Silent Sunday…(in a stock show barn)

A Story of Sheep, Friends, and Form

I have a friend named Connie.  We’ve been awesome friends for almost 28 years, as best we can remember. (Hey, who counts?) I love this woman.  She puts up with me, ThatManILove, my sons and my dogs and sticks by us closer than glue.  She's amazing.

I also have a young friend named Brooke.  You’ve seen her before on this blog.  She writes cookbooks.  She bakes.  She competes in lots of divisions in her local 4H club in photography, cooking, stock showing, lots of disciplines. She’s 11, almost 12.  We’ve been friends since Brooke was 1.5 years old. Not that I’m counting. Brooke is amazing, too.

Labor Day weekend found ThatManILove working.  Brooke and her family going out of town to a stock show.  Connie, in town.  We made plans to do dinner and hang out a bit.

Add unexpectedly, to the weekend, the fact that Brooke and her family needed a sheep sitter.  And they asked me. And since ThatManILove was out of town, I didn’t ask him, I just said, “Okay.  Leave me a list. Tell me where all the food is.  And keep your phone by your side in case I have questions.”  Elder Son showed steers in his youth, I know the drill.

It’s Friday.  I end up working late, until about 8:30 p.m..  And I’m not feeling very good.  As I leave the office, I thought, “I’d better take someone with me, it’s dark out there in those barns, and what if something happens?”

So, I call my friend, Connie.  And being the good friend she is, she puts down whatever she was working on (because you can bet she’s working) and treks out to the sticks with me.

Now Connie is a teeny tiny thing.  Last year, at the Dillard’s sale, she bought size 0 Antonio Melani pants.  (I’m still pissed about it.  I mean, who wears a size zero? Yeah.  My friend, Connie.  The heifer.) (Heifer is a term of endearment in our house, in case you're beginning to get your panties in a wad.  If you wear panties. But, I digress.)

We get out to Brooke’s, and figure out the automatic gate. We’re in!  We go look at the sheep.

We count the sheep.  I think, no, I know I heard Connie curse, without using any really bad curse words, quickly but profusely, in a very low voice.  And I think I heard my name in there. 

There are 16 sheep and 2 goats.  Two barn cats, and a brand new rescue kitten.  Spread out over several pens, and several acres.  And it’s dark.  Really, really dark. Did I tell you it was dark?

She looks at me, and says, (sounding amazingly like ThatManILove) “Oh...Jaaaaaanie.”

Outside of every pen, there is a white board.  And on every white board, there is a lamb tag number, and feeding directions per each tag number.  Each lamb and each goat gets a different amount, and sometimes, a different type of food.  And then, hay.  And water.

Realization sets in.  Connie and I look at each other, and she smiles and shakes her head.  “Janie, the stuff you get me in to...I swear.”

We get busy.  I go to the feed room, have to call Brooke’s parents to see which feed is which, and start hauling buckets out.

We get to pen one.  I go into the pen, open the feeding troughs, try my best to herd only one lamb into each trough, then close the feeding pen.  I come out of the big pen, and start measuring out what’s on the white board for that big pen of lambs.  And then, I realize, we can’t see the tag numbers.

Because it’s too freakin’ dark.

I start trying to grab ear tags.  As I reach down, the lamb backs up, and I’m trying to catch it, all the while holding my iPhone, for light.  I try, and try again. It’s not working.

Connie’s trying to climb up on the fence.  Remember, she’s little.  Tall, but  way lean. She gets up on the fence, balances her belly on the top bar, and leans waaaaaaay over to try to grab an ear tag, while I’m shining my mobile phone on the tag.

I get tickled.  I know one wrong move, and she’s tumped head first over that fence, right into that sheep trough.

She, then, gets tickled.  And then she realizes we have 15 more sheep to feed, after we figure out which one is in this particular trough.  Connie reaches down (by her looong stretch, she could have played basketball in high school), grabs that lamb tag, and screams “35!  It’s 35!  What’s this one’s name?”

It’s Atlas...or something like that.  (Heck, it was so traumatic, I can't remember now.) So I look up that lamb's feed, measure it out, and pour it into its trough.  And all of a sudden, we’re on a roll.  We're a lean, mean, feeding machine. We go through each name:  Tonto, Mater, Southern Belle, and on…we can't forget Cupcake, who had special food!  Connie balances on the top rail, leans in, I'm shining my mobile phone on the tag, and we’d feed…Blackfoot,  Blue Duct...I can’t remember all their names, but we finally got it done.  

