Lots of Substituting

Leavenworth County Public Schools have been testing third, fourth and fifth graders for the past two weeks. Luckily, I've been selected as a substitute to monitor the testing. Easy, easy days. The only downside to sitting in a room and watching teachers proctor a standardized test is that access to the internet is limited. The school district restricts certain websites and my blog is one of those off limits sites. I'm not exactly sure why stories about squirrel attacks should be considered to have a negative impact on young minds. Actually, I believe the website host is the off limits page. They'd rather have young minds playing mathematical and logic games than reading blogs. It's understandable, but really a drag for me.

The lab results came back

"Mrs. Hanson?"

"Yes."

"The test results came back on the squirrel."

"Really?"

"Yes. It was negative for rabies."

"Good. I suspected as much."

"Yes, well. It didn't have rabies."

"Okay. Thank you."

"Yes, ma'am. You have a good day."

The newest member of my family

Knight's Mount Kadance has FINALLY come home. A lifetime of dreaming and wishing and hoping and a whole bunch of hard work and negotiations, but she is finally here. It has taken my whole life to get a horse. It has taken nearly two years to convince my amazing husband that having a horse is a good thing.

Her trip from Oklahoma to Kansas and then to Missouri was smooth right up to the last 1o miles. That's when the roads changed from pavement to gravel. The weather had been crummy; crummy, slush, snow, freezing, thawing, and more freezing.

The gravel road, which is particularly hilly, was a combination of slippery mud and slippery slush. Where the trees and roadside had prevented the sunlight from melting the snow drifts, the snow maintained a firm frozen grip. By the time Kadance arrived, the sun had set and the last remaining sunlight was rapidly fading. The last turn, the one into the ranch drive, proved to be the end of the road. A snowdrift prevented the truck from pulling all the way into the driveway and the trailer, which contained my wonderful filly, was trapped alongside the gravel road.

Not wanting to risk injury or instilling a reason to be afraid of the trailer, I suggested Kadance be allowed to exit the trailer. PHEW. Luckily, Jen (Kadance's original mom) agreed with me and she encouraged Kadance to leave the trailer to see her new home. Meanwhile, Craig (Jen's husband) struggled to free the truck and trailer from the clutches of the snowdrift.

All ended well. Craig decided to back the truck out of the driveway and return to the gravel road. They had planned to pick up hay the next morning and prepositioning the truck and trailer made sense to everyone.

During the mechanical fiasco, Kadance settled into her new home nicely. Initially, she was hesitant, but with Wanda, Jen and I there to give her soft words of encouragement, Kadance trusted she was safe and moved on in.

My sweet, non-horse-loving husband watched in silence and he bared witness to changes in his world over which he had little control. The life that he had grown accustomed to enjoying faded into the background and a 1/2 ton animal moved into the foreground. Although he has ZERO interest in horses and prefers to see them in the far, far distance, he did make an attempt to reach out and pet her. Unfortunately, she moved before he could touch her and he snatched away his hand as if escaping the steel teeth of a bear trap. I have not yet been able to convince him that horses are herbivores and will not eat him. He remains living in his world of nightmarish, predatory carnivores of equine origin. How sad. On the bright side, I will never had to ask him to please get of the horse and allow me to ride. I have the monopoly on horse-human bonding time.

When Animals Attack/Attach...same thing

When my dog, Sydney gets out of the bath, the very first thing she does is rub her face on the carpet to try to dry off her mustache. The second thing she does is pee and/or poop.

I had just stepped out of the shower after bathing myself and my dog. As she rubs her face along the carpet, I wrap myself in a towel and head for the back door. She is right on my heels. As soon as I open the door, Sydney darts outside and I immediately notice that Jake and Annabelle are very involved with something along the back fence. Jake turns to see Sydney running at him and I notice the squirrel make a move along the ground next to the fence. The movement caught Sydney's attention and Jake jumped to regain control of the creature.

I scream, "Nooooo!" and jet out the door. Yes, I am still only in a towel and yes, there is snow and ice on the ground and yes, the temperature is well below freezing. No mind, I am on a mission.

The squirrel has wedged its body between the fence and a tree. I wrestle with the dogs trying to free the squirrel. My towel, forgotten. I look into the squirrel's eyes and see complete fear and notice that his back legs aren't moving. I scoop the squirrel up in my right hand and try to place him on the tree with the hopes that he'll scamper up the trunk to safety. He just hangs there, back end not working. I hold him into place, still in my right hand.

My husband comes to the back door. "What's going on?" he says.

"Get the dogs." I shout.

"But I don't have on shoes."

"I'm naked, here!" My towel is managing to stay along side my body as a bit of it is under my arm which I have pressed to my side.

"What are you..." my husband begins to say.

"Aaaaahhh!" The squirrel with super human strength latches onto my left index finger with his razor sharp incisor teeth. The dogs go bizzerk.

"Kel!" my husband shouts at me as he tippy toes onto the deck in his bare feet. Meanwhile, my naked behind is swinging in the breeze.

I wiggle my finger free, not sure what to do now. My husband calls for the dogs to come inside, but they are not paying him even a speck of attention. The squirrel has captivated their focus.

Some how, the squirrel double-backs on itself and sinks his teeth into my right index finger. By now, my husband has given up on the dogs and in his effort to help in the situation, he stands behind me and holds the towel up to cover my butt. The squirrel is firmly attached to my finger and with each twitch works his teeth deeper into it. I hold my arm out, hanging the squirrel over the fence. I just want the thing OFF!

My left hand is covered with blood dripping from the bites in my left finger and the squirrel isn't letting go. I can hear the tissue snap and crackle and those teeth sink deeper and deeper. It is really hurting. I squeal in pain. I've had enough of this.

I grab his little body in my left hand and press my left thumb on his cheek and pry my finger off the bottom incisors. Those suckers are LONG! Finally freed, I simple drop the squirrel on the far side of the fence. Blood pours from both fingers, the dogs are wild with excitement and my husband, doing everything he can, holds the towel around me.

Once back inside the house, I stand there holding my hands together trying to have the blood pool in my palms and not drip all over the floor. I tell my husband I am going to make a dash to the bathroom.

He stands there and says, "What do you want me to do?"

I had hoped he would say, 'wait a second and I'll get a towel so you don't drip all over the floor,' but for as wonderful as he is, he does not do emergencies well.

The dogs have also come inside by now. Earlier, Mona had scrubbed the kitchen floors and mopped them. They had been beautiful. Now they are covered with dirty feet prints from all three dogs, my husband and me. Plus, droplets of blood. Sorry, Mona.

I make it to the master bathroom sans towel, and turn on the water faucet. I run warm water over my fingers, which are bleeding a steady amount. My husband, in the other room says something about rabies.

Having been bitten by a mouse several years ago, I know the likelihood of rabies transmition by squirrel is slim, but not wanting to take chances, I knew I would need the squirrel.

"Honey, please come here," I call to my husband. Suddenly, I don't feel well and kneel down in front of the sink.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

As the sparkles of white light dance before my eyes and the grey clouds fog in my head, I say, "I'm going to pass out."

"What do you want me to do?" he asks.

I am in no position to answer and my knees give out. He holds me up and I manage to remain aware enough to keep my bleeding fingers in the sink.

"Okay, you'll have to go get the squirrel." I tell him.

"What!? Why?"

"Because if they want to check it for rabies, they'll need its body."

He starts complaining about how this is just one more reason why.....he never does finish the statement. He mumbles about having to get the squirrel and how he will do that and how will he carry it.

I suggest he get some gloves and the dog crate or maybe a box. He tells me to never mind as he has something.

By now, the bleeding has subsided and I accept the fact that I will be going to see a doctor. First, I have to get on some clothes. After that, my first phone call is to the vet. I want to double check the possibility of squirrels having rabies. I figure that if it wasn't necessary to go to the ER, then why make the trip. Unfortunately, they are already closed for the day.

The next call is to the insurance company. As a military dependent, health care is provided by the military at a military facility. With no emergency care on post, I would have to go to a civilian health care provider, but I would need authorization from the military.

