2004-2015


I know it's just a dog. . .

Just a dog who loved her family and her farm, but also loved to ride to town, and until the last, she even liked going to the vet!

Just a dog who took her job seriously.  Protecting her peeps and keeping the calves in the corral, and the bulls on the run.  She kept the three spoiled lap dogs in line, with just a tap of her nose.

Just a dog who didn't like the gas man, or  FedEx, or UPS, or any stranger really. But when Grandpa Jim came over she was sure to jump up and kiss his face.

Just a dog who was tenderhearted.  Whined when her people hugged or horsed around.  Would tolerate a cat, as long as it didn't run.

Just a dog who loved to playfully bite my foot as we went walking down the road.  Would run ahead, then toss her head and come running back to bite again.

Just a dog with a favorite spot behind the kitchen table during hot weather, and on the living room carpet in the winter.  Oh yeah, and a favorite spot in our hearts, forever.

Rest in peace, Tuffy

City Girl Gets to Drive the Loader Again.

It was 13 degrees Sunday morning and I'm not sure of the temp at chore time last night, but it sure felt bone-chilling, and we have about 4 inches of snow, and it was coming down heavy.  I bundled up to go out and feed the cats, carry the trash, and shovel the sidewalk when I heard Country Boy say, "Come here.  I need your help." I dread these words, not because I don't enjoy helping, but because by the time Country Boy asks for help, it's usually out of desperation, and let me assure you, I'm nearly always substandard help for the task.

The tractor that is attached to the bale processor wouldn't start and was parked in the shed in front of the big loader, which is the only other thing we can use to get hay to the pen full of hungry calves.  Then came the words I, and most wives I know, dread.  "You are going to have to tow me, while I steer this thing."  We tried the old pickup and the tires spun on the snow till they smoked.  We tried another 4 wheel drive pickup.  Same results.  We tried the 4 wheel drive pickup with a bale on the back for weight.  Nope.

I went to the house for more clothes, since even with wool socks and insulated Sorrell boots , my toes were numb. A tiny thought flashed in my mind.  I could have married a banker, lawyer, anybody with an office job.

I then returned and asked Country Boy what plan D was.  Next, I got to steer the tractor while he pushed it with the loader.  We managed to move it far enough that he could get the loader out.  Then I was supposed to hop in the loader and make a big circle and back it up to the tractor so we could pull it out past the haystack.  Well, of course it's probably been two years since I last drove it for a total of 10 minutes, and I'm a little nervous because I know what it cost.  I was putting along in first gear and Country Boy gestures one of his famous hand signals that sort of resembles "STOP!".  He comes over and says, "I'm gonna freeze to death out here waiting for you."  To which I replied, "I'm being careful.  (Which is contrary to my "Get it Done" nature.)  Be thankful I didn't run into anything!"  Shoot, I was just proud that I remembered which 3 pedals were brakes and which one was the accelerator!  Someone who knows my heavy equipment operating ability must have designed this machine.  Lots of whoa and very little go.  He jumped in and put it in another gear, hooked up the tow strap and I pulled him in a big circle, around the light pole, and was just past the point of white knuckles and clenched jaw, and thinking "this rig is fun" when I looked back and saw lots of gestures, none of which made any sense.  Turns out he just wasn't happy with where I was headed.  He, being a perfectionist, "Get it Right", person, wanted it parked some exact distant and angle from the road, adjacent to the haystack.  Never mind the fact that I'm guessing where the road is because of all the snow. 

All is well that ends well. Oh, and that tiny thought I had.  It was followed by these:  Country boy could have married a girl who had been raised out here.  A taller, stronger girl who knew how to operate all kinds of farm machinery.  But where is the fun in that?  And what would I write about?

Just some thoughts I've jotted down over the last six months or so as the anniversary of one of the hardest times draws near.

In Memory of Kelly Hollis  May 10, 1961 - January 9, 2014   

We gathered at Mom's to go through the last of your things.  Your clothes, your tools, your "toys", even the food from your kitchen.  Ordinary things and extraordinary things.  Metal work and sketches you had done.  A journal containing your deepest thoughts.  Can this really be all that's left?  You were so much more than all of these combined.  What we wouldn't give to have you back.  Your smile, your wit, your talent, your love.  Your house is sold.  Your debts are settled.  It's all finished, but the emptiness remains.  The grief it comes and goes, but it's never gone for good.  The memories are sweet, and we will keep them alive.

Kelly, I think of you...

I think of you in the morning
when it's quiet and I'm drinking my coffee.
I remember how you sat and drank yours, deep in your thoughts.
As kids, I remember you had an amazing artist's mind.
I'd see you studying some object and ask what you were thinking.
You were usually planning to draw or build something.  You saw angles and dimensions and perspectives that I could not.

I think of you when I head home for a holiday.
How important family was to you and how you always got there first.
Usually at least a day ahead of everyone else.  I hope you are in heaven,
and though we miss you so, we know you are lucky to get there first!

I think of you when the Broncos play
and wonder if you were still here
where you'd be watching, and with whom.

I think of you when we spend time with your friends, Scott and Kerri Wall.
We've all adopted them, and they've adopted us.  It's fun to hear them
tell stories of time they spent with you.

I think of you when I listen to classic rock.  I see you clowning around,
singing the lyrics.

I think of you when I see the swing hanging from the big elm in our yard.  I remember at one of the salsa making weekends our nieces and nephews were having trouble staying on the rope and you quietly went in the garage, got some tools and notched the board so it would stay on the rope. 

I think of you when there is work to be done.  How you always had a plan.
Always pitched in and got it done.

I think of your smile, in the  picture above, taken of you just over a month before you died.
How healthy you looked.  How strong.  How can it be that you're gone?  I took that smile for granted.  I took you for granted.  I regret not calling you more.  Not stopping by as I drove through Denver.  I hope someday to give you a great big hug and catch up on all I missed!

I think of you when I hear my daughter sing.  You were so supportive.  You never missed her shows.  Her eyes remind me of yours.

I think of you when my son Bret makes that face.  Cocking one eyebrow.  You know the one.  He reminds me of you in so many ways.

I think of you when I see our nieces and nephews.  I remember you letting them put barrettes in your beard!  How they loved you and how you loved them.  I know now how much you wanted to have a family and children of your own.

I think of you every time I use my sewing machine.  Yours was the first quilt made on it.

