Saturday encore ~ Snaps vs Buttons

I had to go wayyy back in the archives to find this one – originally posted in August 2008. I thought of it as I was looking in my closet, trying to decide what to wear today. What does one wear to a pie festival? What does one do at a pie festival besides eat pie? We'll all find out soon. I promise to bring back pictures. Smooch is going with me. I wonder what kind of pie she likes?

I prefer snaps to buttons - snaps don't fall off, get lost, or need to be sewn back on. And I really like the sound they make when you close and open them. Buttons don't make cool sounds.

The first man to design shirts with snaps, Jack Weil, died this week. He was said to be the country's oldest CEO. He was still going to work every day when he died...at the age of 107! The company he founded in 1946 is called Rockmount Ranch Wear. Many movie stars and country/western singers have worn Rockmount shirts; even Elvis wore them.



I bought this Rockmount shirt four years ago and have worn it maybe four times. I LOVE this shirt, but I loathe ironing. It is the one piece of clothing in my closet that I have not ruined by wearing in the barn to do chores...yet.

The next time I put it on and close all those snaps, I'll think of Mr. Weil and his contributions to society - chief among them, shirts that snap.

An unsolved mystery

When you're raised to believe that things happen for a reason, then there is no such thing as a coincidence. The people you meet, the things you see, and the events that occur all fit together in some order over which you have no control. You may not understand them at the time, if ever, but if you can piece together the puzzle, then perhaps your life will make more sense. Or not. Time marches on regardless, but I believe the more you can figure out what the world is trying to tell you, the better your chances of leading a full and rich life. That's the way my mind works anyway.

Several events have occurred at the 7MSN over the past few days...and years...which, when added together, seem to be telling me something. I don't have a freakin' clue what that is yet, but I sure am having fun trying to figure it all out.

This all started the day I moved to the 7MSN. My friend Kim was helping me move and arrived first in the convoy of vehicles. She spotted a large turtle in the driveway and moved it out of harm’s way before he got run over.

Not quite three years later, in June 2008, I saw the turtle again and wrote about it here. A dear friend had recently passed away, and I named the turtle Steve in his honor.

A year later, while my sister was visiting, we spotted Turtle Steve while out on a walk with Smooch. That was the last time I saw him...until this past Saturday. Carolynn and I were walking Smooch down the road about a half mile from the house when I looked down and there he was! Or so I thought.

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I was absolutely thrilled to see Steve again, but could only wonder why he timed his appearances to coincide with the arrival of house guests.


After the requisite photo shoot, we set him back on the ground and sent him on his merry way.



The next morning, we were just out the front gate and there he was again! I couldn't resist the temptation to pick him up and relocate him to my garden.

The girls extended him a warm welcome...

...and wondered, as did I , if he would stick around.

But then I realized that the turtle in the garden was not the turtle I had spotted the day before out on the road – the coloring on their legs was very different. I dug up an old picture of Steve to compare it to my garden turtle.


After an exhaustive forensic analysis, I can confidently say that the garden turtle is indeed Steve. He didn't stick around, but he now knows where he can get a free handout and I'm certain he'll be back.

But what about the other turtle? What's his story? And why did two turtles suddenly appear this weekend out of nowhere? And why do they show up only when I have house guests? What does it all mean? And why do I keep humming the theme to "Twilight Zone"? I have a feeling this story is far from over.

Something this good must be shared

I saw a tv commercial the other night that stopped me in my tracks. It was for Yoplait Whips. While I am a devout consumer of Yoplait Light (White Chocolate Strawberry-flavored, please, and only 100 calories per container), I'd never heard of this Whips stuff.

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The tv lady said that the Whips could be eaten refrigerated or frozen. Frozen? Hmmm. I might have to try that, I thought.



Advertiser's dream that I am, on my last trip to Walmart, I picked up a few containers of Yoplait Whips – the Orange Cream and Key Lime flavors – and stuck them in the freezer.

But before we go there, how is it that Yoplait at my Walmart used to cost 74 cents but for the past few months costs only 58 cents? That makes no sense. I'm not complaining, because spending 74 cents on six ounces of anything makes me feel guilty no matter how good it tastes, but now that it's only 58 cents, well let's just buy a whole case. Where were we? Oh, yeah. The Whips.



Despite the fact that Smooch has her own yogurt treats to snack on, I always let her lick my yogurt container once I've extracted as much as I possibly can with my spoon.



And we're both here to tell you that this frozen Yoplait Whips stuff is stinkin' good. (And Yoplait has no idea who I am and is not paying me to say this.) The texture, the taste, the price ... it all adds up to our new favorite snack. Smooch and I wanted to share this news so you could enjoy it, too. Bone appétit.

