These Boots are Made for Walkin

Bryn picked out her first pair of cowgirl boots last night. She was SOOOOO excited about them, and they really do suit her perfectly. She wore them to a very eventful trip to the grocery store and got no fewer than five compliments on them--every girl's dream.

Everyone, please take a moment and imagine the perfect pair of boots for the world's girliest girl. Have a mental image?

Now, compare what you were thinking to the real thing.

How close were you?

Give yourself 5 points if you guessed the color.

Give yourself another 5 points if you guessed the toe and heel shape.

Give yourself a bonus 65 points if you could have ever imagined the straps of "bling" draped across each one.

One final question--worth up to an extra 25 points (could bring your total up to 100, for those of you keeping score). Now imagine how happy Bryn looks in them (and how great they are for dancing), and compare to reality.

Inventory

Maybe it's just me, but I've always lived with the illusion that grocery checkers don't mentally inventory your purchases. Perhaps this self-perpetuating myth was born during my formative years, when some cute boy was checking groceries and I had to buy some unmentionables. I had nearly convinced myself that checkers are WAY too busy to really care or notice what I buy.

My first hint was several years ago, when I was on a very healthy kick, and the checker noted how much fresh produce I was buying. Since I, too, was proud of myself, I didn't think more about it. The myth cracked further a few months back when a very chatty young woman wanted to share parenting tips with me as she scanned the Pull-Ups I was buying. I let it slide, thinking she was just overwhelmed with pride in her accomplishment that--in one weekend--her daughter had learned to stay dry all night because she literally woke her up every 15 minutes to use the bathroom. Technically, I should not know that many details, but I do.

The remains of the illusion crumbled tonight. Fortunately, there was nothing embarrassing or unusual in my basket. But I can no longer tell myself--with any honesty-- that they don't notice. Thanks for busting my bubble, Bradley.

First, it was my chocolate milk. As he scanned it, Bradley noted that Promise Land chocolate milk is REALLY good. (which I politely confirmed...I was--after all--buying it.) He went on to pitch another type of milk that was a little healthier--"well, you know, healthy for chocolate milk"--because it had vitamins added and "some other stuff." Sadly, this endorsement came without vital details like the product name, but no matter. PromiseLand does me right, so I'm set.

Next, he had to comment on how the meat department really made his job difficult as he wrestled with the labels to get them to scan. I felt like an accomplice since I had clearly picked the most difficult sausage to scan. Sorry, dude. I'll look for straighter labels next time.

Finally, as he picked up my graham cracker crust, he offered "mmmm. What kind of pie are you making?" Honestly, man, I'm not inviting you over so what difference does it make? Which, of course, I didn't say. Instead, I said, "a pudding pie. My daughter and husband really like those." (Thinking: didn't you notice the PUDDING I bought?) Bradley: "Yeah, those are really good."

Sorry if all of this is news to you--if you thought that no one noticed if you bought cereal with extra fiber or feminine products or pregnancy tests or six varieties of ice cream or the like.

Because they do.

You say Goodbye and I say Hello

Ah, blessed March. Welcome.

In our house, February is easily the craziest month of the year. It even trumps the Thanksgiving/Christmas holiday/birthday season in the fall. Growing up, we called it "busy season" because my father was a CPA--and spring tax time was always nutty for him. I'm fortunate as an adult that our family has limited that to just a month and a half in late January and most of February.

So, farewell Stock Show, farewell week-long EPA training, farewell insane project deadline, farewell pleasure-travel-alone-with-a-three-year-old-and-multiple-airplane-changes-with-only-a-2-hour-battery-life-on-the-DVD-player. It's been fun.

Also...Farewell, Pappa Gallo.

We are extremely excited to announce the sale of the first bull calf born to Rafter W. I'm sure he is going to a good home, but with four more calves coming this spring, I'm technically more interested in not having to feed him anymore. Sounds harsh probably, but we're in the business of raising cows (as Beau regularly reminds me) not bulls. So off with you.

On to the Hello's.

As mentioned. Hello, March. Hello, beautiful weather. Hello, time to work on household projects. Hello, Beau's raise and grade increase.

And hello to our newest addition to Rafter W. Check out the adorable family picture. Daddy (Coat 45) on the left, Momma (Adell) on the right, and the presently unnamed (other than the uninspired "87") heifer in the middle. Ah, aren't little baby things so cute.

And speaking of little baby things....I'm fairly confident that only people who know this already read this blog (assuming that ANYONE still reads it given how sporadically I contribute to it), Beau and I are expecting a little baby thing this fall--mid to late September to be exact. So, farewell slight-but-constant-nausea in the evenings and hello second trimester.