Hell hath no fury like 70 mph wind gusts.

Greetings, friends...

This is not Kate. This is Laura. (You may know me from comments as Miss Laura. Or you may know me in person, and...well, I don't know what to say about that :) Kate called me veeeery early this morning to ask if I'd consider writing a guest blog. Y'see, non-GR-types, we had a series of pretty wicked storms yesterday afternoon into the evening, and Kate's without power. And because she's living the simple life in the back 40, they're not expecting to have power restored for about four days.

She also told me that the home of her neighbor two doors down (about a half mile away, I figure)...uhhh...exploded. Apparently lightning hit the electrical line that runs to their house from the street and that was that, there's nothing left. No house, no cars. Kate and Curt were able to find out just this morning that they've confirmed that no one was home when this happened. Can we all let out a sigh and a collective "Thank you, Jesus"?

Until this, the Mulders were planning to leave for a weekend camping trip today, and they're not yet sure what they're going to do...though it doesn't seem there's much reason to stick around.

Anyway, Katie Dear asked me to let everyone know that they're all okay and she plans to be back in full force on Monday. And she especially didn't want her dad to worry. So Mr. Sebeck, your kid is just fine.

And if you're at all curious, you can see the damage my family's dealing with at my blog here. You'll have to check it out later today, as photos are required and my camera needs a-chargin'.

Good chattin' with you, peeps!

treasures

There was more to my banner day a couple weeks ago... it just took me awhile to get it home. Sauntering out of the salon, my eyes were immediately drawn to the antique store across the way... and, you know, my car just sort of ended up in the back parking lot. They always have these gorgeous, refurbished gliders inside selling for over $300... but this one, oh this one, was just coming off the truck from an estate sale. They hadn't touched it yet. I ran inside with my arms a-flappin' and declared that it was mine AS IS and give me a deal I'm having a really good day! And, shock of the world, they did. I walked away with a $100 glider that badly needs a date with a wire brush and some primer, but oh how I love thee. These are the surprises I save my etsy money for. Now I don't have to covet Sunday's gorgeous porch heirloom anymore. Well, not as much, I should say.

It reminds me of grandmother's porch and her mother's porch... how we'd sit with our jelly jars of Mountain Dew and watch the caterpillars on their exodus. That metal gliding sound, those plastic cushions... it says Summer to me. This one... the one my kid(s) will remember... even has legs on the top so it can fold down like a futon. Brilliant. I see some porch-campouts in our future after I tackle some new cushions.

After a few weeks of novel-length posts, we'll keep this one short. I know we all have laundry and groceries to get to. I've got a sicky kid to love on. Look at her all big on the swing this weekend!

Thursday is the TexasNorth Reader Appreciation Raffle! Don't forget to leave you name in the comments of this post or this one to be included... or even today's. I'll count all three and each person will be entered once. My lovely assistant will help me draw on Wednesday evening for gifts... so comment by 6pm, please, as she needs her beauty sleep.

Love to you all (truly)... get your week started and don't forget the lemonade!!!

edu-macation

dictionary.com says thusly:

farm –noun
1. a tract of land, usually with a house, barn, silo, etc., on which crops and often livestock are raised for livelihood.
2. land or water devoted to the raising of animals, fish, plants, etc.: a pig farm; an oyster farm; a tree farm.

ranch –noun
1. an establishment maintained for raising livestock under range conditions.
2. Chiefly Western U.S. and Canada. a large farm used primarily to raise one kind of crop or animal

[...which naturally led me to]
range -noun
17. Also called rangeland... an area or tract that is or may be ranged over, esp. an open region for the grazing of livestock.

Erm... so what are we? Farmers? Ranchers? Farm says ' red barn' to me... and we'll have one of those. But longhorns seriously say 'ranch' to me... and we have a 'range'. But we'll also have hay, which screams 'farm' to me. I'm having an identity crisis here. I leave it to you to decide. I'm wearing an apron no matter what.
Many of you have emailed and asked about the whole longhorn thing. 'Why?' you ask sincerely. 'Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?' 'Why not black and white cows?' 'Why not horses?' 'What do you do with a longhorn?' 'Did you just wake up one day and decide you want cows?' 'Aren't you an Aggie and therefore allergic to longhorns? They're gonna take away your diploma.'

