Category Archives: Special Stuff

Why crafting gives me a wedgie…

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Well, the cold has settled in at the ranch, making everything look all cozy and sparkly and holiday like. Which is nice, but it reminds me of what I should be doing. Like, I should be making my Christmas shopping list. I should be scrubbing the toilet. I should be looking up delicious and complicated recipes in Martha Stewert magazines so when we head to Thanksgiving at the in-laws’ on Thursday I can present something other than a turkey shaped cheeseball with a Rolo for a hat. I should be washing windows, cleaning the garage, brushing one of the six cats, picking burs from the horses, peeling potatoes, or tackling the ginormous pile of laundry that has built up in the bedroom and the bathroom and the basement during the past month…the past month that I have been obsessed…

Yes, this is my kitchen table...I am not too proud to provide evidence of the reality of the situation...

Yup, I should really clean up this mess…or at least clear a path to the couch so husband can collapse in a heap of bewilderment when he gets home from work to find me, day after day, hunched over the kitchen table squeezing glue, cutting photos, scattering beads across the linoleum floor, tearing the bark off of branches brought in from the trees, slicing my fingers with my exacto-knife and then burning them before gluing them together with the hot glue gun.

Yes, I’ve been in a trance these last few weeks getting ready for what I was certain was a wonderful idea to set up and execute a photography show with one of my friends who takes beautiful photos on the other side of the Blue Buttes. Remember her? Lovely, lovely lady. One day she made the mistake of mentioning to me that she wanted to sell some of her work, not knowing that ideas like these were right up my crazy ally. I don’t blame her. She hasn’t known me long enough. She doesn’t know how I get. So I chimed in in a classic Jessie move. I jumped, scrawny arms and legs flailing, into the idea. I said “Hey, let’s do this! Let’s get it together, lets bring our genius to the masses. We got this girl!” And my friend, my dear, dear, talented, innocent friend, agreed.

And just like that I had a partner in crime and a date to take on a new creative challenge.

And just like that I regressed into my former, delusional, obsessed, manic, crafting, idea spewing, focused, sporadic self.

Picture the mad hatter, only in sweatpants and wool socks instead of the weird suit, sitting at a kitchen table in a house too small for her supplies, scissors clip, clip, clipping, flinging paper in the air around her, pieces of crusted glue stuck to her face, eyes wild with ideas, humming to herself, quietly at first and then full-out singing as the mess grows larger and the laundry piles dangerously higher.

Yes people, I’m in to the dreaded “bottom of the drawer” underwear, but have been so focused on getting out into the world what I have in my head that I haven’t really noticed the constant wedgie I’ve been sporting for the last week or so as a result.

It’s a small price to pay though, ignoring the laundry, dealing with a five day wedgie, to get it all together. At first I said to my friend, “no big deal, just bring what you have, I’ll do some music, there’ll be food, it will be chill and relaxed and you know, whatever.”

But that chill and relaxed quickly progressed into late nights sorting through the seven THOUSAND photos I have stored on my computer, agonizing over what people might like to see in print. And once that order was placed and the matting arrived and the frames were purchased and made and stacked in the corner of my small house that seems to be shrinking smaller and smaller every day, I decided, well, I think I need more. MORE!  I need more frames, more matting, more PHOTOS! What if I chose the wrong ones? What if there aren’t enough pictures of horses, flowers, cowboys, sunsets, grass, berries, dogs, cats, grain bins? What if I can’t please the masses? I need to order more! And so I did, late at night with a tall glass of margarita sitting on the TV tray beside me.

And while I was at it, what the hell, I decided I should make JEWELRY! Why not. I’ve never done anything like this before in my life so why not try now…now when I have a deadline and no idea what I’m doing. That’s what instruction manuals are for. That’s what online tutorials are for. That is why the internet was INVENTED. RIGHT?!