I think of you every time I pass Pete's Kitchen, near Michelle's place in Denver.  Mom and Michelle and I ate there  and cried and made plans to help Tracy and Cindy go through your things and plan your memorial.

I think of you when I see someone on a bike, with a leather jacket, a bald head and goatee.  I always have to take a second look, even though I know it isn't you. The book the Wall family gave us, "Healing the Adult Siblings Grieving Heart" by Alan D. Wolfelt, PH.D. says, "You will acknowledge the reality of the loss with your head.  Only over time will you come to acknowledge it with your heart." and "You may find yourself driving past your sibling's house, expecting an e-mail from him or her, following cars that look like your sibling's, hearing his voice in a crowded restaurant.  These searching behaviors are normal.  Your mind is simply trying to find evidence that will disprove a truth it doesn't want to believe."

We all grieve differently. 

Tracy and Cindy took a trip to Wyoming.  They stopped in Lander, and searched through public records and found your birth announcement from the newspaper.  You can't read it all in this pic, but it says:   Mr. and Mrs. Harold Hollis of Riverton are the parents of a boy born May 10 at 7:27 p.m.  He weighed 7 llbs., 12 3/4 ozs.  and was named Kelly Don.

And they also stopped here and took this picture of an old stage stop at Point of Rocks.  Tracy and Kelly helped preserve it in 1980.

As Michelle said recently, "Kelly's life mattered."
So Kelly, we will all continue to think of you...

Get it Done vs. Get it Right

     Lately, a few friends have told me they need a good laugh, and asked why I haven't written in my blog.

     I have been focusing on my much neglected yard and the overwhelming piles of tumbleweeds in our trees and around our outbuildings.

     I've also been focusing on my health. After dealing with knee pain ranging from mild to extreme (at least according to  MY tolerance for pain, which is ZERO) for over a year, I finally went to the doctor.  He said it is arthritis and gave me a shot of cortisone in the worst knee.  I was hoping for something easier to fix, like torn cartilage, something that didn't shout (YOU ARE GETTING OLD), something that indicated I would be back to running 5K races or even half-marathons in no time.

     I'm eating healthy, taking some supplements, and I got some prescription orthotic insoles for my shoes.  They are hurting less.

     I have gone off track (It runs in the family, Penny).  Get it Done vs. Get it Right refers to a workshop I attended about 10 years ago.  It was called "Dealing with Difficult People".  It's a great way to find out you are a difficult person!  I know I've told many of you about it, but to recap, there are four types of people:  Get it Done, Get it Right, Get Appreciated, and Get Along.  Many of us are a combination of two or more of these.

     I started out in the Get it Right group and was promptly kicked out!  After answering a few questions, it was clear that I belonged in the Get it Done group.  Just get it done!  Don't worry if it's not perfect,  just do the best you can.  This often leads to some serious regret, and some redoing.  Randy is very much a Get it Right person.  Yes, deadlines are important, but it has to be perfect!  It may not even be worth your time, and you might have saved a lot of money (time is money) by just getting it done or "gasp" letting someone else do it, but you can feel proud that you did it right!  Well, you can imagine the discord this causes in our Country Boy/ City Girl marriage!

     Just a tidbit about the other two categories.  Get Appreciated, they don't mind helping, but boy do they need constant affirmation!  Get Along, it doesn't matter if we ever accomplish the goal of a project, as long as we are all happy and getting along!  I'll just bite my tongue instead of discussing these any further.

    I'll give you some examples of our conflict.  We have had a Snapper (guaranteed to start with one pull) lawnmower since about 1990.  I can't tell you how I've hurt myself pulling on this (guaranteed to never start before the 30th try) mechanical wonder.  The grass bag is nearly impossible to take on and off and the spark plug jiggles loose and falls off.  The pretty red paint is fading and the handle hangs off to one side (could have something to do with me finally losing my temper one day).  About 10 or 15 years ago this mower started having carburetor problems and every summer Randy would have to take it apart (hours of work) and it would sort of work.  It hardly used any gas one year, I don't know how it could even run.  Another year it would only work if the gas was slowly leaking, so I had to use pliers to turn the gas on before, and off after each use. Really, this post could be titled Hoarder vs. Purger, because Randy is not about to throw this wonderful mower away, when it is quite "fixable".  The last time I was sure he could not resurrect it, he spent like 6 hours working on it (all while I'm "lovingly" saying, "It's 30 years old, and I need to mow the lawn NOW (get it done person) can I just buy a new one?"  To which Mr. Get it Right says, "That's what's wrong with this country, we are such a throw away society."  Well since I'm a Get it Done person, I'm also sometimes a "do it the easy way", "take a short-cut" person, so instead of going to find a key to the gas tank and unlocking the tank, I found I could just put the gas nozzle way down in the mower and drain the gas from the hose and it would be just enough to fill it.  Turns out when I did that the nozzle knocked something important out of the bottom of the tank.  Randy found it during the six hour overhaul, and that was the main problem all these years!

     Fast forward a few years and I was at my brother Dave's and he had this BEAUTIFUL, SHINY, RED mower in a pile of stuff to take to the ARC.  WHAAAT????!!!!!  Can I have it, can I buy it?  This mower does have a problem.  It starts easily, but once it's warmed up, when you shut it off to empty the grass clippings it vapor-locks and won't start again.  My solution?  Go inside, have a cool drink, check in on fb and when I go out rested and refreshed, Wa La, it starts like a dream.  Not only is this mower pretty, it has self-propel (like front-wheel drive) and the bag is SO easy to take on and off.

     This post could also be titled "Magic Wand"  because Randy says I break things and then think he can just wave a magic wand and fix them.

    Recently, I attempted to mow (not with the above mentioned mowers) some tumbleweeds around our cedar trees.  Between the weeds being slightly too thick and a gopher making soft, uneven ground and my (rose-colored glasses optimism/love to take chances attitude (see my blog post about Cripple Creek and gambling) I managed to get the little riding mower high-centered and jam-packed full of tumbleweeds.  I tried desperately to dig it out and even put down a rubber car mat under the back wheel to give it more traction, this all in a hurry and in 90 + degree heat, hoping I could solve the problem without calling on Country Boy.  He showed up in the middle of planting crops and saw my beet red face and told me I should get out of the sun, to which I replied, "I would love to, but I have my riding mower stuck."  "Again!?  Where this time?  Why, would you try to mow those?  I was going to fork them out first."  Yes, we Get it Done people don't always learn on the first try, especially when wearing Rose-Colored glasses and thinking, I just know this mower can handle these tumbleweeds, and I can't wait to see if it will!"  So Randy waved his magic wand and in his nicest voice said, "Please, go in the house and try to stay out of trouble."

