Not Enough Room...

My Thoughts on Sochi 2014

I'll admit that I didn't get to watch as much of the Olympics this year as I normally do thanks to this little thing called the Texas Bar Exam.  But, as I do every 2 years, I wanted to give you a few thoughts on the parts I was able to follow.

1.  The accommodations.  Hey journalists, shut up about the hotel rooms not being the Ritz.  I feel like this kind of behavior is why people talk crap on Americans.  When you are in another country, things are just different.  It's not just Russia.  Most of the time in Europe, the bedrooms are tiny.  So are the beds.

Learned that one first hand sharing a double bed with Cousin Swiss Mister and Cousin Whitney the hottest time of the year in Rome.  Was that fun?  No.  Did I care?  No.  Because I was in Rome, and when in Rome...

Oh, and in Europe they also don't have ice and make you pay for water and the men wear freakin' capris.

You know what you do?  You go on your merry way smiling for the camera in front of the Vatican while a nice man in short pants snaps your picture with your expensive water happily in your purse.

Cousin Whitney and Me - Rome - 2009

Now, don't get me wrong,  The water that was a strange shade of gold that I saw in some news reports from Sochi?  That's not acceptable.  The guy getting locked in the bathroom and having to claw his way out, borderline not acceptable, but it made for a great story so I say okay (that reminds me I need to blog about the time I got locked in my apartment and they had to break the door down with an ax...).  The fact that they had twin beds, no fluffy duvets and community bathrooms?  Suck it up, princess.


2.  Women's figure skating.  I have to say that I thought the finals were one of the best athletic events I've watched in a long time.  Great competitors, great performances.  The top 3 skaters were basically flawless.  Could I have seen Yuna Kim beating the adorable little Russian girl?  Sure. Her program was beautiful, artistic, graceful, all those words that Dorothy Hamil or Peggy Fleming (not sure which was commentating with Scott Hamilton) said 9,000 times.  Could I see the Russian beating Yuna Kim?  Sure.  Hands down the hardest, most athletic program of the night.  In the end, the three medalists skated their best.  And this is a subjective sport.  There is no clock to objectively give us a winner.  I'm sick of the controversy, let that 17 year old Russian enjoy her gold medal.  (For the record, I was going for Yuna, so I feel I am unbiased.)

3.  Upsets.  Sometimes, the favorite doesn't win, kids.  That means that sometimes, Bode Miller goes home without a gold.  And Sean White is left off of the podium.  I think we get so used to the super stars winning that we forget what my mom used to tell us (that drove me bananas then but is the truth) "any team, any day."  That's why we play the game.

4.  Sacrifice.  I think that one of my favorite parts of the Olympics are watching these athletes and recognizing the sacrifices they (and their families) have made over the years to be there.  When you think about the years of work, early mornings, lifting weights, probably never eating raw cookie dough out of the package (clearly the reason I could never be an Olympic athlete right there)....it's amazing.  And inspiring.

Runners Tell All: My Running Story

Today I am linking up with Runners Tell All to share my running story.

I always hated running.  No, y'all, seriously.  I constantly whined about having to run at basketball or volleyball practice.  I detested running the hill except for the fact that Mr. Franklin chasing people with scissors was pretty hilarious.  And I legitimately was threatened with failing PE my last 6 weeks of high school when I refused to run track (but one of the two best secretaries in the whole world, June May, told me to come be her assistant and not to worry about failing because she was in charge of grades) my senior year.
 

But that all changed the summer of 2008 when I lived in San Francisco.  For some reason, I decided to take up running.  Maybe it was all of the fancy food and free booze that I was partaking in at the law firm where I was working and my fear of leaving weighing 200 pounds.  Maybe it was the breathtaking views of the Bay from my awesome neighborhood.  

Maybe it was just fate.  But whatever it was, I'm sure glad I got bit by the bug that summer.  I ran my very first race (the Progressive Marathon at the SF Marathon) on my last weekend in the City.  There is nothing like a race atmosphere--the excitement and energy and adrenaline.  I was hooked and haven't stopped since. 