When the representative answers the phone, I explain, "Yes, I have been bitten by a wild animal and..."

"You need to go to an emergency room," she replies.

"Yes, I figured as much. But really, it isn't that bad. It was a squirrel."

"Oh, we don't have those here."

I ask where she is and she tells me Arizona.

"Ah, but you do have rattlesnakes and scorpions," I say.

"That is true," she answers.

She provides me with the Army on-call doctor number and say I can call on Monday for a follow-up or I can go ahead and call now. Either way, I will be covered.

Meanwhile, my husband tells Mona to hand him the duct tape.

"What is that?" she asks.

"It's the silver tape in the drawer."

I opt to call the on-call doc. The desk sergeant who answers the phone advises that I should go to the emergency room. He tells me to call back on Monday and not wait to speak to the doctor right now because all he would tell me would be to go to the emergency room.

Off to the emergency room. Mona is invited to come. She might as well get the complete American experience. She's already been to the police department with me to pay a speeding ticket, she should visit an emergency room, too.

The three of us walk into the ER, my husband, holding a cardboard box, me with my hands spread before me, and Mona, with camera. The greeting nurse, a male, asks me if I had just painted my nails and were waiting for them to dry.

We explain that I have been bitten by a squirrel and the squirrel is in the box.

"Don't open it in here," he cautions. "We need to get you cleaned up and call animal control to come take care of the squirrel." He also advises that the likelihood of a squirrel transmitting rabies is remote as they are such a small animal that rabies would kill them too quickly to really be able to live long enough to cause harm to anyone. It's what I thought. The encounter with a wild mouse wasn't completely for not.

"Please," I say. "Don't make me fill out any paperwork. My fingers are no good."

Luckily, the lady at the intake desk, takes all of my information and directly inputs it in the computer. Meanwhile the nurse, comes back with a swab and some Neosporin.

"That's it?" I ask. "I could have done that at home."

Then comes the discussion about Tetanus. Yes, I have had a Tetanus shot within the past 10 years, but uncertain if it's been just over 5 or under 5 years ago. Better safe than sorry. I will be getting a shot.

While getting my vital signs taken by another male nurse, Brent, the police animal control guy shows up.

"Where's the dog?" he asks.

"No dog," replies my husband. "Squirrel."

"We don't do squirrels," he quickly says. "Dogs, yes. Raccoon, yes. Squirrels, no."

"Well, what am I going to do with it?" my husband asks.

"Is it dead?"

"No. It's still alive. You can hear him moving around in there."

"If it were dead, I would take it, but since it's alive, I can't."

There is discussion about killing it. Perhaps wacking it with a stick. That is ruled out because apparently, it would be considered cruel to wack it. I suggest taking it to the parking lot and stomping on its head. That would be quick and painless. The police animal guy says I should have let my dogs finish it off. Naturally, being eaten isn't considered cruel.


My betadine wash arrives. Nurse Brent dabs my fingers with swabs that have been dipped in the batadine. I chose to soak my fingers in the container. Might as well do a thorough job. At least it isn't iodine. Remember that horrific red stuff your mom put on scrapes? That stuff that burned hotter than fire and you felt as if your skin was melting off? Remember?

Out in the hallway, there is discussion about shooting raccoons because they do carry and regularly transmit rabies.

That's when I interject, "You can't shoot the squirrel! His head would vaporize." The animal control guy just looks at me in disbelief. He has no sense of humor.

While I am soaking, two administrator nurses-types and the maintenance guy, holding a caulking gun, come to hear the story. They have, by this point, heard the commotion and part of the story. The maintenance guy suggests a hammer to off the squirrel. The other male nurse agrees that does sound like an engineering solution to the problem.

"Okay, do you want to hear the rest of the story?" I ask. Of course they do. So, I tell them all about how I was naked in the back yard with a squirrel hanging off my finger tip, the dogs running about crazed with excitement and my husband complaining that he doesn't have on any shoes while holding up a towel to cover my behind.

My husband and the animal control guy go outside where my husband is instructed to release the squirrel. As it seems an odd proposition, my husband questions the animal control guy's judgment, but releases it per instruction. The squirrel, who definitely has a broken leg and is also missing an ear, makes a vain attempt to reach safety before it needs to take a rest. It finally reaches a bush where is attempts to hide and rest.

I find this to be a terrible solution to the squirrel issue. "You know," I say to the folks in the ER. "Some small child is going to see that squirrel and be amazed that it doesn't run away and PICK IT UP. That kid is going to be bitten and then I won't be the only person in the ER with squirrel bites today."

A woman replies, "And that will be Officer I-Don't-Do-Squirrels' fault."

I agree.

The doctor arrives to examine my fingers. "That looks painful," he says.

"It is painful," I say.

"Ooooh, it got you on both fingers."

"Yes, he did."

"Well. I'll go ahead and get you on some antibiotics just because he got you pretty good."

Keflex and a Tetanus shot...That's to be my treatment.

Meanwhile, the animal control guy's supervisor has been contacted. The new instructions are to bring in the squirrel. At least the supervisor has some forethought.

I watch the animal control guy return to the bush where the squirrel is hiding, but this time, he has that 5-foot long steel pole with the noose at the end. The one that they use on vicious dogs. I suggest to anyone listening that perhaps it would be easier to just reach in the bush and grab the squirrel.

"That's how you get bit," someone replies. I think my husband said it, but I'm not for sure.

"Well, he does have big leather gloves," I point out.

The squirrel, now captured, is drug along the pavement back towards the patrol car where Officer I-Don't-Do-Squirrels tries to get it into a plastic bag. Keep in mind, Mona has been taking pictures the WHOLE time.

The animal control guy claims that he did use the stick on the squirrel. Mona, who I am apt to believe, says he did not use his stick, that he strangled the squirrel with the noose.

Eventually, the squirrel goes to heaven. I finally get my Tetanus shot. We've been in the ER for nearly an hour and a half.

The animal control guy decides to complete an incident report. On the television in the background there is a story about a Football Linebacker who rushed a cop and the cop tazered him.

I agreed with that cop's decision. "I would have tazered him, too," I say.

The animal control guy mentions that since the Tazer Gun has been available to the police departments, the number of shootings has decreased.

Then...he says, "I prefer to use my hands. The military taught me how to use my hands and the police department showed me how to use my hands. I would rather use the hand-to-hand take down."

"Wait a second," I say. "You would rather use hand-to-hand combat on a bad guy, but you needed a 5-foot long pole for a 6-ounce squirrel?"

The animal control guy....has no sense of humor.


---------On a side note. I realize this posting has taken some time; however, let me point out that BOTH of my index fingers still hurt. Ever try to tie your shoes or zip up your pants without using your index fingers? Ever try to type without using your index fingers? Those folks who have malformed, deformed, or missing hands who perform daily functions with their feet or a stick are in a word, AMAZING. I, to be sure, am a hopeless mess without the ability to use my index fingers.

Oooouuucchhhhh!

Those little teeth are very, very sharp and much longer than you might suspect. It may not look like much on the outside, but on the inside it really hurts.

Telling the story.

Okay, so there I was....

Taking vitals

A whole lot of fuss over multiple squirrel bites.

And now for the betadine wash

The nurse dabbed betadine on the bites, but I once he left, I opted to just soak my fingers.

When was your last tetanus shot?

Must take precaution against tetanus.

Are you sure you want me to let it go?

Making a run for it.























Taking a rest.

Retrieval

The supervisor gave instruction to recapture the squirrel.

Never give up

Little guy is still fighting.

The end is near.

The end is near.
Although the police animal control guy would say he used his baton to bring about the demise of the squirrel, my foreign exchange student and photo journalist for this adventure, Mona, said the poor squirrel was strangled with the noose.

Finality

The end of the squirrel.

Fresh Snow

Although the snow is beautiful, it is a pain in the butt when you have to drive. This is why we had to delay our return trip from Colorado.

LICE!!

A while back, I substituted a half-day in a second grade class in one of my less-than-favorite schools. The day was one were I can home proclaiming that I am not paid enough to deal with the crap.