Saturday encore ~ And it only took 16 years to figure this out

It's been almost a year since I finally uncovered the secret to making a good cup of coffee in New Mexico. I wrote about this life-changing discovery in two posts last summer, which I've combined for this encore.

I love my morning coffee. My day does not begin officially until I've had an entire pot. But here's the rub – the coffee I make has always tasted pretty bad compared to that you will find in other kitchens, and it's never hot enough. I've tried different coffee makers, different coffee beans, different coffee cups, now I even make it with bottled water. Still, my coffee never makes the grade. It's drinkable, it kick-starts my day, but it doesn't ever make me smile and say, "ahhhh, now that's a great cup of coffee."

I was bemoaning my coffee conundrum one recent morning while on vacation, as I sat at the breakfast table sipping the perfect cup of steaming hot java, fresh from a bottom-of-the-line Mr. Coffee maker. "Why doesn't my coffee ever taste this good or get this hot?" I whined. After much deliberation by a group of knowledgable adults, we decided to blame the altitude. The altitude?

The 7MSN sits over a mile above sea level - 6,253 feet to be exact. Water boils at a lower temperature up here, hence the water inside my coffee maker never reaches the proper temperature for making the perfect cup of coffee...or something like that. Clearly, science was never my best subject or I might have figured this out 16 years ago when I moved to Albuquerque (altitude 5,280 feet).

So what's a high-altitude-living rancher-woman to do? Google "high altitude coffee maker," that's what. And lo and behold, there really is such a thing! Have I mentioned lately how much I love the internet? In fact, Bunn makes several high-altitude models. Who knew and why didn't they tell me? Just when I thought life couldn't get any better, now I'll be able to get a decent cup of coffee around here. It won't be like having a Starbucks on the corner...it will be better.


The long-anticipated moment of truth

Seems like whenever I have to head out to pick up a critically important package, it rains, the dirt road turns to slop, and the trip turns into a minor adventure. I suppose this is nature's way of making me appreciate that which I am about to receive.

Smooch faithfully accompanies me on these package pick-up trips. She gets just as excited as I do about big brown boxes.


But no trip is so important that we can't pause for a moment to share our news with our neighbors.

We're on the way to the post office! The package is here!

Leave it to a blasé bovine to burst my bubble.

Smooch's excitement turns to caution when she realizes the package is bigger than she is.


I have been awaiting this delivery for 19 days, but really for 16 years...since I moved to New Mexico...where the altitude is high and the coffee is bad.

The moment of truth occurred at 6:00 this morning. In a side-by-side taste test where I pitted my $35 Mr. Coffee against the $100 Bunn GRX-B High-Altitude brewer, the results are in...


The new machine is worth every penny. The coffee comes out the perfect temperature and tastes like ... well, like coffee! Stop on by for a cup if you're ever in the neighborhood.

The elephant in the room

Go ahead. Ask. You know you want to. The question's been popping into your mind every time you've come to visit for the past week, but you've been too polite to blurt it out.

Are you going to get another horse?

Yes.

This was not an automatic decision. I've thought about it long and hard over the past few days, to the exclusion of everything else...with the minor exception of Sunday's hockey game. I'll spare you all the conversations I've had with myself and jump right to the conclusion:

– Riding horses is what I do and a fundamental part of who I am. Heck, it's why I moved to the middle of nowhere in the first place.

– Hank has earned his retirement; I'm not going to make him carry me around on his arthritic knees.

– I need a horse to ride, and Hank needs a buddy. He and the burrito brothers get along famously, but it's not the same as having one of his own kind to keep him company.

So another horse is in our future – a horse with hooves of steel; a hardy horse who exemplifies Darwin's theory of "natural selection"; a horse whose loyalty is unwavering once you earn his trust; a horse who will feel right at home on the range.

A mustang.

I called the folks at the Wild Horse Inmate Program in Colorado yesterday to get the scoop on adopting a prisoner-trained BLM mustang. (Long-time readers will remember that this is the same place where I adopted George and Alan. And if you've run out of movies to order from Netflix, check out "Wild Horse Redemption," which is all about the inmate program.) I've also been in touch with the Mustang Heritage Foundation to see if any of their trainers in New Mexico might have a BLM mustang saddle-trained and ready for adoption. One way or another, a BLM mustang will be joining the herd some time in the next several months.

Alrighty then. With that particular elephant out of the room, now you're probably wondering what I will name said mustang. All I can tell you at this point is the mustang will be a gelding, so "Sally" is out of the running.

