Hugh sittin' proud on his new horse Andy. It's only a matter of time before Hugh outgrows this saddle he has had since he was eight months old.Judy's saddle purchased for the second time. I'm the lucky one who got to use it on this trail ride.
I’m sure there is a story behind Gene Autrey’s old song “I’m Back In The Saddle Again.”
I’m not sure what it is… but from now on I’m going to think about this one:
When Judy Hart Nelson was nine years old, she convinced her dad that riding a horse was not just a passing fancy. She wanted a real saddle. They went to a local horse tack auction near Chickasha, OK and purchased one for her. She used that same saddle on her horse, Cupcake, until it was time for her to go off to college and then Cupcake was sold. The saddle went into the attic. A few years later, thinking that her horse-riding days were over, Judy also sold the saddle.
Twenty five years passed.
Circumstances allowed Judy to return to the countryside where she could own a few horses. After Judy’s dad died in 2007, she recalled the special memory of their trip to the horse auction. It made her wonder about that old saddle. Amazingly, the man who purchased the saddle entered Judy’s workplace on business and Judy decided to ask him about the saddle that held so many special memories for her.
The saddle had been used as an elk hunting saddle in Colorado. It was sturdy and had carried many elk for this avid hunter. Judy didn’t care what shape it was in. She asked to buy it back, and he let her.
Judy’s son, Hugh Hart Nelson, is nine years old and is just about to outgrow the saddle he got from his dad before he even reached his first birthday. Soon he and his parents will make a trip to an auction or tack shop to purchase the saddle he will use for the rest of his life.
No doubt this saddle they choose for her son Hugh will not get to see the same adventures as Judy’s old saddle unless it’s with its owner. Judy has learned her lesson.
Persimmon Time - Oklahoma is great place for finding edible treasures across the land. NOW is the time for Persimmon foraging. Have you seen any around? - Photo by Red Dirt KellyThe "Zac" group did their best to help OSU win their homecoming contest against Nebraska, but it just wasn't meant to be. This photo and more from "America's Best Homecoming" celebration at http://www.osupics.com/ Proof positive that fall IS coming to Oklahoma...eventually. Photo by Kenny Bomgardner, taken of his tree.While the weather is still good...make sure and plan a trip to the Wichita Wildlife refuge. You might find yourself sharing the road with this guy. Photo by the Oklahoma Tourism Department. Click to read more about the area.
If you do what I did and accidentally search for the Ludivine restaurant in Oklahoma City by typing “Ludivine dot com” into your browser, you’ll be met with a screen full of drop dead gorgeous, blond – um…nakedness. Evidently Ludivine Sagnier, the French actress, is famous for her nude acting scenes. And, still photos of these scenes are displayed on the front page of her website in case you needed to be convinced of her ability to pull off the roles into which she was cast. Certainly it’s not just to garner website attention and attract high internet traffic, right?
I’m sharing this uncomfortable detail of my personal life because the information could be valuable in case you wish to eat at a new restaurant in the Mid-Town OKC area and you might happen to do a search at your place of employment. And, if you’re already past that stage and you work for a state agency like I do, then you might also want to do what I did: Immediately call or write your information technology friend and let them know of your faux pas. Here’s a copy of my e-mail…
Dear [Name of IT friend]–
I was looking up Ludivine restaurant because I want to go eat there tonight. I typed in Ludivine dot com (rather than the correct ludivineokc dot com) and for a brief moment was flashed with naked women photos.
Eek! I’m just telling you this because I may have set off some kind of filter or monitoring system within the workplace internet software…
See ya,[me]
In case you’re wondering if I’ll be the next state employee on the 10:00 p.m. news, the answer is no. Evidently, my anxiety level was much higher than my friend’s and his response was basically, “This stuff happens. Thanks for the heads up.”
I’m saving my e-mail just in case.
Enough about me…let’s talk about Ludivine. The restaurant. In Oklahoma City.
The Red Dirt Chronicles has already covered the establishment in three ways: a) We gave a shout out to Peach Crest farms, one of their local suppliers; b) I wrote an article about why I’m crazy about the concept of the restaurant and featured a link to their YouTube video library educating the viewer about various aspects re: their growers or producers, their purchasing philosophy, etc; and, c) the fact that they are now open for business. This review will wrap our regular coverage of the restaurant and we’ll only go back if we do some specialty work such as an interview or collaborative event. Oops – still talking about “us” now…time to get down to business.
Ludivine, New Prairie Cuisine…A Review
The restaurant site and interior
Located on the corner of 7th and Hudson, Ludivine sits diagonally across from the new Federal Building in the Mid-Town area of Oklahoma City. The streets in the vicinity are not too busy and provide ample parallel parking. At night, the restaurant sign beacons you with its bright robin egg blue color and a scissortail flycatcher punctuating the logo.
Enter the restaurant and you are met with a smart décor stitched together with pewter-look delicate chandelier placements, commissioned paintings that will keep you glancing at them throughout your entire visit, and heavy dark wood tables juxtaposed against seating covered with moss-green and soft gray textiles. A color palette of burnished fulvous, deep brick-red, ebony, gray, accents of goldenrod and a knock-out indigo made my synapses start firing…astute choices indeed. My favorite tabletop item was not the flowers grown in the Shawnee area, although they’re close. Rather, I was especially drawn to the flatware design – the forks have a 45-degree angle at the base of their tines, so they lend a trendy finish to a comfortable, sharp context.
The kitchen is in full view and guests are given a choice of sitting at the surrounding counter to watch the cooking action, or sit at a table in the dining area. The only drawback to the dining area I could see is that they could use between two and four feet more floor space width. The wait staff and guests move fluidly enough, but can be seen jockeying for position to find their way, regardless of the engaging and friendly banter.
The bar has plenty of space for a comfortable hang out, or to meet and greet prior to a meal. I’m still mulling over the large stripe patterned curtain chosen for the south window in the bar, but I’d take out-of-town guests there in a heartbeat. Overall, even with the space constraints factored in, I give the space a solid “A.” And, I tip my hat to the person or team who sweated the details to bring it all together. Nice job, Ludivine. You won’t be redecorating your space for a good long while.
Food and drink
A server fully invested in the restaurant, as well as his role as our dinner guide greeted us. He mentioned we were “lucky tonight because they had Coq au Vin on the menu,” kept the chilled water coming and answered all our questions. I had my eighteen year-old daughter with me; she decided to order the lamb burger. I ordered the Coq au Vin. We held off on appetizers because there was a strong possibility of dessert in our future, and I ordered one of their house specialty cocktails to start the evening.
A drink with a grown-up finish: The "Bees Smashed Kneecaps." Gotta love that lavender finish... - RDC Photo
I chose this particular drink because I had watched a video demonstration on their Facebook page and decided the beverage needed further investigation. When my Bee Smashed Kneecaps (an adaptation of their Bee’s Knees cocktail) arrived, I was not disappointed. A mixture of Broker’s gin, lemon, lavender, and honey – shaken and strained, filled the glass. At the same time refreshing and bold, the finish of lavender filled my “exhale” after the first gulp. I had been concerned there would be too much honey or sweetness but this fear was put to rest immediately. It was a grown up drink and a dandy one at that. The Ludivine bar also gets a solid “A.”
The chilled water plus the assortment of breads was a nice filler between courses. My daughter appreciated the pumpkin bread. I liked the bacon crumble extra-chewy baguette.