All legitimate questions.

First and most importantly, I am an Aggie Class of 1999. I see no problem with an Aggie owning, managing, and being the boss of longhorns. We will, however, be avoiding genetics that lead to orange and white hides. I'm also just kidding about the rivalry here, folks. I'm over 30. It's done.

We will eventually have a couple of horses, for love and for work. When Ry is old enough to ride, we'll start tackling those. Both Curt and I love to ride. It'll happen, but later.

Why longhorns? Well, this is a fabulous story, really. See, longhorns are amazing. They are gentle and beautiful and athletic and lean and long-living (20+ years). I don't know quite how it started, but Curt wanted cows and I wanted a barn with stalls and a pretty fence. We didn't want to raise cows just for eating and such. We wanted a farm that was tangible and friendly. We wanted something unique. We wanted animals we could leave alone for 2 weeks while we went camping. We wanted cows with stories, and we wanted our kid(s) to grow up with them. Longhorns fit all of those characteristics plus have a Texas connection which thrills me to no end.

Longhorns have a terribly romantic history. Closer to extinction than buffalo, one man riding in to save the species, ranchers banding together to save the herd... this stuff has my name all over it! Longhorns can certainly be used for beef, though they take quite a bit longer to mature than your average commercial cow... so that's not a major draw. Longhorns are raised to preserve history and to try for the largest spread of horns. Their horns grow throughout their life, but are largely finished before they are 10 years old. It's really a lot like raising dogs for show. You pay close attention to genetics. You try for good matches and good confirmation and good offspring. It's a hobby. A use for land. A part of history. A good way to practice the old ways.

What will we do? We'll start small (like, 4 cows) and work our way up to less than 50 over the next 20 years. Hopefully, somewhere in there, we'll have some absolutely gorgeous cows that some rich oil man would like to buy for his front yard. And we'll sell those cows and pay for my retirement villa in Tuscany Ry's college. In between, we'll love on 'em and play with them and feed 'em and give 'em a good life. Yes, some will eventually feed my family and yours, but that's part of this whole experience. It does not freak me out.

And that, folks, is the plan plain and simple like.

Here are some definitions that will help you:
cow - a lady who's had a calf OR just one of the herd in general
bull - a boy lookin' for a lady and a little action
steer - a boy that cannot [ahem] reproduce... these boys are for horns and meat
heifer - a lady over 1 year that hasn't produced a calf... she is innocent in the ways of love
pair - a mamma and her calf

I know, right?! It's more interesting than you ever imagined possible.
OR, it's more information than you ever wanted to know.
But I love you for pretending you love it.

Ellie, I'm hoping you'll make cute little ear tags for all of them like the ones you consigned. Wouldn't that be so awesome? I am not even kidding.

[This just in.] People. The cows are here. Yesterday, I was not a farmer slash rancher. Today, I am. Crazy!!! We weren't expecting this for a couple more weeks, but it just worked out for Dave to deliver four late last night. Please come over immediately. I have pie. And cows. And also chickens and a very cute child.

Excuse me, now. I have to go talk to them. Make sure everything's alright out yonder and such. See if they're happy and whatnot. I'll try to get an interview if they're willing.

good fences make good neighbors

We live in the country. It's hay season... where days and nights are long with work and tractors and wagons and lemonade. You're bound to get caught up behind a convoy of cutters and bailers and kids swinging off the back at some point, and there's no use gettin' fussy. It's hay season, and there is work to be done. Just this morning I followed three tractors for over 11 miles to the grocery store. Three. Tractors. No passing. It was awesome. Rylie, at least, was highly entertained. Did I mention the 11 miles of no passing? ELEVEN MILES. gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

The fence is up, Folks. We had a 5-acre rectangle enclosed (immediately behind the pole barn and back to the top of the ravine, for those of you familiar with TexasNorth) with a 7-wire high tensile fence. It's beautiful. It's clean and straight and electric. I'm gonna paint a sign to put on the gate that says, 'Yep, it's electric and Yep, it's on.' Longhorns are crazy athletic (which explains part of why we Aggies have had some historical trouble with them in football) and need a bit higher fence than your usual cow. We also had a lower wire added in case we decide to add some sneaky goats to our menagerie. Next year, we'll add another rectangle of fence on the other side of the house and start making serious headway on plans to re-raise the Old Red Barn.

