3rd Blogiversary

I can't believe it; it's been three years (and a couple of days) since I started this blog.  It's kind of developed it's own life over the span of 445 posts.  Last year, I had a post full of randomness and the year before I didn't even celebrate my blogiversary.

So, for this year, I thought I'd re-post my first ever post, but then remembered that I'd already done that (though it would be very appropriate considering I'm leaving tomorrow for HorseMaster).  Since that's already been done, I went with my second ever post.  I'm certain that something like 86 of you have never read it; my only followers were Mom and Bill, Deejo, and RCC at that time.  So, for your reading pleasure (I hope), here's my second ever post.

An Engagement Story

The weekend after I returned from Salida, the best thing I could have ever wished for happened...RockCrawlinChef  (RCC) proposed. I'm about a month late posting this, but here it is...

While I was in Salida, Jim and Monster got into a huge fight and Jim kicked Monster out of the house. Luckily, Digger stayed at home and so Monster had someone at my place with him. Well, on Wednesday, RCC took the boys to dinner and took Monster to Jim's house to pick up his stuff. Saturday night Jim finally called to talk to me about what happened and, of course, his story about what had happened changed. RCC heard the conversation and got really quiet. When I asked him what was wrong he said that he wasn't sure it was the right decision to take Monster to Jim's house to pick up his stuff, especially after hearing the conversation between Jim and me. So we had this whole other conversation about never second guessing what your heart tells you is the right thing at the time.

RCC was quiet and after a few minutes jumped out of bed (all of our major decisions have been made while naked) and my heart just sank. Those damn ghosts from the ex-boyfriend appear occasionally. He went to his dresser and looked at me and said, 'this is either the most appropriate or most inappropriate time, but...' I just KNEW he'd come to his senses and was going to break things off. I was absofuckinglutely terrified - my whole fairy tale romance was gone. I know that I had to have gone completely white just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And then it got worse, I could tell that he wanted to say something but couldn't. Christ, I was a mess. Once he opened his mouth, he said a bunch of stuff that I don't remember, but I do remember him returning to the side of the bed and getting down on one knee, opening the ring box, saying a few more things (blah, blah, blah, blah - the lips were moving, sound was coming out, but I have no freakin' clue what he was saying) and then finally getting to the good stuff, 'GunDiva, will you marry me?'

Wow.

180 degrees from what I was expecting! I cried like a little girl and I'm pretty sure I asked him repeatedly if he was sure and if this was for real. I couldn't even touch the ring for, like, 20 minutes. I was afraid if I touched it that it would disappear. Once it started to sink in, he put the ring on my finger (which fit perfectly - amazing since he really had no clue about my ring size) and I cried some more. We're not planning on getting married for a while (think next year), but I'm certainly loving the promotion from 'girlfriend' to 'fiance' (or is it 'fiancee'? I can never remember).

Wow, huh?

Road Trip 7/16/2011

The day before my birthday, RCC and I got a wild hair and decided to load up in Ripley for a road trip.  It was a good choice, as I finally got to see a moose.  Nebalee had told us that the Poudre River was running high and that we needed to see it before it receded.  That was our excuse, but once we got on the road, we decided to just keep going all the way to Walden, down to Grand Lake, and across Trail Ridge Road.  It took us six hours, but just for you here it is in 5:56.

A Pissed Off Momma and Lots of F-Bombs

Consider yourself warned.

Digger is a legitimate dumb ass.  I know that's not surprising since he's 19 and living in Wyoming in what is essentially a frat house.

But he got really stupid last night and he and his buddies thought it would be a good idea to brand themselves.

You heard me:  Fucking Brand Themselves.

That's a legit hot iron brand.

Let's just say it's a good thing he's a LONG way from me right now, because I'd knock his fucking head off.

Here's how I found out:

Digger (on FB): So. . . judge me if u must. but i may or may not have legitimatly branded my ass. . it may or may not sting about right now

So I went to my "mole" Ashinator who takes pics of everything and found the previously posted picture.  My comment to Digger:

Dude...I just saw the pics. You are a dumb ass. Bet you didn't remember that you tend to lean toward keloid scarring, did you? Yeah, that brand will look great. Time for your ass to quit drinking, the IQ of 12 doesn't become you.

I seriously cannot believe he'd do something so stupid.  I'm all about a tattoo or two that mean something to you, but a BRAND that you got while drunk with a bunch of goddamn redneck fucking hicks that you'll lose touch with in a year or two is about as dumb as you can get.

I am so angry I'm shaking.  I want to take my pocket knife and carve that burned ass flap of skin right off his useless body.

I hope it gets infected.

Wait...no I don't.  Because then I'll be footing the bill for his dumbassery.

