What a difference a day makes....

Thursday I was off because I am working this weekend. It was a beautiful day with highs in the 60's. I spent the day outside, putting RoundUp on the fence lines (and there are a lot of them), picking up trash (more below) and mowing the first weeds. The grass hasn't started growing, yet, but the weeds certainly have.

Today, I got up and went running. Despite my feet aching (they have been doing that for the last week), I was determined to run. Running helps my physical as well as mental status, and I haven't been doing enough of it recently. I over-dressed, dressing for temps in the 40's when it turned out to be 56. By the time I had done my morning's work, temps were 38. I HATE those reverse days. The dogs are currently sleeping, fighting for the warmest location.

Back to the day off. I started off at my house, treating the fence line, putting down Weed 'n Feed, but then went to the ranch, once again treating the fence line which is MUCH longer. After that, I decided to pick up the trash on the road. I took a 40 gallon trash bag. Unfortunately, I had only walked half the distance of the road when the bag was full (and way to heavy to continue carrying).
I am really torqued that so many people choose to litter, but after being po'd with my neighbors, decided to look at it as a kind of census. The results:

1. The drink of choice is beer, followed by Dr. Pepper.
2. The beer of choice is Bud (not Lite) followed by Corona.
3. The food of choice is ice cream.
4. The fast food joint of choice is Whataburger followed by Taco Delite.
5. The smoke of choice is Marlboro followed by Grand Prix (a brand I didn't even know).
6. People who use smokeless tobacco seem to be compelled to save the spit juice in non-biodegradable containers (ooooeeeewwww gross!).
6. Someone is trying to stop smoking...but hey bud, when you threw out the box for nicotine patches you also threw out a nice coupon to use in buying your next box....or maybe you weren't trying to stop smoking.

Sigh.

During this task, the cows took interest in me. They are kind of cute, although their size still over-whelms me. Cows have their own society. I have realized that there are 3 cows that are always the first to approach. They have kind eyes. They are kind of messy dropping all that manure, but I'm thinking of collecting that and drying it for a garden.....If only there were more minutes in a day.

All the pictures in this post were taken yesterday...before the wintery mix returned.

Fun Monday, Lunch Time

Fay asks us to write about lunch in school via a writing lesson from Anne Lamotts's book. Before I write about lunch, I would like to plug the book/author. It has been years since I have read Anne Lamont, but she writes very well. She is both funny and honest. I found that I learned a lot of about myself reading her books, even when I didn't take the time to really ponder her writing. I need to dig her books out, again.

I am a product of the public school system – actually many school systems, since my father moved the family frequently during my first nine years of life.

I do not remember in lunch in kindergarten, first or second grade. I am assuming that I ate. I remember the cafeteria in third grade – a large room with picnic style tables that folded down from the walls. School assemblies were held in the cafeteria when the tables were folded up.

When we moved half way through my third grade year the cafeteria at the new school was a large room with tables and chairs in long rows. The walls were covered in institutional green tile. The food preparation was at one end although that didn't matter as I always carried my own lunch. I was allowed to buy a school lunch about once a month. I do not remember why I would occasionally get to have that "other" food. The drill was eat then play. Third grade was a difficult year. I have always been painfully shy, and moving mid-year was especially difficult. The cultures between the two schools (one in New Jersey and one in Texas) were quite different. I didn't understand what it meant to be a cheerleader or why I should care about football teams. I don't remember crying at lunch, but I do remember my homeroom teacher calling me in one day, telling me that I should stop crying because "no one is going to like a sad little girl."

By junior high, the cafeteria became a thing of the past – I knew where it was located but ate elsewhere. The band geeks would frequently go to the band hall. The lunch time was spent eating and gossiping. When I became more engrossed in school, it also became a time to study. In high school the band hall became the home base. We congregated there before school to read/study/visit. We met there at lunch to eat and gossip, and after school for practice sessions.

My mother always packed my lunch. In elementary school, I carried a lunch box. Oddly, I remember my brother's lunch boxes better than my own, although I do remember that I got a new one each fall. There was always a thermos with milk, a sandwich, a baggie of veggies (carrots, green pepper (I LOVED green pepper) or celery), a fruit (hopefully an apple and not the dreaded orange) and two cookies. Peanut butter with jelly or honey was the stand by sandwich. Special days were pimento cheese or thin cut lunch meat. Yucky days were bologna or other cut meats. Over time, I asked for peanut better with honey. By lunch time, the moisture from the honey would have been drawn into the bread leaving a crystallized sweetness on top of the peanut butter that was good for the shy student's soul. I think the lunch menu was constant over the course of childhood. There were never bags of chips or those other processed foods that came into vogue.

By the time I was in junior high, the lunch box was gone. The thermos of milk was gone. Lunch was carried in a brown paper bag. Frequently, my mother would draw pictures below my name. I remember my father also carried his lunch – he returned his paper bags every day, while I usually threw mine out. Occasionally, Mom would run out of fresh bags, and I would be given one of Dad's pre-used bags. I don't know why I remember that pre-wrinkled paper so well.

I remember wishing that I could have the cafeteria food when I was in elementary school: school pizza or fish sticks looked so good. Oddly, by the time I was in junior high, that just didn't matter. I was content with my four part lunch plan.

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Just some musings.

1. I had a long weekend. I finally forced myself to go into the Big City. Nearing my 6 year anniversary of living in Smalltown America, I ask myself, "WHY, do people live in the Big City?" There are so many people, so many cars, so many accidents.....We were happy to escape.
2. I have a Mini Cooper Clubman, much like the one above but a nice happy shade of yellow. Daisy is lots of fun, and she is small. One thing I noticed about the Big City -- with the marked proliferation of cars, the parking spots seem to have shrunk. Consider this notice: if a Mini Cooper Clubman BARELY fits into a slot, Mr. GMC Yukon: You aren't going to fit so don't even try. (The thing is, they do try and take up 1.5 slots....what is the point of having parking spaces if none of the cars fit?

3. We have more rain today. Yup -- more rain. According to weather.gov, this will be a very wet spring (after a wet summer, fall and winter). The dogs are now walking around the house two by two formation.

4. The neighbor's children are growing. The youngster has moved from a trombone (sounded like a dead moose calling for his mate) to a drum set. I find that I miss the trombone.

5. The neighbors at the whippet wranch have a tiger. Yup. A tiger. Not certain what I think of that. At this point, I am just observing. His cage seems substantial. I like that.

6. After living in Smalltown for almost 6 years, I can't imagine why people like the Big City. I do not miss it at all. I think I breathe easier in the country.

7. Last but not least, a blog post worth reading: http://drgrumpyinthehouse.blogspot.com/2010/03/checkout-time.html
Dr. Grumpy usually is quite "snarky" but I think this post was very well done. On a similar vein, but with a different perspective: end of life warning.

8. I feel really lucky to have my dogs, to live in Smalltown, and to only have to go to the Big City once every several months. Hug your hounds!