Stupid white boys

I just watched Into the Wild, the Christopher McCandless story, and once again I am stunned by the idiocy some white boys are capable of. I mean, all PC bullshit aside, when it comes to things like running off to live in Iceland armed with a wet t-shirt, a sack full of books and a half dozen twinkies, white boys got the monopoly.

Sean Penn romanticized the crap out of it but what it comes down to is a guy of above average intelligence but an utter lack of common sense decides to head off to Alaska, without a compass or any real survival skills, and with no means of communicating to anyone should he say, oh, fall off a cliff or something. I mean I get the whole "society is the root of all my problems" theory. It's a lot easier to pretend you're unhappy because of your upper middle class suburban raising and your mean ole dad who yells a lot, than to just admit you're a spoilt jackass who has read Jack London books one too many times.

I do have respect for anyone who can toss aside a steady paycheck, the comfort of a permanent home, and weekend steaks on the grill, for a life of total freedom. However, I fail to see how a guy who managed to starve to death while living beside a river full of fish is some sort of hero. He wasn't even smart enough to wander up and down the river looking for an easier crossing... because if he had he'd have found a friggin tram just 1/4 mile down from where he took one look and said oh hell and went back to die in his bus. There are plenty of folks who run off to do what he did, the difference being they took the time to actually learn how to survive in the wild, and they succeeded. This is no doubt due in large to the fact that they were not suffering from overblown egos and delusions of grandeur.

I was reading a heated argument on another site that basically consisted of, you couldn't do what he did, oh yes I can, no you couldn't, back and forth. I don't get the issue here. Of course I can wander off in the wilderness and starve to death. Just because I'm not asinine enough to do it doesn't mean I'm a puss. And even if it does, well at least I'm a living, breathing puss and that beats being a dead dumbass any day.

The heretic has a mild conversion

I showed calves in high school and was forced to listen to country music at every stock show we attended, by virtue of one of the wannabe cowboys always bringing a boombox well stocked with Straight, Nelson, and Hank Jr. Every time I went to the barns, there was some whiny booze boots and Bocephus crap blaring. My tastes ran more to Flock of Seagulls and Howard Jones at the time. I could also be caught blasting Run-DMC, Sugarhill Gang and LL Cool J from the cheap speakers of my 76 Cutlass while in the school parking lot. In FFA in 1987, this pretty much branded me a heretic.

In later years I developed a mild appreciation for some of the newer country, but still lean towards the pop charts. However, when Michelle Branch joined up with Jessica Harp to form The Wreckers, I had to add their CD to the collection. And now, there's Miranda Lambert. She's got a decidedly old country sound to a lot of her stuff, but I have to say I like her enough that I picked up her Crazy Ex Girlfriend CD the other night. Blessedly devoid of overbearing religious references, wrist slitting sob stories, and pointless professions of love towards someone who don't want it, it was worth the $15. I really like the drive to Crazy Ex Girlfriend too, though my head banger boyfriend cringes at the lyrics, heh.

Don't count on seeing me go redneck any time soon though.

My bad attitude

A comment made about me by an ex boss worked it's way back to me. She said something about me being extremely smart but having a bad attitude. Also that I'd be rich if I'd move back to Dallas and work there.

Big newsflash. I have an attitude, something she knew about BEFORE she came begging me to come work for her. I don't take kindly to someone throwing their trash on the floor right beside the trash can and expect me to drop what I'm doing to go clean it up. I damn sure don't smile when someone chews me out for something I didn't do and then act like I'm lying when I tell them so. Getting in my grill for not doing everything that you meant to tell me to do, but never actually told me, only serves to make me fantasize about lighting you on fire. I'm not a psychic and calling me at 10 pm to bitch about ain't gonna make me into one.

I never would have accepted the job had I not been harnessed to a hateful crackhead for the past 2 years. She wasn't really a crackhead, but I don't know of an appropriate name for someone who tweaks on Dramamine. I was so desperate to get away from that chain smoking, mouth twitching, paranoid, tourettes afflicted harpy that I'd have taken a job prepping Tijuana donkeys for their stage performances. I liked the new job for a while, but it wasn't long before I started having to put up with all the bullshit the other employees warned me about. I shoulda known when the employee both bosses told me was lazy and worthless proved to be anything but. She busted her ass cleaning and straightening and all they could do was tell me she was lazy and never did anything.