Ima kick his ass when I see him.

What I Learned This Week

• The cure for hiccups, courtesy RockCrawlinChef: go poop.  The hypothesis being that the, uh, fecal matter is backing up in the colon and pressing on the diaphragm causing the hiccups. Of course, that only works if you're full of shit (and apparently he was, 'cause it worked).
• Flatlanders can't drive in the mountains.  Here's a little tip: rarely are brakes required when driving uphill.  Usually gravity will help with the slowing of the vehicle if you just take your foot of the skinny pedal.
• Popping a piece of Polar Ice gum into your mouth immediately after eating spicy chicharrones is a Bad Idea.  You will immediately regret it.  Trust me on this.
• I'll do pretty much anything for $20 an hour.  This includes getting up at the butt-crack of dawn (4:30 am) to go work as a phlebotomist for four hours before reporting to work at my real job.  Luckily, it's only for three days.  Unluckily, it's for a health fair at Campus Crusade for Christ.  How is that unlucky, you ask?  I have a mouth that could embarrass a sailor.  I can keep it under control when working with patients by merely thinking what I want to say outloud.  Only, being surrounded by so many super-religous people, I feel guilty even thinking bad words.
• Studies have actually been done that show that cursing decreases pain levels, lowers blood pressure and helps to reduce stress.  Do you have any idea what kind of pressure I'm going to be under after three days of no stress reduction?  Like a pressure cooker, I have to be able to vent some steam or I'll blow.  I'd be scared, but I've got some sessions scheduled with El Poquito Diablo.  He's pretty good about withstanding my venting.
• Birthday calories do, in fact, add up and count on the scale.  Damn it.

39 Years, 364 Days

That's how long it took me to see a moose.

I was beginning to think that I was moose repellant. It's a long story, but the only "moose" I've seen was up in Yellowstone and that one doesn't count.

Yesterday, RCC and I went on an impromptu road trip up over Trail Ridge Road and I *finally* got to see my first moose.  A cow with twin calves.  We got some lousy pictures...

Then we got in the car and drove a half a mile deeper into the park and saw this cow/calf pair...

RCC is going to do some photo magic so that they are easier to see, but there are two real, live (non-bison) moose.  Yay, me!

Surprise!

I work with an amazing group of people.  The education team is more like family than co-workers, which isn't surprising since we spend fifty hours a week together.  There are times when I see them more often than I see RCC.

Sometimes the long work-weeks and the fact that when I do get to see RCC, he's already in bed asleep, take their toll and I'm flat out bitchy.  Wednesday, I was beyond bitchy.  I was a Crabby Ass and anyone who crossed my path was going to pay.

I gave my class their final exam and was perplexed when the other "little dean" (we're both vertically challenged) came to sit in my class.  When I asked him what was up, he just shrugged and said he had to get away from his desk.  Being the Crabby Ass I was, I totally understood the need to get away from work - even if it was just to a classroom.

My students completed their finals in just under two hours and I gathered up all of my stuff to go back to my office.  I damn near lost my mind when the door to the education department was closed - it's never closed and I had my hands full.  I grumbled my way through the door and stomped to my office, only to find that door closed too and there was something covering the window.  I didn't even see what was covering the window, I just knew that some damn idiot had shut my door and covered up the bottom half of my window.  I was able to see just enough through my window to ensure it was empty and opened the door.

I got half a step in and stopped.

I couldn't figure out the mess that was my desk...

Then it dawned on my.  My birthday!  They were a few days early, which caught me off guard, but still made me giggle.  I then stopped to look at my office door...

If I hadn't been such a Crabby Ass, I might have noticed there was something amiss with my door.  The giant frog should have been a dead give-away.

So, my lovely education teammates bestowed me with 40 breakfast burritos (don't tell El Poquito Diablo - I don't think they're on my diet)...

Please notice the 40 cans of Coke on my office chair (don't tell EPD about those either).  There were 40 live goldfish, each in individual cups, on my desk...

 
They even bestowed me with 40 effervescent denture cleaner things...

And Swedish Fish...

And fighterfighters!  'Cause my peeps know I love me some fighterfighters!

I can't even name everything that I found (and am still finding), all in multiples of 40.  Took me two hours to give away the burritos and adopt out the fish (every department suddenly has a fish tank) and get my desk sorted out enough to get back to work, but it made my day that my team threw me a surprise office take-over.

Y'all, I 'bout peed myself...

It's hot and humid here.  I live in Colorado.  I don't do humidity with my hot.  I just don't.  Come to think of it, I don't do humidity with my cold either.

