Favorites.

I've been doing this blog thing for a while now. Granted, I'm not always good at updating regularly - and, most of my posts are pretty useless - but, every once in a while, I write something halfway decent.

And, that's what this post is for - to chronicle some of my favorite posts. And, to give me some time to come up with something halfway interesting for an upcoming post.

Drumroll please. (Just humor me, okay?)

• In one of my earliest posts, the select few who read my blog learned about my secret love affair with Mike Rowe. Okay, maybe writing about it on my blog didn't really help to keep it a secret.
• Shortly after settling in in Nebraska, I decided to compile a list of likes and dislikes. After reviewing it again recently, I don't think I would change it much.
• Explore my love of Project Runway in this post. Coincidentally, my love has subsided since Project Runway moved over to Lifetime.
• Sometimes life is just hard. And, that sucks.
• True to my love of random, totally useless posts - I love chicken. Wait, what was I saying?
• Remember when I stood shoulder-to-shoulder with a guy that I thought was a celebrity and nobody else believed me? I didn't think so.
• Just a helpful reminder that I sometimes have a temper. But, I can pretty confidently say, in this instance, it was justified.
• Nine years later, I still remember exactly where I was when I saw the events of 9/11 unfolding on TV.
• Meet my husband, Scoop, and learn all about how we got together. Warning - you will have to read several subsequent posts to get the full story. Just wanted to make sure you were planning ahead and could block out a full nine hours. Or something like that.
• I finally got around to wrapping up our crazy love story. Finally.
• Let's all say it together, "Agriculture IS NOT the enemy."
• Most of the time, I really don't have anything interesting to say. But, you already knew that.
• I love Easter. And, poofy bangs. And, Jesus.
• I know lots of stuff and I can prove it.
• I wrote a letter - and it was a long time coming.

So, hopefully you've planned the next few days around the 83 hours it will take to read all of my favorite posts. Or, maybe you actually have a life and this post offered little to no value.

Either way, I'm sorry.

A Letter.

Dear Dad,

I can't believe that is has been seven years. Sometimes it feels like just yesterday and sometimes it feels like decades have passed.

I'll never forget that sinking feeling when you didn't look up after I called your name, or the way my legs couldn't support my weight the minute I saw your face. I knew then that you were gone and things would never be the same. I wish that the way you looked that day at the fairgrounds wasn't the memory that sticks with me today. But, at the same time, I'm glad it's my cross to bear and not Mom's or Janell's.

I'm sorry I haven't stopped by recently to talk. Actually, I suppose I can't truthfully say that. I haven't been by to see you at all - not since the day of your funeral. I know I should visit, but I just can't bear to do it. I can't bear to see that headstone with your name on it. Even though I haven't been there to tell you about everything going on in our lives, I know that you've still kept up with current events.

I'm sure you've seen it all, but I still wish you could have been here to experience the last few years. So many things have happened - things I know you would have really enjoyed. I've graduated from college and Janell is already in her second year. We both decided to go to the University of Illinois - I suppose that's what has finally made us both true basketball fans. We also were both state FFA officers. You know, I can't remember if I found out that I made the top 10 running for office in time for me to tell you. I guess it doesn't matter - I'm sure you knew anyway. I got a job - in Nebraska of all places - and, I've gotten married. I'm sure you laughed when David and I started dating, especially because you and his mom, Denise, were in the same class. That, and Denise always tried to cheat off of you.

Speaking of Denise, did you know that she had a dream about you? She said, in her dream, she ran into you at the grocery store in town. She said you hugged her and told her that you were so happy to see her. She said that you were wearing a sweater and, when she hugged you, she couldn't help but catch the scent of moth balls. I cried when she told me about that dream because there was no way she could have known that you always stored your sweaters in moth balls. Come to think of it, I'm sure you did know she had that dream, because you probably had a hand in it.