     A few days after this, my amazing, magic wand-wielding, Get it Right, Country Boy told me there is a Brad Paisley song that fits me perfectly and told me I'm  goofy and scatter-brained and he loves me this way, because I keep life from being boring.  Awwww.  I am so blessed, and God does know what he's doing when he puts two people together, after all, He has a sense of humor!  The song is "Little Moments" but you really should watch this video  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=vBErCVNP6rM#t=6
And yes, I did back his truck into a tree once (it was dark and I didn't adjust the mirrors) and I do get distracted and burn supper from time to time.

                                    New mower

                      Old mower.  Throw it away?  Of course not.  It still "works".

My GPS

Those of you who know me, are aware that I am "directionally challenged". I get lost when driving. I get lost in the mall. I get disoriented trying to get out of the doctor's office. Unless I can see the sun and/or the mountains, I have no idea which direction I'm going. Country boy (Randy) grew up learning cardinal directions. I (City Girl) only learned left and right. Occasionally, he will send me to town for some necessary gadget and say something like, "When you go in Home Depot, it's on the north wall, just to the east of the hardware section." Well you can imagine how this kind of conversation ends.

Quite a while ago my brother, Keven, gave me his Tom-Tom GPS. With the advent of Smart Phones, he didn't need it anymore. I started to set it up before a trip and well...I'm also technologically challenged. I have my old standby GPS. Handwritten maps and printed MapQuest directions for all my relatives' addresses (especially Michelle, who moves just about the time I memorize how to get to her house) stuffed in the glove compartment. After we got lost in Denver, even with Randy driving(he seems to have a built in compass), I decided it was time.

I charged up the Tom-Tom, updated it online, and after much searching, it finally decided we live on County HIGHWAY 3, near County HIGHWAY Y. I typed in the address to Michelle's singing gig in Denver and off I went. About five miles into the trip, as I was headed West toward Boone Road, my new friend Tom loudly blurted out "after 400 yards, turn LEFT", I nearly jumped out of my skin! Not sure how to turn the volume down while driving, so this was how the trip would be. Even I know, that turning left would take me to Pueblo, not Denver, so I ignored Tom. He doesn't appreciate being ignored. "Make a U-turn AS SOON AS POSSIBLE!", he said. When I got to I-25, Tom and I were finally on the same route, and WOW!, How have I lived this long without a GPS? I love that it tells me which lane I need to be in to get on the interstate. Some places it's a left, others it's a right. I think of all the times I've gotten lost, and the time I've wasted, and I could have just typed in an address, and most often found my way.

Then it occurred to me...This is just like when I try to navigate through life without God's guidance!! How many years I wasted before I became a believer! How much time I waste as a believer, when I choose to ignore: reading his instruction manual (the Bible); listening to His instructions (by listening to sound, biblical advice from a friend, or a message at church, or on the radio); and especially ignoring His warning (the Holy Spirit saying, "Yvonne, make a U-turn AS SOON AS POSSIBLE!") Just as I program my trip into the GPS before I leave, I need to ask God for directions each day, and let Him tell me what to do, what to say, and where to go.

 I searched for some Bible verses related to this idea and here is what I found:
A man's heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps.Proverbs 16:9

 I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you. Psalm 32:8

Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path. Psalm 119:105

 And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left. Isaiah 30:21

I went to the beginning of Isaiah 30 to find out who this verse is speaking to, my Life Application Study Bible has the following notes:

30:1 The rebellious children are the people of Judah. The negotiations for an alliance were underway, and Isaiah condemned their twisted plans. The people of Judah sought advice from everyone but God. When we are driven by fear, we tend to search everywhere for comfort, advice, and relief, hoping to find an easy way out of our troubles. Instead, we should consult God. Although he gives emergency help in a crisis, he prefers to be our guide throughout our life. by reading his Word and actively seeking to do his will, we can maintain our bond with him who provides stability no matter what the crisis.

30:15 God warned Judah that turning to Egypt and other nations for military might could not save them. Only God could do that. They must wait for him "in quietness and confidence". No amount of fast talking or hasty activity could speed up God's grand design. We have nothing to say to God but thank you. Salvation comes from God alone. Because he has saved us, we can trust him and be peacefully confident that he will give us strength to face our difficulties. We should lay aside our well-laid plans and allow him to act.

 30:20 The Lord gave his people adversity for food and suffering for drink, but he promised to be with them, and guide them during hard times. God expects a lot from us, and many times following him can be painful; but he always acts out of his love for us. Next time you go through a difficult time, try to appreciate the experience and grow from it, learning what God wants to teach you. God may be showing you his love by patiently walking with you through adversity.

 30:21 When the people of Jerusalem left God's path, he would correct them. He will do the same for us. But when we hear his voice of correction, we must be willing to follow it!

 Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.Proverbs 3:5-6 (This is my favorite verse. It has helped me many times.)

Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths. Lead me in your truth and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation; for you I wait all the day long.Psalm 25:4-5

 The steps of a man are established by the Lord, when he delights in his way; though he fall, he shall not be cast headlong, for the Lord upholds his hand. Psalm 37:23-24

I guess I will always be directionally challenged. Thank you, Keven and Angie, for my new friend, Tom !

Navigating through life, now that is the big challenge!  God bless you today, friends and family, and may He keep our paths straight!

Kelly

The unexpected death of my brother, Kelly, was such a shock.  I wrote these words to work through my feelings.  Maybe they will help others who are mourning.


 Kelly Don Hollis
1961-2014














Kelly

I wonder if you knew...

I wonder if you knew
how much we all loved you

I wonder if you knew
how your smile lit up the room
(without it you looked kind of mean)

I wonder if you knew
just how talented you were
not to mention: intelligent, generous, hilariously funny and sarcastic, the list goes on and on


I wonder if you knew
people thought you were amazing
I wonder if you could ever believe that of yourself
You set the bar so high

I wonder if you realized
that those nieces and nephews that you loved so much
adored you in return

I wonder if you knew
how proud we were of you
 of all you had accomplished,
of all you'd overcome

I wonder if you knew
you were sick
and that if only you had called...any one of us would have driven all night
 just to be by your side
 We would have held your hand
  We would have held you close
  We would have tried to help
You wouldn't have been alone

I wonder if you had any idea
how many tears we'd cry
 

 

I wonder if you knewyour absence would leave
such an incredible void

I wonder if you knew
our hearts would break without you

I wonder if you knew
God loved you no matter what

I wonder if I had seen you at Christmas
if this would hurt any less

 I wonder if I would have been brave enough to ask you
about your deepest thoughts and fears
  Would you have answered? or given me that look?
Would I have been able
 to talk about God?
 and make sure that you understood  He loves you
even more than we ever could
 and that He has prepared a place for you
 and you'll never hurt again?