What's green, comes in a trash bag, and is a certain rancher-woman's reason for living?

Roasted green chile.


I wish you could smell this. Smokey, pungent, and intoxicating, nothing beats the aroma of roasted green chiles in September in New Mexico. I've got a green-chile buzz just typing the words.

When I moved here 16 years ago, I didn't know green chile existed. Had I known, I would have relocated a whole lot sooner. Putting up a sack of green chile in the fall has become a tradition.


I peel and remove the seeds, then place the green chile filets in baggies to store in the freezer.


I count the baggies and divide by 52 so that I'll know exactly how much green chile I can consume each week without running out before next year's harvest.

Everything goes better with green chile – eggs, burgers, steak, chicken...margaritas. I'll even grab a forkful and eat it plain as a snack. Come September, there's only one other green thing that makes me smile as much as chile.


The boys have their stash and I have mine. We're as ready for winter as we'll ever be.

The long-anticipated moment of truth

Seems like whenever I have to head out to pick up a critically important package, it rains, the dirt road turns to slop, and the trip turns into a minor adventure. I suppose this is nature's way of making me appreciate that which I am about to receive.

Smooch faithfully accompanies me on these package pick-up trips. She gets just as excited as I do about big brown boxes.


But no trip is so important that we can't pause for a moment to share our news with our neighbors.

We're on the way to the post office! The package is here!


Leave it to a blasé bovine to burst my bubble.

Smooch's excitement turns to caution when she realizes the package is bigger than she is.


I have been awaiting this delivery for 19 days, but really for 16 years...since I moved to New Mexico...where the altitude is high and the coffee is bad. If you missed the post about why this is so, you can catch up here.

The moment of truth occurred at 6:00 this morning. In a side-by-side taste test where I pitted my $35 Mr. Coffee against the $100 Bunn GRX-B High-Altitude brewer, the results are in...


The new machine is worth every penny. The coffee comes out the perfect temperature and tastes like ... well, like coffee! Stop on by for a cup if you're ever in the neighborhood.

And it only took 16 years to figure this out

I love my morning coffee. My day does not begin officially until I've had an entire pot. But here's the rub – the coffee I make has always tasted pretty bad compared to that you will find in other kitchens, and it's never hot enough. I've tried different coffee makers, different coffee beans, different coffee cups, now I even make it with bottled water. Still, my coffee never makes the grade. It's drinkable, it kick-starts my day, but it doesn't ever make me smile and say, "ahhhh, now that's a great cup of coffee."

I was bemoaning my coffee conundrum one recent morning while on vacation, as I sat at the breakfast table sipping the perfect cup of steaming hot java, fresh from a bottom-of-the-line Mr. Coffee Maker. "Why doesn't my coffee ever taste this good or get this hot?" I whined. After much deliberation by a group of knowledgable adults, we decided to blame the altitude. The altitude?

The 7MSN sits over a mile above sea level - 6,253 feet to be exact. Water boils at a lower temperature up here, hence the water inside my coffee maker never reaches the proper temperature for making the perfect cup of coffee...or something like that. Clearly, science was never my best subject or I might have figured this out 16 years ago when I moved to Albuquerque (altitude 5,280 feet).

So what's a high-altitude-living rancher-woman to do? Google "high altitude coffee maker," that's what. And lo and behold, there really is such a thing! Have I mentioned lately how much I love the internet? In fact, Bunn makes several high-altitude models. Who knew and why didn't they tell me? Just when I thought life couldn't get any better, now I'll be able to get a decent cup of coffee around here. It won't be like having a Starbucks on the corner...it will be better.

Friday Favorites ~ World Wide Wonderment

O Internet, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

When you get to the heart of the matter, the whole reason I can live and thrive in the middle of nowhere is because of the Internet. It's my link to civilization. I am able to earn a living without setting foot off the ranch solely because of this marvel of technology. This Internet thing, it's a miracle.

I can be as reclusive and independent as I want to be, yet stay on top of current events, shop til I drop, learn about anything and everything, connect with family and friends, even make new friends. In all seriousness, I could not live this life without the Internet.

Aside from my favorite blogs, I have a bunch of regular stops on the Internet that I make every day. Since the 7MSN isn't on anybody's paper route, I make do with the online editions of the Washington Post and NY Times. Then I check the latest equine news and health information at thehorse.com. No day would be complete without the day's Doonesbury. I'll even fess up to a daily dose of celebrity gossip at People magazine. I don't have to stay up late to watch Letterman because I can read his Top Ten list the next morning online. And all of this stuff is free! How is that even possible?