I really wish that you could have met David and gotten to know him. David told me that he met you in the bathroom during our eighth grade graduation (that's so silly when I think about it), but I know he's very different now from the kid you met so many years ago. He's a wonderful man - he even kind of reminds me of you sometimes. He's honest, kind, loyal and loving. And, you should see him with his neices and nephews - I know he's going to be a wonderful father someday. I'm sure you would like him.

I miss the way you made me laugh, Dad. I still laugh when I think of you going down to the basement every night to iron your clothes for the next day. Once you would reach the bottom of the steps - firmly in the domain of Loretta the Cat - you would make this crazy meowing noise and then say, "Ooops. Cat's dead." Just the way you said it always made me giggle. By the way, Loretta has moved out to the barn, but she's still terrorizing everyone that has the gall to enter her territory. I laugh every time I see that picture of you with the reindeer antlers on your head - or the picture of you wearing my heart-shaped sunglasses - you know, the ones I wore everywhere when I was little, so you called me "Hollywood." It's even funny to think about the few weeks you had to spend in a wheel chair after you fractured your pelvis. All of the salesmen were so mad at you - your legs were so long, they could barely keep up with before your accident. In a wheel chair, they had to run to keep up with you. But, you just laughed it off because your wheelchair had become your new toy; you had figured out how to reach top speed going down the ramp at the house by grabbing one wheel to turn, and you could get your wheelchair going so fast on the car lot that you could make the front wheels wobble. Even in less than perfect condition, your smile made everyone want to smile - you had a way of lighting up any room you walked into.

I wish my kids would have a chance to know their Grandpa Steve. I know they would love riding on your shoulders or spending the day in your workshop just like I did. They would get a kick out of going fishing with you and going on trail rides. I'm sure they would giggle every time you got your GPS out of your pocket just to see where you were on the trail - just like I always did. I wish you could be there to teach them how to play fire ball, fix fence or ride bikes. I wish you could be here when David and I buy our first house - neither one of us are as handy with repairs as you were.

I still don't think it's fair that you're gone. I miss having you here. I miss talking to you and spending time with you. But, to be honest, I guess I understand why God wanted you with Him. After all, you're pretty cool and, with that crazy 75-foot wingspan, you're really good at basketball. So, I suppose, I can't be selfish. Instead, since you can't be here with me, I should thank you for everything you taught me before you left.

Thanks for teaching me to play basketball (even though ended up having no talent for the game), ride a bike and make the slide behind the house faster with wax paper. Thanks for taking me fishing and giving me the courage to touch those slimy worms and squirming fish. Thanks for giving me a strong work ethic and always supporting my dreams and ambitions. Thanks for instilling the importance of faith and a love of God in me. Thanks for teaching me to stand up for myself and my beliefs (well, I guess Mom had a pretty big part in that, too) and thanks for showing me what a successful and meaningful marriage looks like and what it means to love someone unconditionally.

I love you, Dad.

Maynard

A simple equation.

I'm not very good at math. Shoot, when I run out of fingers and toes to count on, I'm pretty much screwed. But, I think I have this one figured out.

+

+

(If I could have taken a picutre of my Illini-clad feet next to one of the very popular "Husker Yard Rocks" out here, I definitely would have. Also, please disregard my chunky feet. Thanks.)

+

+

(Mmmmmm.....I can almost smell it.)

+

 

(Let's be honest - peep toe heels are one of life's greatest gifts.)

=

Warm weather and happy Rachel.  

Was there life before this?

No, I'm not talking about electricity or pasteurization or plumbing or refrigeration - or anything like that.

This is much, MUCH bigger than that.

I'm talking about this:

If you think I'm kidding or being sarcastic, you're wrong.

David and I have quite literally - in fact, I think even singlehandedly - kept the beef, pork and poultry industries afloat in the days since we pur our cute little grill together.

Plus, nothing says summer like steak, hot dogs, chicken, hamburgers or brats on the grill.

And, let me tell you, it's been a long winter out here in Nebraska. The natives - okay, mostly me - were getting restless. That's why I was ready to get our new little grill out and get busy.