Then, we had to hay.  And water.   And since it was so hot, we sprayed down the dirt in each pen.  Repeated the same thing with the goats.  The cats.  The new kitty.  All.In.The.Dark. By the light of our mobile phones.

We finally finished, knowing I had to be back out there at 8:30 a.m. for a complete rerun.    We backed out of the driveway, closed the automatic gate, and looked at each other and laughed.

We then, smelling amazingly like sheep poop, stopped by the convenience store so Connie could buy lottery tickets.  

It’s Friday night, people.  And there are all these beautiful people, dressed in their date clothes, going in and out of the store. We’re in the “high cotton” part of town.  You can see the customers surreptitiously sniffing the air, like “What’s that odor?”  I thought we were never going to get out of that store before someone we knew walked in and recognized us...and then smelled us.  Or vice-versa.

Yeah.  It’s not a good idea to wear tennis shoes to feed sheep...because sheep poop gets into every crevice of the bottom of those shoes.  

And funny enough, Connie found something she absolutely had to do and I don’t think I heard from her the rest of the weekend.

Now, I want to show you what Connie got me for Christmas.  The heifer.

But before I do?  I’d like to say something.

Connie, I love you, girl.  And I can still visualize your skinny butt and long legs, your perfectly (before this adventure) white tennis shoes, balancing on that top rail, feet angled up in the air, your head pointed down into the feed trough,  and and your arms outstretched like a high board diver, grabbing that lamb tag, then the next...over and over and over again.  

Olympians would pay millions to have that form.  Maybe not the sheep poop shoes, but that perfect form.  I think about it one time, and laugh so hard! I am still cracking up about it.

You Baaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh-d girl.  Thanks for the cool boots…AND the note! 

Brooke and Cash Chronicles, Part 2

So...

Back to the Brooke and Cash Chronicles.  Part 2.

If you need refreshing, go back and read here.

I finished my conference call, and walk out into the living room.  Cash expectantly looks up, with his sweet smile.

Cash:  Are you finished with your call?
Janie:  Yes, sir.  You ready to go?
Cash:  Yes, ma’am!!
Janie:   Okay, then we have to go to school to pick up Brooke, okay?
Cash:   Okay!

And off we truck to ToysRUs.  Meanwhile, ThatManILove has headed back out for the noon feeding of the sheep.

This time, for some reason, driving the Jeep.

And the watchdog neighbor comes tripping up to the barn.  “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” she asks.  And then, she looks.  

“Oh.  It’s you.  I should have known.  You left your truck running.”  And she stalks off.

TMIL just smiles, finishes feeding, heads into the house to change out a load of laundry and see what else he can get done.

Cash and I, meanwhile, are back at ToysRUs.  WHAT was I thinking?  This kid doesn’t even watch TV.  So, he doesn’t have a clue what the latest and greatest is, toy-wise.  And I?  Am clueless.  We start on one aisle, move to another, and another.  Then, back to the first aisle.  We never leave those aisles, until he picks out his Batman toy complete with all sorts of parts and accessories.  It’s as tall as Cash.

We take it home, unpack it, he plays with it for a bit, and we go get Brooke, run to Starbucks, and then back out to their house to get them ready for their 4H awards banquet.  They’ve not seen their mom in a day now, and they’re both ready for some Mommy love.  They are both soooo good.

We come back to our house, get them dressed, Brooke’s hair styled, and we’re off to meet their dad at the Midland County Fair. 

You’ll be glad to know that, yes, ThatManILove turned off his vehicle.

Why is it starting to smell like the sheep pens around my house??  

It's really baaaaaaaad.

The Brooke and Cash Chronicles Part 1

This past week found us smack-dab in the middle of the lives of Brooke and Cash, whose 60 year old grandfather Sam passed away, way before his time, last Tuesday.

My cohort in crime, Cash.

ThatManILove and I consider this family our extended family, from the kiddos all the way to the grandparents, so of course, we stepped in to help in any way we could.  We thought, “Oh, we’ll just do whatever is needed...we’ll help them pick up the slack.”

We’ve had some funny moments in a not-so-funny time...which, in retrospect, probably helped us, as well as the family, get through everything.