Damn you internet for keeping me up late at night ordering more beads, typing in questions like “how do I turn my photos into beautiful and classy pieces of one of a kind jewelry that people will actually want to buy?” Damn you internet for making it too easy for me to purchase things like “organza ribbon” and “Diamond Glaze” and “glass beads” without knowing fully how to put them all together successfully to create a finished product until I have tried and failed several times…

Damn you internet for giving me false confidence that I might wake up tomorrow and become a creative, crafting, together, jewelry making, casually cool and confident artist who is master of sales and shipping and organization instead of the wild haired, overzealous, obsessed woman in glue crusted sweatpants with too many ideas and not enough time or band aids or space sitting at her kitchen table at midnight surrounded by piles of boxes and paints and scissors and barnwood and a hot glue gun she forgot to unplug having a nervous breakdown because she’s suddenly found herself alone in her greatest hour of need…

oh wait, I’m not alone…husband is around here somewhere…I can hear a whimper coming from underneath that stack of photo framing supplies…I think I see his arm..isn’t he supposed to be at work?

Anyway, this is classic Jessie. I have been wondering where she’s gone. I mean, I’ve discovered all sides of my former, childhood self since moving back to the ranch over a year ago: the nature lover, the horse obsessed, the musician, the poet… it’s about time the freak showed up.

See, I used to get in this same sort of trance back when I was a 4-Her. I would sit on the floor for hours in the evenings while my parents watched the news or Cheers or Seinfield or 20/20 and painstakingly loop yarn through colored holes arranged in a patterns. I would think to myself what a masterpiece this was going to be when it was done. How beautiful will this latch-hooked cow look up on my parents’ wall! How lovely will this fuzzy sunflower be when I have someone help me make it into a pillow! It was madness how obsessed I was. It was all I could focus on in the winter until the project was done and then I’d move on to something else, like wood burning or glueing something to something else.

So I’m not surprised this has happened to me. That much crazy could not be suppressed forever, I just had to find the right project to give her the confidence and purpose to show her sleep-deprived face. But the truth is it has always been fun for me to create something new, to do something I’ve never done before, to make plans with a new friend with the intent on sharing it with others.

But unlike the confident girl who spent countless hours latch-hooking patterns of barnyard animals, I am a little nervous about what I’m about to present to the world. I had a similar feeling when I sang a song that I wrote for the first time in public. I mean, I’ve never done anything like this before.  I’d like to think most all of you can relate, especially you creative types. The idea of sharing your creations and ideas with others is both invigorating and terrifying. There is always self-doubt, always fear that you will be judged or rejected. But for me the sharing has always been a necessity. I’ve never given myself any other choice. I’m not sure where that came from.

Maybe it’s crazy. Maybe some things are best kept to myself (like when I feel the need to share with the world my issues with cow poop or dog puke or encounters with dead bats and raccoons dangling off of the deck.) But there’s something about self-expression that I cannot deny, that I feel the need to participate in. That’s why I talk with my hands even though I risk knocking over wine glasses onto stranger’s laps.

That’s why I have laugh lines and wrinkles on my forehead.

That’s why I dance, arms and legs flailing, embarrassing myself and any relatives that may be in arms length of me. That’s why I laugh loud, cry like really, really hard, kick things when I get mad, squeeze a little too much when I hug, talk a little too long.

Because I need to. I need to get it out of me with the hope that I might get it back from the world and the people that I love. With the hope that we might share ideas, have meaningful conversations, give one another feedback and maybe just laugh until we snort, dance until or feet hurt, sing until we run out of songs…

And so my friend and I will be doing these things (well, maybe not the dancing…we will see) this Friday at the Long X Visitors Center in Watford City. We will be showing those who come through how we see the world through the other side of our camera lens and offering guests a chance to hang that vision in their homes or wear it around their necks or give it as a gift.

I can’t wait to show you what I’ve made, I can’t wait to sing you some new songs and I can’t wait for you to see what my friend has in store for you.

But most of all, I can’t wait to see you there!

So yes, I should be cleaning the glue off of my floors and replenishing my drawer with clean underwear, but for now I don’t mind the wedgie…the most important thing is for me to get husband out from under this pile of projects before he finds a phone under there and calls a lawyer to start the paperwork  on a divorce…because I just don’t have time for a divorce…he needs to help me build FRAMES!!!

See you Friday!

