Busta Move

More like bust my butt.  Damn, does my hip hop hurt.  The Colonel and I danced like fools and had a great time last night.  We saw lots of great friends and enjoyed most excellent food and beverages.  Unlike others, I did not wear turquoise eye shadow to be in costume for the simple fact that I do not own any.

We walked down to the Party in the Park slightly hung over for our duties this morning and  just missed the Performing Pigs!!!  Mister had to book down there to tear it down and I think he got dirtier than the pigs.  Of course, I didn't get any pictures, but  I am certain that had I been there in time, this is the exact picture I would have taken.

While waiting for my shift to start, I glanced toward the stands only to see Dr. Crackem Backem.  An interesting note about my chiropractor.  You know how doctors and salespeople and my nephew Stu when he learned to talk will constantly say your name when they meet you so they won't forget?  Well, every time I see him, he of course says, "Heidi Weston".  After about the fourth time, I said, "M. Golden Larson".  Mind you, his full name is Matthew Golden Larson, I saw it on his diploma.  Now, I say, "M. Golden Larson", before he can say my name, to which he replies, "M.D.".  Well, yes, that is a given.  I asked him why he has his business cards printed with M. Golden Larson and he said it was a family name.  This is also on his door and all advertising.  I asked him what his friends call him (you know, expecting "Goldy" or something equally clever).  He told me they call him Matt.  I'm still puzzling over that.

Anyway, I saw Goldy and he introduced me to his hugely and I mean, HUGELY, pregnant wife.  I must have looked surprised to see a hugely pregnant woman sitting on cement bleachers at a Performing Pig show because he said, "We're due in five days".  Of course, I blurt out, "But we have an appointment in five days."  God, I could so be a celebrity.  Me, me, look at the world revolving all about me...

While I was also at the Party in the Park, I randomly looked down and saw this:

I forgot that we had bought a brick a few years ago.  It is located at the top of the steps in the bleachers on the north side in case you wanted to look at it, too.

Yet more evidence of my fame.

Perfoming Pigs Party

A very busy weekend is planned.  I'm going to visit Cody before her adventure at horse camp next month and then go listen to music tomorrow night.  The Mister made me promise that nobody would make him drum.  I won't, but I can't guarantee that anybody else won't try.  He really is a good drummer;  I listened to a few songs he cut in the day and he can rock some serious rhythm.  He gave up a full scholarship to college for music (trumpet) to enlist in the Army, but he did what he thought was right.

Then, one of the funnest things I've been looking forward to on Saturday:  Bridle Trails Party in the Park.  The performing pigs, equestrian drill team, pony rides and miniature horse demos!!  Oh boy.  We try to volunteer every year and fortunately, I'm doing the seated sales table while the Mister is doing set up and take down for the events.  Yes, he will help get the little platforms and hoops ready for the pigs!!  I'll try to get pictures, hopefully with the pigs.  I'm sure there will be afternoon napping with Gus because it is now expected and a habit and all the excitement will do us in.

Sunday will be a delayed Father's Day Seafood Feast at my son's house.  He's not my birth son, especially since he's five years younger than me, but still, he and his wife are my family.  He's a mullet wearing, soccer playing brute, about 6'4" and one of the kindest men I know.  I adore my three granddogs, too.  We once had a New Years' Eve party in Mazama with their kids and ours and a few friends and I counted seven dogs in the house and sledding.  Way good times.

Get a Dog

I know it's scripted, but so unbelievably sad.  Two "16 year olds" are going to be parents and look, we're so wonderful and big belly, look at me, and we're in love and look at me some more, we're on TV, and we're all grown up and the center of attention.  Another show to watch because it's summer and I still can't do much and I've not see it and everything else is now reruns. Total train wreck, and totally preventable.  MTV's "16 and Pregnant", my new find.  I think it should be mandatory viewing for kids over 12.

I can't stop watching it.  The sad parents, the pathetic "understanding" friends, the lame boyfriends.  The only decent episodes are when the babies are given up for adoption.  Granted, there are a few parents of the kids that actually raise their grand kids, but really, is that the best option?  I really admire the parents that gave their daughter a puppy and said, go ahead, raise it and see how fun it is.   After having to get up and let the puppy out at 5 AM for a week or so, she decided that having a baby might not be all that great.  Wow.  Where are all the young dads?  For the most part, off the hook.  No job, no money, no big deal.

I will be the Aunt that shows this show to my niece and nephew when they are old enough.  Don't be stupid.  Don't look for "something to love".  Don't totally screw up your life.  Don't totally screw up an innocent life.   Please note:  I am not a parent, but I was a sixteen year old once.  I got the part about don't even think about being stupid and getting pregnant.  Probably because it wasn't the current fad back in the day and I'd seen and helped with plenty of animal births.  I also knew how to prevent it, which seems pretty reasonable knowledge for most pre-teens now.