Oh Kelly, I wonder if you knew...

Confessions of a Crazy Dog Lady

      I guess I became the "Crazy Dog Lady" six years ago, because that's when I got Daisy, 3/4 Chihuahua, 1/4 Jack Russell Terrier, and everyone knows Chihuahuas are NOT farm dogs, but lately I have taken my craziness to extremes!

    Recently, Tuffy, the 9 year old Blue Heeler (real working cattle dog) got really sick and we found out she has diabetes, so since we are too soft hearted to put her down (the farmer way), I am giving her insulin shots every 12 hours for the rest of her life!   I also have to check her urine for ketone and glucose.

     Randy built me the  "pee catcher"  in the above pictures (yard stick with butter dish attached to the end).   It's just a coincidence that the yard stick says "It's where you go that counts".  The first time I used it, he stood back and laughed at me as I followed her around to catch!

     My cousin, Penny has requested video of the operation, claiming it would be worth money.  When Michelle was home she had her phone out and was trying to video the process, as I was running down the driveway after Tuffy, wearing Michelle's too big, flip flops because they were by the door and easy to slip on in a hurry, and laughing thinking how silly I must look, and yelling "don't you dare tape this" and anticipating the dog squatting, and realizing I needed to go myself.    She took me on a wild goose chase that ended in the corral and she never did pee!   Next time I won't worry about her killing a spot on the lawn.   I will keep her shut in the yard.

     At least she is feeling better.   Before her sugar got under control, she didn't have the energy to run.  She is feeling so much better that she doesn't drink and pee all the time like in the beginning, and I know she is tired of me following her with the pee catcher because she tries to turn around when I get close.

                                 Old pic of me and Tuffy  How could I not help this dog?

     About this same time, Miley, the Chi-weanie had another false pregnancy. If you have never heard of it, google it, it is very real!   Her hormones get out of whack and she digs a hole in the carpet under the couch or the bed and runs out and attacks the other dogs when they get within 6 feet of her "puppies".

      She had her first false pregnancy last year, which made me think she would make a good mom and I borrowed a nice little male Chihuahua.  He ran away, and was never found :( and Miley didn't get pregnant.   So this time I took her and got her spayed.   She kept licking the incision so I made her a tank top.   It's really cute, I must say.   Michelle's friend gave her a black Harley Davidson tank top with lace edges ( not Michelle's style) so I cut it down and made it fit Miley.  (Sorry there is no picture of the shirt, my memory card died.)
Miley, the dog who will ride on tractors, mowers and ATVs, and sit on my lap while I sew and rides in the car with her paws on the steering wheel! Then again, she was trained by Emma Pachak, who is not afraid of anything!

     Things seemed to be going well, and then Miley's tummy swelled up and she started giving A LOT OF MILK and frantically searching for more imaginary puppies to feed.  Back to the vet.  I noticed on the bill that they gave me the "multi dog discount".  They are too nice to call it the "Crazy Dog Lady" discount.  Apparently spaying during a false pregnancy can overstimulate the mammary glands.  They gave her shot and some pills and I was instructed not to let her eat for 24 hours.

     So Tuffy is supposed to have free access to food always, so her glocose doesn't get too low, but Miley can have none.  They also told me to give Miley a stuffed animal to "mother".  Last time I read online that you should take the stuffed animal away so the dog will realize there is no puppy.  (Don't trust everything you read.)  So I found the little white bunny rabbit I had previously confiscated.  I wish I had taken video when I gave it to her.  Miley very carefully picked it up in her mouth and looked around at the other dogs with a menacing look and took it behind the couch.

     A day later either the novelty of motherhood had worn off or the pills were helping her hormones subside because she brought the puppy and dropped it at my feet as if to say, "puppy-sit please" and went outside to run around and chase cats.

     With all of this going on we also kept Bret and Kallie's two dogs for a week.  I am thinking about starting "The Crazy Dog Lady's Boarding Kennel"  Special needs dogs are welcome and if they need special clothing or even a costume,
(you know how some crazy people like to dress their pets) I can sew!

                                         Daisy, aka "the me dog"
    

Gotta Run

 A little over year ago I hated to run.  In fact, I didn't run, ever!  I joked with my friend, Dove, (who runs like a cheetah) that if she ever saw me running she should call 911, because something must be terribly wrong.  One of my favorites sayings was, "I never run with scissors...  the last two words were not necessary".  I told Dove I wouldn't run because I didn't want my feet to get ugly callouses.  In all seriousness, I didn't think my feet could take running.  I have a heel spur and bouts of plantar fasciaitis.

We were having a "Biggest Loser" contest at work and the competition was fierce!  We were doing workout videos after work each day.  It was so hard at first because we were so out of shape.  Gradually it got easier and finally became a good habit, one that we enjoyed, rather than dreaded.  There has been such a ripple effect from that simple contest.  Lifestyles were changed, hopefully forever.  It wasn't just a short-term diet.  They finally had to quit bringing cake to our staff in-services, because it wasn't being eaten!  I'm not saying I never indulge in a piece of dessert, but my voracious appetite for sweets has mostly disappeared.  I now crave much healthier food.

One day after work, nobody was able to stay and do a workout video, but a couple of coworkers were going to run and invited me to join them.  I really didn't want to miss a workout, because you all know if you miss one, you miss two, then three, and just like that you are back to being a couch potato.  I told them I would try and figured my feet would kill me the next day.  We ran down the dirt road by the school.  We would run to one power pole, walk to the next, and kept alternating.  I seriously thought I would die and I don't think we even went that far.

My feet didn't hurt the next day, so I kept on running.  It's a fast way to burn calories and get your heart rate up.  My brother, Dave and my daughter-in-law, Kallie had done the Labor Day 5K around the lake in Windsor.  I decided for my 50th birthday I would try it.  I figured I would have to walk some of it, but like the saying goes, "whatever you do, you are lapping the person on the couch."

