Next time I get the bright idea to go camping please remind me of a few things...
1 - It's not fun. No matter what you think and what great memories you have from your childhood, when you're the mom it's not fun.
2 - It's a tent you're sleeping in and you only have two sleeping bags to split between 2 1/2 of you and the 1/2 usually worms her way into most of the "space" you had mistakenly thought was yours for the night.
3 - It's the end of May and it's cold at night and you hate wearing socks to sleep.
4 - Your 3 year old gets just as dirty as when they were a 2 year old and all the dirt on them drove you crazy.
5 - Your husband who has the relaxation span of your 3 year old thinks running the stairs at the campground's ampitheater is "fun".
6 - Hotdogs are gross.
7 - The rocks underneath your tent want to snuggle all night.
8 - You're way too neurotic to actually enjoy camping, especially in a non-bear proof tent. You will spend most of the night freezing, checking that your child isn't freezing, have grisly visions of bear attacks, elbowing your husband so he will stop snoring and wishing that you were in your own bed.
9 - Poptarts are gross.
10 - Your daughter ends up loving this thing called camping and you discover you don't enjoy it.
One bright spot was I started a fire all by myself in the morning when my lie-a-bed husband couldn't get himself out of the sleeping bag to do it for me. I felt pretty lumber girlish. Oh yeah, take that all you men out there I won't be needing you anymore to start my camp fires.
I was certain it was because I grew up an independent country gal, never mind that goats, horses, cows and chickens all frighten the bejeebies out of me. Don't laugh, yes chickens, they have many sharp edges that could be used in an unprovoked attack and I'm not liking the way their head moves when they walk. Steer clear of the poultry, people!
Don't get me started on goats. Goats and I are like oil and water, we don't mix. I once dated a guy who's family owned goats. We meandered through the goat yard just a stone's throw away from his house one afternoon. I was a bit skittish, but I was in love and I'd follow that boy anywhere, including into a penned area of angry goats. One goat gave me the evil eye and then lowered it's horned head and rammed me in the upper thigh. Gave me the worst dead leg of my life and that's saying something as I had a brother who tormented me growing up. I never entered that pen again, but those goats loved to mock me with their rolling eyes and their loud "MAAAA"s thown in my direction. That just reminded me of a story of the same boyfriend's parrot. I'll save that little jewel for another day, let's just say that parrot hated my 17 year old guts for no good reason.
What were we talking about again? Oh yes, my conviction that camping is not fun. I told my husband that I wasn't going again until we had a trailer with a heater. He laughed. What's that supposed to mean?
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Sunday, May 24, 2009
The Sermon on the Mount
This isn't a typical post format for me. I don't feel real comfortable talking about my religion and my "feelings" about it. It's not because I am not proud of it. Just like in real life I hold back because I feel like I have so little to share when it comes to this topic. I've never served a mission. I haven't had any huge spiritual experiences. I'm not one of those brave persons that shares The Gospel when given a chance. My palms get sweaty when I am asked to say a prayer in Relief Society. I mean, that's such a small thing, but for me it feels daunting. Like most things in my life I always feel inadequate. I once had a good friend tell me that feeling inadequate is not a feeling sent from Heavenly Father but rather from Satan. He wants you to feel inadequate. Today though I feel like I should share this, if only to write it down and sort through it as I'm writing it.
I was reading in Matthew today about The Sermon on the Mount. It's been a long while since I've read it. I know it's some pretty well known chapters but it seemed so fresh to me today and held a lot of meaning for me. Before you think I'm a scripture scholar, I need to admit that I don't crack open the scriptures as much as I should. I get caught up in my life and I get caught up thinking I can do things by myself and that I don't need help. Oh man, I must look like my three year old daughter to Heavenly Father, down here on earth throwing a tantrum screaming that I can do things all by myself and Him just waiting and wanting to help me.
