Things To Photograph Besides Red Rocks I

THE GPS

The GPS was indispensible on vacation. It read aloud two complete Ted Dekker books.  It answered the oft asked question, "When will we get there?"   It kept us on track.  

(Not that the track was all that difficult to follow.) 

These used to be my jobs on a road trip.  Reading the map.  Telling the STP where to go.  Reading a book out loud.  Keeping track of time.  The GPS and I had a few moments. (I am jealous of the GPS?)  But eventually we agreed to coexist peacefully.

Let me take your picture, GPS.

"Right back at you," says the GPS.

 

 "Er, let me adjust my settings."

Eventually the road took a few more interesting turns (can you say "switchback"?) and I was free to look out the window and let the GPS handle the navigation.

Until the GPS learns to squirt canned cheese on Ritz crackers I feel pretty secure.

My Aha! Moment

The Magnificent Uncle M sent me the link to this.  He has no idea what a delight it was to receive it.  I, too, have been pondering how to get to the proverbial m&ms.  (As an aside, I failed to figure in the size proportions with regards to the prize. If I were scaling a 40 ft wall, the m&m field would be 60x60 feet, or 3600 square feet of m&ms.  Lets say it together: Recalculating.)  I was pondering this yesterday while I was tying up my tomato and pumpkin plants, when along came a small white butterfly, fluttering over the garden and landing right in the middle of the lettuce square.  AHA!!  Oh, I thought, I must share this.  So I ran into the house to get the camera.  And when I returned the butterfly was still sitting in the lettuce.  So I carefully framed the shot and just as I snapped the picture (Lassssieeee) it flew away, leaving me with just a picture of lettuce.  But now I know how long it takes a white mothy butterfly thing to lay eggs in a lettuce patch.  Just a little longer than it takes me to run in and out of the house.  Also, I will wash my lettuce a little more thoroughly from now on.
Thanks Uncle M.  See you the end of the month when I will have your unannounced blog giveaway prize-a pack of m&ms and 4 Yellowstone quarters. 

Red

I am starting to process the 1700 pictures that are currently on my camera.  I have not downloaded, printed, stored, or deleted any images since I started using my camera on Christmas morning.  My problem is where to begin.  It is not a new problem.  I have had it since the beginning of my photographic endeavors.  Any pictures, slides and negatives from my pre-digital days are in a box or two.  There is no order.  None of the pictures are labeled.  It is only complicated by the advent of digital photography.  

I have no idea how to organize.  And that is not just in the realm of pictures.  I used to have my recipes filed alphabetically.  Green Jello Salad was under  'G'.  Potato Salad under 'P'.  Plum pudding also under 'P'.   Chocolate Chip Cookies--'C'.  Tea Cookies--'T'.  Shortly after I married the STP he reorganized them by categories.  All cookie recipes filed under 'cookies'.  All salads under 'salads'.  Any recipes I owned at the reorganization are still filed accordingly.  Any that I have acquired in the last 28 years are stuffed in a manila folder.  The ones I use most often are near the front or back of the folder, unless I haven't gotten around to replacing them in the folder.  Then it is anyone's guess and more often than not I just call my Mom and ask for the recipe which I scrawl on the back of an envelope.  Obviously this system works for recipes, as no one is starving here. 

My old camera randomly ate files that were on it, so I quickly dumped them onto my computer, which arbitrarily filed them by date taken.  Now that I am beginning anew, I am trying to figure out how to organize my pictures.  Do I want to continue to use dates?  Or should I do events--weddings, vacations.  Or categories--the house, the garden, the mountain, wildlife, wildflowers.  Or maybe I should just use colors.  All red pictures in one file, blue in another.  Hence, most of my 950 Sedona/Grand Canyon pictures will be in the 'RED' file.  (I had 1100 Sedona/GrandCanyon pictures, but I ruthlessly deleted all the ones that were blurry, duplicates, and pictures of lizards that moved even faster that Lassie.)

 I'm certain red signs go here.  Especially red danger signs for people who may not read English.

But what about yellow signs that include the word 'red'? 

Or red rocks that don't really look red in the picture?

The same rocks look much redder at sunset.

But I really think I will need an entire file for sunsets.

And quite possibly a file for wildflowers.  Maybe a folder for just red wildflowers.