Oh, and if you can’t make it visit my Etsy store to shop for unique items for the holidays!

The Pioneer Museum invites you to relax and celebrate the season and the spirit of Western North Dakota.
“Pieces of the Prairie” Photography & Gift Show
& Pride of Dakota Food and Wine Sampling

Friday November 25, 2011
12-9 pm
Long X Visitors Center in Watford City, North Dakota. 

Shop
Original photography, frames, handmade jewelry and wall hangings by local photographers
Jessie Veeder with “Veeder Ranch Photography”
&
Megan Pennington with “Megan’s Red Barn Gifts”
Throughout the day

Taste
Unique food and snack items made in North Dakota
12 noon – 4 pm

Enjoy
An evening of wine, hors d’oeuvres
music with Jessie Veeder
5-9 pm

Free and open to the public
Hosted by the Pioneer Museum and Long X Visitor Center
Visit tourism.mckenziecounty.net for more information

The return of the nearly impossible North Dakota Trivia Game (Prize Alert!)

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Remember this little gem here that I found among old Halloween costumes, yearbooks and spiders in my basement last January?  Remember how we passed the time together in the depths of winter searching for the answers to the world’s most impossible trivia game? Remember how we laughed at the ridiculously detailed and in depth questions I chose to present to you after digging through about thirty thousand stacks of cards?

Remember the fun we had making wild guesses? Remember the prize winners? There were two!

Don’t you just love prizes?

I do.

I love them.

And I love presenting a good challenge. A challenge that is fun and quirky, a challenge that is voluntary. A challenge very much unlike the challenges that have been placed before me this week.

Because this week was a bad one. A doozy. One of those stretches that slaps you in the face a few times to remind you that, oh no no no no, you don’t have control of this life sister. Not much control at all.

One of those weeks where the weather matches the tears that fall from your puffy eyes and you don’t bother changing out of the sweatshirt that you’ve been wearing since Tuesday and husband’s homemade chicken noodle soup is on order…and even that doesn’t take the edge off much.

I know we’ve all had days like these. I know you all have. And I could elaborate and go into detail here, but the truth is I know each and every one of you is struggling in your own way, every day. So whether your pain is locked up tight in your broken heart or flinging off a mountaintop, I would like to do my part to distract you from it and offer you a little prayer of peace. Because this place we have created here on the world wide web is a good one, an honest one, a solid place for an escape, a contemplation, a laugh and a glimpse into one another’s similar or not so similar lives.

And I’m all done crying for today. I want to laugh!

So what have I decided to do? Bring us all together in the name of  ridiculous trivia….and bring on the prizes!

So this afternoon while I sat at the kitchen table and continued to listen to my most recent addition to the animal population meow consistently and persistently outside my kitchen window…

you're driving me ccaaarrrraaaazzzzaaayyy!!!

I thumbed through the stack of 30,000 trivia questions to find you, dear readers, the most challenging, the most ridiculous, the most incredibly ponderous questions that may or may not have anything to do with our great state of North Dakota.

Nothing could be more distracting, more mind bending, more educationally, academically, recreationally daring and exciting than trying another round of “The Game that Makes Learning about North Dakota Fun!”

Because there’s a lot to learn.

Six diplomas worth in fact.

Diplomas that can be earned in the following categories:

  • Geography (GEO)
  • People (PLE)
  • Government (GOV)
  • Flora and Fauna (F&F)
  • Transportation and Communication (T&C)
  • Industry and Agriculture (I&A)
But I am only going to give out one.
One big one.
One big congratulations squeeze for anyone out there with the skills and knowledge and perseverance to correctly answer the following questions I have hand-picked for you while munching on a turkey sandwich.


Be the first to get every question correct, answering in the comments below, and you win a prize. (If we can’t get every question right, then the person with the most correct answers by the deadline of Saturday afternoon wins! )

The prize? Your choice of the following 5×7 metallic matted prints found on my Veeder Ranch Photography and Gifts Etsy site:

1) Wild Daisies in the Rain


2) Dew Covered Pink Bluebells

3) Snow Cactus

Yeah, I am aware the photos are all rain soaked and snow soaked…but hey, momma said there’d be days like this didn’t she?