When I look back at the past nearly 7 years I've been married and "on my own" it's been up and down but the one word I would use to sum it up is "disenchantment". Disenchantment with marriage, disenchantment with my religion, disenchantment with life in general. It didn't happen over night. I started working at Lowe's and working Sundays was pretty much mandatory. I could have gotten a different job but I got comfortable there. At first I really mourned going to church each Sunday, but it got easier and easier until when I did have the occasional Sunday off I wouldn't bother to get ready and go. We went through a period of about four years of inactivity. When we went all I could think about was how all these self righteous people were judging me and how I didn't belong there anymore. Obviously these feelings of anger masked what I was truly feeling...shame. Disappointment in myself for not going to church anymore. But it's so much easier to blame others than to blame yourself.
I lost my faith. I lost my faith in my most foundational belief system. Everything was tainted by it. Marriage was no longer the happy dream I had believed it would be from the time I was a girl. I loved my husband, but I resented him as well. I was angry at him and I was angry at myself for not living up to our full potential. When Ava came along it got that much harder. I loved her, Brig loved her, but as most people know who have had a child/children, that first year raising them takes a toll on your marriage, and ours was already on shaky ground because the foundation we had built it on was crumbling from years of malnourishment.
We've worked our way back to attending our church meetings. At times it's been like clawing away at a big sandy embankment. Doubts and trials and an uncooperative toddler at times made it hard just to think about getting to the church house. I don't know how you forgive yourself for being less than you knew you could be. I'm working on it, but I still feel regret for those years we could have been building up our marriage and our family. The point is Satan wants you to feel like you're a lost cause. He doesn't want you to feel worthy. I can see that so clearly now, but if you would have told me that while I wasn't attending church regularly I wouldn't have gotten it.
I still struggle with faith. Faith that Heavenly Father will take care of our needs. I worry and worry what direction our lives will take. I'm the sort of person who, if I could map it out I would. Get out the itinerary I want to know where I'm going and when in life. Will I ever have a son? When will I own a home? Am I ever going to lose this weight? I mean, where's Sylvia Browne? Can you tell me these things, Sylvia? No, you can't because you're a kook. But I digress. My long suffering husband will tell you that my stress level over the past couple of years has been at threat level midnight. I wring my hands and bemoan what will become of us?! Me and Laman and Lemuel would have been thick as thieves if I had lived back in the day. I've murmured from morning until night some days. My family has heard about it. My friends have heard about it. If I was the openly social type, I'm sure the cashier at Wal-Mart would have heard about it.
So this is where I'm coming from. And I'm reading The Sermon on the Mount today in Matthew 6 when verses 25-34 hit me over the head like a sledge hammer. I'm going to copy and paste here. Bear with me. Or is it bare with me? Those of you who have a low tolerance for long posts have given up by now anyway.
25 Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment?
26 Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?
27 Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature?
28 And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin:
29 And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.
30 Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?
31 Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed?
32 (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.
33 But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.
34 Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.
All those of little faith raise your hands! ME! Here I am! I have little faith! And I'm working on it. And that's the beautiful thing about The Gospel, you work on your weaknesses each day. When I was younger I expected to always have perfect faith, to never make mistakes, to always have the perfect answer to those Sunday school questions. I never ever expected to become inactive and bitter. And at my core I always KNEW that my Heavenly Father loved me. I always KNEW that my Savior had atoned for me and that I could come back and repent at any time. But my pride got in the way and I thought I could do it all by myself. Because admitting that you need help means admitting that you are weak. Even as we've "come back to the fold" as they say I've still tried to claw my way through life without any help. But reading The Sermon on the Mount put things in perspective for me. I need to relax. I need to have faith that our needs will be met.
My mother-in-law put up a plaque in the kitchen back in February when my father-in-law's liver was failing. It reads "Faith is not believing that God can, it is knowing that he will". I think that sums it up. I'm so grateful for my family for loving me through difficult times and for my friends who have always been wonderful examples to me. My mother and my close friends have had to listen and comfort through cry fests. I'm grateful for your sound advice and your overwhelming empathy. I sometimes never feel that I'll be adequate to become the Relief Society Ruth type, but even those who seem like spiritual giants have asked Heavenly Father for help. To be human is to be weak. That's never going to go away, but you know what they say about weak things being made strong and I know with God's help my faith can become strong. Then maybe I won't feel quite as uncomfortable around the Nephi crowd!