For now I have downloaded the 950 pictures in a file labeled sedona/grand canyon on the STP's computer. The STP copied them to a DVD which he labeled SEDONA VACATION 2010.  I'm thinking about deleting them from my camera and from the STP's computer. But not right away.

Ms Brenda's Worm Farm

The square foot garden is coming along rather nicely.  The tomato plants are already bigger than last year's.  One pepper plant has a blossom.  The cilantro is looking like cilantro.   Only two of the onions took, so I planted a second crop of carrots in the 1/2 a square foot left vacant by the onions.  And the lettuce--well it is ready for harvest. 

So this morning I harvested a panful of green leafy lettuce and two fat green lettuce worms.  When I find a lettuce worm I carefully remove it from the raised bed garden and place it gently back on the ground.  And then I step on it.  Because I did not plant enough lettuce for all of us.  The worms are very persistent.  They keep showing up.  (I'm  pretty sure they are new worms-not the ones I have already stepped on.)  How do worms find lettuce?  The bed is raised 8 inches from the ground.  That would be the equivalent of me scaling a rock wall 40 ft. high.  I don't think I would do that for a square foot of m&ms.  I'm sure I wouldn't do it for lettuce. 

I felt a little bad about the worms because they look a lot like Heimlich from A Bug's Life.  But then I remembered Hopper's speech about the ants.  Something like this: 

 You let one of those worms stand up to you and pretty soon they're all standing up.  Those puny little worms outnumber us 100 to 1.  And if they ever figure that out, there goes our way of life.  It's not about lettuce, it's about keeping those worms in line...

So I will continue to squish any worms that show up in my lettuce beds. 

Until a big bird comes along and eats me.  (Maybe this is one of those analogies that doesn't hold up very well if you carry it too far.)

The Wildest Wildflower on the Mountain

Made our first trip of the season 'up on the mountain'.  Not to see wildlife, (although we did see a moose--in the wild!) but to see wildflowers.  As you might have guessed we have had an unusually wet Spring and early Summer, so it should be a great year for wildflowers.  Here are a few I will share with you.  First, Shooting Stars.  There were meadows full of these.  (The tall green things here will be monument flowers.  Come see me in a week or two and we will find time to get up the mountain to see them in bloom.)

And Forget-me-nots.  I plant these in my garden each year, but either they don't grow, or I forget where I planted them and weed them out.  These grow wild on the mountain.  (Hence their inclusion here in the wildflower post.)

I have no idea what this next one is.  I'm not sure it is fully bloomed.  I had to lean way over to show you that the centers will be white.

This next one is the wildest wildflower I have ever seen.  There was only one.  So I'm not sure if this is it in full bloom or if it has already gone to seed. 

I also saw and took some pictures of dandelions, and some flowers that looked a lot like dandelions.  My Wildflower Sampler Pamphlet identifies dandelions as non-native noxious weeds. 

Which makes me wonder just how long one has to abide here to be considered native, or how noxious you have to be to be classified as noxious.  And what is the opposite of noxious.   Non-noxious?  Unnoxious?  Obnoxious?  And what God thinks about our need to classify His flowers as noxious or wild.  Just wondering if our idea of what is worthy and acceptable is anywhere close to His.

Welcome to My Church

Did I ever mention that the church here in Dodge City had a former pastor who walked on water?  Usually we are glad to serve in a church that speaks highly of their former pastors.  It means that they are capable of loving.  (Always a good thing to look for in a church.)  The problem here is the degree of elevation.  And the former pastor's wife.  The one who not only sang special music, but accompanied herself on the piano, and taught piano lessons, and raised 4 immaculate children (in that tiny immaculate parsonage) and her own vegetables, and worked full time as a nurse (the one job it is acceptable for a pastor's wife to hold).   Once she made a berry cobbler out of NOTHING!!! in a cabin in the woods.  (This may or may not have been the same trip where she was 9 and a half months pregnant, and shot and packed out her own bull elk.)  
Have I also mentioned that I do not play the piano, can't carry a tune, don't cook 6 months of the year, learned all of my pie baking skills from my mom, and for all my talk of fishing, have only ever caught one fish that I didn't mean to catch and had to throw back? 