Coq au Vin - Ludivine, 10/9/10 - RDC Photo
Next came dinner. I’ve had several variations of Coq au Vin over the years, so I was curious about the Ludivine approach. They served their chicken quarter over whipped turnips, with a few Crowder peas, steamed turnip wedges and a small pickled okra spear, the Vin sauce pooling on all sides. My most important question was answered on the first bite: Yes, the chicken came before the Vin, and was not covered up by the reduction. There is a spectrum of “done” for cooked vegetables and I was surprised to find the turnip wedges at the front edge of that range. I thought they might have been slow roasted for some time. This was a good choice because with a roasted chicken in rich sauce, plus brown Crowder peas and whipped turnip bed tending to take on the Vin flavor, a difference is needed. The barely-done turnip wedges and the tender okra spear provided that difference. I’d like to see perhaps one more element of variety to set off the complete dish; perhaps kicking the whipped turnips for something that holds up better, or pooling less sauce. Still, this dish earns an “A-.”
We ordered a plate of four assorted desserts. I’m sure these rotate every evening, so I won’t dwell too much on the detail. I will say, however, that the chilled blueberry soup was one of my top picks for the evening. If that soup is available when you visit, order it. They serve their coffee French Press fashion and for that I was grateful. The blend of their beans was roasted one to two shades too dark and oily, with a slightly bitter finish. Perhaps an intentional choice to compliment the sweet palate of desserts, but I think a bit more mellow of a finish would sit better with the majority of those dining. Dessert, A; coffee; B.
Here are a few extra notes to finish off this particular review – I noticed there wasn’t a huge amount of noise coming out of the open kitchen. This is unusual and I wonder if intentional as well? For me, it was a pleasant surprise. They provide a recycled carry out container similar to a cardboard material you would see in egg cartons…another nice touch. And, although they weren’t initially taking reservations last week, they are now. A needed addition if they keep performing like they did for our visit.
In sum, from the moment we exited my car to the moment we left the building after our meal, I felt relaxed, well served, and well fed. My artistic side was nurtured by the interior design. And, I’m certain I will go back again and again. My next goal is to try some of their colder salads and check out the homemade noodles dressed with soft herb pesto.
An overall solid “A” visit. And, I feel good about sending you, your family or your business guests there any time you’d like to go. Enjoy!
Lovin’ the New Prairie Cuisine…Red Dirt Kelly
P.S. If you click here, you’ll get straight to the CORRECT website. Isn’t is nice that we took care of that little task for you?
Lamb Burger with wilted greens and sweet potatoes...Nice! - RDC Photo
Top row, left to right: Beth Pinkstaff, Anita Adair, Kelly Bomgardner; Bottom row, left to right: Regan Barr, Marlon Lambert. Turner Falls, Oklahoma - Spring, 1983.
It’s Spring, 1893…I mean, 1983. I was standing in front of a camera in Turner Falls, Oklahoma with four other friends who had helped me survive my freshman year in college. Four other friends who, together, had walked with me through one of the best years of my life, and one of the most stressful years in my life. The camera flashed, we took off our costumes, and somehow the photograph made its way across 27.5 years of moves, still intact although a bit faded. Last night while digging through a box on a quest to find something else, I found this photo and began to reflect.
I began my freshman year as a music major at Midwest Christian College in Oklahoma City during the fall of 1982. I had not previously met any of the others in the photo except in passing during audition days. As anyone who is a music major will tell you, the time investment in terms of studio hours outside of your regular studies is astronomical. Four of the five of us were in applied lessons such as piano and voice, as well as ensemble for the school choir AND for our school recruitment singing group, “Image;” the name had been taken from the Christian phrase of being made “…in His image.”
Any one of us could write a book of tales from that year. Indeed, life was sometimes stranger than fiction:
1) A man in Western Oklahoma felt led during one of our concerts to pay for us to record an album. Later, the money wasn’t quite enough for a bare bones project so the only way we could make it happen was to record all the tracks during the cheapest studio time, midnight to six in the morning over a period of only two or three days. We did this during finals week of our fall semester…two weeks after our part-time drummer and bass player had been hit by a car and had died.
2) During a bizarre twist of fate, we found that our faculty sponsor wasn’t able to continue his appointment as the coordinator, music arranger, and director of our rehearsals for the second semester of the year. His leadership and mentorship had been extremely important to me during that transitional freshman year and he had managed the entire recording process for all of us. However (and I still don’t know how those making the decision decided to support the request), we ended up basically sponsoring ourselves the second semester. We went it alone: three freshman/sophomore women, and two senior men. Our regional traveling load didn’t lighten just because we had lost our sponsor, so most every weekend we loaded the trailer, found the scheduled church (in Kansas, Texas, Oklahoma or Arkansas), stayed in homes of the church members and led musical worship…or gave concerts. Students, on the road, getting along on their own. We did it, but sometimes when I think about it I really am quite stricken with thoughts of “what were they thinking?”
3) I spent my birthday on a dairy farm in McPherson, Kansas. We became connoisseurs of roadside Pizza Huts. One time we had to load out of a concert site over the “slain in the spirit” bodies of some Pentecostals who took longer to worship than our schedule could allow. I know at least once our sponsor had to stop the van so I could run up to a deserted farm house, go around to the back side and pee. I still wonder if anyone was on that property and witnessed my bathroom break. We rehearsed, arranged music, made jokes, created an alternate universe with a language to accompany it…we got each other through.
The year ended, however, and the five of us began to go our separate ways. Regan headed to an appointment as a youth minister in New Mexico. Marlon and Anita got married. I must have had enough because I enrolled into a college just up the road and changed my major. Beth stayed for another year to sing; she had a really beautiful voice. But shortly after that the college merged with Ozark Christian College and was eventually sold to the Army Reserve as a training ground.
When you find yourself in a closet and you look at a life that existed, but has certainly faded in your memory, sometimes you’re left with only big themes or thoughts. When I look at this photo my big thoughts are: gratitude, friendship love, stress, talent and fulfillment. I’m so incredibly grateful to my four other comrades for getting me through that “best of times and worst of times” year. And, when I look at my children now – who are the same age as those in the photograph, I know their capacity to manage life will always be bigger than I can imagine.
Thanks, friends, for being part of one of the most special times in my life. I love you guys.
Here we are in the 1982 duds we picked out as stylin' fashion. Tom, our director, is on the back row - far right, sporting a mustache.
Oklahoma Christian University Students experience "Out of This World" chapel service, enjoying almost a 30 minute feed from the space station. Click photo to visit the Edmond Sun website.
6-0 OSU Cowboys now "Bowl eligible." Nice photo from the Daily Oklahoman. Click photo to read post-game report.
The mystery message. Red Dirt Kelly was walking across campus on 10-12-10 and spied this lone piece of paper randomly taped to a glass door. Upon closer inspection, she noted that there was a message, and some sort of insignia. The note read: "Forever blindly ill (sic) always wait thoughts (written in "of") you keep me up late." What did it mean? Who was it from? To whom was it directed? What did the bronze/gold metallic "M" symbol mean? ... Was it YOU?"
Sometimes Red Dirt Kelly sees things that give her ideas. This image gave her the idea that the Red Dirt Chronicles needed a company truck.
In November, 2009, Matt Mahan, his children and his brother-in-law were out digging for flint chips in the Dewey County area when his brother-in-law called them over to a bluff area he was working on. He had found "a dead guy," that ended up being a 200+ year-old skeleton. The medical examiner told them that based upon the femur size, the man could have been 6'6" or taller, and was probably not Native American. Have you ever just been digging around in the dirt and discovered a skeleton? It's almost Halloween, so we're publishing this photo now. We need to follow-up to see if a final report was filed by that M.E., and what the conclusions were.