I was reading in Matthew today about The Sermon on the Mount. It's been a long while since I've read it. I know it's some pretty well known chapters but it seemed so fresh to me today and held a lot of meaning for me. Before you think I'm a scripture scholar, I need to admit that I don't crack open the scriptures as much as I should. I get caught up in my life and I get caught up thinking I can do things by myself and that I don't need help. Oh man, I must look like my three year old daughter to Heavenly Father, down here on earth throwing a tantrum screaming that I can do things all by myself and Him just waiting and wanting to help me.
When I look back at the past nearly 7 years I've been married and "on my own" it's been up and down but the one word I would use to sum it up is "disenchantment". Disenchantment with marriage, disenchantment with my religion, disenchantment with life in general. It didn't happen over night. I started working at Lowe's and working Sundays was pretty much mandatory. I could have gotten a different job but I got comfortable there. At first I really mourned going to church each Sunday, but it got easier and easier until when I did have the occasional Sunday off I wouldn't bother to get ready and go. We went through a period of about four years of inactivity. When we went all I could think about was how all these self righteous people were judging me and how I didn't belong there anymore. Obviously these feelings of anger masked what I was truly feeling...shame. Disappointment in myself for not going to church anymore. But it's so much easier to blame others than to blame yourself.
I lost my faith. I lost my faith in my most foundational belief system. Everything was tainted by it. Marriage was no longer the happy dream I had believed it would be from the time I was a girl. I loved my husband, but I resented him as well. I was angry at him and I was angry at myself for not living up to our full potential. When Ava came along it got that much harder. I loved her, Brig loved her, but as most people know who have had a child/children, that first year raising them takes a toll on your marriage, and ours was already on shaky ground because the foundation we had built it on was crumbling from years of malnourishment.
We've worked our way back to attending our church meetings. At times it's been like clawing away at a big sandy embankment. Doubts and trials and an uncooperative toddler at times made it hard just to think about getting to the church house. I don't know how you forgive yourself for being less than you knew you could be. I'm working on it, but I still feel regret for those years we could have been building up our marriage and our family. The point is Satan wants you to feel like you're a lost cause. He doesn't want you to feel worthy. I can see that so clearly now, but if you would have told me that while I wasn't attending church regularly I wouldn't have gotten it.
I still struggle with faith. Faith that Heavenly Father will take care of our needs. I worry and worry what direction our lives will take. I'm the sort of person who, if I could map it out I would. Get out the itinerary I want to know where I'm going and when in life. Will I ever have a son? When will I own a home? Am I ever going to lose this weight? I mean, where's Sylvia Browne? Can you tell me these things, Sylvia? No, you can't because you're a kook. But I digress. My long suffering husband will tell you that my stress level over the past couple of years has been at threat level midnight. I wring my hands and bemoan what will become of us?! Me and Laman and Lemuel would have been thick as thieves if I had lived back in the day. I've murmured from morning until night some days. My family has heard about it. My friends have heard about it. If I was the openly social type, I'm sure the cashier at Wal-Mart would have heard about it.
So this is where I'm coming from. And I'm reading The Sermon on the Mount today in Matthew 6 when verses 25-34 hit me over the head like a sledge hammer. I'm going to copy and paste here. Bear with me. Or is it bare with me? Those of you who have a low tolerance for long posts have given up by now anyway.
25 Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment?
26 Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?
27 Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature?
28 And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin:
29 And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.
30 Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?
31 Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed?
32 (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.
33 But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.
34 Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.