Not that I am uncomfortable with who I am.  Just that I am a little concerned with my legacy.  You know, my place in Dodge City history.  So in a misguided attempt to make an impression I decided to paint the church doors.  I connived the head trustee into giving me the can of paint that he had in his truck to paint the doors.  The can of white paint.  To paint the white doors.  The previously, from the beginning of time itself, white doors.  (Did I mention I am on a first name basis with the paint tinter at the Dodge City Building Center?)  Because I know that color decisions have power to split even a church capable of great love, I carefully considered the color choice.  That is to say I considered every color except white.  And I pretty much decided on orange.  A warm welcoming color that speaks to the subconsiousness of passersby and says, "Hey, look at these doors.  I think you might like go to church here."  And when I mentioned it to a few people and was met by less then enthusiastic responses I changed my mind picked up paint chips from the DCBC and involved at least one elder, one complete stranger, and several church ladies in the decision process.  (Did I mention that all the paint chips were in the orange family?) 

 I even connived two church ladies into having the paint tinted. The final color choice was a warm terra cotta color called shocking hot.  I had a little girl and an older man help with the painting.  Because if this was going to be the hill I died on, I didn't want to go alone.  And the doors looked absolutely horrible.  Shockingly orange.  Streaked and globby.  And then someone spilled the gallon of shocking hot paint in the parking lot.  And I wished with all my heart I knew how to make a berry cobbler. 

But after several coats, some intense involvement by some very patient church ladiesand men, and more hours than I care to recount, the doors were back up in time to welcome church members and a few passersby on Sunday morning. 

 And years from now when they ask 'who ever' picked 'that color' for the front doors of the church, my name will surely come up. 

And I will be known as the shocking hot pastor's wife. 

Character Revealed

Someone once said that character is who you are when no one is looking. 
The STP and the Goob are away at Kidz Kamp this week and I am home alone.  I'm not sure I have ever lived alone before.  I have 3 brothers and 3 sisters.  I have always shared a room.  My first apartment was a one bedroom and I had two roommates.  The STP has been away many a time, but there were always children at home with me.  But this week, just me and the dog.  And I do not think I am well suited to living alone.  I did not eat at the table last evening.  And I did not make my bed this morning.  I can't find my cell phone (or my battery charger).  I talk to the dog a lot.  I have accomplished less than when the STP is home.  If I was alone for longer would I adjust back to the doing the things I have always told you were important, or would I become a recluse that hoards things, spray paints everything, and knits baby blankets? 
If the STP ever leaves me and the Goob actually becomes an independent adult, can I move in with you?

Recharging

I have not seen my battery charger for my camera since we returned from vacation.  I didn't really look for it until this evening.  Which means it has been missing for over a week.  By this time it could be anywhere in four states.  Or lost in my house or car.  (I'm not sure which is worse.)  So I am going to try and upload a few pics for you before the battery dies.  My reformatted hard drive has recognized my camera as new hardware.  I hope it won't ask me to locate the software that came in the box with it 6 months ago. 

So here goes.

So that took me about 15 minutes, so that is it. 

As I was trying to locate pictures I would share with you I realized how many posts I have to do.  So stayed tuned for:

Red Rocks From Sedona

Is The Sun Setting Again Tonight?

Arches National Park

Things to Photograph When You Finally Grow Tired of Red Rocks

How To Take Excellent Photographs Without Ever Leaving Your Car

Say What?

sorry, that domain isn't in my list of allowed rcpthosts

So, evidently you can e-mail me, but I can't e-mail you until you somehow get on my  list of allowed rcpthosts.  Good luck with that.

Data Clear Without Backup

The new machine I learned this week has a sample data clear button.  When you push it, it gives you an option of data clear with backup or just data clear.  My brain needs a button like this.
The STP reformatted my computer's hard drive this week.  He claims my pictures are safely stored in a totally disorganized manner (just the way I keep all my photos) somewhere very safe and invisible to me.  I just have a little twitch about this.  In the process he asked me a myriad of times if there were any files I needed off the computer.  No, no, I assured him.  Anything I needed was lost in the last reformatting of the hard drive. 
Turns out it also cleared out my e-mail contacts and inbox, which had my addresses and 986 messages I might have needed.  All the emails my siblings had ever sent me and any I could intercept between themselves (book research).   Addresses of people I certainly meant to keep in touch with.  I'm choosing to look at this as a fresh start instead of a data clear without backup.  But if you want me to be in touch, you will need to email me.   The good news is my e-mail works again.

