Friday, May 28, 2010
Meet Micky. Micky greeted this world exactly two weeks ago! Micky is an accident, but we still love her. An accident, you say? While I won't go into the exact details, let's just say that Brady has been singing Willie Nelson's I'm My Own Grandpa here lately...
Ku-Tip: Even accidents are cute and can have all four limbs, two eyes, two ears and a nose. And all accidents just want to be loved.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Brady and I entered the Wild Wendigo Adventure Race this past February. After 4 miles of crooked paddling in a kayak, 15 miles of mountain biking in the mud and 4 miles of trekking with our tongues hanging out, we finished in 5.5 hours and smack dab in the middle of the pack — 6 out of 13 coed teams. While we’re proud of this wild accomplishment, we’re still a little bummed about our finish. You see, Brady’s motto of “attacking the mud” during the mountain biking portion of the race cost us a mountain bike, $450 and an hour of time.
This race also taught us a lot about our competitive “spirit,” our communication skills (or lack thereof), and our ability to break our one promise to each other in the first leg of the race — to NOT blame each other for anything!
In honor of completing our first ever adventure race, I developed my own Wild Wendigo Top 10 List.
Top 10 Ways to Keep a Marriage Together After
Running an Adventure Race
- Offer your husband half your fries after the race.
- Take as minimal pictures as possible (husbands hate posing for pictures after 5.5 hours of pain)
- Score two free beer tickets for your husband.
- When your husband wants to go one way and you want to go another, don’t say “I told you so” when you discover he’s wrong and you’re right.
- Don’t laugh or cry when your husband breaks his bike.
- When husband breaks said bike, encourage him to run his bike more than 2 miles to the next checkpoint by offering him a brand new bike after the race.
- Don’t make your husband lift a finger the rest of the weekend.
- Suck it up when your husband tells you to finish strong.
- Don’t give your husband beer pong advice. Men are better at all sports, including beer pong.
- Agree to never, ever again tandem kayak together (or kayak at all).
And, to think, we get to do this all over again in September. Terra Firma here we come!
Pictured above: We really weren't this in sync.
Pictured above: Our first attempt at a free beer ticket. Fail.
Pictured above: Finally! A checkpoint!
Pictured above: Halfway through the biking portion. If only we knew what was about to come.
Pictured above: Brady's bike died 10 minutes after this picture was taken.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Well, we don't have mountains in Texas. And, we don't have snow. But these two little guys decided to have their own version of "King of the Mountain." We simply refer to it as "King of the Donkey."
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Brady: "Guys, this is my wife."It must be the Oil of Olay face wash I use twice a day — keeps me looking young. I guess we all know who the true cradle robber is now!
Kids (laughing to Brady): "Man, your wife is 16!"
Brady: "No, she's a little bit older than 16. How old do I look?"
Kids (laughing again to Brady): "You look 40!"
Friday, May 14, 2010
Little old lady (giggling hysterically to herself): "Oh my, that just made my day."Ku-Tip: Never leave your husband alone with your purse. If you do, at least make sure it matches his outfit.
Brady and me (with confused looks): "What do you mean?"
Little old lady (still giggling hysterically): "I was thinking to myself how nice this young man's purse matched his shirt. When I saw that you belonged to him, I was relieved to know that the purse belonged to you instead."
(Little old lady walks off shaking her head and still giggling)
Brady (in a loud frustrated voice to me): "I told you to NEVER leave me alone with your purse!"
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Sounds like a Hank the Cowdog book, doesn’t it? Well, Massey does have a dog tag inscribed with the words “Head of Ranch Security” but she’s not very good at it. I mean, we did lose a cow on her watch.
This is how it went down. My parents bring us a cow. She’s a nice cow. Her name is Bonnie. But, since she’s prolapsed like six times, they decided it was best to move her to Franklin away from a bull and let her live happily ever after.
Less than 24 hours later, Brady and I go looking for Bonnie on the back 13+ acres of the Lazy K Ranch. She is missing. There is no broken fence. There is no poop trail. There is no sign of any part of a cow on the barbed wire. And, the donkeys are still in. WTH!
We call our neighbors. No cow sighting. We call the sheriff and give a description of our missing cow. There is no Amber Alert for cows in case you didn’t know. We spend the next week driving around looking for our cow. Nothing.
Any time a neighbor loses a cow, horse or dog, it always ends up at Lazy K, and we always return it safe and sound, but when we lose something…nothing!
So, the moral of the story is to GPS your cows.
What ever happened to Bonnie? Aliens. It had to be aliens. I mean, what else could zap her out of our pasture with no trace. Damn aliens. They’re probably eating hamburgers right now…
Monday, May 10, 2010
My posts will always follow three rules.
- They will be factual. What’s the point of lying? Exaggerating maybe, but lying? I am a journalist you know.
- They will be short. I’m a writer, so I know that I have your attention for about 1, 2, 3 seconds…I even thought about limiting my blogs to 250 words or less, but got skeered (that’s how I pronounce it) that I would have to cut off my blog in mid-
- They will be as humorous as I can write them. Promise!
And, if you show me the love, I may be able to talk a (ahem) guest blogger into stopping in sometime so that you can hear “his” side of the story.
241 words. Sweet!