Ok, put on your thinking caps and lock that knowledge in tight. Here we go:

  • GEO: How much wider is North Dakota’s southern border than its Norther border?
  • PLE: Who was the first native born governor of North Dakota?
  • GOV: How large did claim shacks have to be to qualify for homestead rights?
  • F&F: In what year was the North Dakota Fishing Hall of Fame Started?
  • T&C: When did cars become legal on North Dakota Roads?
  • I&A: What happened to the “belle” who stated publicly that she didn’t believe there was a North Dakota?

Now onward party people!

Good luck, happy Googling and have fun chatting up your old high school history teacher!

And remember, someone in North Dakota loves you very much…and that someone happens to have all the answers…

Well, at least the answers to the trivia game, not life in general…I’m still working on that one.

Winner, winner chicken….uh, never mind….

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Ok party people, weekend’s over. Back to work.

That’s the bad news.

The good news?

We have a winner!

And the other good news is that thanks to my lovely, compassionate and brave friends who decided to reveal their own garage, quonset, farmyard and basement rubble woes as part of Friday’sHot Hot Redneck Mess prize alert post not only have I discovered that I am not alone in the complete disaster that I have lurking outside my window, I got a few giggles, snorts and solid advice in the process.  

And because each hoarding, junk/treasure collecting, farmyard cleanup, old school papers, naked husband painting in the garage, used toilet story is unique and different just like you, I decided the fair way to select the winner of the challenge was to put the names in my dirty Carhart cap and leave the winner up to chance and those Junk Gods I’ve been praying to.

And it looks like the Junk Gods have a favorite because they chose Holly. Sweet Holly who volunteered to come out to the ranch and hold my hand as I gently, boss, I mean, urge husband to give up the three wheeler, dirt bike, jet ski, pail full of nuts and bolts, washing machine, five of the six coolers, ball of twine, his old batman pajamas from the third grade etc, etc, etc…

Holly I know we are not close neighbors so we might have to postpone that trip, but I am going to tweak your next piece of advice a bit and talk to husband about paying me $25 per hour for my time on this project.

Then I’m going to close my eyes and wait for him to pick me up and drop me in the water tank.

Dog in the stock tankBig Brown Dog, I fear you’ll have company soon…

Congratulations Holly, you have your choice of the following three matted 8X10 metallic prints to hang on your wall as a reminder that outside of the Veeder Ranch garage, North Dakota has some beautiful sights. Let me know if you’d like me to include a couple pairs of ice skates, a broken ladder or a rabbit cage at jessieveeder@gmail.com.

Wild Prairie Rose

North Dakota Badlands

Grass and Moon

Ok, now for more of the bad news.

I didn’t actually touch the damn garage this weekend.

Guilty of avoidance...

Don’t judge me, I had a higher calling.

We went camping instead.

We had to, I mean as much as I wanted to spend the entire 90 degree weekend hauling microwaves and washing machines and lawn ornaments out of the garage and to the garbage pit, sweat dripping down my back and pooling into a nice little puddle at the top of my butt crack, it was our annual Christmas in July with husband’s family, and well, I had no choice.

I had to go. I couldn’t let the in-laws down.

I mean, this little girl was waiting for me and what type of iron hearted woman would I be if I rejected this face?

And who would want to miss these moments of heart melting sweetness?


Besides, they were counting on me to soak in the lake, make a mass batch of margaritas, take a boat ride, try my balance on a massive floating log and, due to a miscalculated body launch, accidentally show the entire crew of in-laws my snow white butt cheeks, tube with my little niece, eat hot dogs, and hang out with the chickens…

Wait?

what?

Yup. The chickens went camping.

And I think that my in-laws and I might be the only people in the world who can utter that phrase with complete truth and honesty.

What? You act like you've never seen a chicken on a beach before...

Now, I am not sure where to go from here except to promise you I’ll get to the garage project this evening…

right after I write up my contract, locate my water wings, deliver papers to husband, and pull my ass out of the water tank…

Goggles

And, you know, right after I finish the laundry.