Pool Days

I miss summer afternoons at the pool. I had two of them this week.  Finished two books and two magazines. Declared 'adult swim' whenever I wanted to cool off. Tomorrow we head for home and my 'real life', which doesn't include a pool.  I will apply sunscreen to go to the hospital on Monday to facilitate the transition.  I'll adjust, but not easily.

Keep Your Mind on the Traffic

In addition to 100 pictures of the sun setting, I have about 1000 pictures of rocks.  Mostly red rocks.  I have at least 500 taken out the window as we drove by them.  Zoomed in on them.  Zoomed out from them.  Landscape and portrait.  The same formation from several angles.  I hiked over red rocks.  I hiked under red rocks.  I slid down red rocks and climbed up red rocks.  (Okay, you know its true--I have a red rock in the trunk of my car.)  Stop the car...I need one more picture of rocks. 

So I was thinking that the road signs should advise you to keep your eyes on the road.  Because watching the rocks is just too easy.

Sunset

We watched the sunset at the Grand Canyon.

I took a few pictures.

A few hundred pictures.

And none of them are as good as the real thing.

Which was awe inspiring.  And praise worthy.  Even the Goob said so.

Other People's Children

One of these things is not like the others.








One of these things doesn't belong.







Can you guess which one is not like the others, before I finish my song?

Why is it my kids respond to a camera by making a face which usually includes a clear view of their tonsils?

Just wondering. 

Over The Edge

As you already know I am not a fan of standing close to the edge of a cavernous drop with jagged rocks below.  The first sight of the Grand Canyon found me standing well back from the edge with heart papitations as the rest of my traveling companions got as close as they could to the edge and then...dropped over the edge.  (I found that the ones I had given birth to caused me the most anguish.)  But I managed to overcome my totally paranoid well founded extremely rational  fear enough to take a short hike down into the canyon.

Which gave us some spectacular views of the canyon. 

This is a picture I took of someone else's child out on the edge.  

 This also gave me palpitations because I have an excellent imagination and I was imagining having to tell his mother how he fell into the Grand Canyon while I stood against the cliff wall and snapped his picture. (Here.  I thought you might want this.  It's the last picture of your son. Umm, look how happy he was, just before he, umm.....)  

 None of the pictures of the canyon can even come close to capturing the grandeur of the place, so I will not post them.  You will just have to go yourself.

We hiked down the West Kaibab Trail to Ooh! Aah! Point.  Here we are ooohing and aaaahing.  And looking like a rock band.  Or maybe like a band on a rock.  Or maybe bandits on the rocks.

There is a rule on the trail that what goes down must come back up.  And going up is harder than going down.  I'm just saying.  Here is the Goob starting back up.

I stopped to take a few more pictures on the way up.  And I stopped to encourage the STP.  And I stopped to get a drink and eat chocolate, because hydration and nourishment are key to getting out of the canyon alive.  (That and staying back from the edge.)  And I stopped to let my heartrate return to normal.

This is a picture on the way back up.  At this point the kids are already at the top.  See them up there?  Okay, let me zoom.  (X12)

And here is the most amazing part of the hike.  While we were at Ooh! Aah! Point the Goober says, "I have to admit that of all the outdoor places you have taken me this is the first one I don't totally hate."

SCORE!!

The Grandest

Grand Vacation Eve

Things To Do:
Get rid of my headache
Go to bed
Finish laundry
Finish packing
Think of things I might forget to pack
Go to bed
Find list I made earlier of things to pack
Find list I made earlier of things I might forget to pack
Go to bed
Finish cleaning up kitchen
Pay a few bills
Go to bed