OU killed Iowa State. That's the whole story. Click the photo to get the perspective of an Iowa State blogger.
Gracie Burris, 5, gathers small pumpkins in the "Hide-a-Pumpkin" pit in Muskogee, OK. Photo by Wendy Burton of the Muskogee Phoenix.
As a child, I used to fantasize about being Heidi of the Alps. I used to draw pictures on my wide-ruled notebook paper of hovels on top of mountains with thatched roofs, the landscape dotted with fluffy yellow haystacks, goats, pine trees and snow. I used to pretend my bedroom was her attic bedroom where she could see the stars at night. And also, I used to have a literary crush on Peter, the goat-herder.
Heidi got me so hooked on “orphan” books that I couldn’t really get interested in much else for a while. There was Heidi, Anne of Green Gables, Mandy, The Secret Garden…all orphans, and all “me” in my head as I read through the pages over and over again. Oh, and I also had literary crushes on Dicken in the Secret Garden, AND on Gilbert in Anne of Green Gables.
Since the parents of Harriet the Spy weren’t around much in her books, I turned her into an orphan as well. Need you even ask if I had a crush on her friend Sport? And, since Wonaplei in the Island of the Blue Dolphins was stranded for eighteen years…yes, orphan. Every one of these female characters were “explorers” who pushed the boundaries of social acceptability with their adventures in one way or another. All of them were zealous, passionate about life, and most all of them had an emotional melt-down at some point. That’s where my story will begin today.
I think I was pretty awesome at having emotional melt-downs as a child. I know I was strong-willed. Had my parents only known to tell me to turn left when they wanted me to go right, jump if they wanted me to stand still, or scream bloody murder when they wanted me to be quiet…they might have thought their skills were magically blessed by the Early Childhood Fairy. I know that from time to time I would dig in with an idea, a rant, or some sort of decision that would turn in to quite the horn-locking situation. And, since we’re using “horn-locking” as a metaphor, I could probably take that even further and say that I was bull-headed. Strong willed, bull-headed, stubborn…pick one. They all fit.
In order for you to fully understand this little tale, it’s also important for you to know that I was a cartoon-lovin’ kid as well. Looney Tunes ruled. “Boy, I say BOY!…” I loved to imitate Foghorn Leghorn. And Ralph E. Wolfe and Sam Sheepdog: “Mornin’, Ralph.” “Mornin’, Sam.” And, I loved cartoon paraphernalia. For example, that cool anvil that always showed up to give the character’s heads a few knots? Nice! Or “ACME” everything. And, I used to love the fact that cartoon haystacks were so versatile. Looney Tunes did a great job with their cartoon haystacks. For instance, Wile E. Coyote could pick up an entire haystack within which he was hiding, run with his fingers across a road (cue the upper register piano keys sound effects), and then set the haystack back down again…over and over until he reached his destination. Haystacks were also good for breaking falls. Usually, the “good” cartoon would fall out of an airplane or off a cliff and land on a nice fluffy haystack, while the “bad” character would land on the dirt right beside them. And then, of course, dynamite would blow up in case the fall didn’t kill them.
One summer day my penchant for fantasizing about orphan protagonists, my bull-headedness and images of cartoon haystacks all came together into one knock-down, drag-out argument with my mother. I’m sure I was highly invested in defending my position to the death, and I’m sure she was thinking that perhaps she had spawned a freak of nature who needed a calf-tranquilizer. The verbal tennis-match we were having was Wimbledon worthy. So, I decided to one-up the situation, not by pleading my case with different words or more emphatic body language, but by ending the argument. I decided I would “run emotionally away from the scene of this persecution,” therefore garnering sympathy and attention. I was a literary orphan and this was my moment.
I turned around, ran out of the kitchen and through the garage, pushed the back door open and took off across the back yard toward (um…stop for a second, look around, pick a target…) The BARN! Caught up in my “persecution” leading role I thought quickly, “I’ll go throw myself on a haystack and cry violently!” My pace picked up, and before I knew it I was in the barn, climbing the stack of baled prairie grass, mixed with a few bales of alfalfa. The first level of the haystack wasn’t enough for dramatic effect. I was going all the way to the top. I grabbed a hay hook, used it for an anchor as I threw myself over the second and third layer of hay, and then finally pulled myself up and over the top row.
Adrenaline is a funny thing. Had I not been so worked up, I would have realized that as I was crawling across the highest layer of hay bales, my knees were receiving pain messages. The hay was tough and scratchy, more like crawling on cedar chips than the bright yellow cartoon hay image I had in my head. I quickly sighted the center, perfect for my dramatic “throw down and cry” scene, heaved my body forward and slammed my head down with a wail. The impact of my face onto the tightly baled hay might as well have been that of me slamming into a pine tree on Heidi’s mountain; it was solid as a rock. “Ouch!” I yelled, the shock and awe reverberating through my entire head.
Previously I had planned on forcing myself to fake-cry really loudly in order to punctuate the scene with the proper je ne sais quoi. Mustering fake blubber was no longer needed, however, as tears flowed easily from the very real physical stinging of my face. Wow, this haystack wasn’t yellow, it wasn’t fluffy and it sure as heck wasn’t something I could cry myself to sleep into; I wasn’t even sleepy. However, the bull-headedness didn’t get suddenly knocked out of me just because I had given myself a hay-concussion. I decided to TRY and cry myself to sleep just to make whatever point I was trying to make. I suppose on some level I succeeded because I ended up taking a short nap, but it took a lot longer to fall asleep than in the movies.
I woke up a little while later and was immediately reminded of two things: a) I had actually run out of the house away from one of my parents and could be facing very real consequences for said action; and, b) my head hurt like the dickens. Not Dicken, my literary crush from the Secret Garden, but “The Dickens” – the voluminous, overwhelming adjective used for special occasions to emphasize a great amount of “whatever.” At that point, it was my headache. Head throbbing, ego-bruised and curiosity peaked as to what my punishment might be for running out of the house, I made my way down that wretched haystack.
When I opened the door back into the house, however, my mother’s face showed genuine concern. “Kelly, are you okay?” she asked. “What happened to your face?” I could hear the worry in her voice. Okay, I HAD been gone for probably 45 minutes to an hour. There was no mention of the family court-hearing that would be taking place in our living room to hand down my sentence for leaving home. The “judge” just looked worried; perhaps my face looked quite a mess and she thought I had already paid some sort of price for my actions.
Maybe being an orphan wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be. I closed the door and came on into the house, sat down and began to eat a pretty good meal that was waiting on me. As I worked through my sandwich, my right cheek throbbed. The first genuine tear of emotion trickled down my cheek. “Haystacks are not soft,” I thought. “Goat cheese probably isn’t as good as this sandwich,” I continued to talk myself down off the Alps and back to my farm in Tuttle, Oklahoma. It didn’t take long. The comfortable sounds of the kitchen soothed me as I finished my meal and headed back to my room. I glanced at my bookshelf and spied the Heidi book. I hesitated, turned back around and went to help my mom clean the dishes.
Click photo to read a report from the GovMonitor re: the denial of Oklahoma's flood aid claim.
While floods have devastated areas around the world and within the U.S., recently Red Dirt country sustained a fairly damaging flood as well. This particular phenomenon was coined by weather experts as a “500-year rain.” In other words, we’ll probably not see one like it again. To add to the burden, although the majority of the damage was sustained in areas not zoned as “flood plain,” the White House denied Governor Henry’s request for aid to those who sustained property damage.