Then we get down to the practical sites, like online banking. How did I ever live without bill pay? And the weather radar, and Flickr, and craigslist, and audible.

As much time as I spend on the Internet, I've barely scratched the surface of interesting places to go. Aside from blogs, what are your favorite places online? What am I missing? What sites make your life better or easier that I should know about? Expand my horizons - let me know in the comments or do your own post and tell me where to look.

I'll close with what I believe is one of the coolest things about the Internet, and that is the ability to connect people for the purpose of doing good things. Some of you may be readers of the Fat Cyclist's blog. He's an hysterically funny writer even if you aren't a gear-head, and his wife Susan is fighting a battle with cancer. Fatty is helping in the fight by raising funds for the Lance Armstrong Foundation, and Pioneer Woman is holding a raffle today the help Fatty help Susan. That's a whole lotta helping going on, and you can be a helper, too. The raffle tickets are only $5, and the prize if you win is a Nikon D80 and Photoshop software. Go here for all the scoop.

Here's looking at you...Carson

Not to worry! You're in the right place. Welcome to the new, improved 7MSN blog.

A few months back, I finally dumped the old Blogger template and had someone create a new design for my home away from home. And it was ok, and I could post bigger pictures, but it just...wasn't...me.

This new look? This is me. I found a template that I could customize to my heart's content, deciding on the colors and the fonts and where to put all those gadgety things. Whew. I was in a full-scale identity crisis there for awhile. Not unlike the identity crisis I went through when I moved to New Mexico.

Throughout high school and for my entire adult life, my friends and colleagues always called me by my last name. Carson was who I was, not Linda. When I pulled up stakes and headed west, the people I met here didn't accept that. Despite my best attempts to tell them "my name is Linda but everybody calls me Carson," everybody in New Mexico called me Linda. They didn't get that Linda was not who I was. I finally gave up and tried to adjust. That was 16 years ago, and I couldn't just apply a new template and make everything right.

But today, I can apply a new template to my blog and go back to being myself. I can't begin to tell you how much better that makes me feel.

And as for Smooch? She calls me mom, and that's just fine with me.

The fuss about facebook

All this social networking stuff is making me feel a little unsettled. Here I was, all comfy at home at my blog, merrily sharing my life and my animals with anybody who wants to stop by, then along comes facebook.

If you've not joined the facebook frenzy, it's probably just a matter of time. You'll get an e-mail from a friend who has joined, requesting that you join, and you'll oblige. Then you'll find yourself in this mysterious place where you can choose your friends and they can choose you...or not.  And you can read about what your friends are doing that very second. And facebook feeds you pictures of people you might know from high school or college or a previous job, and you can see what they look like many years after the fact. And they can see what you look like many years after the fact. The whole thing is so freakin' bizarre, my head is spinning.

And what's even more bizarre to me is that my facebook friends tend to be people I used to know or know now in person, yet they're generally not readers of this blog. But I feel closer to my blog-reader friends because they know me now and they know my animals and what goes on out here on a daily basis. Granted, there are a few crossover exceptions (Hi, Carolynn, Victoria, Pat in East Tn, Kathleen, Marie, Bibi, and Sully!), but by and large, it's two different worlds. I just don't get it.

But this I do know. I am having dinner tonight with someone I haven't seen in 36 years (that's not a typo).  And it's all because of facebook. And I'm still not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing. And I'm not sure if I should blog about it, or write about it on my wall, or just turn this darned computer off and pick up the phone and tell you about it. Because I'll have to tell somebody. 

Smooch?

You know you live in the middle of nowhere when...

Jeff Foxworthy built an entire franchise around "You know you might be a redneck when..."

Some of those redneck things do apply to me, but I've got a little different twist on the concept.

"You know you live in the middle of nowhere when..."

...when your telephone book is two pages long.



...when your name is the only listing under the Cs.


...when long-distance charges apply to call any number that's not in your phone book.


Life in the middle of nowhere – I wouldn't have it any other way.

George and Alan's favorite Superbowl commercial

Football is not my favorite sport, but I'll be watching the Superbowl today just to see what my favorite Clydesdales are up to this year. I've read that there will be three different spots featuring these giants.

And maybe there will be one or two other memorable commercials...like this next one, which is another of my all-time favorites.



Enjoy the game.

I love it when My New President sends me e mail

My new president (ok, our new president – I suppose I have to share him) has been sending me e mails for a few months now. Sure, they're probably not collector's items that I can sell on ebay, but I still save them. I love it how we're on a first-name basis.


I didn't get one from him yesterday, though. He was kind of busy. Geez oh man, talk about a full day.