Anypeeingmyself, bein' as it's hot and humid, I decided I was going to wear a *gasp* dress today - I don't have a lab class today and I can wear flip flops with sundresses.  Win all the way around.  I knew in my little pea-brain which sundress I was going to wear, but when I looked in the closet, I couldn't find it.  It was no where to be found, which is a shame, because it's from a trip to Mexico and they know how to make cool, breatheable sundresses.  Instead, the only coolish dress looking thing I could find was one I hadn't been able to wear in years.  I was certain that there was no way I was going to get into it, but I thought I'd just attempt to pull it on to see how much more I had to lose to get into it.

I unzipped it and stepped into it, so far, so good.

I started to pull it up (fat people learn quickly it's better to step into clothes than pull them over your head - if you get stuck with your head halfway in a garment, you are both screwed and stupid looking).  Again, so far, so good.

Got the arms in the armholes, no panic attack, no binding or constricting...still, so far, so good.

What the hell - go for broke - decided to try the zipper.

Up it went with nary a hitch.  I did have to contort myself to get the zipper up the last two inches, as I dropped the pull-thingy and couldn't reach it, but finally managed.

The last time I wore this dress was easily 2006/2007 and I was twenty pounds lighter.  I never really fell for that bullshit that muscle weighs more than fat, but I'm thinking that I'm living breathing proof right now.  The dress is a little snug around the chesticle area, but that's it.

I was losing motivation to go to the gym - that whole heat/humidity thing is killing me - but the fact that I can get into one of my old favorite dresses had re-ignited my desire to go workout.  Maybe by the time I go to HorseMaster I'll be back in my Wranglers (tried those on a couple of weeks ago - still five pounds to go before they're comfortable).

I'm really bad at taking pictures of myself, so if I can get RCC talked into snapping one later, I'll share it.  Until then, I can't wait until he sees me in this!

Thought for the Day

I'm not overly religious, but I thought I'd share something with you that has been annoying me for quite some time.  It seems as though the "entitlement" attitude has even begun to infiltrate our prayers.  How 'bout, next time you pray...Thank God for the good in your life instead of asking for something more?

I think it's high time we do more THANKING for what we already have and less ASKING for what we want.

Just think about it - when was the last time you saw a prayer request that simply said, "let's be thankful for what we have"?

*stepping off soapbox*

No, I don't know where it came from, but it's been bugging the hell out of me for months.

Dream A Little Dream

Yesterday, RCC surprised me speechless when he asked if I wanted to go look at a house.

We are totally unprepared to buy a house - haven't even really thought about it other than, "one day, when we win the PowerBall..."

But...this last bout with our neighbors has just about done us in.  I've lived in this house for about ten years; my neighbors directly south of me hated me before I moved in.  Apparently, they saw no reason for a single mother with three young children to live in their neighborhood.

Though I despise our house, the kids and I have lived here longer than any other place.  It was good for us to move in here - no shared walls, no college kid neighbors, and the best part - we were in the county.  There's open space that the neighborhood kids call the dirt hills and the heathi spent their childhood much the same way I did: running around with their friends, exploring, getting dirty and doing things their mother would cringe at.

About the time RCC and I got married, the city began incorporating our little slice of county and the rules began changing.  Oh, how our neighbors must have rejoiced!  Even though we don't have an HOA, we now have to abide by city rules.  Stupid ones that make no sense to country kids.  Our neighbor is well versed in all of the city rules and has called the code enforcers on us for different infractions. 

The first being Digger's car that was parked in the side yard.  Yes, it was not running, but it was parked on our own property and hidden from the street. Even though it was a project car, it could not stay, even if we moved it to the driveway because it was unlicensed and uninsured.  The car was a project car - there's no way in hell I was going to insure a car that didn't run and without insurance, I couldn't license it.  We sold the car for scrap.

This last time was the straw that broke the camel's back for RCC.  He decided to part out Tinkerbell, his rock crawler.  He brought her home, started tearing her apart in our driveway, got most of the parts sold and we got a phone call from our landlord.  Turns out our neighbors had filed a complaint with the code inspector for having an "eye sore" and an unworking vehicle.  Now, it was obvious that Tinkerbell was being torn apart and parted out.  RCC was very aware of our neighbor's hatred of anyone/thing associated with me and took extra care in keeping the tear down organized and running smoothly.

RCC's a country kid like me, and of the belief that if we want to work on our cars in our driveway we should be able to without interference from the city.  Now that we are incorporated, we may only have our trashcan visible outside our house (other than our lawfully licensed and insured vehicles).  For living in a neighborhood without an HOA, it feels an awful lot like one.

Anyrantanddigression, RCC is done with living in this neighborhood and hopped online to look at houses.  Like I said, we really had not planned on buying for a while and are really unprepared to do so. 