All those of little faith raise your hands! ME! Here I am! I have little faith! And I'm working on it. And that's the beautiful thing about The Gospel, you work on your weaknesses each day. When I was younger I expected to always have perfect faith, to never make mistakes, to always have the perfect answer to those Sunday school questions. I never ever expected to become inactive and bitter. And at my core I always KNEW that my Heavenly Father loved me. I always KNEW that my Savior had atoned for me and that I could come back and repent at any time. But my pride got in the way and I thought I could do it all by myself. Because admitting that you need help means admitting that you are weak. Even as we've "come back to the fold" as they say I've still tried to claw my way through life without any help. But reading The Sermon on the Mount put things in perspective for me. I need to relax. I need to have faith that our needs will be met.
My mother-in-law put up a plaque in the kitchen back in February when my father-in-law's liver was failing. It reads "Faith is not believing that God can, it is knowing that he will". I think that sums it up. I'm so grateful for my family for loving me through difficult times and for my friends who have always been wonderful examples to me. My mother and my close friends have had to listen and comfort through cry fests. I'm grateful for your sound advice and your overwhelming empathy. I sometimes never feel that I'll be adequate to become the Relief Society Ruth type, but even those who seem like spiritual giants have asked Heavenly Father for help. To be human is to be weak. That's never going to go away, but you know what they say about weak things being made strong and I know with God's help my faith can become strong. Then maybe I won't feel quite as uncomfortable around the Nephi crowd!
Friday, May 22, 2009
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
2 1/2 years later...Ava Photos
The last time I got Ava's pictures taken she was 1 year old. I know. How neglectful of me. So we headed up Logan Canyon and took many pictures. She is going through an unnatural smile phase, but it can't be helped. We had a fun day and I wished we could have stayed all day in the canyon, it was beautiful. Unfortunately we waded a bit and we had to take off Ava's pants they got so wet and we let them dry out the window as we drove home. I just dealt with my wet pants. It's not the first time and it won't be the last, I'm sure!
Aww, their is her natural smile. She was laughing her head off because her hair was blowing in her face.
Aww, their is her natural smile. She was laughing her head off because her hair was blowing in her face.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Public Mortifications Continued
I thought it was time for another installation of tales from a blushing face, or another embarrasing story. Partly because I have nothing to blog about, I mean did you read my oatmeal post?! No, you didn't and I can't say that I blame you. Grasping at straws there.
One day while I was very pregnant I decided to relish a day out shopping around by myself. There are many things I like to do alone but shopping has to be my number one. I know it contradicts the universal theory that woman like to shop in packs but it's one of those things I just can't change about myself. If I had only grasp how deliciously delightful shopping without a child was back then I would have been out everyday, strutting my gestating stuff browsing local merchant's wares. But alas, like my blissful ignorance on how many different types of poops can be be produced from one baby I did not know that soon I'd be packing around a 30 pound carrier and child, ducking into dressing rooms to lactate at said child's convenience.
I don't know what it was about being pregnant but I felt very, very good about myself. I know. I should have been lamenting my barn-like size but I really loved my body through my pregnancy. Something about knowing my body was serving a higher purpose really made me release my usual self-consciousness about my body. Of course I wasn't walking around in a bikini mind you. Oh, I just had a picture of Minnie Driver frolicking in some exotic locale fully prego and wearing an itsy bitsy bikini flash in my mind, curse you US WEEKLY! Anyway so on this particular day I got ready as normal. I was doing laundry that day and shortly before I left I had to stop getting ready and throw the clothes in the dryer.
I enjoyed myself as I leisurely shopped around Logan. I kept noticing people doing double takes as I walked past them and it was doing wonders for my self-esteem. It just goes to show that when my naivete combines with my vanity that I make regretful errors in judgement. For example, and this is totally random...when people are staring at you it must mean that you're looking particularly attractive, not freakish in any way. Freakish. Me? Never. So I went to Borders and was revelling in the hundreds of books just waiting to be browsed when Ava kicked my bladder. I waddled to the restrooms passing a Border's employee and smiled knowingly as she smiled back, smile fading a bit and then scrutiny appeared on her face and then she smiled again. Oh yes, I was rocking it today! That one had studied me like Michaelangelo must have studied an exceptionally beautiful piece of granite. I hauled butt into the restroom. Took care of business and came out to peer at my face, the face that had been turning heads all day.