This denial was a difficult blow to absorb. Areas of Northwest Oklahoma City and Edmond were damaged, as well as throughout the metropolitan area. We’re not going to include shock video or photos on our blog, but suffice it to say there were highly emotional moments. During one instance, a young girl was almost lost in the deep waters several times before emerging one last time to be pulled to safety by rescuers. Another story included the testimony of an adolescent boy holding his paraplegic grandmother above the water for six hours before being rescued. Horses and cattle were lost, farms were devastated, and houses sustained an inordinate amount of damage. Some were irreparable.
But, just like those around the world and across the U.S., the commitment to rebuild has flourished and progress is being made regardless of financial assistance. The progress is possibly slower due to the lack of resources, but it’s certainly no less determined. There are hundreds of stories of progress across the area, many much more extreme than we’ll share here. We have three small vignettes for you, however…slices of rebuilding taking place.
So, today the RDC Friday Morning Shout Out simply goes to all those who are making progress, whatever the pace may be. And certainly to those who are still planning progress but for some reason haven’t yet begun.
1) One fun little story comes from Dane and Diane Sharp. They live just down the road from me. For kicks one Halloween, they made big “eyes” and nailed them onto a dead tree in their yard. The flooding was so high in their area that the eyes were swept away, never to be “seen” again. The Sharps have since replaced the eyes and now drivers-by can smile at the local “Googly Eyed-Tree.”
Googly Eyes are Back in Action! "Eye Level" is about 4.5 to 5 feet, where the water had risen and swept them away.
2) Our second story is about Cody and Andrea Freeman. They had just purchased a home that had been vacant and left uncompleted for approximately five years. Determined to finish the project out for their family, they went through all the steps to take ownership of the home and moved in. They had JUST settled in when the flood hit. Standing on their porch, they watched these waters rage onto their brand new property (see below – photos are post flooding). The waters have recessed, there was some “re-clean-up” to perform, but they’re doing okay.
The area on the left that looks like a flooded section is actually a creek. The water is over the top of the bank.
3) Our last neighbor’s property was extremely damaged. He lost horses down a flooded creek, lost fencing around his horse farm, and had extensive mud dumping across his quarter-section of land. Here is a cell phone photo of their property after the water subsided. You can tell by the vegetation that the water reached nearly to the top of their fence posts.
Horse farm, after the water subsided.
I stopped by to see them the other day and check on their progress. The dogs greeted me, but they weren’t home. There is a new fence, however, on one side of their property. There are at least two horses back at their home now. A large area of mud dredging has been grated and it looks like they’re getting ready to start on the next section. Good luck, Mr. Horse Farmer Neighbor…good luck, bridge builders and dry wall fixers. And good luck to everyone who was affected by the flood and are rebuilding regardless of the lack of federal disaster assistance. We’re proud you are our neighbors and wish you the best!
Two of the four dogs who were happy to show me the progress their owner was making on his horse farm.
As the sun sets, you can see the new fence on the right and piles of mud grated to clear the drive on the left.
Happy to be back home.
Cleared area number two - ready for the next section of new fencing.
Last year during one of my “Human Sexuality and the Family” lectures, the students happened upon some information in our textbook they found especially intriguing. Evidently, there was a study cited examining why those our society deems as “attractive” women might choose to marry (again, what our society deems as) “unattractive” men. The debate heated up when pop culture examples were named by various class members. I think Woody Allen and former wife Mia Farrow were one illustration used as evidence to make their point. Okay, I could sort of see their reasoning on that one:
Woody Allen and former wife Mia Farrow. Photo from the National Portrait Gallery. Click to visit their website.
But then, they hit me where it hurt. They actually brought up the name of Garrison Keillor and his wife.
Garrison Keillor and wife Ulla Skärved. You are welcome to click this photo to go to the source, but will be met with pop-up ads galore.
I’m sorry, but at that point they had trodden upon my sacred ground. Seriously, Keillor is one of my literary gods. Only a genius could write statements like:
“Cats are intended to teach us that not everything in nature has a purpose.”
And even though I like cats, I wailed away about the beauty of his voice, his humor and his written word. They didn’t care…and I probably lost the argument. My students are excellent debaters. But as I began reviewing my Facebook page this morning (this was very early, pre-earthquake time), I began thinking about Keillor again because one particular comment caught my eye. I thought, “Okahoma is like Lake Wobegon, only – – it’s not fiction.” I then decided that perhaps I should occasionally write up a “news report” of sorts in the Red Dirt Chronicles. True stories. So, I’m starting now. And although I can only deign to approach the outskirts of Garrison Keillor’s shadow when it comes to wielding my proverbial pen, I believe I can count on our fair community to make up for what my writing loses.
Volume 1; Taxidermy and Interior Design: Domestic and Industrial
The Cherokee Hills “middle-aged plus a few years” Sunday school group drove to Meers, Oklahoma this past weekend to enjoy a scenic journey and eat a meal together at the famous Meers Store and Restaurant. Jim and Cina Gailey decided to drive separately because their shiny red T-Bird was well suited for this sort of thing.
Jim and Cina, preparing to load out for their Meers trip.
But then Jim decided he was tired of driving, having already done that quite a bit earlier in the week. So they unloaded the car, and jumped in with the rest of the crew. 90 minutes later the entire entourage was standing in line, admiring the landscape and general beauty of the hamburger establishment.
I have no credit for this photo. I stole it off the internet blatently. Okay, yes I do. Click the photo to visit the blogger who took a better picture than me.
Once inside, everyone had an enjoyable time ordering – laughing, joking and generally enjoying every minute of their outing thus far.
Their laughter died down, if only temporarily however, when they looked up and saw what hovered above them menacingly, as if to say, “Mess with me and I’ll drop the whole load on your plate.” Yes, the covered-in-dust ceiling fan became quite the target of concern at that point. Is dust bacteria-ridden? How much has to fall into your food before you should actually begin worrying? These questions and more haunted at least one or two of the more cleanliness-occupied Sunday-schoolers.
The "menace" of Meers.
It wasn’t long, however, before the attention-limited group found another focus. Mr. Deer was hanging on the wall above the party to their left, and he also needed a good dusting.
“Dusty,” the ten-point wonder buck. Oh, and for those of you outside of Red Dirt Country, those hooves below are a gun rack.
Ah, poor Dusty. He looked much older than his years because layers of dust had been accumulating for ages on his whiskers, nose and face. Just about the time everyone’s stomach was churning over the sight, however, the food arrived. And just for the record, there is a reason why people keep going back to that joint in droves, in spite of any fossilizing dust accumulation.
Smoked chicken dredged in BBQ sauce with a side of fried green tomatoes.The Meers Burger, already half eaten by the time the camera focused.Beverages served in Kerr jars.
While the group was eating, they were entertained with the fine art selection hanging on the walls. Notice the dusty frame and even the dusty slatted wood? The interior design theme of “Dust O’ Plenty” was consistent throughout the entire venue!
But the fun had to end at some point. Here is evidence of the fact that the food really is quite amazing…
“Burp.”
On the way home, Red Dirt Kelly graciously kept her husband’s full attention by taking no less than thirty or forty shots of the wind turbine farm just west of the restaurant.
They all look like this, folks. Every single one of them.
Later that week, a local Realtor posted a Facebook message asking her friends whether or not she should “…leave the mounted deer heads on the wall when staging her new listing to be sold, or take them down?” Several chimed in about the virtues of taxidermic interior design. Others wondered if perhaps the prospective buyers might be put off by the sight, just in case the deer in the home was bigger than that shot by them looking at the house. It might not be appropriate to demean their hunting skills right off the bat. Red Dirt Kelly, of course, chimed in about the virtues of dusting the deer heads, whether or not they were left up or taken down. The Realtor assured her they were well dusted and looked great. Appeased, Kelly sighed with relief and signed off until the next day.