Happy Monday lovelies!!!

Growing up North Dakotan

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This Sunday I will be in Fargo participating in a panel discussion for the Why Radio Show.

The subject?

Growing up North Dakotan.

I will take a seat next to individuals who have a handle on their identities, who may have wandered, explored their world and asked the questions that need to be asked. And one of those questions is “What does it really mean to be North Dakotan?”

As a woman whose heart has been planted solid here, but whose feet and mind have wandered with music and education and the winding road, I have been asked this question in many forms. It’s like asking what it means to you to hold your last name, or wear your grandmother’s ring, or to lay down next to the man you love every night.

How do you answer it?

Not everyone can speak about it. Not everyone can explain.

Not everyone needs to.

I was talking to my good friend  on the phone yesterday afternoon. As I stood right in the middle of our home state she was in Oregon, a place on the map she picked with her husband. She had been there for nearly three months after years of college and graduate school they were looking for adventure, new opportunities, valuable experience before they settled into their lives. She is loving the ocean and the coffee shops and the eclectic culture. She loves the rain and the flowers and the new scenery and the people.

But you know what she said to me between breaths about her plans and her new apartment and the photography show she is putting together?

She is missing something.

“I miss that prairie. I want to lay in my grass and smell my lilacs and plant my garden and breathe in that sky. I miss my home.”

Home.

Her home.

Who are these people who hold the scent of the dirt, the push of the wind, the endless winters, the wheat fields, the small town in such regard?

Who tends their grandmother’s garden, brings in the baby calves into the basement in the dead of a blizzard? Who works the teller line and serves your morning coffee? Who has owned the Implement Dealership for years?

And who roams all over the world for years on end, traveling over seas to live and work in foreign languages, who are leaders of cities and  major corporations? Who serves in the military,  climbs mountains and rafts raging rivers only to find themselves pulled back again, to be haunted by the memories of sunsets and 4th of July Celebrations no matter how how far they have traveled or how long they’ve been gone.

Who is North Dakota?

We are rural route roads, beat-up mailboxes and dusty school bus seats. We are rides in the combine, summer sausage sandwiches, a thermos of coffee washed down with warm lemonade and  faces black with dirt after a hot August day.

Two miles to a gravel road on the edge of town and we are freedom, our father’s truck, twelve years old behind the steering wheel.

We are first loves and last loves and forever loves found on those backroads at night, on front porches, in the backseats of cars and under a blanket shared in the stands at a football game.

We are the stars that light up the endless sky at night, family farms, four generations of the same recipe on Christmas Eve.

The barnyard light.

We are white wood prairie churches, our mother’s voice quietly singing the hymns, jello with suspended vegetables and mayonnaise casseroles waiting for us in the basement when the service is through.

We are wet clay caked to cowboy boots, the black soil of the valley, the stoplight in town.

High heels and business suits, running shoes and hoping things will stay the same…knowing that they need to change.

Number crunchers, songs that must be sung, books that must be written.

Snake bitten.

We scream for sun and pray for rain and push the river from our doors. We’ve been here before.

Chokecherry jam, misquote bites, country fairs, one station on the radio, too young for our first beer, FFA and 4-H steers. Too young to leave here.

We are race car tracks and power lines, hockey rinks and barbed fence wire.

Drilling rigs and endless fields of wheat…September heat.

We are bicycle tires in the middle of Main Street, fireworks in May, popsicles and swimming pools and a stop at the Tastee Freeze please. Rodeos and American Legion, football heroes, lead singers in the band, the ferris wheel in town.

Pow wows, three legged races, familiar faces, dances in the street.

Fishing in the creek.

We are “Pete’s kid,” “Edie’s granddaughter,” and  “Your mother wants you home right away!”

We are pushed to go and pulled to stay, we are leaving this place as soon as we’re grown.

And we are the sky we can’t explain, predictably unpredictable, colorful and full of rage and gentle hope that it’s all ok.

We’re the wind, relentless.

The snow, endless.

Sharp and hard and steadfast and certain like the winter and the change in weather.