Hmm. Something was not quite right here. I brought my face closer to the mirror, scrutinizing it in quite the same manner the employee had just moments before. I gasp suddenly as I realized much to my horror that I was only half done up. That's right. Mascara on one side, zip on the other. Even my blush looked darker on one side. It was a virtual before and after in the beauty world. All I can think is that when I put clothes in the dryer I had forgot to finish my face. I cowered in the bathroom debating on whether I should run to the nearest grocery store and pick up a tube of mascara and apply it in their bathroom. But I gave in to the sinking feeling of humiliation and donned my sunglasses as I hustled out of the store. Shoppers were left wondering if I was a victim of abuse, but that one employee knew the truth. Her with that smug smile, she knew I had just forgot to apply mascara to both sides and startingly resembled Two-Face off of Batman. I drove my hot expectant self back to my house where I holed up with some chips and salsa and some Unsolved Mysteries for the remainder of the day.
This story reminded me that I am loving my new mascara. I'm on a constant quest to find the perfect mascara. My two genetically blessed sisters have snuffleufagus eye lashes, and I say that with admiration and a tinge of envy, but where the Good Lord was generous with the eyelashes to them, me thinks he was a mite stingy when it came to mine. I've tried every drug store brand out there as well as Clinique and Mary Kay and Vicki's Secret. But nothing, nothing meets my high standards. I picked up a tube of Maybelline's Stiletto Mascara and so far I'm loving it. The brush is great. Just a little FYI. Cooper Smith - Out!
One day while I was very pregnant I decided to relish a day out shopping around by myself. There are many things I like to do alone but shopping has to be my number one. I know it contradicts the universal theory that woman like to shop in packs but it's one of those things I just can't change about myself. If I had only grasp how deliciously delightful shopping without a child was back then I would have been out everyday, strutting my gestating stuff browsing local merchant's wares. But alas, like my blissful ignorance on how many different types of poops can be be produced from one baby I did not know that soon I'd be packing around a 30 pound carrier and child, ducking into dressing rooms to lactate at said child's convenience.
I don't know what it was about being pregnant but I felt very, very good about myself. I know. I should have been lamenting my barn-like size but I really loved my body through my pregnancy. Something about knowing my body was serving a higher purpose really made me release my usual self-consciousness about my body. Of course I wasn't walking around in a bikini mind you. Oh, I just had a picture of Minnie Driver frolicking in some exotic locale fully prego and wearing an itsy bitsy bikini flash in my mind, curse you US WEEKLY! Anyway so on this particular day I got ready as normal. I was doing laundry that day and shortly before I left I had to stop getting ready and throw the clothes in the dryer.
I enjoyed myself as I leisurely shopped around Logan. I kept noticing people doing double takes as I walked past them and it was doing wonders for my self-esteem. It just goes to show that when my naivete combines with my vanity that I make regretful errors in judgement. For example, and this is totally random...when people are staring at you it must mean that you're looking particularly attractive, not freakish in any way. Freakish. Me? Never. So I went to Borders and was revelling in the hundreds of books just waiting to be browsed when Ava kicked my bladder. I waddled to the restrooms passing a Border's employee and smiled knowingly as she smiled back, smile fading a bit and then scrutiny appeared on her face and then she smiled again. Oh yes, I was rocking it today! That one had studied me like Michaelangelo must have studied an exceptionally beautiful piece of granite. I hauled butt into the restroom. Took care of business and came out to peer at my face, the face that had been turning heads all day.