I love to cook, and that's part of the reason I have been infatuated with this little appliance. In fact, I have grilled everything that I can possibly grill. I mean, I always loved food cooked on the grill when I was a kid, but since I've lived away from home, I've never had the opportunity to own a grill.

That was until Mom and Chuck got David and I a grill for Christmas. And now, I'm like a junkie. I can't get enough. If I could grill desserts, I would.

Somebody stop me before this gets out of control. Or, before I singe my eyebrows off. Or, before David gets tired of all things grilled and leaves me for another woman. All of these things have an equal probability of happening. It's just a matter of time.

Slingless.

And, let me tell you, it feels so good!

Monday night marked four weeks, which meant that I officially got to ditch my sling. I had been using it intermittently prior to Monday (hey - lay off - the doctor said I could take my sling off and work my elbow up and down to keep it from getting stiff), but to finally be able to officially throw that thing in a drawer and not look back felt so much better than wearing it intermittently.

Anyway, every once in a while, I do something that makes me go, "Holy smokes. My arm felt really, really good...until I did that." But, for the most part, it feels good and seems to be getting back to normal.

I was a little worried about going home for Easter, though. You see, I knew my Aunt Cheryl - a physical therapist - would be there and would want to check my range of motion and find out if I had been moving my elbow to keep it from getting stiff, etc. Aunt Cheryl wanting to give me a check up could very well mean screaming pain, twisting and torture for my arm. And, because my Aunt Cheryl enjoys her job - essentially, she enjoys torturing other people when they do stupid things like slip and fall and break an elbow - I knew I was going to have to pass muster with my crazy elbow.

And, of course, after dinner, Cheryl wanted me to show her how I could bend and extend my elbow. Of course, I couldn't completely extend it, but I must have done well enough because she decided against the Elbow Inquistion of 2010 and let me go without a fight.

Hey, man, it's the small victories in life, okay?

And, speaking of Easter...

[EASTER PICTURES HERE]

Yep, that's right, folks. I completely choked when it came to taking some pictures of Easter dinner and horses and home. I took a few pictures, but they aren't that great, so it's safe to say that I generally suck at life.

Despite running around like chickens with our heads cut off, David and I did enjoy our time at home. Saturday, Janell and I did some shopping together while the boys - David, Brian and Janell's man, Spencer - went golfing. Or, they went drinking and did a little golfing on the side. I'm not really sure. Either way, the report we got back was that David sucked big time while Brian and Spencer also sucked, just a bit less than David.

Saturday night, I headed over to David's house for their Easter dinner. When I got there, David's nephew, Jake, serenaded us.

Photos courtesy of Scoop

Sunday morning, when I went outside to help Janell chore, I took my camera with me. However, due to the recent rain, all of the horses were completely covered and caked in mud. Trust me, not pretty. I did snap a couple of pictures, though. Then, we headed over to Grandma's for dinner and, before we knew it, it was time to hit the road for Nebraska.

Look at that bottom lip! Bucky was a sleepin' boy...

Told you the few pictures I had time to snap were nothing to write home about. I intended to experiment with the other lens that John and Densie got us, but I seriously didn't have time. I had my camera out for an hour, at most, and that certainly didn't involve changing lenses.

I'm anxious to get home at the end of May for the long weekend, though. Hopefully by then, the grass will be super green and the horses won't be wallowing in mud. 

I'm also anxious for David to get home. He's been gone for work this week and we all know what that means: clothes that need to be folded are piled up in the corner, my sink is full of dishes, I haven't cooked a real meal in at least seven days and I'm running on little to no sleep. I don't know why it happens, but when he's gone, I change from normal tidy, OCD must-keep-everything-in-it's-place-and-dusted person to I-just-blew-my-nose-and-I-have-no-intention-of-getting-off-the-couch-to-throw-my-Kleenex-away person.

Yes, I know, posting these pictures makes it official. I have no shame.

But, David will be home late tonight so that means I can at least try to resume my normal sleep schedule. Maybe I should go wash some dishes, too.