We are the dirt under our nails, our wind tangled hair, the cattails and bluebells and big white tail deer.

We are all of these things that make up a home, but home is not ours to take.

It is in us and we have been claimed.

Join me for:

“Growing Up North Dakotan”

A panel discussion featuring Joshua Boschee, Kathryn Joyce, Jessie Veeder Scofield, and others. Moderated by WHY? host Jack Russell Weinstein

Prairie Public Television Studio
5-7 pm
207 5th Street North
Fargo, ND
Facebook Event 

The event is free. Come be a part of the audience, ask questions, make comments, and engage philosophically with this most important issue.

If you can’t be in Fargo, please share with me here how North Dakota has claimed you.

A few minor bruises and a bursting heart

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First things first:

Sigh.

Happy Monday. You’re welcome

Second:

Thank you all for showing your compassion for my hereditary malfunction of succumbing with force to the laws of gravity day after day. I have to say your stories of cow trampling, stair plummeting, dock dunking, face planting in church and falling off of your tall shoes had me laughing out loud.

Which brings me to the second thing:

Bwahahahahahahahah!

ahhhhhhhhh!

Your willingness to share your embarrassing mishaps with me made me love you more than ever. I’ve always felt that life and all the bruises and bumps that come with it are a bit easier if we can just laugh at the whole damn spectacle.

Especially when that spectacle happens to be looking at you in the mirror. Like Cindy said after spilling her embarrassing “sleeping leg face plant” story, maybe public embarrassment is a way of getting rid of bad Karma. If that’s so we should all be evened up in that department….

In his next life he's guaranteed a wolf body at the very least...

So, it was a tough decision, but given the sheer volume of Annika’s misfortunes, mishaps, smashed limbs and near misses with the holiday fruit salad I am quite certain she is destined to be reincarnated as the Queen of England for all of the suffering she has encountered here in this life. Yup. That and the fact that she had the good humor to let her college roommates tally her falls, flubs and skinned knees make her the winner!

Congrats Annika. Your stories made me feel like the lead ballerina in Swan Lake, a ballerina who came out of the other end of a ranch weekend relatively unscathed…except for the bruise above my eye as a result of a three-year-old’s attempt at fetch with the lab.

Oh, and that scraped heel from a horse spooked by husband’s branch-breaking project.

See him back there, so helpful and unaware of the dangers of loud noises...

But you know what? I barely even felt any of it. Because I was high on the sweet spring air, the horse hair, the bluebells and all of the family and kids and babies that came out to visit us this weekend.

My heart was full and at risk of being the third body part to split or bruise, almost tearing at the seams there was so much joy in there.

Because look at this…

And this…


Don’t turn away yet…

Yeah, you crying? Not yet? Well this should send you over the top…

I’ll wait while you get a tissue…

You ok? Ok.

Yes, this weekend the barnyard was filled with squeals and screams and laughter and tiny little footprints. It was bliss. And it helped confirm my belief in the importance of keeping and sharing a place like this with others, especially the others that stand under three feet tall.

Because there’s something about kids and animals that make people like me believe in impossible things…like maybe those two species, kids and beasts, can actually talk to each other…

The innocence, the trust, the unconditional love and wonder they hold for one another makes me feel like maybe, before we could remember, before we grew up and got all that noise in our heads, all our worries and plans for the future, before we forgot what it was like, before we thought we had so much to say, maybe we could really listen.

Maybe that’s why kids take so well to the farm, why they squeal with delight at the baby calves and reach so willingly to touch the nose of a horse. Maybe that’s why they suggest buying baby chicks and piglets and beg for a puppy. Because they belong here. Together.

Now all’s quiet again at the ranch and those babies have gone home to their beds. But I like to think they dream about horses. I like to think in their dreams they are out there with the dogs, running and rolling in the green grass, laughing and talking to each other.

I like to think those kids left a little piece of their heart here knowing that they can come back and get it anytime they want.

Sigh.

Now if you’ll excuse me I have to get down to the barnyard.  Now that the dust has settled on the weekend, I swear I can hear those horses calling my name.

