What's a Weekend????

Got to love me!

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Name:
Location: Riverside, California

So you think you want to know about me?!? Well that's a complicated thing. Some people think I am a very nice person, while others swear that I am satan in the flesh. Some think that I know everything, and again others treat me as a dumb blonde. I can tell you that I work 6 to 7 days a week, love my family, don't know what a weekend is or what I would do with my time if I had one. I love the country, hate stupid Orange County people, and lived in Hollywood for 3 years. I believe in God, but don't think that one religion has gotten it right. I have a tattoo and want more, I don't think that there is anything wrong with body piercing. I think that you should be able to speak and read ENGLISH in order to vote or drive in this county and if that make's me a bad person, oh well, deal with it.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

It's Been Awhile - Kira 1st B-Day, Halloween & Christmas





Friday, May 15, 2009

The Price of LInving in California

I go to the grocery store about every two to three weeks. I was last at the store about two weeks ago before I went last night. Now I don’t shop at any of the “fancy” stores, I shop at good old Stater Brothers’. If you’re not familiar with Stater’s, let me tell you it’s as cheap as you can get, price wise, without having to shop at the discount stores that sell seconds. If you are not familiar with these stores, Food 4 Less, Maxi Foods, Cardenas, etc, these stores are allowed to sell products that are past their expiration date. They are not classified as grocery stores, but as discount stores. My only other option is to drive about 30 minutes away to WinCo, who’s prices are comparable to Stater’s. Let me just say…

HOLY SH!T BATMAN!!!!!

As I was walking through the store I noticed that they had all kinds of “sale” price tags on items. I didn’t think much of it at first because we are coming up on Memorial Day. Then I noticed that some of the items that I regularly buy were on “sale” for what I had paid for them two weeks ago or more! Two weeks ago Coolaide was $0.25 per pack they are now $0.33 per pack and were on sale 4 for $1.00. Some of the food that I buy for Kira had gone up about $0.49 and was on sale for $0.25 more than I paid for it two weeks ago. Milk is no costing me almost $4.00 per ½ gallon. Eggs are $4.00 to $5.00 per dozen. I buy bananas every time I go to the store, not last night. Usually they are about $0.42 per pound and really nice looking. Last night they were $0.67 per pound and looked like they had been through the freezer! Gross! Most all the fruit was either nowhere near ripe or so ripe I need to eat it today. But if you want to eat, precooked, preservative laden, frozen Banquet Dinners they were on sale 10 for $10.

No wonder Americans are so fat!!

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Got to Love the Baby Love...





Thursday, February 05, 2009

YOUR HORSES ARE ON FIRE

© Baron Tayler

Published in ANVIL Magazine, August 1993

Much as I love shoeing horses, my business interests have led me to design, patent, and manufacture machinery for farmers who work with draft animals.

Since the farmers and teamsters who use my machine work with draft animals almost exclusively, I acquired a few Percherons. They're the kindest, gentlest, most easygoing creatures on earth, but owning them created a problem for me. I had only ten acres of pasture; that's a little more than three acres a horse - hardly enough to feed three 1800-pound horses year 'round without haying.

Luckily, a nearby farmer has a large pasture that he hasn't used since he retired. I moseyed over and asked if I could use the pasture for the Percherons during the winter when I'd run out of grass. You should have seen his cataract-clouded eyes light up! He told me he'd just turned 91 years old and had mourned the day he had sold his last team and converted to tractors. Yes, he said, he'd love to have the horses in his pasture.

October rolled around, and the horses finally ate the last stalk of grass in their field. I walked them down the road and let them into the large pasture which was knee deep in lush forage. They were in horsey heaven.

January arrived, and the horses had grown long, thick winter coats. The weather had been cold, but little in the way of snow. The field had a clump of trees in the middle and when it snowed, the horses snuggled up under a huge pine and slept.

With the first big snow came trouble. I was sitting at the breakfast table when the phone rang. It was a lady who lived in a house next to the pasture. She wanted to know if I owned the big horses. I told her that I did and asked her if there was something wrong. "The horses have no building to go into to get out of the snow," she said. I explained that they had the big trees to stand under, and that their dense coat was an excellent insulator. I assured her that the horses were quite comfortable. Semi-satisfied, she let me return to breakfast.