To my surprise I was able to run the entire thing!

So, here I am almost a year later and I just ran my sixth 5K.  Michelle says we should do a 10K.  Well, I will have to do some serious training before that can happen.

I have found that if I stop when my legs hurt or I get tired, it hurts worse when I start again. So, I tell myself I'm not allowed to stop unless I throw up or pass out.  Neither have happened, go figure!  Like Bret says, "our minds are weaker than our bodies".

Some of you may find this weird, but for me, running is a spiritual thing.  I talk to God while I run (sometimes I say, "please help me survive this!" or "please don't let me die out here on the dirt road").  But seriously, there is some kind of euphoria that happens.  Maybe it's the endorphins that kick in with any good exercise, or maybe it's just the early morning air, sunshine, dirt roads lined with sunflowers, cows grazing on much-prayed-for green grass, a faithful dog or two running  beside me (the one who needs to get in shape, Daisy is faithful...to wait either on the couch, or in the shade).  Maybe it's knowing that I'm running because I am able, for as long as I am able.  I know so many who can't.  Like my sister-in-law Cindy who was flown from Cheyenne Wells to Aurora in congestive heart failure and had triple bypass surgery and the long recovery that goes with it, or a friend with bad knees, or another with balance/dizziness issues.  When these people come to mind, I ask God to bless them.

 I think most anything we do can be done to honor God and to help others.  Colossians 3:23 "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men.
"Most 5K runs give proceeds to good causes. The ones I've participated in to date have helped:  schools, arthritis sufferers (both human and animal), needy children at Christmas time, college athletic training program at UNC, children of the first responders and military killed in the line of duty, and crisis pregnancy centers.

If you look at the verse I have posted on my Running Bulletin Board below, yes, I have taken it out of context, but it reminds me to pray and rely on Him before every race, and to give Him credit for the results.  I think the verse is talking about a much bigger, more important race.  The Great Commission to tell others, if they are willing to listen, about God's love, mercy, grace and salvation!  My Life Application Bible explains it like this: "The Christian life involves hard work.  It requires us to give up whatever endangers our relationship with God, to run with endurance, and to struggle against sin with the power of the Holy Spirit.  To live effectively, we must keep our eyes on Jesus.  We will stumble if we look away from him to stare at ourselves or the circumstances surrounding us.  We should be running for Christ, not ourselves, and we must always keep him in sight."

We can show His love by helping widows, orphans, the sick, the poor, etc.

I apologize for the length of this writing.  I do hope it inspires someone to find a form of exercise they will grow to enjoy.  To set a goal, even if it's just to walk, or bike, or swim a short distance every day.  More importantly, I hope it inspires someone to focus on the biggest, most important race!

In the meantime...I GOTTA RUN!!

City Girl Gets Knocked Down by a Cow!!

        Well, actually a heifer (young cow, first time momma, for my non-country friends) .  Because I love springtime and calving season, and because I am a morning person, I voluntarily check the heifers in the barn/corral every morning at 5:00 while the coffee is brewing.  So this morning I got up, threw on some sweat pants under my nightgown, my down coat, a hat and gloves, grabbed the fancy flashlight/spotlight and my handy-dandy slip-on, not- practical- for-corrals, shoes.

       As I was walking to the barn I noticed so many stars in the black sky and how incredibly tired I felt.  Oh yeah, the time change (4:00 am old time).  As I crawled under the fence and through the cement bunk I noticed  a heifer with a calf almost completely born.  His head was twisted under him, so I straightened him out and cleared the junk from his nose and mouth, but he didn't breathe.  It seems this small heifer had been trying a long time and usually when that happens they just continue to lay there instead of getting up like an experienced mama cow would. They usually are not very interested in their calf at first.   I decided to try to pick the calf up by it's hind legs in hopes that more junk would drain out, like I've seen Randy  do so many times.  My next plan would be to try to blow some air in the calf's nose, which I've also seen Randy do.  I was about to grab the calf when I heard snorting behind me and WHAM the heifer hit me in the back with her head.    The heifer continued to maul me with her head, still snorting and maybe bawling (it's all a blur).  Now I'm face down in the manure and newborn calf gunk.  She stopped momentarily (I'm so thankful she didn't step on me!) and I jumped up and ran faster, I'm sure, than I can normally run. I'm more of an endurance runner.   I'm no good at sprinting, especially without warming up and stretching first.   I felt like I was flying, my feet barely touching the ground.   I could hear and feel her right behind me, so no time to look back!  I  was yelling  and the other 23 heifers were scattering to get out of my way.  I scrambled under the fence and realized I had lost my left shoe.  Who cares!  Not going back for it. Miraculously, I didn't step in any cow pies during my hasty exit.  Proof that I was flying!

        I ran all the way to the house, somehow thinking if Randy could get there in time he could save the calf. Thanks to adrenaline I didn't even feel the gravel on my shoeless foot.  Ran in the house and Country Boy (Randy) says I was hysterical and out of breath and he couldn't understand a word I said at first, but knew something was wrong, so got dressed and headed to the corral.  The calf did not survive.

      I am stiff and sore, and I have a great deal of respect for Heifer #14.  All heifers, for that matter.  I will never again assume they won't be aggressive, nor will I turn my back to them.

     Feel free to have a good laugh. Randy says I'm not allowed to check the heifers anymore.  I hope to change his mind.  Right now I'm going to put some ice on my shoulder.

      They say Daylight Savings Time is responsible for lots of accidents.  I'm not sure I would have been any more alert an hour later without coffee.