Countless 5Ks, mud runs, Remember The Ten, Bay to Breakers, a marathon relay, and two half marathons (number three coming in April!) later and I have to admit, I still love it!

San Francisco Half Marathon - 2011

Bay to Breakers - 2010

St. Paddy's Day Run (Chicago) - 2013

Remember The Ten (Stillwater) - 2012

Hot Chocolate Run (Albuquerque) - 2012

OKC Half Marathon - 2013

A Little Secret

First off, I'll be sitting for the Texas Bar exam this Tuesday - Thursday, so any positive thoughts you might want to send this direction (or to the Man Upstairs) would be greatly appreciated.  Now back our regularly scheduled programming.

Before every final in law school, we had to gather up in the forum of the school and sit around forever listening to speeches about how to fill in a scan tron, what to do in case of a nuclear attack or something catastrophic like that (keep writing and don't worry from what I can remember).  And during those little lectures, I always wore headphones and listened to my iPod.

Today, I'm going to let you all in on a little secret and reveal what song I listened to before every test.

First, we have to flash back to my very first finals in law school.  Picture it, Albuquerque, 2006.  As I was driving to school completely terrified of what was about to happen, I decided I needed some pre-game, pump me up kind of music.  I fell back on my high school basketball playing days and went for the song that began our warm up track when we ran out for warm ups.

Well, after that first set of finals I was pretty sure that I was going to have to come up with a new plan for pre-gaming because I was fairly sure I had bombed them and might get kicked out.  After one particularly ridiculous criminal law final involving attack llamas--still remember that traumatic experience 8 years later--I remember laying in my room in the dark convinced I had blown it and lost my scholarship.

Law School Graduation 2009

But turns out, I kinda rocked those first finals and somehow ended up ranked first in our class.  (I still question the accuracy of this, but I feel like 5 years later the statute of limitations has probably passed.)  As I was raised by an extremely superstitious father (he wore the same shirt on pig show day for YEARS even after it had holes in it and ag teacher (where do I even start with him?), I was not about to mess with a good thing.  So I stuck with my song, playing it on repeat over and over again before very final.  And since that worked out, I then did the same each day before the New Mexico Bar Exam.  And this week I'll play the same song on repeat every day before the Texas Bar Exam.

Aforementioned lucky shirt

I know by now you are all annoyed and wondering, "What freaking song was she playing??"  I never told anyone what I was listening to.  I'm sure that people either thought that it was something along the lines of (a) George Strait because I was definitely the country girl in the school (completely fair assessment) or (b) some last minute lecture because they thought I was some major nerd (I was not, for the record).

Probably no one expected this classic.....

Hehehe.  Yep.  It's kinda terrible.  But it's my jam. To which I can sing every word.  No lie.

Maybe it had nothing to do with anything.  Maybe it was lucky and the reason I did end up #1 in that class.  Whatever it was, this girl ain't messing with a good thing!  So let's all cross our fingers and say our prayers that it will work for me one more time this week.  And now, I'm off to Austin.

"....I am number one, no matter if ya like it ready take this sit down and write it..."

Family Farm Friday #88: I'll Take The Stock Show

Last week I saw an interesting conversation on Facebook that had people pretty polarized.  It all started when a mom suggested that her kids should not show animals this summer so that the family could go on a vacation to Disneyworld.  Now, let's start with a reminder that I'm all for everyone having their own story and making their own decisions. And I'm not harping on someone about making decisions differently than I would make. 

But that said....I'll take the stock show.

Growing up, we did not go on family vacations.  We went to stock shows.  And while I've never been to Disneyland, I'm pretty sure that the roller coaster rides, churros, and fake mouse ears can't replace what the stock shows gave me.

 

At those stock shows (and the months leading up to them), I learned what it meant to work hard.  My brother and I got up early, went to bed late, busted our butts in between dealing with weights and drench guns and feed regiments and wash racks. I also learned that not everyone worked that way.  I remember countless times it would be 8:00 at night and I'd come into the dorms covered in feed and hay and manure and lord knows what else, while some of the other girls would be all dressed up, make up on, and hair fixed.  And while I can't say that it happened this way all the time, but I lot of the time it was those of us who spent the week covered in manure who ended up smiling come the end of show day.  Not a bad thing for a kid to learn.