The SLD and the SFG

Today the sun is shining, the rain barrel is full, and I am feeling pressure to get some outside things done before we leave for the Grand Vacation.  The front flower bed is not going to be one of those things that I complete before departure.  I am digging out the sod that I planted there last Spring.  It is a very lonely job.  That is taking 8 times longer than I planned for it to take.  It would go much quicker if I had some help.  The last time I was out there digging, I was trying to think if I knew any strong (handsome) young men who could help me.  But it seemed just wrong to call someone else's husband and/or teenage son when I already have one of each. 
When I realized that I will not get that project done, I moved to the back yard and loosened the dirt along the fence to stick a few sunflower seeds in the ground.  They will germinate in 10-14 days, so they will be able to do that while I am away, and save us all the trouble of me going out to stare at the dirt three times a day for 10-14 days.  While I was digging along the fence, Dixie was patrolling the backyard for squirrels.  And watching me dig.  And then because she loves to dig and she is such a sensitive dog, she sensed that I wanted help digging.  And so she joined me in digging.  Only she decided to dig in the Square Foot Garden box.  With the lovely loose wonder dirt.  She started in the square foot of basil and, because the dirt is so loose and only 6 inches deep, she moved quickly on to a square foot of pepper and half a square foot of lettuce.  The problem with a Square Foot Garden is that two little dog feet can wipe out a whole crop in mere seconds.  When I saw what she was doing, I yelled at her.  And she looked positively ashamed of herself and just a little confused.  And then she came in the house and laid on the couch. 
And then I realized that that is exactly why I have no help.  Because I yell at them for not doing it right.  And then instead of doing it right they give up and lay on the couch. What I am trying to decide is if the problem is me yelling or them not doing it right.   I think that they don't do it right SO I will yell and they can lay on the couch. 
It bothers me that the dog figured this out before I did.  Stupid Little Dog.

Transplanted

It always comes as a surprise
When my withered roots begin to grow...

I do not remember moving as a child.  My parents moved their family of six into the house where they still live when I was just three or four years old.  It is the only house I remember growing up.  The neighborhood has changed. The house itself, in fact, grew a story.  But it has always been 'home'.
Since I left home to go to college I have moved 11 times (not counting the 4 times I moved back home).  And I moved three of my four kids when they were in middle school.  And after three of them moved out, I moved away.  I'm not sure where they would call 'home'.  I had some mother guilt about this last week.  I bought a few plants to assuage this.

I transplanted several things last week.  And this week, they look just the same.  No signs of new growth.  No signs of death.  Just not much difference at all.  I think that is pretty typical of transplanted things. And transplanted people.   It takes awhile for them to adjust, to take root, to start to grow again.
Although I'm not wilting, I'm not really thriving either. 
But I know Who transplanted me here and I trust the Master Gardener.
The rain is falling, and I think sunshine is in the forecast and I sense new growth is coming. 

I need You in my house, 'cause You're my home.

The STP and the SFG

As promised, here is the Square Foot Garden garden update.  Following the guide of the Square Foot Garden book.  Remember the amazing STP built the raised bed.  Complete with little decorative corners.  You can review that process here.  And then I began a search for vermiculite.  The Co-op guy is still working on this one.  I did find small bags of too fine vermiculite at the not-quite-a-stuff-mart here in Dodge City.  If the garden does not grow, it will be the Co-op guy's fault.  

To start we mixed three bags of compost.  (Because even though the STP built me a compost bin, you can not make good compost in three days.) 

Then we added almost equal parts of pseudo substitute vermiculite and peat moss.   

And used the tarp rolling method to mix it all together.

The STP was instrumental in hauling, mixing, and shoveling.   (This was key, because I was busy documenting our progress and reading the book, and telling him what to do next.)  Here he is filling the box.

The raised bed full of SFG wonder dirt. 

Next we used twine to divide the Square Foot Garden into Square Feet.

And then we planted the carefully chosen crops.

Two cherry tomato plants.  One pumpkin.  One miniature rhubarb (I don't think it is supposed to be a miniature, that's just how it's turned out so far.).  Four Walla Walla onions.  Two sweet peppers and two jalapeno peppers.  (At this point we can't remember which are which, but when they get peppers, we will know.)  Two square feet of lettuce.  Basil.  Cilantro. Four marigolds. And carrots.

The STP's hunting mentor told me I should not calculate the price per pound for mule deer steaks.  Likewise, we will not calculate the price per pound for cherry tomatoes.  But just remember, these are totally organic cherry tomatoes.  Watered with pure Wyoming rain water. 

Full to Overflowing

Today it rained.  And my rainbarrel is full. 

Enthusiastic Participant?

At the beginning of track season when we made the "no whining about track pact" we sealed the deal with a video game purchase.  (To offset all the time the Goob would be spending outdoors exercising)  And the checkout lady was our witness.  "I'll be looking for your picture in the paper," she said. 

This weekend we celebrated the end of track season.  The Conference meet was last weekend and the Goob was part of the fourth place relay team.  So he got a fourth place ribbon.  Which is way better than a participant ribbon that they used to give out at track day. 