After leaving the grandparents house late Tuesday night, we show up at Brooke & Cash’ house Wednesday morning, both in our Sequoias, around 6:30 a.m.  ThatManILove goes immediately to the sheep pen, and starts feeding and exercising the show lambs.  I follow TMIL, driving up with breakfast for the family.  TMIL, for some reason, leaves his Sequoia running.  (this will be important later.)

Meanwhile, the neighbor gets nosy, and comes over to see “just who that is mucking around the property” and confronts TMIL.  He tells her that we’re there to help, and that the parental units know we’re there. (I don’t find this out until later.)  The kids’ father comes out to the barn and starts working.

As I’m taking over Mommy duties, I go wake the kiddos up, and feed them breakfast.  I have to leave to take Brooke to school about 8 a.m.  

About 7:50 a.m., I spy Brooke’s lunchbox...and realize it might need to be filled...before we leave.  I go ask Brooke about it, and she tells me what to pack.  Thanks, Brooke’s Mom, for planning ahead and having a cabinet/refrigerator full of food!  You saved me!  Whew!!

Brooke and I get her to school on time, and I come back out to the house.  Cash and I start cleaning up a bit.  Their dad comes in from the sheep pens, and gets ready for work (he has a practice to run) and TMIL comes in and starts helping Cash and I.  The neighbor returns, and starts helping as well.  She makes some remark about TMIL’s car is “still running”.  I don’t even put two and two together. (Keep this in the back of your head.)

We grab some laundry to take it to our house, along with Cash.  We get out to my car, and realize we have no booster seat (he’s 5).  I’ve got to take him to get a dress shirt for the funeral, so we head to the mall.  

Cash:  “Janie, I don’t feel comfortable without my booster seat.”

Janie:  “I know, buddy.  Your mom and dad are in the next town, so I can’t bother them right now.  Make you a deal.  As soon as we get your dress shirt, we’ll go buy you one.  ToysRUs is in the next parking lot, and that’s where we can buy it.”

Cash:   "Well, okay.  But I'm supposed to be in a booster."

We go to store 1 - no dress shirts.  Store 2 has a multitude, but none in his size  (5) in the desired color...so I, to his utter dismay, grab a pink one for him to try on. He’s just not having it.

Cash:  “Janie, I don’t like pink shirts.”

Janie:  “Cash, I just grabbed it so I could see what size you’ll wear, okay?”

Cash:  “Okay...but I’m serious.”

Janie:  (Please, God, let them have a blue one in his size.) “I got ya, Cashman. No pink.”  He won’t even try it on.

This kid cracks me up.  We find a blue one in the right size (6 - yup, he’s grown...or , looking at him now, maybe the shirt I grabbed for him this morning was a wee bit smaller than I initially thought!)  We’re checking out, and of course, there’s a huge gum ball machine at the register.  So, I have to break a one for quarters.  Cash-man promises not to eat them until after we go eat lunch.  And, he doesn’t!

We go to the car, he hops in the backseat, and I buckle him in.

Cash:  “Janie, can we go get my booster seat now?”

Janie:  “Yes, sir, we’re on the way.”

Cash:  “Do we have to go out on the street?”

Janie:  “Yes, we have to cross that street right there, and go into the next parking lot.”

Cash:  “But you’ll be careful, right?  Because I need my booster seat.  I’ll feel better.”

Janie:  “I’ll drive carefully, I promise.  You’re precious cargo.”

I say a little prayer for safety, we make it to ToysRUs, and Cash picks out his booster seat for our car.  And then, he asks if he can get a toy.

We’re on a time schedule.  I tell him if we get all our chores done, ThatManILove or I will bring him back, and he can shop.

Cash: “Well, because it’s been a pretty hard day, and I worked... a lot.”

Janie:  “Yes, it has been, and yes, you’ve worked your little patooty off.  You so deserve a toy.”

Cash:  “When your conference call is over, will you bring me back?”

Janie:  “I will.  I promise.  How’s that booster seat?”

Cash:  “It’s good.  I feel better now.  Are we gonna go meet TMIL for that hot dog? Coz I’m hungry.”

Janie:  “Yes, sir.  We are on the way.”

Cash:  “Okay.  I just want cheese on my hotdog.  And a Pepsi.  And BarBQ Chips.  Okay, Janie?”

God, I love these two kids.  Soooo thankful we’re part of their lives.

They crack me up…messing with my photo moments!

To be continued...

Some Companies Do Care…and United Airlines Rocks

I will never trash United Airlines.