 

 

 

 

At those stock shows, I was surrounded by adults who became like family to me.  There were women who would haul in enough food for an army and be sure that we didn't go hungry by dishing out posole and beans from a crock pot in the tack pen.  There were men who helped sheer my sheep and haul our show boxes in and out and had no problem telling me if I wasn't doing something right.  There was an ag teacher that became one of my very favorite people in the world with his glare for people who showed up late for feeding, and his Rainman-like remembering of the weights of seriously every lamb in the barn, and his uncanny ability to sniff out coffee somewhere in the barn before anyone else was even awake to make it.

At those stock shows, I made friends from across the state.  Friends who have known me since I was 10 years old and who are still in my life 20 years later.  Friends whose babies I have held and funerals I have attended and weddings I have stood up at.  Friends who I never would have met were it not for the yearly "family vacation" to a stock show.

 At those stock shows, we spent quality time with our family.  After one particularly long, and I mean LONG night at the barn, that I'm fairly sure involved my dad breaking his toes after kicking something, I remember him saying that we might look back at parts of this showing deal and remember the fights, but we'd also look back and always remember him being there.  And he was right.  I remember the fights for being funny now, but I remember all of the time and money and sacrifice that he and my mom made so that we could go to those stock shows.  And that was a gift that is priceless in my mind.

 

And there's certainly more that those shows taught me.  Competitiveness.  Being a humble winner and a gracious loser.  Lucky shirts and lucky halters and the smell of sawdust and Revive.  That post-Led Zeplin concerts are probably not a great place to be in the dark.  A lot about love was learned at those dances and the dorm steps and the dairy barn alley where certain curse words were hurled at BFF when he hurt a girl's feelings.  How to change a trailer tire that blew every year on the way to Albuquerque.  How to talk to the police when things got a little rowdy at a street dance (and a certain someone needed me to lead him back to the dorms by the arm!)  That life is not always fair.  That I was never going to be as high maintenance as some of the other girls who hauled in a crap ton of clothes and shoes and fancy belts.  And that the best place for a bed was in the back corner (and the best friends to have were those that always got there early to snag them!)  What it felt like to be handed that bright purple banner and shiny belt buckle.

 

 

So, all this to say....I'm sure Disney World is great.  But I'll take the stock show.  Every single time.

What Will Your Verse Be?

Who You Are

"Sometimes I don't know, I don't know what You're doing, but I know who You are...."

Sometimes in the midst of all of the uncertainty and question marks and sadness in the world, you just need a little reminder.

Happy National FFA Week

FFA was hands down the best part of my childhood and high school years.  It prepared me for life more so than you would probably ever imagine and gave me some amazing friendships along the way.

This week is National FFA Week, and I can't really sum it up any better than the quote below.

I could not be more thankful for this organization and the impact it has had on my life.

Slow Down

"Slow down and enjoy life.  It is not only the scenery you miss by going too fast - you also miss the sense of where you are going and why."  ~Eddie Cantor

Someone once used the word "non-stop" to describe me one time and I think it's pretty accurate.  I'm Type-A, super competitive, a little antsy, a list-maker, and I could go on and on with different things that make it seem clear that "non-stop" is probably a pretty good way to sum me up.  Throw the stress of an impending bar exam (T-minus 8 days) that has turned me pretty much into a ball of nerves and I'm one big ol' hot mess.

This weekend I got to see someone you all know and love, The Boy from Texas.  At one point on Saturday evening as I was running around his house trying to gather up my stuff and move my suitcase so he could move some furniture around, he grabbed my shoulders, made me look at him, and he said, "You just need to SLOW DOWN." 

And it was a bit like a light bulb went off for me.  I do need to slow down.  Not just in trying to move my suitcase, but in my life.  I'm rushing around and freaking myself out and trying to get everything crossed off my list.....it's exhausting.  And when I'm so busy running around like a crazy person,  I miss out on the good stuff, the important stuff, the reason that I'm here.  I miss out on life.

So I'm working on this idea of slowing down.  I'm trying to take deep breaths, shorten my lists, and just trust that if I do all I can do (and not more than that), it will be enough.