When I got called for a three day placement I was pleased. That's good money. My delight was squashed when I discovered which classroom I was assigned. Yep. The same nightmare.

The first day was exhaustive. After school, I went home and fell asleep around 7:30pm and didn't wake until 6:45 the next morning.

The second day, THANK GOODNESS, was only a half day. I still was wiped out. Fifteen second-graders full of energy and little discipline. Yikes.

Today is the third day. It's not even 11:30 am and I am so ready to leave. They are driving me nuts. They are more interested in playing and coloring each other with markers than doing any work or even paying attention. But that's not the worst part.

One particularly active child, with special needs (he needs one on one attention and probably could use a straight-jacket), came in from the nurse's office with a pink slip. Seems he was being sent home because he has LICE! AAAArrrrrggggghhhhh!

LICE!! Oh my goodness! That is just downright yucky! In my world, LICE is the embodiment of filth, unclean, tainted, low-class, homeless, trailer trash, backwoods, inbred, vile creatures. LICE is in a word...DISGUSTING!! LICE!! LICE!! There is NO way that the Department of Education pays me enough to deal with LICE! NO WAY, NO HOW. LICE! AAAAAaaaaaacccccKKKKKK!

And life goes on

After visiting Colorado and getting snowed in for New Year's Eve, we finally returned to Kansas. My poor husband...He missed the last KC Chiefs home game. It was a great game.

After returning to Kansas, the new year got off to a busy start. All the Christmas decorations had to be taken down and stored away for another year. I am particular about being organized on put-away day because it makes it that much easier the following December when the decorating commences. Additionally, the quantity of decorations compels me to be as organized as possible. In my defense, it is not my fault. A vast amount of my mother's Christmas decorations graduated from her storage room to mine, much to my husband's dismay. It's all good because I love them and they make my home beautiful. Hopefully, one day, my grandchildren will think my house in a wondrous and magical place to come for Christmas. {I already know they'll be amazed at my house for Halloween}

Once that was all taken care off, I was off to Houston, Texas, to spend time with my sister and mother. The day I was to fly, the weather was predicted to turn ugly. Ice and snow were rapidly approaching. I was fearful that I would be grounded, so I opted to try to get on an earlier flight. My suitcase was to have been put on the 10:30 am flight. I was not able to get on that flight, but I did get on the 1:30 pm flight. It was a good thing, too because that flight was still delayed nearly an hour. The flight I was originally scheduled to take, the 3:30 pm, was delayed a few hours. Later ones were cancelled.

After sitting on the tarmac for nearly an hour and waiting through a de-icing, we were finally able to take off. Landing in Houston, I quickly discovered that my sweater was not needed. Houston was hot and muggy. My sister and mother were there waiting for me. My suitcase, however, was not. Apparently, it didn't make the 10:30 flight. It didn't make the 1:30 flight. It did make the 3:30 flight which had been delayed.

I was told it would be in around 6:30 pm and they would deliver it. After multiple telephone calls and many, many hours and many, many excuses later, I finally received my suitcase the next day. I had expected it by 8:00 pm and didn't receive it until 1:30 pm the following day. Ridiculous.

The girl's weekend was delightful. We ate, slept and shopped. We had manicures and pedicures. Mom also had a facial. We ate and slept and shopped some more. Then, we ate again. So much for diets and sound financial planning.

The weekend wasn't completely fun-time. I did have some work to do. My sister helped me cut a demo tape for audio. I really want to get into doing voice-over work and I especially want to read for audio tapes for children's books. My sister did all the editing and CD burning. I was merely the talent. After finishing my portion, I went back to sleep. I spent most of the weekend sleeping.

I returned home refreshed ready to face all the responsibilities of running a household with three teenage/adult children and three dogs and a husband.

My son, who is now an adult, opted to return to California earlier than had been expected. The morning he was to leave, he moved liked the greased lightening. I have never seen him move as fast or as motivated. He was a whirlwind of activity; up, bathed, cleaned, fed, packed, bed stripped, room tidied, and out the door. Super productive. If he could only do that on a regular basis, he could accomplish anything and I wouldn't have to worry about him and his future.

My sweet husband's brother is also in the military. He is currently stationed in Kansas but anticipates leaving for Afghanistan soon. The exact day he leaves is unknown. Even if I did know, I wouldn't be able to reveal it. OPSEC (operation security). So, the anxiety level in our house is high. Any opportunity my brother-in-law gets, he comes to our house. With his leave date approaching, his wife and children made the trip from where they are to where he is to spend as much time with him as possible. Although he has been deployed before, it doesn't ease the process any.

In the meanwhile, my husband will be responsible for taking his brother's car to Colorado. More adventures.

Beautiful Babes

The five most beautiful women in all of Orlando, Florida. More specifically, we were the five finalists in the Adult Female Sophisticated Commercial Print category. I don't know the official number of competitors, but I suspect there were about 100 "Sophisticated" ladies in the category. For clarification "Sophisticated" really means "Over 30".

Score one for the AARP. After all these years, the old gals are still pretty dang HOT!

Meet and Greet

On the way up to the room at the end of the evening, my new friends and I were passed by this man.....

For those of you who don't recognize him, he is Joey Fatone from the band NSYNC. He took time out of his evening and terminated his cell phone call to speak with us. The Talent Rock folks had hired him to be the MC for the opening ceremonies.

Unfortunately, he would not be attending the competition the following day. Family obligations required him to go shopping with his kid. I can't fault him for that.

He also was back stage when Tonya and I were called back as finalists in the Adult Female Sophisticated Commercial Print category.

I Do Not Bounce

Last night I received a telephone call from my Mary Kay lady, Carol Harwood. She mentioned that I have been somewhat .... slow with posting on my blog. She's correct, I must admit. So, I today, I want to catch up.

Okay, over Thanksgiving weekend, I drove down to Oklahoma to attend a horse clinic hosted by my sister. The clinician was Daniel Stewart, the Olympic Equestrian trainer. The day before the clinic, I was out in the paddock with my niece. She was riding her Morgan, Red, and I was riding my sister's American Warmblood, Stryder. Well, Stryder was doing his own thing and not really focused on what I wanted him to do. He ambled along and instead of turning when I asked, he went for the trees. The last time I rode Stryder, I was clotheslined by the top rope of the circle pen. As he headed for the trees, I noticed a low-hanging branch and I knew I was about to be clotheslined again. In a split second, I recognized that I had a choice. I could either plow headlong into the trees, be clotheslined or hit the ground. Even hitting the ground came with two choices. I could hit the hard earth or I could hit the big rock.

So many choices and only a tiny, tiny fraction of time in which to decide. I opted for the least painful of the possibilities. I hit the ground. The hard earth, not the big rock.

When I regained consciouness, my sister and my mother were standing over me asking me questions. I knew they were there only by hearing their voices. I couldn't see them. I only saw a gray fog and slight shadows about me. They kept talking to me.

"Who's talking to me?" I asked.

"It's your sister."

"I can't see you." I replied.

They asked if I were okay and helped me stand. I was a bit woosey, but I wanted to get right back on Stryder. Unfortunately, my body said, "Nooooo. You must sit right back down." So, I complied.

My mother stood to my right. I know this because I could hear her. I could not see her.

The decision was made....I was going to the emergency room.

It was a good thing I had been wearing a helmet. The big crack in the back indicated had I not been protected, I probably would be in a hospital bed somewhere drooling on myself.

After an initial examination I was told to wait as I would need a CT scan. I sat in the exam room. My sister kept me company. It was readily apparent that I was in the room where sexual issues were addresses. The Stirrups, the Speculum, the Swab kit were all lined up on the cart for easy access. Because I loathe just sitting, I started peaking around. Opening a drawer on the cart, I discovered a GIANT Q-tip. It was amazing. It had to have been 18 inches long with jumbo cotton tip. I suspected it was for a pelvic exam, but come on, this thing was long enough to swab the back of my throat.

After my CT scan, the doctor determined I had a concussion and would probably have a headache. I could have told him that. He didn't give me any pain medication, but it was okay. I still had some from my root canal three days prior.