Ry's a big fan of sitting on the gate, swingin' her legs, babblin' at all the chickens below her. It's a good place for a kid to be. As I watched her taking everything in, I realize that we have purposely stripped her life down to fences, big barns, and small houses. Wooden toys, old cartoons, lightening bugs. There is no movie theater, no consistant network tv, no marble slab ice cream shoppe nearby. I wonder if she will be sad about that later when she goes to A&M for college and realizes there's a whole other world out there? I suppose I think it's better to add things to your life later by choice rather than start with everything and have to learn to do without when you head out on your own. That's just me talkin' here. It's not so much a city vs. country thing... or an Army vs. civilian thing... or even a rent vs. buy thing. It's just a 'make intentional decisions' thing. We decided to start with less... in the common sense of the word. I am realizing, after our couple weeks of craziness, that this slow life... this simple but hard-working, take-your-time life... is exactly what this child needs. She is supposed to be here...at the farm. It was a shocking, humbling realization as I was once again reminded that there are plans far greater than mine at work.

People out here are serious about work, serious about NASCAR, and serious about fences. We've already had a minor dispute about property lines with our neighbor to the South... and our fence isn't even on the line! We've left room around the entire perimeter to be able to drive it. But, we live in the country. People protect what (they think) is theirs... and rightly so. Actually, it's not just the country. I remember a tree-trimming dispute right downtown! To avoid any future complications, hard feelings, or cow tipping we will be paying to have an official third party come out and drive a stake in the corner of the lot. Better safe than sorry- and it's nothing personal on either side. It's just how things are done out here. This is why The Boy handles these 'interactions' while I nervously bake apple pies inside and leave them on doorsteps after midnight.

The cows- 4 babies born this past Spring- will arrive as soon as our friend Dave is finished cutting his hay... so maybe a week? I know! Super fun. July is wide open for visits after the 4th, so head on out. We'll be here.

luxury

another photo from Butternut Lake...
*le sigh*

Dude. Yesterday was a banner day for me. I hired a babysitter (I know, right?!) in the middle of the day and went to the salon to get my hair cut, a teensy bit colored, and- this is the killa for me- someone else washed my hair. It is my luxury in life to go to the salon and have someone wash my hair with fun shampoo and fun conditioner and warm warm water. Oh, bless my soul.

I'm not gonna lie. It's been a rough couple weeks for this mamma, and a little time away in a place that smells good and everyone could wipe themselves was exactly what I needed.

I wonder what your luxury is?

I returned to find that the babysitter had emptied my dishwasher (so sweet) and also downloaded aol onto my computer (remove, thank you) AND taken some sneaky photos of her and Ry with my camera. This is all extremely ok with me... again, because someone else washed my hair. Ry was a very happy girl and ate a big dinner and went to bed wearing her candycane pjs. I love her. Just for laughs, check out this video [click] of Peanut last night before bedtime. Pay close attention around the 45-second mark when the girl is laughing so hard she runs out of breath. Oh my lanta. We watched it about 42 times last night.

Hear me: I cannot say enough about all the kind words and letters and emails and books and smiles you've sent my way over the past week. I have returned to them again and again in the sadder moments and always come out better for it. You're good people.

I hope you find a little luxury this weekend.