The Skunk

     My friend, Dove had some errands to run and asked me to keep her kids.  I was happy to, since I love kids and I am a 'volunteer Grandma"  to them.  They call me "Grandma" and I spoil them accordingly.  It's a beautiful, Indian summer day.  We can play outside!
     I rushed around to get some laundry in and clean the house a little, so I could focus on spoiling them once they get here. I carried the trash and noticed something had pulled a bunch of trash through a hole near the bottom of the barrel.  Probably one of the barn cats.
     Taylin (12), Emma (6), and Jack (2) arrived at about 10:30 and the first order of business was coffee milkshakes made in the Keurig.  Don't worry. There was more ice cream than coffee.  Jack held up his sippee cup and said, "I want cobbee".  How could I say no?  He only took two sips.
     Next, we headed out to the haystack, stopped to see the newly-weaned, bawling calves, and took a quick peek in the barn.   It was then that Taylin yelled, "A skunk! There's a skunk!"  Sure enough and it was headed for the trash barrels.  Hmmm.  Probably going back for another snack.  I hurried the kids and dogs to the house.  I called Randy and asked him which gun I should use (Remember, I'm a city girl and one time I tried to kill a skunk with a pistol loaded with bird-shot and all it did was make it blink and duck a little.)  Randy told me where I could find more .22 shells and said, "Don't shoot anything you aren't supposed to."  Oh he of little faith!
     By the time I loaded the gun and made sure the dogs and kids stayed inside, I couldn't find the skunk.  For the rest of the afternoon the dogs kept looking in the drain pipe, where the washing machine drains out by the trash barrels, so when Randy got home, we told him we thought the skunk was in there. 
     So, Country Boy gets a flashlight and looks in and says, "It's in here, you want to see it?"  Adventurous Emma was all over that.  She got down on the ground and looked.  My turn, and I ask, "Won't he spray me?"  Randy says, "Not while he's looking at you."  So I look and say, "Unless he's a one-eyed skunk, he has turned around!"  Yikes! 
     Randy shot 3 times into the dark drain.  I was not about to hold the flashlight once the skunk turned around!  "Did you get him?", I asked.  "Surely, I must have." he replied.  Just then the skunk comes out the other end of the drain pipe, pretty close to where Taylin, Emma, and I are standing.  (I had put Jack and the dogs in the house.)  I did what any good Volunteer Grandma would do.  I screamed and ran first, and then yelled for Taylin and Emma to follow. 
     Randy went running, gun-in-hand after the skunk.  He ran out of shells and Taylin and I ran to the house for more and I grabbed Jack.  The skunk went south so we all jumped in the back of the pickup and Randy drove while we all searched the pasture for a wounded skunk.
     At this writing, the skunk, who we've decided has 9 lives, IS STILL AT LARGE.  We think he may be hiding in the pine trees.  Here's hoping he dies and the dogs don't get sprayed.
    

Things that make you wonder...

I was in the Pueblo Mall the other day and among all the kiosks in the middle, there was a "Hurricane Simulator".  Really??  People actually put money in this machine and get inside this glass (or plexi-glass) enclosure and feel what  it's like to go through a hurricane?  I didn't see any water, so it must just simulate the hurricane force winds.

Well, gee, let me get my money out!  While you are at it, I've always wanted to know how it feels to go through a tornado, a wildfire, a flood.  Is there a simulator for getting beat up by a gang?, drug by a horse?  (oh wait I've done that one in real life)  How about a "childbirth simulator"?  Now there's an idea!

Extreme Couponing

I have been trying to save money at the grocery store and on the advice of a friend and with my subscription to Savingsangels I am slowly but surely learning.  But I think you will agree that my recent couponing experience brings new meaning to the term "Extreme Couponing".   I went to Colorado Springs with my computer printed list and my coupons hole-punched and threaded on binder rings.  One for King Soopers, one for Safeway, one for food items, one for non-food items.

I was doing great till I hit Safeway.  I only needed a few things and actually changed my mind (shocking, I know) on a couple of items and either didn't buy, or bought the store brand instead, so I thought, I'll just go through the self-checkout.  NEVER use coupons at the self-checkout. There was a gentleman behind me, holding a toddler in one arm and one item in the other.  I told him to go ahead of me, but he politely refused.  I guarantee he regretted that decision!  I scanned my groceries, then began scanning my coupons.  That lovely computerized voice said, "Please..place...."coopons"... in the "...coopon"... slot.  Oh jeez, I guess I don't get to keep these and use them again, DUH.  I start feeding my coupons into the slot and the screen says, "Please see the clerk, your coupon did not scan correctly."

 The clerk comes over and I quietly tell him it's ok if that coupon didn't scan, I can live without the savings.  At this point the line behind me is growing.  Now the clerk says I have to start all over and scan all my groceries again.  I say, "but what about all the coupons I already put in the slot?"  So he tries again and gets my transaction back and at that moment I somehow drop all the tiny Safeway store coupons that I cut out of the paper.  I had taken them off the ring binder, but then didn't use them all.  They were like confetti all over the floor!  I heard people groaning behind me in line.  Remember the commercial, "Need to get away?"  That was me.  Finally paid and got out as fast as possible.

In all seriousness, you can cut your grocery bill way down.  The trick is that most items go on sale in a 12 week cycle.  Save your coupons until the item is "buy one, get one free"  or greatly discounted.  You can actually get items for free!!

You don't have to clip a lot of coupons.  Both King Soopers and Safeway allow you to go to their websites and download digital coupons to your card.  Then, when you check out the coupons are credited to your order.  They are called eCoupons.  For clumsy people like me, they are a must!

After doing this at your favorite store for a few weeks, they will start sending you emails offering GREAT deals and FREE groceries!  

A couple of websites that have helped me are:  Hip2Save.com and savingsangels.com.  The first is free and after you register they send you emails letting you know what is on sale, both at the grocery stores, and restaurants and other businesses.  The second website is not free but they do offer a free trial subscription so you can try it out.  It will save you a lot of time searching for the best price.

More Packaging Disasters

Dear Miss Clairol,
Just wanted to let you know I used your "La Petite Frost" kit.  Well I used the cap and hook, but instead of blond highlights (heaven knows I'm "blond"  enough)  I used brown dye from a different kit and did dark highlights.  Anyway, I think you should add two details to your instructions.  A warning that putting on a plastic bonnet and pulling half your hair through tiny holes with a metal crochet hook will make you look like an alien from outer space.  It's recommended that your pets NOT see you looking like this, as they might be traumatized and possibly attack you or run and hide.  Other people (especially those with cameras) should not see you and you ABSOLUTELY should not answer the door looking like this!  The other warning should be that pulling long (especially curly) hair through those tiny holes can be quite painful and lead to significant hair loss!  I was planning to go to the hairdresser and get my long, thick hair thinned for the summer.  Now, I don't need to.  You could market this product as La Petite Frost and Mega Thinning. 