Back From Orlando

This past weekend, Talent Rock hosted a three-day talent search/competition. I had discovered the event by googling "open call" on the internet. I browsed through the information and decided to give it a try.

I signed up to attend in the Actor category. With high hopes and dreams of grandure, I arrived in Orlando knowing no one. Waiting at the end of the terminal near baggage claim, I noticed a young woman wearing a red Talent Rock t-shirt. She was the first of many providing guidance and directions. After claiming my bag, I followed her instructions and meandered down the hall to the next red t-shirt. That t-shirt pointed me to the waiting area for the Luxury Travel pick up point. On my way down the next set of escalators, I encounted another talent wannabe. Her name is Tonya and she and I became fast friends.

The transport van picked up a few more people at the next terminal. Among those hopeful folks was a singer named Annie. She and I also became fast friends.

After we arrived at the hotel, Shingle Creek, we made our way to the Talent Rock registration room and began the process of becoming famous.

There were several hundred "talent" there all meeting other talent and trying to size up the competition. Identifying other talent in the same category. I met a few model/actor folks, some dancers, some singers and children. Several asked me if I were competiting in the Commercial Print category. I wasn't. I was there for the Actor competition.

By the fifth inquiry, I decided I had better sign up to compete for Commercial Print. It was a good thing I did because by the end of the competition, my hopes of being discovered as an actor were dashed. So, when the finalist for the Adult Female Sophisticated Commercial Print Model were being called up on stage and MY NUMBER was called, I about choked. Here I had been surrounded by hundreds of beautiful people and MY NUMBER was called. I was stunned.

I didn't win the category, but it didn't matter. I was one of five finalists!

Some Thoughts

The other day I attended a Christmas party where gifts were exchanged. One woman there was very excited to receive a case with several different colors of lip gloss. Seems she needed to replace the lip gloss that the airline security personnel made her throw away.

This woman in no way even begins to resemble a hostile person, terrorist or not. She is an older woman, definitely a member of AARP, who suffers arthritic hands. She had planned a short trip and packed her necessities in a carry-on. Before she was allowed to pass through security, to she was forced to toss her hand cream, body lotion and lip gloss. As she is a woman of means, her hand cream was Lancome. Not cheap.

This woman is a very kind person and certainly not prone to saying mean things, wishing ill will and swearing. The requirement to discard high quality creams because of security restrictions really annoyed her.

I understand. I would be unhappy if the first thing I had to do when I reached my destination was to purchase creams. It seems to be a shame to have to opt to check a carry-on simply so I wouldn't have to throw away all of my "security risk" items. Nail clippers and fingernail files, cuticle scissors, hand cream, toothpaste, shampoo. The list goes on and on. The nail clippers and fingernail files are too dangerous. To me, this is simply ridiculous. I suspect I could do more damage with a pen or pencil than I could with nail clippers. A laptop computer is allowed in the cabin, as are hardback books. Both of those items are hard objects that could inflict blunt force trauma. And...the cord from headphones....well...I'm certain some strangulation could be accomplished.

While she was telling me the adventures of disposable creams, lotions and lip gloss, she became more and more agitated.

"I know I shouldn't say it," she said. "But, I hate Arabs! I had to throw away my nice hand cream because of them."

Halloween Spooktacular

For the Hanson Annual Halloween Spooktacular, I decided to revisit a costume I wore several years ago. Little Miss Muffet. Frankly, the costume is rather comfortable and too difficult to clean up after the party is over. I think the giant purple and black spider adds just enough to the overall effect. My nephew, Kenny, and his father came all the way from California to attend the event. Okay, that's a stretch. They really came to go to the Chiefs/Seahawks game at Arrowhead. See, my husband is a big time Chiefs fan and his brother is a big time Seahawks fan. They both were backed into a corner as far as costumes go because they were in my house during the Spooktacular, thus requiring them to play along.

Unfortunately, my husband was sick and didn't partake in his usual 100% self. He had intended to come as a trampy Raggety Ann, but settled on something much more simple.
He chose to wear a cape over his regular clothes. Then, opted to change his regular clothes to all black clothes. At least his heart was in the spirt of the evening even if his body was too sick to really enjoy himself.

September/October Activites Are Finished

My mother, in her infinite wisdom, once told me to not to wish my life away. I find myself remembering her words every time I wish my hurried schedule over. Now that September and October activities are complete, I have too much time on my hands. Funny how when I want to have a day to myself to get to all the times I have postponed, I find myself doing absolutely nothing with my free time. It's a drag, actually.

The October dinner theater rotation is finished. The Madam Cunundrum production was less satisfying than I had expected. Poop. I enjoyed playing Madam and the subsequent dead Emma Wolf, but my time in the spotlight was nominal. As those characters, I spent most of the show (two full acts out of four) behind the scene waiting for my return. Bummer. During the down time, I decided that I am a DIVA. I missed being the center of attention.

So, when the next show debuted, as Larissa Culaard, I was thrilled. Even though I wasn't the main character, I stole the show. Another minor character, Catherine de Medicci played by a senior in high school, Erin Darley, also rose above the written words and became a grandious spectacle. She and I played off each other and personally, I think we were AWESOME!

I had gone shopping with my mother when she came for a visit. We had super fun time. She bought me this outfit, everything except the red boots. I bought those a few weeks earlier. My amazing husband didn't think they were a practical purchase. COME ON! These are red boots we're talking about. OF COURSE they are PRACTICAL!! Frankly, I think they make the outfit.

She gives hugs. I love her so much. One day...

Cadance tasted her very first apple.

October Activities

The brisk fall weather was cut short by record breaking high temperatures for three days straight. YUCK! But, it seems that we are finally on a declining degree slope. It's about time. Unfortunately, my amazing husband is in a funk about the whole situation. Turns out that he loathes the fall season. He said he'd rather experience a summer in Iraq than tolerate an autumn. Dang. That's bad.

What a shame. Autumn is my favorite. How can two people so completely different be perfect for one another?

My October schedule is jammed packed with activity. The farm is keeping me busy during the days and rehearsal keeps me busy in the evening. We did have a show cancel, but it's okay because I picked up another job for that night. Well, it's not really a job because there is no money involved. It's more of a volunteer gig. I think it'll be super fun.

Fort Leavenworth offers tours of the haunted homes on post. The Rookery is a particularly noted haunted house. Folks who have lived there claim to have seen the ghost that still resides in the home. She's the Lady in White and apparently not the nicest ghost around. She likes to push people.

For the touring visitors, I shall portray the Lady in White. Hopefully, I won't have a run in with the real Lady in White. If I do, I shall ask if she approves. They say imitation is the highest form of flattery. I have a spectacular ghost costume complete with crazed white wig. I'll also have a fog machine and strobe lights. It'll be a gas.

Summer is over

Now that the fall season is upon us, my schedule is crazy.

Between Wanda's place and Red Barn Farm, I work every single day from now until the first weekend of November, with the exception of home football games. Even then, I have to miss at least two of those games because of dinner theater rehearsals. Yep, toss in a few rehearsals and performances into the mix and I have a whirlwind fall season planned.

Amidst all of this, the Hanson Halloween Bash will be held this year. Last year was a bust. We had only been here a few months and didn't know enough people to actually have a memorable event. BUT, this year is different.

Our foreign exchange student, Mona, is excited about Halloween, American Style. She already has her costume. I have to get her a big pumpkin so she can carve her very first jack-o-lantern. Although there are not nearly as many trick-or-treaters here as there were in Germany, it will be fun for her. She has already said she plans on taking every kids' picture.

Kansas City has several permanent haunted houses that go all out for Halloween. We did not attend any of them when we were stationed here in 2001 nor did we attend any last year. BUT, this year is different.

I anticipate a super scary encounter. The haunted houses that show up in Golden, Colorado are scary. Much more so than I would have ever suspected.

The haunted house experience in Germany was NOT scary at all. Despite having ambulances at the ready for anyone having heart palpatations, the scariest Halloween event in Germany was mild compared to Golden's production.