Blessings to you and yours.

meet the parents

The TexasNorth Mulders took a collective sigh this weekend and headed to a cabin with the rest of the Dutch side of the family. Six cousins- all girls, 3 'out' laws who married into the fam, 4 Mulder siblings, 2 Mulder parents, 3 large dogs, and 1 boyfriend visiting for the day meeting the parents... bless his ever-lovin' heart.
*
The biggest hit was the moose over the fireplace. Every child under the age of 5 was absolutely enamored with the poor thing. If I were stronger, I'd have carried him home for Peanut. She was greatly saddened to have left him(?) behind. [photo taken by yours truly and altered at picnik.com]
*
There was a day right about now in 2002 when my cousin was graduating high school. My mother's sister's daughter... in Cleveland. My parents were headed north from the Mother Country for the family festivities and I was stuck in San Diego in the midst of Young Life high season. It had already been decided that I was moving to Grand Rapids at the end of the summer, but The Boy just didn't like the idea of a girl moving across the country- unengaged, jobless, and pulling a u-haul- without him having ever met my father.
*
I kid you not, that Boy got off work on Friday night and headed East determined to do things right. My father met him at the door wearing a mesh ball cap, a t-shirt, dockers, and penny loafers with no socks. Rock the vote, Pap. They shook hands, my mother cried, and the boys proceeded to set up 42 million folding tables for the ensuing fish-fry slash family reunion that was blowing in the next day. They've been good friends ever since, and I couldn't be more thrilled. Most of the time.
*
My mother has only one sibling- Aunt Bea. But their father was one of about 17 10 children and thus I am related to most of Cleveland, its surrounding suburbs, and a serious portion of Poland [er... Czechoslovakia... but they were both countries Hiltler hated]. All but the native Polacks Bohemians showed up for that fish fry, and The Boy met every single one of them. He met people I've never even met before. Bless his ever-lovin' heart.
*
You did good, Boy. It was your respect for my family, and especially my father, that made me pack up that u-haul without hesitation and leave SoCal forever. Someday Ry may find herself in a similar situation, and I can only pray her young man will have the sand to drive 5 hours in the dark to meet you before he runs away with her heart and makes her move to a place where there is no sun 6 months out of the year.

You did real good.

funnies

*I posted a letter to Rylie (that I did actually mail) yesterday about the results of her evaluation. I did this because so many of you were kind enough to ask and because I am terrified of having this conversation 84 ba-jillion times in person where I will cry and stutter and generally make a fool of myself. Words are so much easier here. Thank you... for every bit of everything that you are. A silly, but sincere, little flower for you.*

On to our regularly scheduled program...
some random photos, some hilarity, some conversation, and some cookin'

Saturday evening, before the hurricane hit West Michigan, the TexasNorth Mulders attended Abbi's ballet recital. Curt watched from the seats while Rylie (aka: Crazy Horse that evening) and I quickly found ourselves banished to the hallway watching through the rectangular glass on the doors. She simply could not contain herself amongst the costumes, the music, the dancing. Peanut worked her way onto my shoulders and began a game of peek-a-boo... leaning way over and looking into my eyes upside down. With lightening speed, she then stuck her finger so far up my nose that it started to bleed. And that's why we missed Abbi's scene. Thank you for understanding.

And now, a conversation...

Boy says: Ya know, Girl, I saw this goo in the skillet tonight and pasta in the pot and I was all like, Eh... boooooring. But, man... this is GOOD!

Girl gives Boy a sideways glance and wonders how in the world she ever fell in love with someone who doesn't dig pasta or dream about stroganoff... I'm sorry, goo.

Girl studies Boy a moment and remembers that he is extrememly hot.

Venison Stroganoff
1# ground venison or beef
salt
pepper
garlic
2 white onions, chopped
1 cup sliced mushrooms (if it won't cause an extra session of marital counseling)
3-5 T butter
2 cups of beef broth
3 T tomato paste
2/3 sour cream
pasta of choice

Start your pasta water. Salt and pepper your meat. In a large skillet, saute mushrooms and onions in the garlic and butter until tender. Add meat and continue until meat is browned. Remove from skillet and set aside. Add beef broth and tomato paste to skillet. Stir to make gravy, adding a little flour if necessary to thicken. Add meat mixture back to skillet and simmer until your pasta in finished. Add sour cream in just before serving... or heavy cream if, like me, you happened to be out.

Happy weekend, Friends. We love you here at TexasNorth! We reeeeeeeally do.

*photo above of Ry fending off the Reds. They are crazy friendly. I am not even kidding. I fully expect one of them to invite to tea soon.*

*PS! I totally forgot to tell you, but the smocks/aprons got some love over at Sew, Mama, Sew [click]!!! How fun is that!?*