When she signed back on this morning, however, she was met with another quandary posted by the same Realtor. Here’s the text of the actual post:
so I am about to do a preforeclosure inspection and house is stil occupied and he is a cop so if I carry I have to disclose it. figure that sets a bad tone. I guess if I am not on fb in an hour…it didn’t go well.
For those of you outside Red Dirt Country, “carry” means “gun.” I’m not sure how our gun-packin’ Realtor came out on that deal, but if I find out I’ll let you know.
In other news, a 4.5 earthquake shook the Red Dirt in our heartland today. Hordes of citizens immediately took to the Twitter air waves and began sharing their, “I was doing THIS when the 7.5 quake hit!” banter. Jokes were made about Gary England watching the quake on Doppler radar, and about the fact that Hefner Lake condos were evacuated as a preventative measure against a catastrophic Tsunami.
Then the Tweets died down, the people resumed their daily goings on, and that’s about all the news in Red Dirt Country this week.
Stay safe, dust your deer, and we’ll see you next time. Y’all come back now, ya hear?
Sometimes I think a blogger has to be vulnerable with their community in order for important messages to resonate. That’s why today’s “Relationships” post includes a personal story. Two of them.
When I was bullied
I grew up in a fairly rural community surrounded by independent and small farms. I can always recall the year of any grade level during my youth because I was in kindergarten (grade “zero”) in 1970. Life was fairly stable and slow-paced during my early childhood. The definitions of the community I knew as a youngster were changed, however, when the social breezes turned into troubled storms.
Desegregation busing was in full swing by 1974 and my hometown was close enough to Oklahoma’s largest metropolitan school districts to become a haven for what has become known over the years as white flight. I can’t blame any family or individual for how they reacted to change. People are scared of what they don’t know. I can say, however, that I was affected by the change in our own community. There was an influx of “city kids” into our country town, and with that change in our landscape came some challenges for both populations.
I experienced new emotions, unfamiliar to me until that time period in my life. I was met with students who were socialized differently, whose wardrobes were by and large purchased from department stores, and whose houses were larger with more amenities than the previous norm. I’m sure the incoming students were met with challenges as well. They had moved into a new town with new rules; it must have been difficult for them. I know it was for me.
I frequently became the recipient of comments about my hand-me-downs, about my hair cut, and about the way I talked. New “street smart” lingo was wielded like weaponry in the halls and my wounds got deeper as the weeks passed. In hind sight, I can now see that much of the behavior I encountered was a form of bullying. Unfortunately, my response to this was to become a bully. I’ll never forget one day on our playground in either the sixth or seventh grade. I had worked hard to gain the acceptance of some of the newer kids and seemed to finally be making some headway.
When I became a bully
Standing with the group, their attention turned toward a weaker individual in our class. She was socially less skilled and struggled with grades. The group began taunting her and I joined in. I was now the bully, not the one being bullied. At some point she began shouting back, and in an attempt to protect my new status as a cooler kid, I stepped toward her and pushed her backwards. I must have pushed pretty hard because she fell to the ground. What’s worse, she tried to get up once and I pushed her backwards again. She stayed put the second time. Those who I stood with began to laugh at her and call her names. My face flushed…this girl was a “country kid” and I had just hurt one of my own.
Over twenty years later I tracked her down and apologized for that day. The guilt from my physical aggression weighed heavily on me and I needed to make amends. Interestingly, she didn’t even remember that day or what happened. So, the act of reconciliation was basically for my own healing I suppose. I’m sharing this illustration with you because “bullying” seems to be in the air on the national news, we continue to have bullying problems and Safe Schools programming challenges here in Oklahoma, and bullying is a social problem that happens across races, cultures, social classes…and even within our family trees.
As I watched a few of the “It Gets Better” videos this past week, I was reminded that human beings respond to their own pain many times by taking it out on others. The thing is, though, those they take it out on are human beings too. They were born, they have some form of a family most of the time, and…they have feelings and hopes and dreams. Just like you. Just like me.
So today my message for you is this: Whether you are being bullied or are the bully, try to step back, take a fresh look, and find common ground if possible. If you can’t stop hurting people, there is help. We’ll help you find some at the RDC if you don’t know where to look. If you are scared and hurting because people can’t stop hurting you – same thing. Everyone is valuable and you’re no exception.
We’re “human beans”…so let’s find some “common grounds.”
We have a little gem of a bakery out here in the country. Backerman’s Bakery and Cheese Shoppe is a small Mennonite Bakery owned and run by a local Mennonite family. The bakery is a fairly popular stop on Highway 64 and is one of the ways I get my friends to come visit me…I promise to take them to the bakery for a fried pie.
A brief amount of research on Mennonites in Oklahoma revealed that this group played a role in the Land Run of 1889. They were key to helping Oklahoma become a major wheat-producing state. Currently there are three Mennonite churches in the tiny town of Corn (formerly Korn) which only has about 591 residents. Corn is located on the western prairie range, about twenty miles or so south of Weatherford.
Our local Mennonite community raises funds the first weekend in October in order to support their Mennonite school. The Mennonite Oktoberfest celebrates German heritage treats (without the beer) and the goodness of community. Of course, anytime I see an “O” and a “K” together, I think of Oklahoma; nothing screams “goodness of community” like my home state.
Seeing an opportunity to influence change, "Sassy" posted photos of delapidated properties and eyesore lots on the Sayre, OK city newspaper website. I wonder if "Sassy" will get some municipal clean-up action in his/her town now? Click photo to visit website and see a few other shots of areas needing attention.
Grief, loss...and community: In a powerful demonstration of support and faith, friends and family of Leslie Joy Evans pray outside her hospital. Leslie was a friend of local college grads and many in the Norman/OKC metro area. She and her premature twin babies died during a difficult pregnancy challenge. You can visit the memorial site and blog her family created by clicking this photo. May peace and comfort find her husband and extended family.
Rylee Roberts, a contributing photographer for the RDC, dines at Ludivine Restaurant in Mid-Town OKC on 10/9/10. The establishment opened this week after much planning and preparation, and features a rotating menu of available foods most all from local growers and producers. A "full color" review of the new restaurant coming later this week. Click photo to visit their website.
Conked out. Mid-semester is always rough and this one is no exception. A student takes a study break and naps in the Edmon Low Library on the OSU campus in Stillwater, 10/6/10.
Pink boots. The nation "thinks pink" this month, as Breast Cancer Awareness Week takes place. RDC Homestead and Garden author, Julie Allgyer, made sure those around her were thinking pink as well. Click photo for more information about Breast Cancer Awareness Month.
Sometimes Red Dirt Kelly turns into driveways with "Estate Sale" signs posted by the road. She usually doesn't buy anything, but she frequently takes photos of cool old treasures. Here's a Maytag Washer that was for sale, listed at $200. "But (they'd) take $50 for it..."
I wonder if Suzy Welch is reading her book today? If I were her, I'd do SOMETHING to commemorate the volume. This edition was the only random thing I could find named for today's date...a perfect "10."
Anyone who has ever met me realizes pretty quickly I’m a die hard baseball fan. From the beginning of spring training until the lingering days after the last game in the World Series, it’s almost all I think about. When postseason starts, I get a little sad. Okay, I get a little sadder. My original depression starts when my team gets mathematically eliminated, which – depending on the year, can be several weeks before postseason. That’s another story though.