I got up extra early to feed and spend time outside with the boys, knowing I wouldn't be able to drag myself away from the tv later. Was it just me or did you think the day dawned a little brighter, too?




I've never been more grateful to be a telecommuter. I was glued to the coverage all day and night, and fell asleep to Larry King interviewing Tim Gunn (and no, I didn't have nightmares).



When I'm old and senile and sitting in my rocking chair with a lap robe and laptop, I'll be able to look back on this post and remember where I was and what I was doing on January 20, 2009. And I'll click on that folder named "emails from Barack" and be able to re-live the years when he led my country out of a great big mess.

Where were you...

Years from now, I think we all might pause now and then to remember where we were and what we were doing on this election day.

Smooch wasn't all that impressed when Pennsylvania was called for Obama, but I was.


Snapper and Rosebud couldn't understand what all the fuss was about when Ohio was called for Obama.


I'll remember sitting on my couch, listening to our new president, and being a little less cynical and a little more hopeful about the years to come.

Our animals are a reflection of ourselves

A little worried...

Relaxing, but still not ready to let our guard down...

Hopeful...

Looking forward to tomorrow...

Proud to be living in a state that's leaning blue.

Smooch, you're such a political animal.

Not so silent Sunday

My mind has been muddled with too many thoughts lately and I've got to dump them somewhere to make way for new ones.

Four months ago, it cost me $107 to fill up my truck. Yesterday, it cost me $61. Huh?

It's 6:30 in the morning and I'm wide awake and the sun is shining. This was not the case yesterday. I'm all for change, but not this kind.

I lived in Washington, DC for 15 years and developed a deep distain for politics, politicians, and pundits. So why am I watching Anderson Cooper and Rachel Maddow and Keith Olbermann and Campbell Brown and even Larry King, for god's sake, every stinkin' day? Why do I care so much about this presidential election when I slept through the last eight? Judging by the early voting turnouts and number of new voter registrations, I'm not the only one.

Being president of the United States has got to be the worst job in the world, bar none. What kind of person would want that kind of responsibility? Just look at the before and after pictures.

The Washington Post reminded me this morning that "Sometime late into Tuesday evening, many Americans will feel like losers." Say nothing of the candidate who doesn't get elected. Their advice is to learn from the experience, and not do something drastic, say move to France.

I'm hosting an election-results-watching party here Tuesday night – for just me and Smooch, of course, but I'm making a special dinner and bought a nice bottle of wine. This is a big deal.

For now, I'm going to saddle up my horse on this gorgeous, sunny morning and think about where his feet are going instead of where the country might be going. Some things I can control.

I just want it to end

The finger pointing, the negative campaigning, the lies, the spins...I just want this election season to be over!  Come on, now.  Who hasn't made up their mind already? And you know what? 

You CAN put lipstick on a pig, and it's still a pig.

A public service announcement

Warning: this post has nothing to do with my herd of entertaining animals.

A few months ago, I was listening to one of my favorite weekly podcasts, This American Life, from Chicago Public Radio. It featured a fascinating, thoroughly understandable explanation of the subprime mortgage crisis - what it is and how it happened. I was listening to it while walking Smooch down the road, and light bulbs kept going off above my head. Now I get it! I was lighting up the whole neighborhood.

Last week, This American Life followed up with a fascinating, thoroughly understandable explanation of the current financial crisis and bailout. This economic fiasco is an historic event and, by God, I wanted to understand it. And now I do. Well, sort of. Don't make me take a test or anything.

Here are the links to these two radio shows. Each one lasts about an hour, and you can listen to them for free on your computer.

The bailout
Another Frightening Show About the Economy

The subprime mortgage crisis
A Giant Pool of Money

Who among us couldn't use one of these?

Fess up, readers. Who among us isn't afraid of taking a tumble off our horse? The older we get, the more acute our fear becomes. We don't bounce like we did in our youth. We know the consequences of falling...pain, loss of use, a five-hour wait at the ER.

I heard a news story today and couldn't help but think this device should be re-purposed for equestrians.

Japanese firm unveils wearable airbag for elderly
A Japanese company unveiled a wearable airbag for the elderly that pops out when they fall. The 1.1 kilogram (2.4 pound) airbag looks like a traveler's waist pouch but inflates in one-tenth of a second when sensors detect the wearer has taken a tumble. The Tokyo-based company, Prop, unveiled the 148,000 yen (1,400 dollars) device at a fair of products for the elderly and people with disabilities.


OK, so we may have to desensitize our steeds to yet another scary object, but it would be worth it, don't you think?

Unless, of course, you ride in the desert, get dumped on a cactus and the darned thing deflates upon impact.