The Worries of a Country Kid


As you read this, I’ll be winging my way over California and Arizona and on my way to New Mexico.

Look up and wave hi if you see me coming by.

I’m headed back to Southern New Mexico for a purpose.

As I’ve told you, I take my job as co-madre very, very seriously. I love the two daughters of my best friend with such intensity that sometimes I forget I didn’t carry them inside my own body.

They matter that much.

My baby girls, now 8 and 11, are part of their local 4-H and this year they took on the project of raising pigs. They worked very hard at this, including helping their dad clear an empty space in their yard and building the pig barn.

Every day they feed and medicate and care for those little oinkers. They text me photos. They tell me how cute they are. Those girls are in love with their little piggies.

This weekend is the final part of the process: an auction at the Southern New Mexico State Fair.

I never raised show animals myself, but most of my friends did. I know from experience that the auction can be really difficult.

Really difficult.

Especially the first time through.

As my friend said, “get ready for big crying.”

And I am. I think.

The Good Man and I will join forces with my best friend and her husband and we’ll hug those kids as hard as we can and try to make it better.

Because in the end, I’ll probably be the one crying the hardest. It hurts when my little ones hurt.

This is the dilemma of a country kid. It’s part of their 4-H training, learning to raise and care for animals, but knowing that these animals are also part of the food chain.

Most people don’t look at a bag of groceries and understand where, exactly the food came from. People think beef just comes in patties like that. Eggs are created in foam containers. Milk is mixed up back in the stockroom.

My girls know better. My girls are savvy and strong. They know the land and how to create sustenance from it. They join the long line of proud agricultural New Mexicans.

And so they’ll cry a little and grow up a little and learn a lot.

Or, hell, they might both grow up to be vegetarians after this experience. Who knows?

Wish me luck! I’m going in!

Photo by Gareth Weeks and used royalty free from stock.xchng.

The Muse and Randomness

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(I started this post yesterday and intended for it to be posted yesterday…. *sigh* The best laid plans of Mice and Karen…and things like that…..)

Here it is Monday and I’m at a standstill for blog ideas. Mondays seem to be ripe for hitting that mental gridlock, so in an effort to break loose, I went back to the Unconscious Mutterings word association well for this week.

That’s right, I’m free associatin’ again. Here’s hoping it breaks loose the cement in my creative brain.

Read on:


  1. Analytical:: Something that I am not. I don’t say that out loud because this word “analytical” is a big buzz word in the business world. It’s assumed you have to be analytical or you’ll get NO WHERE in your career. It’s all about the numbers! Who cares if the numbers are right as long as the pivot tables on the spreadsheet look REALLY good. To get around my personal limitations, I instead hire really wonderful analytical people and they do spreadsheets for me. It’s just easier that way.
  2. Production:: Why’s everyone gotta make such a big production about being analytical?
  3. Softball:: What a perfect thing to be doing today rather than sit at my desk, metaphorically banging my non-analytical head against it. Sure, I can’t hit and I can’t field. But it’s a lot of fun to try.
  4. Uniform:: For as much as I like fashion, sometimes I think it would be easier to wear an uniform to work every day. Yes, I know, it would kill my creativity and I’d probably hate it after a while, but on those days when I’m tearing my closet to shreds because I can’t find anything that makes me happy…well, a nice uniform would sure be easy.
  5. Intangible:: Pros and cons, right? Wearing a uniform gives you that intangible feeling of being a part of a team. But it can also give you that intangible feeling that you don’t matter as an individual. Hmm.
  6. Grill:: Non-sequitur time: There are very few things that taste better to me than a cheeseburger off the backyard grill. Not one of the fancy new gas grills, but the old fashioned start a fire with lighter fluid sort of grill that burns the edges of the burger patty. Yum!
  7. Second base:: So one of the pretty cool things about being married is that there is this cute boy that sleeps in my bed every night. I can be fast asleep and dreaming, then roll over and my arm flops over and whoa! I think I just got to second base. Without even trying! Heh. That’s not such a bad benefit….
  8. Citizen:: I got nothing for this one…watches, maybe? I Googled the word citizen and watches were the first hit. Because commercialism wins out over patriotism every day of the week.
  9. Celery :: I love chicken salad, especially when it’s made with chicken thighs. So tasty! But damn I can’t stand it when there is a bunch of celery in there. I know so many people like that crunch, but to me it detracts from the chicken salad yuminess. That goes double for apples in my chicken salad. Yuck!
  10. Opera :: Who among us hasn’t once, at least for a moment, been an opera singer in the shower? Am I right? I know I’m right. Then again, I usually forgo opera for good ol’ fashioned rock and roll. HAAAAAUUUUUWW! (<-- that's a sort of Sammy Hagar-esque yell, in case it wasn't clear.)