And he got his picture in the paper. 

We celebrated with Oreo Mcflurries and by watching Forrest Gump.  Run, Goober, run.

For Your Amazement

 Yes, to your amazement he will show him even greater things than these.  For just as the Father raises the dead and gives them life, even so the Son gives life to whom he is pleased to give it.

John 5:20b-21 

Just a reminder that, while I judge based on appearance, Jesus knows what's inside.  And God has been doing amazing things with bushes in deserts since the days of Moses.  Green leaves on dead red twigs.  Amazing.

Down My Rain Barrel

One of the songs on a record we had as children was about an invitation to come out and play.  Something something down my rain barrel, slide down my cellar door, and we'll be jolly friends--forever more.  But I couldn't remember (or even imagine) what we would do down a rain barrel.  So I googled the lyrics I could remember.  And I came up with a number of other people looking for the lyrics.  And then I found them. 

Say, say, oh playmate,

Come out and play with me

And bring your dollies three

Climb up my apple tree

Shout down my rain barrel

Slide down my cellar door

And we'll be jolly friends

Forever more more more more more

Sliding down the cellar door, I got that; but I never had a rain barrel.
Until today.

I've been researching and shopping online for rain barrels for over a year.  Occasionally I put one in my cyber shopping cart and pushed it around the internet.  (And then I parked it and logged off.)  Last year I had a rain tub.  But today the STP made me a rain barrel.  That is him in the barrel.  He was in there shouting directions to the Goob.  Who, as you can plainly see, he had over the barrel.

And this is the totally awesome spigot the STP installed in the barrel. 







And here it is all set up behind the garage just waiting for rain. 

As with most of my ideas, the locals scoff at my desire for a rain barrel. 
"It doesn't rain here," they say. 
Like maybe I haven't noticed that.  They think that it must be a 'back east' thing. 
"You're not from here, are you?" they say.
I don't tell them I never had a rain barrel before.  Because I never needed one before.  Because it rains where I am from.  I don't respond to them at all, because (in my head) I'm singing the next verse.

I'm sorry, playmate

I cannot play with you

My dolly's got the flu

Boo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo

"You're weird,"  they say. (In their head.)
I will use my rain water to water my garden.  And if it doesn't rain, I will just invite my jolliest friends over and we will shout down the rain barrel.  Either way, I see only good things ahead. 
Forever more more more more.

She Got Up Off The Couch

But she did not return to C25K week 4.  Instead she went to work at the IBHCF.  And she took this picture to share with you.  Because it is quite colorful and extremely lab-like. 

And when she came home from work, she mostly got back on the couch.  Because she forgot how early she has to get up to work in the lab.  Next week its back to the bank.  She will be ready. 

The STPs Dreams Come True

The STP had a dream.  In his dream everyone in town had a cow.  And all the cows had escaped and were running about the town.  And our cow was little.  Like a dog-size cow.  (Maybe this wasn't exactly the dream--only my recollection of what he told me when we were both half awake/ three quarters asleep.)  I'm no Joseph, but if Pharoah had had this dream it seems like we might be in for a famine year.  Just glad there weren't 7 little cows in the dream. 
Because I am not a fan of starving, and as a service to the STP, I interpreted the dream to mean that just because everyone else had a truck, we didn't really need a truck.   Just a cute little Volvo.  The STP dismissed my dream interpretation as nonsense.  He said it was his dream and leave it alone.  I shared my thought with someone else, who thought maybe the dream meant that we were to have a little truck.  I dismissed that as nonsense.
And alas, here is the little truck that will be our second vehicle.  We do not actually own it yet, we were just 'trying it on' in front of the house.  But by next week we should be the proud owners of a pick-up.   It only took the STP two years to get a truck.  I'm thinking a cowboy hat can't be far behind.  I love being married to a dreamer.

A Tree Does Not Grow in Dodge City

This is the first tree we planted in our Dodge City yard.  It is an evergreen, in case you could not tell.  We deliberated for some time about where to plant it.  We didn't want it to block the view when we were pulling out of the driveway.  (We are nothing if not forward thinkers.)  The STP brought this tree home from somewhere.  It was like a prize and he loved it.  And he faithfully watered it.  And we never mowed it over.  It is dead.   It has been dead for almost a year.   We continue to mow around it.  Just in case.