Dear Clorox,
I was excited to see your new product, "Gel Bleach for hE washing machines".  Finally an easier way to get bleach in that tiny dispenser.  As your label says, "New!  No splash, No mess"  I tried to twist open the cap on the fancy nozzle with no luck.  Went and found my reading glass so I could decipher which block of teeny, tiny print was both directions and English and it said, "To open cap:  squeeze sides of cap where indicated.  (ahh those lines weren't just for grip) and turn counter-clockwise 1/4 turn.  Cap DOES NOT come off).  I squeezed, I turned, squeezed the bottle to dispense gel bleach.  Nothing.  Ok.  Maybe there is a seal under the cap (you know like the ketchup bottles have), but that can't be the problem because the cap DOES NOT come off.  Ok.  Squeeze again, turn 1/4, squeeze.  Nothing.  So, I squeezed the bottle harder and gel bleach exploded like lava running out under the collar, not out the nice little nozzle.  I now have bleach all over the bottle, my hands, and the top of my washer.  Thank you!  That was so much easier and less messy!

Happy Anniversary Country Boy!

     Yesterday was our 31st wedding anniversary.  It has almost become a tradition that we end up having some kind of trouble with the cows on our anniversary. Many years ago when the kids were little there was a very heavy, wet Spring snow falling and Randy came in for help.  A cow had calved in the storm and was not taking care of her calf.  We went out and loaded the calf on the tailgate of Greenie (old pickup) and Randy instructed me to sit on the calf so it wouldn't fall out and he would slowly drive to the barn and hopefully the mama would follow her baby and we could lock them in the barn, till her maternal instincts improved.  Well, we made it almost to the barn and with all the snow the tailgate was slick, and I probably only weighed 100 lbs. back then, and Randy hit a bump and the calf and I both fell out!.  I yelled for him to stop and when he got out I asked him why he loved this way of life, and told him "Happy Anniversary!"  I'm a lot less fond of helping in bad weather.

 Why did we get married in March?  One might think it was so Randy wouldn't ever have to take me on a vacation for our anniversary, but as our friend, Clyde Chess once told me, "It was B.C. Before Cows".  Randy just worked for some farmers/neighbors when we first got married.  It was several years before we acquired cattle.

      Fast forward to Saturday afternoon and Randy suggested we go out for a nice dinner for our anniversary.  He checked the cows and heifers, and heifer #57 was by herself, acting suspicious.  Heifers sometimes need help with their first calf, so we decided to stay home.  For the next three days we checked on #57 often.  One time she would be switching her tail, acting bothered, the next time she would be calmly chewing her cud.  Randy and I both had a feeling, she was going to have trouble.  So last night on our anniversary we took turns checking her every hour or so.  She had not started the birthing process, but just acted funny.  We finally went to bed.

      At 2:00 AM I was so sound asleep that I didn't realize Randy had gotten dressed, went out and checked and came back and was gently nudging me and saying, "Do you want to help, or keep sleeping?"
 " What?  Huh?  The heifer?  Did she start?  Of Course I'll help!"
 All I can say is he asked so nicely, I wasn't fully awake, I must have suddenly had a rush of adrenalin.  I got dressed and threw on Randy's big hooded coat (no sense getting mine dirty) and filled the bucket with soapy water.  Got in the pen and he roped the heifer. Randy said something like, "I thought about letting you sleep, but I wanted to share the fun." I told him I would have been disappointed if he hadn't let me help.  I was still quite sleepy and she just didn't seem "angry" like some of the older cows.  The coat's hood was blocking my peripheral vision, but I sort of sensed in my sleepy stupor that she was getting close to me, just as Randy said, "You better get out of the way."  Which I quickly did. She wasn't mad, but she also didn't care that I was there and would have knocked me down trying to escape. (I'm sure she was thinking, I'm in pain here, why is this man bothering me?)

About this time the bull in the next pen is quite interested in what's going on and starts running, bucking and snorting.  I told the heifer it was all his fault and she should stay away from him.  Isn't that what every girl wants to hear when she is in labor?  Randy wrapped the end of the rope around two fence posts and as always I held the rope.  My job is to keep her from getting away (easy with the double wrap) and if she has such a fit that she pulls on the rope and it gets too tight and she "chokes down" I have to quickly unwrap the rope and give her some slack so she can breathe.  For this "city girl"  let me just say it's traumatic!  She never choked down, but this poor girl was in some pain.  Her eyes rolled back in her head and well,  it was a rough delivery.  She was small, the calf was big and his tongue was swollen from too much time in the process.  I said a quick prayer that the heifer would not be paralyzed or prolapse (pulling a calf at 2:00 AM is one thing, putting her womb back in, is quite another!) Maybe I'm silly to pray, but I believe God hears every prayer and cares about the things we care about.  Besides, I just like talking to Him.  Randy made sure the calf's nose was clear and moved him out of mama's way so she wouldn't step on him, if and when she got up. At this point she is just laying there with a shocked look as if to say, "What on earth just happened??"  The calf shook his head and took some choppy breaths.He took looked like, What?  Where am I?
     It was a pretty still morning (it had been pretty windy when we went to bed).  Cold but clear.  I looked up and saw the stars and thought about the manger where our Savior, Jesus was born.  Wow.
      I did my best to coil up the rope and gather up the other stuff. #57 got up and the maternal instinct kicked in and she began to clean up her baby.  I followed Randy to the barn and handed him his rope to which he let out a little chuckle.  He then proceeded to throw the rope out in a straight line and coil it, giving me instructions on how to properly coil it. "Start at the tail (oops I started at the loop), then overhand, overhand, etc."  I said, "I can't believe I'm getting a rope lesson at 2:30 AM.  I did do the overhand, overhand."  
"Did you start at the tail?"
"No."
"You're just like Bret."
OK.  Back to house, back to the warm bed for me. Randy took the flashlight and went to the big pen and checked on the remaining heifers to make sure there were none in labor.  Even at 2:00 AM he is so thorough, so disciplined.  He never takes shortcuts.  He loves his cows and he takes good care of them.   I guess technically it's the day after our anniversary, but I'm sure #57 started the birthing process before midnight, so we'll call this our anniversary calf.  All's well that ends well.

31 years this country boy and city girl have been working together and I have to say it is so good to have someone to share life with!

P.S.  Randy came in from morning chores and asked me to make a bottle of colostrum for the calf.  The mama didn't clean him up good and he never stood up.  He was cold, shivering, and weak. His head and tongue were swollen from too much time in the birth canal. It took some doing, but we finally got half a bottle down him.  Amazing what some warm milk will do.  He kept trying and falling, but he finally got up and the sun came out and when I went out later he was napping.  Of course like my cousin, Penny I had to take some pictures.