The following day the woman called back, and in a firm voice told me she was sure the horses were cold. I asked her how she knew this. "Because they look cold," she replied. "And, in what way do they look cold?" I countered. Silence. Not a word for 30 seconds. Finally, she said, "I just know they're cold!" "Okay, okay," I replied, "Why don't you meet me in the pasture in five minutes and, if the horses are cold, I'll take them into a barn." She agreed.

We met five minutes later. "Will they hurt me?" she asked. "Do they kick or bite?" It started to dawn on me that this woman was a busybody do-gooder who knew absolutely nothing about horses. With time on her hands, she probably decided that my horses needed rescuing and appointed herself their savior.

As soon as we entered the pasture, the horses trotted over looking for attention - three 1800-pound "puppy dogs." After she watched me pet them for a few minutes, I asked her if they looked cold. "Well, no," she replied, "But it's hard to tell with all the hair." "Why don't you put your hand on one and see if it feels cold to the touch?" I asked. It was obvious she had never touched a horse before. Hesitantly, she reached out and touched one. "Well," she said, "I have to admit that they do feel warm, but I still wish they had a barn to go into."

Just then one of the horses dropped a big, steaming pile of manure on the snow. She stood looking at it, quite puzzled. "What's wrong?" I asked. No reply at first. Then she said, "Why isn't the horse standing in the pile?" "Why would he do that?" I asked. "Because it would keep his feet warm," she replied. That snapped it! I was trying to talk logically with a certified nut case! I left her standing in the field.

The snow melted a few days later, and I heard nothing more. Then another storm hit that promised to be a keeper. With the temperature staying well below freezing, I knew the snow wouldn't melt for a while, which meant I had to start feeding bales of hay until the snow was gone. Since my daytime schedule was hectic, I found it easier to feed at night, usually around midnight. Two days after the snow had stopped falling, the old farmer called me. He said the woman was bothering him again, claiming the horses were not being fed. I assured him they were and told him of my nightly ritual.

The local animal protection society called the next day, explaining they received a report that I was starving my horses. I invited one of their inspectors to come out and see for himself. When the inspector arrived, I showed him the hay scattered over the field and explained my feeding schedule. I told him about the woman who believed horses should stand in their manure. I asked him to confirm my nightly feedings with a neighbor who had seen me feeding the horses. He did and was satisfied that the woman was, in his own words, a "Looney Tune."

A few weeks went by and along came another dusting of snow. The temperature hovered just around freezing, the snow melting as it hit the ground. The local animal control officer called. He was laughing so hard it was difficult to understand him. "Could I come over?" he asked.

Fifteen minutes later he arrived, still laughing. His face was as red as a beet! I thought he was going to have a coronary on the spot. Finally, calmed down to a mild chuckle, he told me that a woman had reported my horses were on fire!

The officer apologized for the inconvenience of his visit, but it was office policy to investigate each complaint. I was too busy laughing to even notice. Regaining control of myself, I climbed into the officer's truck, and off we went to check on my "roasting" horses. When we arrived at the field, the sun was just starting to break through the clouds. Three gorgeous Percherons were standing there, contentedly munching on grass. Thick columns of steam rose off them as evaporated moisture in their coats condensed in the cold air. The officer and I were awed by the beauty of it, but soon the spell was broken. We both started chuckling again, almost rolling on the ground. "Your horses are on fire!" the officer roared.

I never heard from the animal control people again. However, the woman continued pestering the old farmer with a myriad of oddball complaints. I felt so sorry for him that I took the horses back to my place a month before I'd planned to. The farmer was sad to see them go. He still enjoys telling the story about those horses that were on fire.

Author's comment: This story is humorous, but it also portrays a serious and growing problem.

Tuesday, February 03, 2009

Starlet In Training...







Monday, December 22, 2008

Kira & Drew




Kira looking oh, so cute in one of her little Christmas outfits. She even wore the Santa hat for a long while.



This is as good as it gets when it comes to getting a picture of Drew. Be happy his face in even in it.

More Pictures of Cute





Tuesday, November 04, 2008

My Little Angel