You might remember this next tree.  We bought it from the not-quite-a-stuffmart grand opening last Spring.  You can see what it looked like when we brought it home.  We were so hopeful.  We planted it strategically to provide us some privacy when we sat on the porch swing. (If you google map street view our house you can see what it looked like last fall when it still had leaves.)  It did not get any leaves this Spring.  I am pretty sure it is dead.  The STP thinks it is a slow starter.  He thinks it will get leaves.  He continues to water it.  His picture is in the dictionary under optimist. 

This little gem is a red wood something I can't remember right now.  It came highly recommended for this climate and offers year round beauty because it has that awesome red bark which adds interest to my winter landscape.  Princess Amidala and I purchased it in the Fall.  We could hardly contain our excitement. I planted it where it would hide the vent pipes on the side of the house.  (You can not see the vent pipes in this picture because they are about three feet above the top of the plant.)   It certainly added interest through the winter, but it has failed to show any signs of life this Spring.  The STP is not highly invested in this one, but I'm going to leave it in the ground a little longer.    

When I first moved to Wyoming, I wondered why they didn't plant anything here.  Now I know. 

Saturday I am going to plant some more things.  Never give up.  Never surrender.

C25K2C

Week 4 day 2.  Didn't feel too bad during my run, but have tremendous hip pain right now.  I am going back to the couch with my heating pad.  Hopefully I can move in the morning.  I think the STP's favorite Revelation verse may apply.

This calls for patient endurance and faithfulness

on the part of the saints.  Rev. 13:10

Or maybe the one about not loving your life so much as to shrink from death.  By morning death may look pretty good. 
Don't give up now good running buddies.  We can do this.  We can do this.  We can do this.

A Chili-ng Tale

Yesterday I made a big crock pot full of chili for todays' fellowship dinner.  And a bowl of green jello with fruit cocktail.  I did not spill a drop of the jello.  But as I was making my last trip to the car this morning with the crock pot in two hands, and my purse over my shoulder, the handle on the crock pot fell off and the entire crockpot crashed to the floor and spilled and splashed as only two gallons of tomato based greasy sauce full of lumps and beans can spill and splash.  Like two feet up on two separate white walls.  And all over the floor, and my shoes and splatters up to my knees. And beans that rolled all the way under the couch.  And then I set my purse down in it.
So I did what any self respecting PW would do in this situation.  I posted it on FaceBook.
(The Queen of Queens expressed surprise that so many of my FB friends could relate to spilling a crock pot full of fellowship dinner chili on a Sunday morning.  Because the devil can still disrupt her Sunday morning with a poopy diaper, or a projectile vomiting child.  Once you move out of this phase of your life, the devil uses dropped casseroles and misplaced car keys to make you late and irritable.  The Queen will learn this.  There is no need to tell her.)  
And then I took my camera out of my purse to get a picture.  Because it was picture worthy and I wanted to share it with you. 

Right here is where I would put the picture. 

But when I turned my camera on it politely asked me to charge the battery.  Because that's the kind of day the devil wanted me to have.  But I had just read and posted about how God is not afraid of a mess.  So even though it wasn't my plan to clean up chili, I embraced rose to accepted the challenge, counted to 2 and 1/2, and scooped and scraped and scrubbed.  I scooped the top portion into a smaller casserole (oh, yes, I did!)  because I applied the 3 second rule and it never really hit the floor and even though I wouldn't feed chili off the floor to the general public, I am not above serving it to the STP.  And then I scraped the majority of the wonderful smelling chili into the garbage can.  (The smell was one advantage cleaning up chili had over cleaning up projectile vomit.)  And then, just as I was almost done scrubbing, I backed into the garbage can and spilled the chili in the other direction and down one more wall.  And then God and I laughed together, and I said, "Not today!" to the devil and I went to church and worshipped.  And the jello was a hit at fellowship dinner. 
All in all, it was a very good day.

THE END

Messy Me

From the book "My Bangs Look Good & Other Lies I Tell Myself":  Pg 49

"God does not seem to be afraid of a mess.  He is perfectly comfortable in a stable or on a lonely road or in a scandalous situation, because he knows it is not the end of the story.  God has good plans for us tired supergirls.  They may not be easy or neat or fit into our cyber calendar, but they bring life and clarity and love and truth into the the world in which we live.  And I don't know about you, but I want in on his plan.  Even if it's messy."