Life as a baseball fan gets a little boring in the early fall when your team hasn’t made it to the World Series in over 100 years and likely won’t for another hundred. So, how do you fill the gap between October and Spring training? The logical answer in Oklahoma would be football. There’s only one problem though, I hate football. I tried to like it. I really, truly tried. And I failed. So, now I’m trying something new.
I found out a few months ago that Oklahoma City has a brand new hockey team. I began to research information about the sport. I first found that the only calendar day in the summer when nothing happens in baseball, something happens in hockey. This was looking good to me…then:
1. Hockey starts about the time that baseball ends, and ends about the time that baseball starts;
2. We have a local team, and;
3. It’s not football.
Hockey is my new off-season sport.
I looked around trying to figure out the rules and this website is the best one I’ve found. I still wanted to know more about the sport, however, so I set out to dig deeper. I found some local fans who play hockey for fun and went to one of their games. A few days later I sat down with the captain of the team and two players (who happen to be husband and wife) to ask some questions. Nick is the captain; Paco and Pook are married:
How did you get started playing hockey?
Nick: The only reason I got into hockey was I married a Canadian. In a land where football is king, really hockey is the same thing as football. You have to be that skilled, but you’re doing it on two knives on ice. That’s why it amazes me that people say “I don’t like hockey” because it’s really like football on ice. I’ve hit a lot of home runs, but I think the best thing I’ve ever experienced was getting my first goal. I was shocked that I made contact with the puck, to be honest.
Paco: I’m from Sayre, Oklahoma – out West. When I was about 10 my parents built a roller rink in the town. About a year later we’re going to skating conventions in Las Vegas and there’s information about roller hockey. Eventually I convinced my parents to buy skates for me and my brother and we started our own roller hockey team.
Pook: Mine is actually totally different, I went ice skating with my friend in Thailand. I’m from Thailand. This guy came up to me and said he was trying to get a girls’ hockey team together. I played for a while in Thailand and then I came over here to go to school. When I finished school I wanted to play again and I met Paco on a hockey team.
Everything seems to happen so fast, I had a hard time figuring out what was going on. One second everyone would be going one direction, and the next second everyone is going in completely the opposite direction at full speed. How do you work together as a team when everything changes so quickly on the ice?
Nick: It’s really fast, in other sports like baseball, basketball or even football you have time to think. In hockey, you either have the puck or you don’t, it’s so fast paced you can’t think you have to rely on instinct. It’s hard for me because I can barely skate. I played almost every sport growing up. I like to think of myself as halfway athletic; I got most of my school paid for playing baseball. Hockey is one of those sports that you can’t play just because you can walk. Baseball, basketball, football, you’re basically running to get around. Hockey is a different beast – there’s an art to it.
Paco: I think a lot of it has to do with playing together, hockey is the only sport I’ve heard of that talks about chemistry with other players. You have to know who is going to be where and when.
Pook: Sometimes you think [a teammate] is going to be somewhere but they aren’t and you have to figure out quickly what to do about it.
I noticed the teams are co-ed. How does that work out?
Nick: What’s funny is this is our second season; we played in the summer and the winter. We had another woman in the summer, she was in her 50’s and she’d been playing for 20 years. She could skate and stick handle and she was really good. The women tend to hold their own; we haven’t had any problems. I’ve seen two other teams with women too. In our league, it’s a non-contact league because we’re all beginners. We don’t have a separate league for women and men so whoever wants to get out there and play can.
If someone reading this wanted to get involved in hockey how would they do that?
Nick: For an adult, the hardest part is getting out there. The first time I ever played hockey was in Canada against my wife’s 9 and 10 year-old cousins. The hardest part was swallowing my pride and getting out there, listening to them laugh at me – and they did quite a bit of laughing at me. There are some good websites out there like OKChockey.com and Dailyhockeydeal.com
or you can visit one of the local ice rinks and tell them you want to play.
As a kid, the best part of Oklahoma is they have a “learn to play” program called “Kids First”. Just take them to a rink and tell them you want your kid to learn how to play hockey. They’ll give them the equipment for free and let them play for 30 days, teach them the rules and let them try it out. If they want to play after that you just pay for the equipment (about $200 for kids) and they’ll put them on a team. If you don’t want to play then you just give the equipment back. It’s pretty easy for kids to get started.
Barons Blue & White Scrimmage - curteousy of OKC Barons Website
For those of us who are still a little too scared to play, you can always just watch the games. The OKC Barons season opener is Saturday (TODAY!) and as I’m typing this, tickets are still available. It’s also going to be broadcast on the radio.
"Pook and my girls, after the game" - photo by Joey Rodman
More than a road sign, a sign of home and being back where I belong.
A few days ago I came back to Oklahoma for the first time in a couple of months. I felt at home before my truck tires even touched the driveway of my parents’ house. A comfortable feeling washed over me as soon as I crossed over the state line and saw that big “Welcome to Oklahoma” sign. It was a sense of familiarity, belonging, and identity. My license plate no longer says “Native America” but my head and my heart say I’ll always be an Okie.
Sports is part of that identity. It was so good to stop at a Loves’ station outside Sallisaw and see the t-shirts for sale. Two choices, orange or crimson. Back on the highway, the car in front of me showcased an upside down Longhorn sticker in its rear window. A few miles more and another driver had his OSU car flags furiously flapping on both sides of the car. Then the best of both worlds, when a car on the exit ramp displayed a “House Divided” license plate frame. After shuffling through radio stations for hundreds of miles, the scanning stopped when I heard the familiar voices of my favorite sports talk hosts. These are the little things I took for granted when I lived here for so many years. People ask, “what do you miss about Oklahoma?” The usual answers always come out first, family and friends, my house, my church, blah, blah, blah. Crossing the state line the other day made me realize, it’s so much more than that, it’s the sports culture in this state I miss. (I miss you too Mom, no need to get offended here.)
If you’re from this state, you likely have a fierce allegiance to OU or OSU. Pick a side and don’t turn back. So many states are watered down with loyalty divided between several major universities and multiple professional franchises. In Oklahoma, its simpler. Our way of life is simple, our sports landscape is simple.
Even though we may be divided along college lines, we can be united behind the Thunder. I used to think pro sports wasn’t a good idea for Oklahoma. We’ve got the great college atmosphere, we don’t need the NBA to enhance our status. Let’s just say I’ve digested large quantities of crow. This whole state has Thunder fever. Even though I’ve never been a huge NBA fan, I miss the sense of pride that comes from proving the rest of the country wrong. There’s room here for more than just college football. Not only is Oklahoma worthy of the a team, it is quickly becoming one of the most respected franchises in the NBA. The fan base is energized and unified by a team with players and coaches that represent our values and want to be part of this community. Maybe this is silly or over the top, but in my mind, Thunder fans see the success of their team as a big slap in the face to the East Coast, West Coast, big cities, and so-called elites. That’s the mentality of Oklahoma sports fans. I love that mentality. I miss that mentality.
The teams here are the major parts of Oklahoma sports culture, but again, it’s the little things I miss the most. I miss reading the fishing report in the paper, seeing that largemouth are good on crankbaits at McGee Creek, then thinking about which one of my lures I’d use. I miss Thursday night high school football. Every week, a handful of games played before the rest where the schools get showcased and the kids feel that much more special. I miss the public golf courses here. You’re never far from a teebox in Oklahoma, and you can usually get in a round all the way into November.
I miss the subtle jabs exchanged by Sooners and Cowboys over the airwaves. I miss living and experiencing Bedlam every single day. It’s not limited to the football field or the basketball court, Bedlam is alive and well at Wal-mart, at the bank, at the grocery store, and yes, even in the church sanctuaries.