Packaging

Dear Miss Clairol,

      I just want you to know that your Nice and Easy 118A  medium brown hair color should be called Darker than midnight BLACK.  Thank goodness I looked in the mirror before the suggested time was up and rinsed it out early!  And as long as I'm venting, it was neither nice (fumes took my breath away), nor easy (I now have black (oh excuse me, medium brown) stains on my hand, bathroom wall, and rug.  But the funniest part of this experience was the instruction to "put on the EXPERT COLORIST GLOVES.  Even I, with my rose-colored glasses firmly in place, know that cheap, ambidextrously designed, plastic gloves will not turn me into an expert (thus the stains in my bathroom).  I know that a $4.99 box of do-it-yourself color is not comparable to a $40 coloring job from a real expert.  Really though, if you are going to call them expert gloves, you should at least tint them pink, or print pretty flowers on them, or at least make them more custom fitted. 

Packaging labels, instructions and warnings crack me up.  We all know why McDonald's has a warning on their coffee cups that the contents are hot and can burn you.  They got sued because someone burned themselves and since people are both greedy AND don't want to take responsibility for their own actions; lawsuits abound.

 I would just like to mention a few things that I think need MORE warning on the labels.  Super Glue.  OK, I'm going to reveal something about my character that most of you already know.  I am cheap.  Well, to be politically correct, I'm frugal.  So, occasionally I glue on my own nails.  I do a pretty good job, most people can't tell I didn't pay $40 to have someone (who is very nice, but I can't understand a word they say), do them.  The glue is super glue and the label says that if you glue your fingers together (yes, I have) you should NOT pull them apart (yes, I tried) but should soak them in nail polish remover.  Here's the thing....how is one supposed to make it from the kitchen to the bathroom, open the cabinet, get the remover, open the remover, and put it on the glued fingers, while a finger on each hand is glued together?

Here is my suggestion for a label.. WARNING:  Anyone using this product who is the least bit clumsy, should assemble the following items BEFORE opening the glue....Newspaper to protect table, an OPEN bottle of nail polish remover, cotton balls, paper towels for spills, etc.  There should also be a warning that not only can you glue your fingers together, you can end up with fake nails glued to the side of your hand or arm (yes, I have).  The label should also say....Under no circumstances should you attempt to apply these beautiful nails if you are in a hurry, or have an important function, such as a wedding or funeral, to attend.  This is not a good project if you are not good at working under pressure.

I think there should be a warning on sunflower seeds as follows:  This package may contain some ROTTEN seeds.  If you do not like the taste of rotten seeds, you should crack all seeds and inspect them before eating.  If you don't do this, be prepared to eat at least 10 good seeds to remove the taste of the rotten seed.

I would like to see some regulations placed on what can and can't be labeled "easy open" package.  Easy open should not require a knife, scissors, etc.  Resealable package should really mean the package can be closed.

I'll be adding to this list in the future.  Any suggestions? : D

The following is an old post that I never published, followed by today's happenings.  I'm pretty excited!   I ran the loader, with Randy standing in the bucket with a chainsaw. (I know, he is a very brave man) He trimmed a bunch of dead branches out of our trees.   The last time I ran the loader, I could not understand Randy's hand signals and almost dumped him out of the bucket.   He got really mad.   I got really frustrated, and then mad, and was very tempted to dump him out and go to the house.  This time we had an in-depth discussion of his hand signals BEFORE I got in the driver's seat.   I still say the lever should go forward for UP and backward for DOWN.   But that is not how any equipment runs, I'm told.   I have a terrible time with directions!   When Randy finally noticed that I couldn't remember which way to push the levers, he changed his hand signals to help me.   Kind of fun running that big thing.   Maybe someday I'll figure out the crazy gears on the tractor.   I almost pinned Randy between it and the fence with it many years ago.   He really overestimates my ranch wife abilities! So, it's the last day of my Christmas Break (to all of you who don't get a Christmas Break, I apologize) and I am doing some serious cooking.  Two pans of lasagna (one for lunch and one for the freezer) a crock pot full of ham and bean soup, etc.   I was chopping an onion when Randy showed up to ask if I would run the loader so he could trim some trims.  We are selling calves today and he wanted to trim the trees along the driveway so the semi truck would not get tangled up in the overhanging branches.  So, I put my cooking aside and grabbed a coat and shoes and hopped in the big loader.  A quick refresher course on brake versus gas pedal (very important), forward, reverse, bucket tilting lever versus bucket raising and lowering lever (also very important) and off we go.  I have to say it went pretty well today. Not once did I see him grab on to the bucket with a look of sheer terror on his face.  My loader skills are improving!  Only one miscommunication.  At one point, Randy pointed (in my opinion) half up/half reverse.  Basically, his finger was at a 45 degree angle.  Hmmm, I thought, does he mean move the bucket up, or move the entire loader backward?  I guessed up.  WRONG!  Next, of course I see the hand signal for stop, quickly followed by a rapidly repeating signal for up.  We got all the trees trimmed and I got the loader safely parked.  I have to say that is a pretty neat machine!  It's not a job I mind anymore.  You see, I've finally realized that when Randy gets irritated, it's nothing personal.  It's just the nature of the job.  It's not about how he feels about me at all.  It's about getting the job done.  Sometimes the worst part of helping is the fact that there is down time and I get bored.  I am a daydreamer and it's a little embarrassing when I finally look up and Randy has that look on his face.  Sometimes he even has his arms crossed.  Oops.

"I've always wanted headbands!"

It was that simple sentence that brought tears to my eyes today.  I wasn't the only one with a lump in my throat. Several of my coworkers and I chose a few needy families to buy gifts for this Christmas.

I went and got this little girl out of class and told her that Santa had dropped off some gifts for her in our classroom.  She was quite surprised and after she opened the first gift, I pointed to several others I had stacked next to her.  "There's more?", she exclaimed incredulously.  One of the teachers had filled a gift bag with necessities, as well as fun things like nail polish and small toys.  She reached in the bag and pulled out the package of three, brightly colored headbands.  She was so excited!  I'll never forget the look on her face as she said, "Headbands!  I've always wanted headbands!  This is the happiest day of my life!" Who would have thought something so simple and inexpensive could make a child so happy?  These days, most kids are asking Santa for an X-box, WII, cell phone, or iPad.

Sometimes Christmas is so hectic, stressful, and expensive.  In the midst of the chaotic, sugar-laden, last day of school before break, some of us were lucky enough to enjoy a beautiful moment we will never forget.  The spirit of Christmas. The joy of giving. The true reason for this season.