Nonetheless, this little beauty jumped out at him...

It's pretty much everything we've always discussed wanting in a house.  Room for Estes...



Big kitchen...

Cozy living room...

And a small area for a garden...

It's pretty much in the middle of nowhere - the closest neighbors are 1/2 mile away and they are farmers/ranchers.  There's little to no chance of it ever becoming incorporated, as the closest "city" is a town of less than 900 people and is located almost seven miles away.  I'm good with that.

What really has me dreaming is the fact that not only could I keep Estes in the winter, but that we could also raise our own dinner.  Hello little cow.  Maybe we should name it "Tasty" or "Yumm".  Crap, putting the cart before the cow horse again.

Aaaaannnndddd...there's room to build a berm and set up our own shooting range.  Yes, you heard that right - our own shooting range.  No membership fees, no driving to go out to the range, just walk out the back door and across the yard.  I've already got a mental list of the guns we "need" and the steel I want to buy (Come to Momma, little Texas Star).

We so want this house.  So badly it hurts.  RCC's busy researching banks for mortgages. 

Me?  I bought a PowerBall ticket. 'Cause that's the way I roll.

4th of July Craziness

Each year, we participate in the Allenspark Parade.  This year, "we" grew by two, as Deejo and his girlfriend and her children have moved to Colorado.  For the first time, The Girl and The Boy got to ride on the back of the truck and help throw candy.

Autobot and Kyzzer have been in gymnastics pretty much since they learned to walk and each year, their stunts get more and more impressive.  This year, side-by-side round-off back handsprings...



Kyzzer stepped it up, performing a press on the truck as it was moving...



And I'm pretty sure we get to ride in the prettiest parade route ever...



I hope everyone had a wonderful and safe Independence Day!

Probably inappropriate, but what the hell...

Texts from the Toilet Stall

While out shopping today, my gut started not feeling so well.  Like most women, I only do that business at home unless it's an extreme emergency.  My rumbly tumbly quickly became less than happy, so I ran off to the store bathroom (while praying that it was deserted).  RCC was patiently waiting on me, so I thought I'd be courteous and let him know it'd be a while:

Me: It'll be a few minutes.  I've got mud falling outta my ass.

Me:  Didn't even get out of the stall before the next round hit.

RCC:  Really?

Me: I broke out in a sweat.

RCC: You're gross.

Me:  Nu-uh

RCC:  Uh-uh

Me:  Bad butt.  Guess the body's not so happy with our recent diet.

RCC:  Hehe I'm fine.

Me:  Brat.  I'm giving leaving the stall another go.  Wish me luck.

RCC: G'luck

In the midst of my updating RCC on the status of my bad butt, Digger sent me a text.

Digger: Find anything for ur favorite son?

Me: Where?

Digger: As in a vehicle miss old timer.  Did ya forget :P

Me: Haven't looked yet.  I'm out shopping for parade stuff, that's where the confusion came from.

Digger: U suck

Me: Do not.  Currently, I am less than sucking.  I've got shit falling out of my ass, which is pretty much the opposite of sucking.

Digger: Thats gross. This is y old people shouldn't be allowed to text. (Don't you love that my son will make sure he uses the contraction for should not, yet shortens "why" to "y"?)

Me: Why?  You texted me first.

Digger: Cuz ur gross. Anywho...I forgot

Me: Now leave me along so I can complete my job here.

Digger: Fine cranky

Me: I'll talk to you when I'm done turning myself inside out.  Love you.

Yep.  Those kind of text convos are absolutely normal in the GunDiva/RCC household.  Aren't you glad I could share?

A Quick Shout-out!

I know, I know.  I'm really behind on posts and I'll get caught up today, I promise.  But first, I just wanted to put this out there...

Barnes & Noble's Customer Service for the nook *ROCKS*!

Eloise has developed a little crack on her faceplate - she's still functional, but the crack is getting bigger.  My one year warranty expired in May, so I was hoping that I could just get a replacement faceplate.  I was even willing to pay for the replacement, I just didn't want Eloise to have to live with the crack.

I called Customer Service and talked to the sweetest woman (I didn't get her name, though I should have), who regretfully informed me that my warranty had expired, but then quickly went on to tell me that she wanted to talk to somebody with more authority about replacing it.  Remember, I just wanted to buy a replacement faceplate.

She put me on hold, talked to whoever she needed to talk to, came back on the line and told me that they were going to replace the whole thing.  Eloise isn't getting a facelift - I'm getting a whole new Eloise.  And that's a whole lot more than I ever expected.

If any of you are caught in the nook vs. Kindle debate and don't know which way to do - I've got to say, nook now has my unconditional support.