A rivalry that splits the state and even splits families, one of the best parts of our sports culture.
I miss the sports personalities here. Like them or not, guys like Bob Barry Jr., Jim Traber, Al Eshbach, John Holcomb, and Al Jerkens are practically institutions in this state. We come to expect those voices and those faces delivering our sports news, telling our sports stories, and asking questions on our behalf. Why are guys like that popular? Because they’re loyal to this state and can’t possibly see themselves living or working anywhere else.
I miss hearing Bob Stoops say “in a good way” in every other sentence. I miss Pistol Pete’s freakishly large head. I miss hearing Bob Barry say “Touchdown Oklahoma!” and a high-pitched “pistols firing!” coming from the pipes of Dave Hunziker.
One day maybe I’ll once again be a full-time resident of this great state. I hope so. No matter where I might lay my head, I will love Oklahoma and consider it home. I will always know that there’s a bass to be caught in a farm pond, a Bedlam debate to be had, and a simple sports culture that suits me just fine. The little things will stick with me.
Oklahoma History Center (OHC) at Night - images provided by the OHC
One of the more recent precious jewels in Oklahoma’s crown has been the addition of the Oklahoma History Center, supported by the continued development and dedication of the Oklahoma Historical Society and their community stakeholders.
Last night I spent 30 minutes exploring their website. The first five minutes were used to review their current and upcoming events for October; I got overwhelmed…so much to do, so many choices! Then a blog hyperlink caught my eye. Well, I was “done for” at that point. I read three or four posts. Okay I read five, commented on all of them like an overzealous cheerleader, then told myself “Stop! It will be there tomorrow, and even the next day!”
I do hope you’ll visit their facility very soon, either to look through their exhibits or attend an event held in the beautiful building. And, if you ever have a chance to hear Director Dr. Bob Blackburn speak, my recommendation would be to drop your other calendared commitments and choose him. The guy knows his stuff, he’s really approachable and is a true teacher and scholar. Maybe I should have just written this shout out for him…yea, Dr. Blackburn!
"Tipi With Battle Pictures" - OHC Blog Photo, Authored by Matt Reed
However, there is much more than Dr. Blackburn’s speaking to enjoy. October is “Family History Month,” with new events, contests and news being posted every day. Check out their events calendar by clicking here.
The Center, the Society and all those involved who helped build what we now enjoy are to be commended…and for your efforts, you ALL get our RDC Friday Morning Shout Out.
Thanks for the good work, Red Dirt Kelly
"Winnie Mae" Atrium at the OHC - Photo provided by the OHC
Last night my hubby and I decided to go enjoy the festivities of Ludivine’s maiden voyage, their first night with doors open to the public. Here’s the sunset I enjoyed on the drive from work…
7:35 p.m., prairie view approximately 10 miles west of Meridian, OK
When I got to the house, Mick was dressed and ready to go. He looked up the address one final time (805 N. Hudson) while I brushed my teeth and sprayed on perfume. When we pulled up to the restaurant it was already dark, and most of the parallel spaces along the street were taken. “Good,” I thought. “A nice crowd even though it’s after 8:00 p.m.” Here are a couple shots from the street view…
As we entered the restaurant, I noticed the staff were busy, friendly and everyone seemed to have at least two tasks on which they were focusing. The front-end manager greeted us and told us that there was approximately an hour wait. I looked around the house and saw every table full but one. She offered to have us wait in their “great bar” but I knew what our answer would be. Mick gets up at 4:00 a.m. and staying out this late was already a stretch. She suggested coming early to lessen the wait; they open at 5:00 p.m. I agreed, told her we would be back and we prepared to go somewhere else. I wasn’t discouraged at all – in fact I was happy that their opening night provided them with a full house.
Before I left, I took a few shots of the dining, kitchen and bar areas – and one of the table general manager Tracey Leird was setting for their next guests. I commented on their flowers and she mentioned that they, too, were grown in Oklahoma. “Perfect,” I thought.
So, we headed down the road and pulled into another place near to our heart: Big Truck Tacos. I cannot get enough of their ceviche.
I’m glad Ludivine had a good first night. I’m glad I learned when to show up in order to get a table more quickly, and I’m glad that another strong business model has found it’s way to the heart of Oklahoma City. Oh…I’m ALSO glad Big Truck Tacos is there to make our tummies happy! – Red Dirt Kelly
(A few shots of Big Truck Tacos in case you’ve not yet graced their establishment. And if you’ve not…get on down there!)
Five weeks ago, I passed a friend of mine in the hall. I treasure this friend because she’s one of those laid back, Oklahoma women who looks you square in the eye when talking with you. She rolls with the punches, she has an air of confidence and she gets cooler every year I know her. She greeted me: “Hey, I’ve enjoyed reading your blog! Who knows…you could be another Pioneer Woman!”
CLICK PHOTO TO VISIT THE PIONEER WOMAN BLOG
First of all, my friend just got even cooler because she had right then and there provided tangible evidence that someone other than my family members were reading our posts. And second of all, who was the Pioneer Woman? Two more weeks passed before I thought, “Oh yeah…I need to check out this Pioneer Woman blog.” Or, should I have thought, “Sensation!?” As soon as I pulled up her site late one evening I became hooked for so many reasons. First, the Okie Factor was major. Second, the context about which she wrote reminded me of multiple reasons I loved Oklahoma country life. Her photography was wonderful, her food looked sinful, her children were darling, her husband was hunky and the sunsets across her pond were even redder than those I see when driving home. Within an hour, The Pioneer Woman had wrapped her blog around my heart.
Before I closed out the site I noticed she had written a autobiographical series entitled “From Black Heels to Tractor Wheels (BHTW),” about her decision to ditch law school and marry an Oklahoma cattle rancher. I didn’t even start those posts; I needed sleep. Flash forward a few more weeks…
Earlier today I introduced you to my new love, the iPad. Last night I began the BHTW series and seriously tested the battery, streaming/loading and sheer determination capacity of my new technological wonder. I began the series at 7:45 p.m. and finished at 1:38 a.m. I took a few breaks along the way. At one point I cooked myself the worst dinner I’ve made in several years…but that’s a different story. And, at several points during the evening my husband came into the living room and began talking to me. He told me a story about his day, he asked me a few questions about something, and came in to tell me goodnight.
At no time during any of these interactions did my brain engage what he was saying. I was thinking in my head, “Look intently into his eyes, nod and hurry him along so I can get back to the next entry in my beloved BHTW series.” The Pioneer Woman was tightly wedged between me and my husband. I was putting my relationship with her stories above him, and was so hooked I couldn’t even see it…I was in way too deep. I just wanted answers to all the questions I had about “What might happen next!??” to the Pioneer Woman and her Marlboro Man.
6:04 a.m. was an unwelcome time for me this morning. The alarm on my cell phone did its job and I took way to long to find the cancel button. I usually get up early and blog if it’s my day to contribute. “Tuesdays – TwosDays – Relationships…” I thought. Meh. I got ready for work, ignored the post writing (read: avoided the relationships section by writing about my new iPad), had a few meetings, and took a very late lunch. The first thing I did was call my husband: “Hey there, I’d like to go out to dinner tonight. Ludivine is opening and I want to eat their food.”
After he came to grips with the fact that he probably could NOT wear his khaki shorts and a sweatshirt, he agreed. “I’ll call Rylee and tell her we’re going on a date. And that she needs to manage dinner on her own,” he told me as he hung up.
