownin' this pad any longer. The pooch is loved and talked about almost as regularly as the calves. Please, dear doggy, live to be a hundred plus one, my babies will bawl.

Also ladies, when I say things like "oh, my oh mighty," feel free to imagine it being said with the utMOST southern drawl. It sounds so much better. We once hauled horses to Texas, I may have been eleven years old, and we were in the great state for only a day or two, but I think it gives me the go ahead to drawl my words out. No, you say? Alright, back to flat talkin...

Anyway, those calves. Calves lead me outside and being outside opens my eyes to all the forsaken, eighty sixed houses. Fence post picking has become a problem; there will be no more scavenging until all my painting and projects are complete. My Auntie asked me yesterday about one of the houses I looked through recently and referenced the photos on my blog, she thought it looked like someone had just left the house...all the books and stuff that were just sitting there. I don't know what she was talking about, but I'm afraid she meant my OWN, lived in house. Maybe my aunt had seen photos of our shack and just maybe it looks abandoned and crazy; time to hit some Spring cleaning. Someone else brought up that there is a TV show about people hoarding j-unk. Why was this brought up in front of moi? You mean a little scrap of leather from a hundred years ago isn't something to hold onto? Geesh...

Speaking of spring scraping, purifying, scouring, have you tried that Norwex stuff out? Now, it's all the environmentally friendly rage, but the reason I love it is the cloth's work, kids. I love them for windows and my sis uses them on all her stainless steel stuff. Some folks love them because it's a green product Now, you might quit reading this here blog, but I couldn't care less that it's green. It's a bonus, but when the flu has gone through this house, don't give me any of that antibacterial stuff that has silver junk in it to clean, I just love a good, solid, big bottle of bleach. You smell that bleach? You know it's clean. Haters don't be hatin'. If you are local and want to try the stuff out call Jody Toews. She probably has that stuff locked up & stocked up in her closet. If she doesn't I'm sure she can hunt it down, the woman has selling powers, I tell you. Shoot me an e-mail and I will give you her land location. No stalkin, y'alls (yes, the y'alls should be used with an appropriate drawl as well. I digress, I mean regress...maybe progress?)

Now if this post doesn't scream random to you, wait until I insert some photos. Recently someone linked up my blog to theirs (super friendly of them) and I was listed as a blog that was "dreamy, wistful, and sentimental." Hmmmm. I caught myself snapping photos of all these old buildings, basically being sentimental about it all and thought, "Egadzooks! She hit the nail on the head!" It frightened and shook me up a little, like a piece of shake n bake chicken, but I believe the buzzer has gone off. It's time to pull my head out of the clouds and live in the today, 'cause the today is where it's at.

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