He's a smart one, that Boy from Texas.  He also sent me these pretty flowers for Valentine's Day.  He's looking pretty good in my book.

Family Farm Friday #87: How Country Kids Learn Fractions

"A day in the country is worth a month in the city."

I remember being in elementary school--maybe 3rd grade or so--and having a complete lack of understanding of fractions.  None of it made sense to me.  I mean, none at all.  I'm pretty sure that had I been raised in the city, I would have probably failed at life due to the inability to understand this stupid mathematical concept that places two numbers on top of each other with a line in the middle.

Thankfully for me, I wasn't raised in the city.  Being a farm kid saved me from the life of horror that befalls people who can't learn fractions.  How, you ask?

Allow me to introduce you to my friend, the feed can.

Every shower in America knows exactly where I'm going.  When you feed sheep or pig or steers every morning and night, the instructions are always something along these lines:  "The finewools get 3/4 a can, the crosses get a can and a quarter, the Hamp gets 1 1/4 of the feed with the orange tag--do you hear me?  ORANGE TAG.  And give the York 1/3 a can of beet pulp...." on and on.

You figure out real quick the difference between 1/4 and 1/3 and 2/3 and 3/4.  Because I guarantee you come weighing time on Sunday afternoon, if things didn't make sense, someone was going to get a major lecture.

To this day, when I have to deal with fractions, I picture the feed in the feed can.  Yea....us country kids do things a little differently!

You Can Choose...

Girl Between The Lines: Your Favorite Photo

This week's Girl Between the Lines theme is Your Favorite Photo. 

I absolutely love taking pictures.  I think that I might add "and taking pictures" to my standard dream job answer of  "having a bunch of cows and writing a book."  As I looked through all the pictures that I've taken---from trips all over the world to amazing sporting events and concerts and castles---when I chose a favorite, I kept coming back to the same thing.  People.  For all of the cathedrals and mountains and touchdowns, nothing compares to the people.  Probably a lot to that idea.

As per usual, I couldn't pick four.  So I chose four.  I'm a rebel like that.

Photo 1

This photo is of my dad (on the left) and one of his best friends.  We had been moving cows and I pulled out my camera as everyone was just standing around the pens.  I think that it just captures my dad's personality.  (And apparently he thinks so too....he told me he wants us to use this picture at his funeral one day.  Yea.  That's not awkward.)

Photo 2

This photo I shot at Loud Oklahoma Girl's wedding.  She and her grandma were holding hands before the ceremony started and I thought it was just perfect.  As a girl who can't hold a grandma's hand anymore, it was pretty beautiful to me.

Photo 3



I took this picture at my brother and sister-in-law's wedding in Las Vegas.  I had seen it on Pinterest and thought it would be fun for Little Cowboy.  It turned out seriously better than I even imagined.  I just love Little Cowboy's face and his tux.

Photo 4

This picture is of Great Uncle doing what he did best...playing the piano.  (And apparently I have some sort of hand fetish in my photography.)  More than the actual picture was the memory of that day--the whole family sitting in the living room of my cousin's house, some three deep on a chair, more piled six-fold on the couch, just listening to him play.  It is one of my favorite memories not only of my uncle, but of my family.

Family Ski Trip 2013

Once again, I'm late on blogging about it, but never fear, the Annual Family Ski Trip did happen.  It was a smaller group and we almost even followed Tiffany's three rules set out the first day of the trip:  (1)  no police officers; (2) no throwing up; and (3) no fist fights.  (For those of you that are wondering, past years have indeed involved one or all of these events.)  My father, of all people, broke one the last day.   You can ask him about that.

The crew this year was my dad, The Boy from Texas, Sweet Talker, Almost Gypsy Soul (who wins the award for coming the farthest after she drove down from Wyoming!), Ski Trip John and Ski Trip Jerry.

Here's a little photo recap of the festivities.

Possibly worst photo ever?  Yep!



That happened.

This would be my boyfriend who decided to use sunscreen as
lighter fluid to get the fire going.

 I am already for the 2014 version.  Everyone be ready in December!