I love my husband. The Pioneer Woman was no longer between us. She was somewhere in the room, but Mick and I were back to our interdependent state once again, standing side by side. “P-Dub” (Pioneer Woman reference for herself) is no longer causing distance between us, or deafness and blindness on my part.
Okay, now for the serious stuff. Triangles are tricky and very powerful dynamics. They basically exist when something comes between, or diverts, a healthy relationship between two people. The “third party” can be a person (any person – young or old), a thing…oh, say…like a blog, a substance being abused (drugs, alcohol, pornography, gambling, eating, etc.) or even something that might normally seem healthy – like a work out regimen. If you can see three elements in your relationship, and in general two of them are close, two of them are distant, and two of them are conflicted, then you’re probably in a triangle.
This is my triangle I drew just for you. Don't you love my squiggly "conflict" lines?!
So my thought for you today is to examine the close relationships in your life and see if there’s extra baggage in your important dyads (two person relationships) that needs to be trimmed. If you find some, take that baggage and put it where it belongs. We keep real luggage on the top shelf of our closet. I put my marital baggage back at this address where it belongs: @ http://thepioneerwoman.com/
and…I’ll visit when I can. But if Mick asks me a question, I’ll put my new iPad screen on blank and really listen. He deserves it, and I’m pretty sure P-Dub wouldn’t want it any other way.
You might have noticed that when visiting the RDC Travel page, there is a photo at the bottom referencing a series called “Okies in Ecuador.” This blog created for the NewsOK Travel section was written and produced by my brother, Quentin Bomgardner, and illustrated with photos by he and my two daughters, Rachel and Rylee Roberts.
The format of the NewsOK site isn’t conducive to easy navigation. Therefore, “Q” created a web page where you can now begin on Day 1, travel with them through the end of their journey on Day 14, plus review a few extra photograph collections and sound file entries covering their experiences.
As a mother of the girls who traveled, I enjoyed reviewing all this work because I’ll never get that kind of detail in the living room at night…and the girls are pretty decent about sharing stories. As a sister, I was excited for the girls to take their first big excursion away from home with their uncle. And as a reader, I felt like I got a very good view of a place I’ve never visited. An excellent view. Now I might want to go myself!
Thanks Quentin, Rachel and Rylee…loved the journey, and love that I can revisit through this series any time I wish.
Red Dirt Kelly
Click the banana photo to visit an indexed page where you can start their journey from the beginning.
Bananas grow UP - Ecuador, 2010. Photo by Rylee Roberts.
Jet is a rescued Mustang. She got her name because she was a "frequent flyer" in the Mustang adoption circuit.
When did it happen? When did I become so dependent on technology? Even in the country, we are not without “city luxuries” like Internet, satellite radio and a DVR. However, the other day I had to turn in my work computer for an upgraded version. I was without the machine in my classroom for only a couple of hours, but I noticed a shift in the awareness of my surroundings. I should have taken that as a sign of how my evening at home would go.
No computer. Phone turned off.
It was a beautiful evening in the country. As soon as I entered their pasture, the animal migration began: the goats head to the shed, but the horses came to me. After all, I have the carrots and they know that. After feeding everyone, I took advantage of Jet’s lingering. She let me groom her from mane to tail while Roxy stood by and simply watched. I was able to brush her thick black mane; it’s so healthy now that she is living with us and away from the horses that used to tear out chunks with their teeth. As I ran my hands down her leg to remove the fly bots that had accumulated in just one week, I noticed crimson highlights right above her hoof. Wow. My horse is not just brown. She is brown, crimson, auburn, and black. She is gorgeous. Her Mustang brand reminds me that she was captured and taken from her home, but I take her head dropped near my chest to mean that it’s okay. She let me run my hands over her eyes and scratch under her halter, and for good measure I kiss the soft flesh of her muzzle. This is it. This is what life is all about.
I’m sure none of this would have happened with a phone in one hand.
Roxy is a beautiful gaited saddle horse. She was purchased so my husband would have a horse to ride. She also holds the title of "Alpha Mare" in our small goat/ horse herd.
I wanted to write about it. No computer. I scrounged up a legal pad and took some notes. This is hard without my computer; the task can wait. I checked my email from my phone and remembered I had a DVR’d television show to watch. Technology habits sure die hard, don’t they?
Somebody, please, don’t let me forget what it’s like to live life with my hands on something other than a keyboard.
"Chickasaw Renaissance" by Phillip Carroll Morgan. Introduction by Bill Anoatubby, Chickasaw Nation Governor. This book was one of three titles revealed at the Chickasaw Annual Meeting and Festival held Oct. 2nd. Click photo for more information.Saturday morning, October 2nd: Alice Woodrome took this photo of a mother wolf spider with hundreds of new babies on her back. Alice is a gardner in NW OKC. The wolf spider resides there with her other flowers.
This OSU Cowboy fan didn't give her arm for a win, she used her leg! Caught up in the hoopla of the crazy OSU v A&M Thursday night contest, this good natured fan took her prosthetic leg off and waved it around, cheering all the while. You gotta love the football fans in Oklahoma! - Photo by Jani Hays.The weather broke in Oklahoma, and Wednesday morning, Sept. 29th I drove by pasture land after pasture land, all with farm ponds and fog rising from the surface. Beautiful! - Photo by Red Dirt KellyThat same night, we were treated to another Big Sky show. Hey, Fall, welcome to Oklahoma! - Photo by Red Dirt KellyYou didn't think we were gonna finish Silent Sunday without a Red River Rivalry shot, did you? Click photo to visit CrimsonAndCream blog for OU/Texas slideshow...
Last night’s football game between the Oklahoma State Cowboys and the Texas A & M Aggies was bizarre. It was mayhem. The players and the fans alike, on both sides, went through an emotional roller coaster and the ride ended somewhere in the Tricky Hall of Mirrors…people were still reaching out to test reality as they led themselves out of the stadium. Confused, elated, exhausted…or in the Aggies’ case, beaten. And in the Cowboys’ case – at least this time – celebrating.
As I was riding home last night I started thinking about the superheros who contributed to the OSU win. I think the tuba section in the band gets at least one vote; they took the Three Dog Night hit, Never Been to Spain (You know… “I’ve never been to heaven, but I’ve been to Oklahoma; Oh they tell me I was born there…), two extra verses during a national TV timeout and had most everyone in the audience singing along by the time they finished.
The players get three votes. One lost the rest of the season to a knee injury. One played on no sleep because his baby girl was in the hospital the night before. The defense probably gets four votes because they played against 106 snaps…the game was an extra-long grueling mess for those boys. But this morning, when I think back to what helped me get through the game, five personal votes go to the kid in the orange cape.
I’ve seen him there before. He’s the kid who sends his eyeglasses into all sorts of contortions by sticking both fingers in his ears when Pistol Pete shoots his shotgun before the game. Obviously he doesn’t like loud noises. But last night I think he saved my husband from at least two cases of hyperventilation and possibly one cardiac arrest by just doing what he did all night long. The kid pretend-flew. He twirled around and around. And around some more. Sometimes he leaned over the handrails and actually watched the game. And, he ran up and down the stairs so that his cape would go flying behind him like a big orange banner.
The kid was Super Cool.
Nothing phased him. And he completely distracted the convulsing adult fan base at just the right times. Last night he was my hero, and this morning I’m giving him my Friday morning post.
Here’s to you, Super Cool. May the wind beneath your cape take you around your pretend world over and over again.
Twirling
Showcasing Red Dirt culture ~ authored and managed by contributors with connections to the great state of Oklahoma.