I can only imaging what big time haunted houses in a metropolitan area can produce.

YIKES!

Evening horse chores

Wanda and Dick decided they needed to take a vacation. They also needed someone to look after the horses while they were gone. Naturally, I was at the front of the line to take on the responsibility.

I was to arrive at the farm early to get them fed and turned out into the pasture. I also had to feed the barn cats and the new bunch of kittens. Some horses needed medication and some needed supplements. A few needed more hay than others and some were to receive no hay. All needed love.

On days when I would be unable to return to the farm late in the day to bring the horse back into the stalls, another woman provided that service. Sometimes, we flip-flopped.

One particular evening, I arrived with my amazing husband around 6:00 p.m. As he is definitely NOT a horse person, I gave him brief instructions for putting on a halter and the proper leading technique. He is an animal lover and a quick study. He did beautifully. Just when he was gaining confidence, he was challenged.

In one pasture, three mares anxious waited by the gate. Mae, a saddlebred with an intimating personality, Chancey, a spirited pinto/quarterhorse, and Molly, an elderly passive girl. Out of the three, I thought my husband would be most comfortable with Molly. She would give him no trouble. Unfortunately, I had misjudged.

I had haltered Chancey and Kirby had Molly haltered and ready to go. Mae, the dominate mare of the bunch, protested. Chancey, with urgency, backed away from Mae and closer to Molly. Chancey spun around presenting the business end to Molly. Not wanting a confrontation, she pushed against Kirby. Although, my husband is physically fit, he is unable to stand tall against a motivated horse. As Molly invaded his personal space, he backed away and into the fence.

"Hey!" he yelped. "Is this fence electric?"

"Yes. Why? Did you get zapped?"

"Yes. Stupid horse. She tried to kill me." He scowled.

"Oh, she did not. She was trying to get away from Mae and Chancey."

Once those three were safely put away, we moved onto the next pasture. Sailor and Flame are two energetic geldings. Flame is the more docile of the two as Sailor has underdeveloped social skills. I have had him rush the gate and shove his way past me and gallop toward the barn. I didn't want by husband to be too overwhelmed by the evening, so I opted to take Sailor. He led Flame. Neither of us had any difficulty.

Walking past the pasture holding Legacy and Cody, I noticed Legacy remained standing in the corner while Cody walked to the gate. Normally, the horses known when it is time to come inside and they all wait at the gate. Legacy's behavior surprised me.

After Flame and Sailor were put away, I directed my husband to retrieve Cody. He's a pony and friendly. Legacy is a loving recently gelded stallion. Sometimes he tosses his head and to the unknowing, this action can be scary. When I entered the pasture, I expected him to approach. He didn't. He stayed where he was, tossing his head and calling to me. I immediately knew something was wrong.

I was correct. After putting on his halter and gently encouraging him to walk, he didn't. He would put no weight on his left front leg. He stayed put. I decided to let him alone while I brought all the others inside.

Kirby and I tended to Brittanee and Zoe, two big girls. As I haltered Zoe, Kirby attempted to halter Brittanee. I reassured my wonderful husband that Brittanee would give him no trouble. She is a well-behaved girl and eager to come inside for her dinner. Unfortunately, it didn't turn out like that.

Brittanee was agitated. She refused to hold still, wouldn't put her head down and huffed and snorted. She stomped her back feet and shifted from side to side.

"Screw this!" Kirby exclaimed as he threw down the halter and lead rope and quickly walked away from Brittanee.

I couldn't see what the problem was until Brittanee shoved passed Zoe and me. She started bucking and spinning around. That's when I noticed the giant horsefly buzzing at her withers. Brittanee HATES horseflies. I quickly came to her rescue, shoeing way the fly. Once it was gone and no longer an issue, she settled down immediately.

I told my husband everything was okay.

"Did you see that? She tried to kill me."

Eventually, my amazing husband was able to put the halter on her and calmly lead her to the stall.

We brought all the horses inside without further incident. All except Legacy. He was still standing in the same place.

When I initially noticed something was wrong, I put a call into the emergency vet and contacted Linlee, another farm helper.

She came most haste and together we brushed Legacy and kept him company. I didn't know how long he had been standing there so I brought him his grain and a bucket of water. His injury did not hamper his appetite and he got straight to work gobbling down his dinner.

As the weather turn ugly, Linlee and I decided we needed to get Legacy inside away from lightening. I didn't force him. I didn't even use a lead rope. I softly encouraged him to follow. He was clearly in pain and each step was agony. It pained me to watch.

Around 9:00 p.m. the vet arrived. He examined Legacy, took his temperature, gave him an injection of anti-inflammatory/pain killer and handed me a tube of medicinal paste to administer over the next two days. Legacy was to remain in his stall for the next two days as the ground was muddy and slick. Were Legacy to slip and fall, he may do further damage to his leg. I was given instructions to give Legacy his paste and call the vet with his status in the morning.

For an activity that should have taken no longer than an hour, the outing to the barn lasted nearly four hours.

By the next evening, Legacy had recovered and all was well at Oakmont. My husband, however, took a little bit longer to get back to normal.

I Need a Massage

My agenda is jam packed! Between dinner theater, Red Barn Farm, Oakmont Farm, video productions and substituting (yes, already) I have little time for anything else.
Well, yesterday I did, but I didn't do anything.

I woke up. Ate. Watched TV. Ate. Napped. Watched more TV. Accomplished ZERO.

The night before, I had a dinner theater performance in a town about an hour away from where I live. Well, my wonderful husband did not attend that performance. That meant, I had to drive. Not too big of a deal except that I don't see well at night. The entire drive home I was a tense bundle of nerves. The next morning...MAJOR BACK PAIN. Yep. My back was in a giant knot. It took all day sitting with a heating pad and a rub down with Tiger Balm before I could turn my head without wanting to cry.

All is better today. But...I have a show tonight in a town about an hour away. Thankfully, my amazing husband is taking the afternoon off to drive me to the restaurant. He is so wonderful. He's doing it out of the kindness of his heart. He won't even get dinner out of the deal. This particular venue does not provide any complimentary meals to the actors. It's a bummer. As the meal/show ticket costs $35 and he has already seen the show, he is opting for no meal. I suspect he'll drop me off, drive around town and see what else he can see then return to pick me up. It's all good.

I'm so thankful he's doing this for me.

I have to substitute tomorrow. I can't imagine how miserable I would be trying to tame 6th and 7th and 8th grade children with a muscle cramp in my back.

Dirty Little Secret

During the week long orientation for the new employees of the very first T-Rex restaurant, I was my typical self. Very motivated, excited and enthusiastic. I was encouraged by the members of the store's management staff and by members of the company's management staff to keep up the positive energy.

Once we finally were able to enter our section, the trainers and a retail manager encouraged me to find a "shout out" to keep the employees excited and generate curiosity as to what all the excitement is about. I decided to shout out "Meteor shower! Duck and cover!" every time the meteor shower roared through the building. They told me is was a great idea and to definitely do it.

After about three times, I was told in no uncertain terms to stop.

So, the morning of the grand opening, I was asked to take half a group of Boys and Girls Club children through the Paleo Zone. Of course, I would. That's why I was there, to entertain and education children. Excellent.

Shortly before the media crews were invited in the restaurant for the first time, I was taken into the back room by my area manager. Apparently, he was told by his superiors to address my attitude. I was "too flag wavy" and should be asked to refrain myself from the media attention. Although I didn't have to disappear, it would be better if I simply kept to myself and keep my excitement to a minimum.

Imagine my surprise. I was hired for my positive attitude, for my effervescent personality, my outgoing and energetic demeanor. I was hired specifically for the Paleo Zone, specifically to interact with children. Swallowing my disbelief, I told my manager it wasn't his fault and I went back to the Paleo Zone to sweep sand.

That's when a friendly voice advised me to not listen to what had been said. Apparently, my co-worker had heard the discussion. Well, actually, he had heard the conversation between the higher-ups and my manager.