I eventually got fired (only the 2d time in my life, wow) and praise Jebus because my old job offered me the position the twitchy nutjob had recently vacated. It paid double what I was making, and kept my days free. I don't have to clean up someone else's messes or watch my two bosses screaming at each other in the middle of the store over something as asinine as suitcases. No more asking me if I did something and then going over to check it right in front of me as if to say "Just in case you're lying let me check it right now". Best of all my pay stubs actually show the hours I've worked and what I've made, vs the blank page I used to get because they were too "busy" to set up the system to provide us with earnings statements.

Despite my "bad attitude" I work unsupervised each night and everything get done right, and the people I work with don't go home calling me a harpy bitch every night. Except for Donna, but she was too stupid to tie her own shoes so she doesn't count.

I am a slob

We're having a downpour today. It was raining when I woke up and hasn't stopped yet. The holding pen is flooded, and the sheep trails look like small creeks running through the pasture. They've grazed the rye and weeds down to the dirt, so the timing couldn't be better. I'll pen them all up for a few weeks and give it time to come back in so they've got something to eat on for a while.

Since it's too mucky to go outside today, I've been cleaning the kitchen. Domestic goddess I am not, a fact proven by the inch thick layer of dirt on the cabinet shelves. Yes I said dirt, not dust. I gutted the kitchen a few years ago and I left some built in overhead cabinets in place, despite the fact that they were open faced and therefore subject to frequent mouse invasions. I've tossed a few things up there over the years but never really paid much attention to them. In anticipation of doing a lot of canning this summer though, I decided I'd better clean them out and get them ready to use.

Normally I listen to hip hop, but today I have an 80s channel on. Eddie Murphy is singing Party All The Time. Oh Eddie, why? Thank goodness he never did THAT again! And hey, what happened to the guy who did DELIRIOUS? That was some of the best standup I've ever seen. Now I get Daddy Daycare? I can't reconcile the two, not to mention everyone under 25 thinks of Eddie as nothing more than a cross species telepath and the voice of Donkey. I did like Dr Doolittle though...

Anyway, these shelves are NASTY (which is why I'm on here instead of finishing what I started) and now I'm quite embarrassed that I've had people over and let them go into the kitchen. Hopefully they didn't take a close look.

Garden 1.0 Game Over

Wretched cats. I am down to 1 intact tomato plant, 1 very chewed up one, and 1 pepper plant. All the onions have been yanked from the ground. Now I have to start ALL FREAKIN OVER. I am thinking carpet tack strips aren't going to be enough. Maybe some mouse traps in the mix...

I have been reading up on Akbash dogs, of which Diesel is half. I did not realize that they are rather bad for play chasing. So, I guess it's back to the puppy pen, supervised visits with the sheep, and a shock collar while he's with them so if he DOES go to mouthing or chasing, I can zap him in the act. Not like I can chase him down, and anyway he stops it if he knows I'm watching. He's just a year old, and they don't really mature until 2. Hopefully I can retrain him.

I have a new lamb today and he is a chunk! Tri color paint, pretty little guy. I didn't even realize mama was due, she hides it well.

Diesel gets a temporary reprieve

So much for hauling off Diesel. It appears he's been granted yet another a stay of execution. What can I say, I like the dog. I sure can't justify keeping him around when he kills off my lambs though. I had planned to move the bigger rams to a separate pasture and put him in with them, but the fence isn't Diesel proof. He pretty much comes and goes where he pleases. It's going to cost a small fortune to fence that pasture up to where he can't get out. I always thought the sheep would be hard to keep fenced in, but they never get out. I could probably post photos of a fence around the perimeter and they'd see that and go, crap we're stuck in here. Diesel, OTOH, can get in or out of just about anything.

I should start one of those Gimme Money websites to raise fencing money, like that guy who threatened to eat his rabbit if people did not send him money. Maybe I could threaten to eat Diesel. Probably taste like lamb by now.

The Aegean Stables, aka My Barn, is finally clean! $180 worth of tractor rental and 4 hours later, it is down to the bare concrete floor and ready to pack full of hay. I have a feeling this is going to be a bad summer for hay.

Cats suck, and a final decision for Diesel

By Friday afternoon I had 8 tomato plants, 2 basil, 4 jalapeños, and a bunch of onions planted. By Sun afternoon I'm down to 5 tomato plants, 2 basil, 2 jalapeños, and half the onions. The cause?

Cats.

They chewed everything up, pulled up half the onions and tossed them aside, and then left behind several big, steaming piles of crap right where my knees would go were I foolish enough to kneel without looking first. The gardening forums offer humane, non poisonous methods for control, however I'm thinking a margarita and a .22 would be more gratifying. However, since *my* cats are the ones doing the damage, I will have to settle for something that doesn't cause permanent damage.