That is my soapbox for tonight because Mister couldn't find the I-Pad stylus and I had to order one from Amazon.  Yes, I could go to the mall and buy one, but that would mean going to the mall. 

I would rather get a puppy.

Finger Painting

Saw the ENT today to suitably impress him with my progress.  The only weird thing that has come up is the wonky taste in my mouth, just the back half of my tongue.  He said it was normal, and would come back when the nerve healed but sweet things, including chocolate, taste like copper.  Not all that tasty.  I guess it could be worse. 

I took no ibuprofen today and my neck feels fine.  I get an occasional twinge in my shoulder, but way better than last week and certainly WAY better than before that.  My only real issue of the day is a lack of pole bean plants, but I shall overcome that dilemma soon, never fear.

My new drawings were done on Penultimate on my I-Pad, but with my finger, not the stylus.  It is very difficult to draw an eyeball with just a finger, so I have commanded the Mister to give up his stylus which is at his office.  At least he'll have a hope of looking better on paper that way.



Isn't it funny that "Colon" makes up "Colonel"?  I think so.



Branching Out

Look, look, look.  I can draw.  Yes, it is a drawing.  It is a drawing of me.

Okay, next time I'll use darker ink or something, but it was my first attempt, give me a break, geesh.

Golfing With Purpose

Spent a delightful evening in a Seattle Hotel golfing last night.  I don't know why I thought that I would be able to virtual golf in heels, but it neither added nor detracted from the game.  I was able to half swing and still go about 52 yards in my drive.  Pro tour, look out. 

Interestingly, I don't miss golfing.  I miss making fun of my friends while they golf and laughing hysterically when I hit a tree and the ball almost nails me, resulting in -18 yards for my second drive.  That's the best part.  I try not to partner with over serious rule zealots.  I find most of the rules interesting, but not necessarily applicable to my situation. Note:  I believe this is why is referred to as a "Game".  I really like the "Dick Out" rule and try to enforce it with great diligence. (Rule 43b.  Man hits no further than the front tees;  he is expected to show his willie for the rest of the hole.  Of course, this never happens, but it is uproarious to yell, "DICK OUT!!!  DICK OUT!!!")

I can usually tune out the Chatty Kathys when I golf or at least make a point of telling them to pipe down during my back swing.  One of the highlights of my first tournament was when my partner was looking at the line of my putt while having an argument with her daughter via cell phone.  Unfortunately, I had turned off my super human power of burning laser eyes or I might have enjoyed a spectacular burning flesh pyre.  I just told her to shut up instead. 

My super human power reduced this golf cart to ash one day

My favorite golf game is the Wednesday late afternoon with the Mister.  We intend to play nine holes and have dinner, but at the end of the fifth hole, closest to the bar, we look at each other and say, okay, that was good and head in for a margarita.

And that's how you get good at the game;  with purpose.

I know, the clubs just get bigger all the time

Diversity

There is something magical about four dogs, two cats and four horses.  They all figure it out.  They don't look alike or think alike, but it works.  Now, if there was no food, it might not work, but given they're all domestic, we don't have to interfere.

We had a wonderful dinner with friends tonight.  They have a hunting dog, Labradoodle, the cats and the horses.  We contributed a large Bouvier and their kids showed up with a Chug.  It's a Chihuahua/Pug mix.  We got them together and of course, worried that my Dorkus Doggus would eat everyone, but he didn't.  The usual fang baring and checking pee-mail ensued, but everyone settled down.  The oldest cat was senile and ignored all, which confused the dogs and the biggest dog liked the littlest best and it was all good.  The horses like the littlest dog, too, primarily because she was so small and unafraid.  My ex-horse, Elmer, loved little animals, too.  He would stop on the trail to look at small cowering beasts and would try to lick them occasionally, which once resulted in screaming and running. (The owner, not the dog) .  I once found him with a cat curled up on his back and he had two chickens that would regularly roost in his stall.  He was quite gentle and sweet with them.  Evidently, I wasn't small or hairy enough (go ahead, Mister, insert laughter here).

I think about Elmer occasionally, but don't particularly miss him, except for how funny he could be.  Then I remember how 95% of horse care is work and 5% is actual riding.  Yeah, don't miss the scooping poop part so much and thankfully, a lot of my friends own horses that need to be ridden.  I also remember him every day that I wake up with a completely numb face and sore shoulder. 

I think I'll keep a couple of chickens.