Instantaneously, my callous facade burst and I made the decision to go home. I headed for the back room, my eyes welling up. By the time my manager shut the office door, I was sobbing. With great effort, I spoke as precisely as I could between tears and sniffles. I explained that upper management had errored when not discussing my "flag waving" enthusiasm in private. I explained that the majority of my life had been shadowed with feedback describing me as "abrasive, harsh, brash, flippant, abrupt, cold-hearted and as a bitch." Never had I been counseled for being too happy. I explained that I had wanted the job. I didn't NEED the job. I WANTED the job. I was under the impression that I had been hired because of my energy to work with children. Being told to keep out of sight simply because media would be there, was a slap in the face. I would not be treated as a dirty little secret, nor would I be swept under the carpet.

My manager, also upset and teary-eyed, apologized for the whole situation. He, too, had been under the impression that my attitude was a positive thing. I had been his "prize" hire and they were please with having "crazy Kelly" working with them. I told him that I didn't hold him responsible for his superiors' mistake, but I would be leaving and I would not be returning.

And....so ends my career with T-Rex.

My Calendar

Turns out that my deep subconscious freaks out when a blank spot appears on my calendar. For some unexplained reason, a mystery of the universe, I am compelled to fill each box with some type of scheduled activity.

Recognizing this flaw, I went out and got myself yet another job. Yep.

Just call me a Paleo Activity Guide. There is a new shopping center called Village West. It's about 18 miles from my house and near the speedway racetrack. It is an outdoor mall complete with fountains and bronze sculpture. Lots of benches upon which visitors can rest and watch the people. There is a movie theater, Dave & Buster's, Home Decorator, Nike, Tommy Hilfiger, Hot Topic, American Eagle, Outback Steakhouse and many, many other eating establishments and shops.

T-Rex is a prehistoric family adventure where visitors can eat, shop, explore and discover. It is similar to the Rainforest Cafe. Being owned by the same parent company, it makes sense. So, it is now my job to host tours of small children to a place where Dinosaurs come to life among caves, waterfalls and geysers. Children can practice archeology and dig for bones and/or pan through the water runoff for bits of bone fragments. Additionally, children can mine for geodes and even "build a dinosaur" in a similar fashion to the "Build a Teddy Bear" store. It all sounds exciting.

During my interview, I was certain to mention that I currently give barnyard tours to children in an educational setting. Same job, different topic. Instead of cows and chickens at Red Barn Farm, I'll be doing Brontosaurus and Tyrannosaurus Rex. On the farm, visitors don't have to worry about being eaten by the attractions.

My calendar no longer has vacant boxes. T-Rex starts July 10th. There are several managers at T-Rex, one for each area (restaurant, retail, paleo, etc). I informed the big-wig manager that I would give full-time, but they would have to work with me so that I can still do Red Barn Farm, Dinner Theater, Oakmont Farm and eventually substituting in the fall. Additionally, if filming of the "movie" begins, I'll need time to go off and do that. THEN, if something pans out with Exposure, Inc. , to which I submitted my packet this morning, I'll have to have some time off for that.


All of this frenzied activity does have a purpose.
There is a reason for the maddness.

A day at the Red Barn Farm

The other day at the Red Barn Farm, I was giving my normal tour to elementary school children. Just as I was escorting them to the restroom to have them wash their hands, I noticed they were not behind me. Several were distracted by something near the mule barn. That caused others to investigate. Pretty soon, I was standing by wondering what my children were examining.

Then I heard the word snake.

Well, being Farmer Kelly and wanting to present a good impression to the children, I made a conscious decision to pick up the snake. See, we teach the children that Black Snakes are the farmer's friend because they eat the mice and rats that eat the animals feed and grain. They also are territorial and keep away other "bad" snakes.

I figured that if we teach that Black Snakes are good, then why shouldn't I accept this snake as any other barnyard animal and pick it up. I pick up the chickens, the pigs, the lambs, the calves (okay, push them around), the ducks and the geese (when they aren't attacking me). All of those animals are friends of the farmer. So, I picked it up.

Outside, I told the children all the wonderful things that Black Snakes do for the farmer. Inside, I kept thinking "WHAT AM I DOING? I SHOULD NEVER HAVE PICKED THIS THING UP!!" Another farmer tour guide, Judy, asked me to hang on while she got her camera. In my best I-am-not-worried voice, I said okay. Inside, I was screaming, "HURRY UP!"

While telling the children all the wonderful things about the snake, I noticed it kept sliding its head out of my grasp. I had to make adjustments to keep its head in control. Its body touched me bare arm and I was surprised at how cold it was. That's probably why it was so easy to catch: it was cold. Still waiting on Judy, I stood there and let the children touch it. I was careful to keep its head securely in my hand. Oh yeah, I was wearing gloves. No way would I have picked it up without gloves. Anyway, the children were fascinated.

Then it maneuvered its body around my leg and really grabbed hold. Even though I knew in my mind that this was a friendly snake and not a poisonous snake nor a constrictor, I was distressed having it securely affixed around my thigh.

"Oh, Judy. You really need to hurry up. Farmer Kelly really wants to put this guy down."

"Oh Kelly, I'm sorry. I forgot my camera today. Go ahead and put it down."

"Thanks, Judy." Hmmm, thanks a whole hell of a lot. "Okay, children. Farmer Kelly is now going to let this big guy go on about his business. I'll just put him right back where I found him. Okay."

After that, just as smooth as you please, I lead the children off to the restrooms to wash hands before lunch. They all thought I was absolutely amazing. Inside, my stomach was flippy-floppy and my heart was pounding.

Seriously, though....WHAT WAS I THINKING?!

Hurry up, Judy! I want to put this thing down!!!

What was I thinking? Just another day at Red Barn Farm.

Happiness Is...

I rode Blue this morning. As always, she is a delight and can do no wrong. Even when being recalcitrant, Blue is perfect. Folks may talk about that big horse who chooses to defy by being lazy, and I have to respond, "Not Blue. She would never do such a thing."

I progressed to a trot. Then, accidentally, to a canter. Oops.

No harm done. Actually, I learned why Blue had transitioned to a canter. It wasn't her fault at all. It was all my fault. By loosing balance and focus, I unintentionally asked her for a canter. Turns out Blue is one smart horse.

Oakmont Farm finally has their website up. I invite you to check it out and learn more about where I spend several hours a week.

My time is divided between Oakmont and Red Barn Farm. Both are equally fabulous and are synonymous with happiness.

Yep. I took this picture. I also planted the bulbs. I think this could be a postcard or maybe blown up to an 8X10 print.

Aren't they pretty?

This is my desktop picture.

The bulbs were planted last November.

Flower in my garden.

Another thing that geese are good for---Christmas Dinner!

Nice bite behind my knee.

Straight out of a Hitchcock movie.

When Animals Attack

I filled out a questionnaire earlier this morning. One of the questions caused me pause and I tried to define my occupation into one word. I failed miserably. I ended up answering that particular question with "eclectic, entertaining substitute teacher, actor, writer, barn hand, and farmer."

The actual description of farmer isn't exactly what I do. My title is Farmer Kelly and I give barnyard tours to elementary school children. The Weston Red Barn Farm is one of my most favorite places in the entire world. Even when it's cold, wet and muddy or hot, dusty and sweaty, Red Barn Farm is the happiest place on earth. Way better than Disney Land. Okay, I would agree that not everyone would agree with my opinion, but since this is MY blog, I adamantly declare Red Barn Farm FABULOUS.

As a tourguide Farmer, I educate the visiting children about barnyard animals and how farmers and pioneers used the animals and land to live.

There are pigs. Pigs are important to farmers because pigs are good for bacon, sausage, pork chops and ham. Not only that, but also bubble gum, make up and paint brushes. Pigs eat everything, except for glass, metal and plastic.

There are chickens. They are good for eating; fried chicken, chicken pot pie, chicken nuggets, chicken tenders, Bar-B-Q chicken, lemon chicken, baked chicken, chicken burritos, chicken enchiladas. I could go on and on. The girl chickens (hens) lay eggs and the boy chickens (roosters) wake up the farm. They also help make more chickens, but that is a bit too much detail for elementary tours.