Tomorrow I'm headed to the hardware store to buy a lot of carpet tack strips. I've found that's about the only thing that will stop the wretched beasts from walking around in the bed. Mothballs work really well too, if you can ignore the howls of outrage from the chemical free crowd. That stuff they sell in stores that you sprinkle around to keep cats out is useless. If a cat has ever pottied in the area, you have to remove 3-4 inches of soil, lime it, and then cover it with the granuals, and I've still had cats use it after that.

I suspect a Caddyshack meltdown is coming.

In other news, Diesel has graduated from killing chickens and baby goats, to killing lambs, finally producing the straw to break my back with two dead ewe lambs in the past 3 days to add to the 3 lambs I suspected he killed but wasn't certain. I don't understand that dog. He can't keep from harassing small critters. We've had many MANY Come To Jesus meetings over this behavior, and I thought the last one had an effect, but apparently it was short lived. When I had the goats I absolutely could not trust him around the kids. He killed over 2 dozen, just chased and played with them until they were dead. He never had any interest in the sheep though, so I thought *maybe* he could work out with them. Evidentially not. I hate to do it but tomorrow he's headed to the clinic. A flock guardian who kills his charges is lucky to be alive past his first kill. I worked with him for another year trying to break him of it. Anyone else that I know with sheep would have shot him the first time he killed a kid. It's possible they'll attempt to rehome him, but I won't hold my breath.

That leaves me with just Jack. I wish I had a dozen like him.

blah blah blah

I have an arrangement with a guy who brings me waste produce from the store to feed the pigs. I was given 3 sick pigs a while back, 2 turned around and are fine, the third never did. I told him that if he'd bring stuff out for all the pigs to eat on, I'd let him have one when they were butchering weight. Of course, pigs aren't going to grow fat on tomatoes, cucumbers, grapes, and lettuce, so I buy pig finisher and corn for them. Mostly it's just to provide a little variety for them. This would be a good arrangement except that this guy never misses a chance to imply that 1) I'm not taking care of my animals, and 2) he'd do a better job.

This hasn't been the best of weeks. A gate fell on KC and killed her, and the third pig who never got well finally died. I get a phone call at work from Mr Produce, the gist of it being that I am not taking care of my animals. "You should have given her to me I would have taken care of her". As if the goat knocking a gate off it's hinges and on top of her is somehow due to my negligence. Then I hear how "we" can't afford to lose any more pigs because "he" has worked so hard. Never mind that all that finisher and corn I *pay* for, or the time I've spent cleaning the pig pen, or my water bill, or the fact that that pig was screwed up from the day he was given to me (and where's my applause for bringing the other two back from the dead?), apparently he's doing all the work and I'm just letting them die. Then I get to hear how looking at my horse hurts him and how he'll fatten her up on tomatoes or something, because you know that 16 pounds of feed a day that I'm giving her isn't nearly as good as what he'd do. Never mind that she's 30 and a gummer. I must not be feeding her. Of course, a bucket of lettuce and carrots will fatten her right up. More likely it will give her the runs and she'll lose even MORE weight.

Next time he tries to act like I'm not doing what I need to do, I'm going to drop the nice and let him have it.

Burn Baby, Burn!

Saturday we headed to Amarillo where I visited a Yoga instructor at his home for a private session to focus on my skewballed spine, and boy did it make a difference! Just 20 minutes into the hour session and I could feel the muscles relaxing and the pain going away. Of course it came back a few hours afterwards but hopefully if I keep this up, it will begin to decrease as my back strengthens and loosens up.

Sunday we headed to the lake for some bass fishing, and I decided it would be a good idea to wear a backless sundress in the bright sun for a the entire afternoon, sans sunscreen. After catching 3 bass I decided to crash on the boat's deck and catch some sun, because I guess I thought I'd not already gotten enough the previous 3 hours in the bright sunshine. I really didn't realize how cooked I was until that night when I got out of the shower. The worst of it could be seen on the left side of my back, where the skin remains magenta now three days later. I'm just waiting for the water blisters to make their appearance. A friend later asked if I was unaware that I was a redhead and did not tan well. Apparently it's a new condition for me. Last summer I wore sunscreen like I owned stock in the company, no idea why I didn't bother with it this weekend.

I had planned to start on the gardens today but it's crap weather out and my torched back is still screaming every time I move, so guess it is couch potatoing with a book instead. On a side note, I went out and bought some Aveno SPF 70 and will marinate in it the next time I consider hitting the lake.