Ok, good. The randomness is helping. Randomness is a good thing.

And with that…back to work!

Image found in several locations on the net, but unable to find attribution. Will remove or provide attribution details at the request of the owner.

And there you have it.


You know, sometimes it is, in fact, easier to tell a story with a photograph rather than words.

This past weekend, I wandered into my bedroom to grab my iPod off the bedside table. It was then I saw, laying there, the perfect explanation of my relationship with The Good Man.

It just says so much about who we are, how we’re alike, and how we’re different.

It is thus:

I’ll give you two guesses as to which book is the one I’m reading.

Hint: it’s not the one about Oscar Wilde.

And there you have it.

S’long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, good byyyyyyye!

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Well 2009, here we are.

It’s been fun, you know. Well, sometimes, anyway.

I mean, you’ve provided some laughs and all.

Remember that time we celebrated my wedding anniversary?

How about all the tweets we shared?

The endless blog posts?

Remember that vacation where we laughed in the summer sun?

Yeah…those were special times. Really, I’ll always hold those memories deep in my heart.

It’s just…


It’s not working out.

You see, despite all the fun, you’ve ravaged my wallet.

In this year, you made me have to *gasp* cut coupons, lower my thermostat and NOT buy this ever so delicious navy blue leather bag with a cute little strap and matte finished hardware and the most adorable zipper front pockety thing.

I haaaate not buying a delicious handbag with a really cute pockety thing!

But I didn’t buy it. I walked away.

And I’m still sad about that.

I’ll always remember that stuff too, 2009.

How you made gas prices stupidly expensive. How you let all those celebrities die. How you let Tiger cheat on Elin.

You have a dark side, 2009. I see it now. I see it so clearly.

I’ve been fooling myself all along

I think it is best if we part ways.

Really, stop trying to cling to my leg.

We’re done.


Fine. You want me to say it?

I’ll say it.

But when I say it, it’s really over.

Ok. Here we go. I’m saying it.

It’s not you, it’s me.


Feel better?

Now get out of here. We’re through!

Have I met somebody new? Well…maybe.

2010 has been coming up in conversation a lot lately.

Maybe 2010 will treat me the way I deserve to be treated.

Let my retirement recover some of its value and help me possibly find another cute little leather bag to assuage my grief.

Until then…to you, 2009, I can only say….

So long.


Auf wiedersehen

Good byyyyyyye…

Biscuit Monster


So, now that we’ve gone and cancelled our cable, we live at the whims of what’s available on the public airwaves.

This means that I’ve been watching a lot more PBS lately. There’s some really fascinating stuff on there!

So I watched, with moist salivary glands, a show called “Everyday Baking.”

Host John Barricelli makes some naughty baked things on that show, and the recipes seem pretty easy.

I told The Good Man that I’d watched the show and was going to try my hand at making homemade biscuits.

That grown man, in a full Cookie Monster voice, said “biscuits?”

This morning, I printed out the recipe and placed it on the counter. I will make them later today to be ready for weekend breakfasts.

Every time The Good Man walked by the counter while getting ready for work and spotted the recipe, I heard “biscuits?!?”

He opened the fridge, “hon, why is there a bunch of cut up butter in here?”

“That’s for the biscuits, they said the butter needs to be cold and in small chunks.”


As he kissed me goodbye for the day, he bounced on the balls of his feet and uttered one last, “biscuits!?!?”

Oh man, with such Cookie Monster passion about these biscuits, now I’m sort of scared. What if they turn out like flour-y hockey pucks?


Then again, I bought sausage to make sausage gravy. Just about anything tastes ok covered in sausage gravy.