There are cows and bulls: a Jersey milking cow (Myrtle), a , Hereford beef steer (Bob), two baby bull Holstiens (Cutter and Cornelius). We get milk and all those wonderful dairy products from milking cows like Myrtle. We get hamburger and steak from cows like Bob and those baby bulls...well they'll end up making more Holstien cows for milk and will eventually end up as hamburger meat. Again...too much information for the children. I tell them how cows eat and inevitably one will poop and then I have to explain that what goes in also comes out.

I tell them about horses, both gigantic ones like the Belgian draft horse that is on the farm and miniature ones like the four mares and one gelding. There is also a donkey and I explain the differences between the three types of equines.

The farm also has turkeys, sheep, a goat, ducks and geese.

Several years ago, there was a mean grey goose. Being a boy, he was a gander, but mean nonetheless. He was not-so-affectionately named Gooszilla. The farmer tourguides stayed outside of the goose pen because Gooszilla liked to bite. If you have ever been bitten by a goose, you will know that it really hurts.

Alas, Gooszilla went to heaven (or more likely became some bobcat's dinner) and the goose pen was once more safe to enter.

This past fall, the farm had one brown goose, a white goose and a white gander. As there are several breeds of geese and the children don't really care what kind of goose they are looking at, I really haven't research what breed these three geese are. All I know is that they are all a different breed and one is a Peking goose. Last fall they were fairly docile and it was relatively easy to catch one, hold it out for the children to see and point out all the differences between a water bird and a land bird.

Then spring came.

The brown goose or maybe the white goose laid an egg. It's difficult to determine which goose laid it as they both sit on it. What is not difficult to determine is exactly which one is the gander. He is the biggest bird in the pen and turns out, the meanest. Seems he has become very aggressive over his girls and the egg.

I learned that about three minutes too late.

When I entered the pen, he came straight for me; hissing and honking with wings spread. I thought, "Cool. This will be easy to catch him." Wrong. He probably thought the same exact thing about me.

As I bent down to catch him, he bit me. Lucky for me, he only grasped my pants with his beak. Then he got a better grip. With each bite, he twisted and shook my leg. I tried to get him off of me, but he just wasn't letting go. That's when the beating started. He spread his wings and began whacking me. The front bones in the wings are much stronger than I ever would have guessed and he pounded me with venom. I managed to escape the onslaught, but not for long. He regrouped and attacked again. This time, he grabbed my other leg. More biting. Once he got a good solid grip, he stared beating me again. By now, I strongly voiced my concern and screamed like a little school girl. Keep in mind, I have a class of kindergarteners and three adult chaperones watching. That's right...WATCHING.

I managed to escape the clutches of the demon gander's beak only to be trapped by him. He had military manueverability skills to rival Rommel and herded me into the corner of the pen where the onslaught continued. So much for the tour and looking remotely adept in the eyes of young children. I leaped over the small fence and stayed several feet away from a craning neck.

Mustering up some pride on confidence, I continued with the tour and completed it with no further difficulties. Once I had the children off to the restroom to scrub their hands with soap, soap is your friend, soap, soap, soap, I told the story of the formidable fowl to another farmer. I then learned that the behavior I had experienced is called "flogging." Real farmers will tell you it's not the biting you have to worry about; it's the flogging.

Oh, yeah...turns out several farmers had witnessed the pummeling. Funny how nobody came to my aid. They stood there and watched, apparently "in" on the joke. Seems they had already been warned of the gander's aggressive behavior earlier in the week and didn't tell me.

So, now, I am ashamed to admit that I had my butt kicked by a bird.

Close Encounter with Destiny

Horses are big, powerful creatures. Even the miniature horses are strong. Humans are physically inferior to equines. It makes sense. Horse are a prey animal. Zebras have to fight and/or escape from lions or else they are lunch. Lions are very big and very powerful with very big teeth and very big claws, both of which are good for killing and ripping apart flesh. It just seems appropriate that horses would be nervous and capable of fighting back.

Horses are also social animals. As expected, social animals have a hierarchy and communication skills. Unfortunately, humans don't speak horse and horses don't speak human. Horses speak horse. After being around horses, it becomes apparent that horses enforce the hierarchy with gentle nudges, which when the animal weighs 1100 pounds is quite significant. They also use aggressive nudges, kicks and bites.

So, imagine my surprise...

The other day, I was out in the pasture with the three mares that I see every Tuesday and Thursday. Blue is the dominate mare. She is 1/4 Clydesdale, 1/4 thoroughbred and 1/2 Dutch Warmblood and a BIG girl. Next in the herd is Brittany. She is a beautiful chestnut mare and stands just as tall as Blue, but not as thick. Then there is the lowest ranking mare, Destiny. She is an Andalusian and compared to the other girls, she is on the small side.

When all three are in the small paddock area near the barn, all is well. They know their places. Sometimes Destiny gets a tad too close to the action and Brittany quickly reminds her that she must wait her turn. Destiny submits and patiently waits.

Once the three have moved into the larger pasture area, things change. Destiny gets to be too big for her breeches. I tried to encourage her to move into the paddock area. Well, she was having none of that and trotted away from me. So, I waited and eventually she came back. I got too close and she walked away. That's when the bribes started. First some treats. She was too smart for that and knew I wanted her to come in and require her to work. So, hay was added. That didn't work much better.

When both bribes were combined, she finally came close to the paddock. A few encouraging pats and she scampered away. The bribes were too good to ignore for long and she inched her way back. Another friendly pat and Destiny took off. For good measure...KATOW!

She let me have it. Full force with perfect extension with uncanny accuracy, she planted her hoof smack on my bum. Let's just say I have a beautiful impression of her foot on my butt. No need to have her present to measure her hoof for a shoe. I know EXACTLY how big her foot is.

I suppose it's just one more right of passage. So far, I've been stepped on, fallen and now kicked. As of yet, no broken bones. I'm certain those will come in time.

Here Kitty Kitty

For quite some time now, my daughter has wanted a cat. My husband, the personification of patience, and I have refused to allow this to happen.

We have three terriers who would just love to "play" with the kitty. Kitty box crunchies are just too tempting for the pups. We are a military family and move frequently. My daughter who would be 100% responsible for the cat makes little effort to tend to the dogs thus conveying the possibility of cat neglect. Plus, she will be off to college in two years. College dormitories do not permit animals. My husband and I just don't want to end up taking care of a cat.

The other day, I had to take our Westie, Jake, to the vet. He has managed to destroy his ACL in one of his legs. Yep, our buddy needs some surgery, but that's a whole different story. More on that later.

Anyway, as I waited in line to pay for the office visit, the man in front of me was paying to the spaying of a cat. He asked the receptionist if she wanted to keep the cat. Well, my ears purked up and I listened to the conversation. Seems this man's wife kind of collects cats. Together, they have 12 outside cats and four inside cats. This particular cat was destined to be an outside cat. That seems like a bleak existence to me, especially since I believe all pets should be a member of the family. You wouldn't leave your kid outside. I hate to see dogs chained in the back yard and left alone. That's cruel. Dogs are social animals and need love and attention. Ah, but that is yet another soap box. Back to the cat.

I inquired if the man was serious about giving away his cat. He certainly was. So, I went back to the recovery room and took a look at her. She is a 7 month old spayed female. And...she was very affectionate.

So, the cat came home.

I told my daughter that she had to purchase all the necessary accessories for the cat that evening and bring them home when she got off from work. She asked,"What about Dad?" I told her we would just keep it secret. Hide the cat. Let him discover her on his own and then we would play silly and say that the cat had been living in the house for a while.

All went well. The dogs were very, very curious and Sydney want to play so badly. Unfortunately, the cat had ZERO interest in playing. To magnify her displeasure with the idea, she hissed and took a swing. Sydney got the message loud and clear. Annabelle didn't readily get the hint and need a bit more forceful display of intolerance. Jake just sat and barked.

After a while, Jordan went off to work and the dogs quieted down. At the end of the work day, I drove to my husband's work to give him a ride home. I was in his office about 90 seconds before I innocently advised him that I had done something.