Wednesday found ThatManILove and I on board a United Airlines flight, headed towards Denver on a business/AADE National Board meeting/fun trip.  We were close to the point where they tell you, “Ladies and gentlemen, the door is shut, please power down your electronic items.”

And I got the word that one of our friends had unexpectedly passed.  Our friend also is our little friend Brooke's grandfather.

I immediately started looking at a schedule online...trying to already get back home, before we’d even left.  (Not an easy thing to do, when you're trying to get back to Midland, Tx.)  ThatManILove took one look at that schedule, and stood up to go talk to the stewardess.  She stopped the last passengers attempting to board, and we gathered our things and left the plane.

The baggage handlers met us on the walkway, offered their condolences, and asked us for our baggage tags.  We each had a suitcase, and a shotgun case.

We walked up to the main terminal, and around to the United counter...where they refunded our airfare, brought our luggage, gave us their condolences, and sent us on our way.  Hotel?  Refunded every cent.  Rental car?  Refunded every cent.

There are still good people in this world, and they are people that care.

Thank you, United Airlines.  Thank you, Golden Hotel in Golden, Colorado, and thank you, National Car Rental.  

You all helped helped ease our way on a very tough day.

Brooke and her 4H "Jamie's Coconut Cake"

My 10 year old friend Brooke simply amazes me.  We've been good friends since she was 1 1/2 years old.  She works alongside me as my photography assistant, and takes every picture I take on a scheduled shoot. She's won statewide awards in 4H with her photos.  Already.  I LOVE this kid.  And she's not (yet) too big to play in the mud.

This is the end of her first year to raise, work, and show lambs, and she is rockin' Texas.  She just won her 1st Junior Showmanship Buckle in the Texas Best Sheep Show Series.  And now,  we are currently in the middle of our Midland County Livestock Show, and she won some major awards yesterday. (See video!)


While attending school, AND getting her animals ready for the show, 3 days ago, Brooke began the process of baking her cake for her Culinary Arts 4H submission. (During this time, her mom had to go to San Antonio to be with Brooke's grandfather for his surgery.) And at 10 p.m. last night, I arrived with the cake board and doily and watched as Brooke put together the icing ingredients for her cake entry.  Everything had to be made from scratch.  And people, that was some GOOD icing.


Did I tell you that this child has compiled a cookbook that is currently in it's fourth printing?  Read about it here.


She's 10, people.  Ten.  1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10.


Meet my friend Brooke.  She's funny, smart, and has a heart of gold.  I love this child.  Oh, wait.  I said that already.

Update on The Brothers

Wow.  Time has flown by! Thanks for all your comments and prayers.

In reference to my “Cancer Sucks” post, my brother-in-law is doing well post surgery. Once ThatManILove got off his current well, we went and stayed with them a couple of days and had a lovely time!

His pathology report came back clear, which is excellent news.  I appreciate your continued prayers for Mark.

At the same time, we received a report that TMIL’s oldest brother, Mike, is out of remission and he’s undergoing chemo again.

Man.  So I’m going to hold my thought: cancer still sucks.  But I’m praying for another miracle!  Join me, if you will.

Since I last wrote, I’ve been in Houston, Waco, Dallas, and Denver.  It snowed 10 inches in Denver, and when I left that lovely city, it was a cool 17 degrees.  Brrrrr!

I’ll be heading to Houston twice this week, once for a meeting, and the second time for the American Association of Drilling Engineers Fin Feather Fur Food Fest!  I will quit eating, in preparation for this huge Thursday gala, on Monday.  If you’re near Humble, Texas, buy a ticket and come on!  Everything cooked has to be wild game, either fin, feather, or fur related.  It is so much fun...I’ll post pictures!

My friend Brooke, at her brother's MUD birthday party in May. Love this picture!

My little friend Brooke, who is 10, helped me do baby bump shots yesterday.  I’ll be editing her pix today (she shot right alongside me), but here she is, doing art work on the mommy’s tummy.

Brooke, working away!  Heather, mommy of the baby bump, was quite impressed!

End result of Brooke's art work.

We had a great time!

Happy parents-to-be!

When I left  Brooke yesterday, she was shearing her lambs in preparation for a stock show this morning, 2 hours away.  She's a hard working little girlie, and I love her so!

Brooke, shearing her show lamb.

Hope your week is lovely. Thanks for hanging with me!