Hmm. Something was not quite right here. I brought my face closer to the mirror, scrutinizing it in quite the same manner the employee had just moments before. I gasp suddenly as I realized much to my horror that I was only half done up. That's right. Mascara on one side, zip on the other. Even my blush looked darker on one side. It was a virtual before and after in the beauty world. All I can think is that when I put clothes in the dryer I had forgot to finish my face. I cowered in the bathroom debating on whether I should run to the nearest grocery store and pick up a tube of mascara and apply it in their bathroom. But I gave in to the sinking feeling of humiliation and donned my sunglasses as I hustled out of the store. Shoppers were left wondering if I was a victim of abuse, but that one employee knew the truth. Her with that smug smile, she knew I had just forgot to apply mascara to both sides and startingly resembled Two-Face off of Batman. I drove my hot expectant self back to my house where I holed up with some chips and salsa and some Unsolved Mysteries for the remainder of the day.
This story reminded me that I am loving my new mascara. I'm on a constant quest to find the perfect mascara. My two genetically blessed sisters have snuffleufagus eye lashes, and I say that with admiration and a tinge of envy, but where the Good Lord was generous with the eyelashes to them, me thinks he was a mite stingy when it came to mine. I've tried every drug store brand out there as well as Clinique and Mary Kay and Vicki's Secret. But nothing, nothing meets my high standards. I picked up a tube of Maybelline's Stiletto Mascara and so far I'm loving it. The brush is great. Just a little FYI. Cooper Smith - Out!Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Brig Self-Smarted Himself
Can you believe the man on the far right just got a new liver in March? Lookin Good David!
The Smith Family
Ava and her daddy. I have no idea where her real smile went to.
This face said to me Hurry up and take the picture, people are staring.
He's a Chemist, and he wants to shake your hand.Well not really. I would assume self-smarting would be a lot less expensive than college. On Saturday Brig officially graduated from USU! WOOOOO-HOOOOOOO! (Imagine fireworks exploding here and We Are The Champions blaring from a loud speaker). It's been a very long road and I'm happy to be able to dust the dirt off of us and move forward.
Brig had asked me last Monday if I had pressed his graduation gown yet. I snarkily replied I didn't think it would take me a whole week to get it accomplished. Well, on Friday as I finally whipped out the ironing board and got down to business my confidence faded as it took nearly 1 hour to get all the wrinkles out. I must admit for a period of ten to twenty minutes I was ironing with all my might on one section before I realized the iron had come unplugged, I felt a bit sheepish. Baaaa!
Ava said as Brig walked past us in procession to take his seat for the commencement ceremony, "I want to be just like Daddy when I grow up." From her lips to God's ears. I hope one day to see her in a cap and gown, graduating from a university. I never finished, but I hope to in the coming years.
Brig majored in Chemistry with an emphasis in Life Sciences. I'm extremely proud of him for finishing. It would have been easy to give up but he didn't.
Monday, May 4, 2009
I am in love...with this woman
Well not romantic love, but just girlfriend love. This is Ree Drummond. She has a hilarious blog over at www.thepioneerwoman.com . She's so real and so funny that I wish she was my friend IRL. I'm sure I'm the last to know about this amazing woman and her blog since I don't usually seek out blogs where I don't know the author. Thanks Jill. Thank you for writing that one truly bizarre, truly intrigueing line from Ree's ongoing true life story about meeting and falling in love with her cowboy man also known as "Black Heels to Tractor Wheels" in an email. She also cooks and from the looks of her recipes I'd probably pack on another ten pounds in no time flat, but when I'm on her cooking section it makes me forget all about that awful meat shunning Green Smoothie Girl and her diahrrea colored smothies I've taken up drinking in my quest for a defined waistline. Visions of hot homemade bread with garlic and so much cheese melted on it it's practically obscene dance in my head and suddenly I don't care about flaxseeds and sprouted almonds and kale. The Pioneer Woman is a tall glass of ice water in this blistering hot and desolate wasteland called dieting.
Plus like I mentioned she weaves the story of her now husband and his romancing of her with his cowboy boots, his soft chuckle and his propensity to turn her legs to jelly with just one kiss. It's romantic. It's magical. It makes me re-think my hatred of Wranglers on men. So hop on over to her site. You'll spend way too much time reading about life on the ranch.
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