By my demeanor, he knew it was something big. At first, he asked if I wrecked the car. I admitted I brought home a kitty for Jordan. He wasn't pleased, but tolerated what I had done. I also told him that he was not to know about the cat and play surprised when Jordan came home.

Well, that idea didn't last long either. Jordan called me from Wal-Mart and asked about what kind of litterbox to get. She was excited and nervous all at the same time. She was delighted about having the kitty, but terrified at what her dad would say. So, I let her off the hook and told her that I had already let the cat out of the bag.

When she did come home that evening, she brought in a shopping bag filled with kitty things. My sweet sweet man of a husband played stupid and began to carry on like a crazy man. Jordan shrugged it off and said she already knew that he knew.

So, my husband, although irritated, pet the kitty. I've caught him petting the kitty, kitty several times since the cat came home She's still not 100% comfortable with the dogs, but she's getting braver by the day. I hope that they will all be able to get along and maybe even play. Keeping my fingers crossed.

Oh, my daughter named the cat Nona.

Crafty

I love to make beautiful things.

My first adventure in crafts was making bows. It took lots and lots and lots of practice, but I have conquered to task. I can make beautiful bows. Thank you very much.

Then I started making wreaths. Well, my mother is far better at making wreaths than I am. I just had to find my niche. So, when Halloween rolled around, I make the coolest, creepiest Halloween wreath. It had spiders, spiderwebs, black and orange gunks of glitter, black tulle ribbon, and a big raven. Too, too cool.

Then I discovered scrapbooking. It wasn't too far a leap to stamping. We, okay...my husband, call it crap and stamping. I have accumulated an entire closet and a dresser full of crap and stamp stuff. I am such a sucker for colorful paper.

Just when I became comfortable with that crafty medium, I decided that I could make gift baskets. In a shop where I worked last year, there were small wicker baskets for sale. They were nothing special and were selling for $10. I thought that was outrageous, especially since yard sales are the best place to buy baskets. BING. A light went off inside my head and I said to myself, "Self, you can make cuter baskets than that and for a lot less money." So, out on adventure to find good baskets, cheap. Those yard sales were a goldmine. Nearly all of the baskets I bought that weekend were 25 cents. The most expensive one, which was also the biggest cost 75 cents.

Fall theme, for me, is easy. So, I picked up thousands and thousands of acorns off my lawn. I also picked up about a million of these prickly, seed pod, ball things from one of the trees on my property. Then, I invested a couple of bucks on spray varnish and glue. Wouldn't you know, my baskets are beautiful.

Soooooo, I mentioned all of this to my beautician. She requested I make her a spring wreath and a gift basket. She said she wanted to get an assortment of greeting cards to put in the gift basket. I chimed right up and told her that I make greeting cards, too. She was thrilled and told me to make a stationery gift basket. No problem. Cake and pie.

I'm hoping that she'll be thrilled and tell all of her friends about it. Then, I just might be able to make a few bucks to support my crap and stamp habit.

Many fingers in many pies

And another adventures....

Last week, my amazingly wonderful husband and I were interviewed to become sponsor parents for a foreign exchange student. As we have a lovely daughter (age 16), my husband, the very protective father that he is, laid down the ground rules, namely NO BOYS. I readily agreed. The last thing we need is a budding romance.

We were given a choice between three girls. The first one was from Czech Republic. Her initial profile was interesting. She sounded like she would fit into our family quite nicely. The second young lady was from Belgium. She had some emotional baggage that we just weren't keen on inviting into our lives. The third girl was from Germany. Her profile sounded like she would be perfect for us. She seems to be outgoing, but then again, anyone who would sign up to be a foreign exchange student would have to be outgoing. She indicated she enjoys sports, horses, and watching TV, especially Friends. She is also excited about cooking a typical German meal for her sponsor family. Cool deal. Since we lived there, we know what she's talking about. I'm excited for her to come, which won't be until the beginning of next school year. We'll have her for 9 months. Yep, my husband and I are actually inviting another teenage girl into our home. Just a couple of gluttons for punishment.

As of today...my 16 year old daughter got her driver's license. That's a whole different set of worries. Yikes. I sent her on her very first solo drive today. Granted it wasn't too difficult a task, but she was sure excited. I'm happy for her. Nervous, but happy.

Wait, there's more.
This past Saturday, I went to a horse show. In one arena, folks were competing in dressage (that's the fancy pants and horse dancing) and in the arena across the street, cowboys were doing rodeo. Two totally different worlds of horses, but I loved every second of it.

I visited the stock pen and checked out the horses, steers, calves, and bulls. Two bicycle policemen came over to get a closer look at the bulls. Turns out they had never seen bulls and had some questions. As I have been to several rodeos in my time, I explained to them about the different animals and what each would be used to do. Just so happens that I know more about rodeo than I do about dressage, but it's the dressage I'm learning to do. Yep, I'm expanding my horizons. Just one more finger in one more pie.

Because I think that all animals need to enjoy a treat, I asked the stockmen if it would be okay to feed the stock horses a carrot.

They chuckled to themselves and said, "If you think you can get them to come close enough, sure."

With a bit of encouragement and the natural curiosity of horses, several came over to investigate. I suspect none of them had ever eaten a carrot. My friend who was with me asked the stockmen if the horse ever came inside. I knew those horses had spent their whole lives outside. The stockmen looked at my friend like she was from another planet.

I explained, "We take care of the barn babies across the street. Those guys are spoiled on a daily basis."

They nodded.

Then I asked if it would be okay if I were to give them apples. My friend asked them if the horses had ever eaten an apple.

"No. Apples don't grow in North Dakota," one cowboy said.

I replied, "The only thing that grows in North Dakota is snow." I went back over to the dressage arena and obtained two Red Delicious apples.

Once the rodeo stock horses tasted the apples, there was no hesitancy anymore. Turns out, they LOVE apples. I suspect I turned them into sissies.

Wait, there's more.

So, today after scooping lots of poop, I mounted my big girl, Blue and began my lesson. I walked her around cones in a circle and then in figure eights. Eventually, I got the hang of what I was supposed to be doing. When the instructor would give me some direction, I stopped concentrating on the horse and focused on the instructor. As soon as I did that, my horse stopped working. Blue needs a constant, consistent rider else she just stops. Basically, she's on the lazy side.

As if I don't have enough going on in my daily routines, on April 1st, I'm sticking my finger into another pie. Auditions for the spring dinner theater productions are that afternoon. I'm hopeful that I'll be cast.

The fellow who runs the theater troop mentioned an October job. He said he would refer my name and give me kudos to conduct haunted home tours. He said the money is good and thinks I would be good at it. That's encouraging.

There's always something on my plate.

Break a leg

My actor bio went something like...recently discovered for her effervescent enthusiasm as a murder mystery theater audience member and makes her theatrical debut with the Leavenworth Players Group in Murder at Paddy Kelly's Irish tavern or a St. Patrick's Day to Die For. The well-traveled, published author thanks her husband for his undying support in her eclectic endeavors.

Opening night went extremely well. I made two mistakes. The first one was in the end of the third section. I stepped on a laugh line. The second mistake was at the very end. I totally dropped a line, but I don't think anyone even noticed....except for other cast members.

I was supposed to serve for Table 10. I had expected 8 people. When I showed up for the call time, I discovered that my 8-top was down to a 7-top. When guests began to arrive, the number 7 guy wanted to sit with his friends at another table. So, my 7-top was now down to 6. By the opening act, two of my patrons had not arrived. So, I ended up with a 4-top. That was very disappointing. It also meant that my tip potential was, in a word.......pitiful. Lucky for me, one couple seated in my section was my personal guest and they tipped me well. Had it not been for them, I would have ended up being able to afford only two chicken soft tacos and a medium drink from Taco Bell. Even then, I wouldn't end up with any change.

There are two more shows. One is on March 16th and the last one on March 19th. Hopefully, I'll have more folks to serve. More folks = more alcoholic beverages = higher tab = more tips.