Accident Prone (Prize Alert!)

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31

In honor of Friday the 13th I would like to take a moment to embrace a side of me that I have not appropriately opened up about. And I am ashamed of this, because anyone who knows me personally will know that this part of me is worth mentioning, if for no other reason than to protect the innocent souls around me.

Deep breath in….now let it out….sigh…

Some days life is tough for me.

Yes.

And by tough, I mean literally painful.

Because I am a klutz.

Accident prone.

A magnet for small disasters.

A target for falling things.

like bird poop...

This is a quality that is so much a part of me I have began to embrace it and use it when asked to describe myself:

“Who am I? Well I am so glad you asked: I am a wild haired, overly friendly over sharer spaz of a woman who is inclined to burst out in song when simply regular talking would do just fine. I often have big ideas that require more muscles than I currently posses attached to arms and legs that are more often that not, flailing. I lack the attention to detail needed to glide through this ranch-world unscathed by stomping horse hooves, alarmingly uneven ground, muddy creek beds, giant bulls and rodents with wings that prefer to fly right for my head when there are a million miles of open sky available to them. Oh, and chips and salsa are still my favorite food groups even though the food group almost choked me to death in a public space known as a restaurant, just to make sure I was good and embarrassed (Sweet Martha thank goodness for Mr. Heimlic and his maneuver). Oh, and I got my big nose from my dad…and a flying sled and an unruly beer bottle in case you were wondering….thanks so much for asking, I think l’ll go inside now.”

I mean, let’s get real here. How many women have been smacked in the head by a 15 foot 2×6 board that came screaming at 30 mph out of what appeared to be thin air one day…only to fall through the floor of a barn the next?

Danger, lurking around every corner

How many people have actually bent over to pick up a napkin off of the floor only to smoke their head so hard on a kitchen table (a table that has been in the same place for 15 + years so there should be no surprises) that guests fell silent and actually witnessed those little cartoon bluebirds circling around her head?

Do you know any proper lady who has dolled up, put on her big girl shoes and attempted a few hours in a dress only to step out of the dining booth and fall directly on her face, flashing her entire rear-end to a bar full of strange men?

How many best friends have to regularly say “Really? Did that just happen? Are you ok?”

How many times can a dad rush his young daughter to the emergency room for a crushed foot from jumping the wrong way off of a horse, a snapped ligament for landing the wrong way while jumping, er, falling off a small cliff, a smashed finger from getting her limb stuck between a 2,000 pound bull and a metal post, or a disjointed wrist from a unfortunate decision to heroically save herself from a runaway horse?

Note to self...bridal necessary.

How many times can a husband shake his head at his wife before his head actually falls off and he turns from bystander to victim?

How many people do you know who have actually hit themselves in the head with a hammer, measure the time they have spent in casts in years and were nicknamed “Tuck and Roll” in seventh grade by those who are supposed to love them most?

How many?

Well, I know one who happens to share my name and the same bruise on my left knee and permanent and distinct bump on my nose.

"Hhiiiyaaa gguuyyyssaaa!!"

Um, I just need one moment here….

“Bwwwaaaaa ahhh  ahhhh…sob…sniff…sniff…whimper…”

Sigh.

Ok, enough of this confession. Life is tough out here for animals and humans like me. Come to think of it I have a couple dozen stories I could tell you about witnessing my pops in similar life-threatening situations (i.e.: welding his polyester shirt to to his arm, getting clotheslined by a barbed wire fence and one or two cow trampling incidents) so perhaps his giant nose and frizzy hair weren’t the only qualities he passed down to me.

Thanks a million pops.

"Why you're welcome dear daughter..."

But I decided a long time ago that I can’t live in fear about the next mishap, bruise, concussion, bloody nose or knee. Life’s too short and there’s too much to do…

So I took the pug’s lead and invested in some safety glasses:

Because we can’t afford to lose another eye on this place.

And in honor of this cryptic type holiday, the one straight out of those horror movies I refuse to subject myself to for fear of bed wetting, I want to hear from you.

Tell me about an embarrassing blunder or injury. Give me your best accident prone tale and the one that makes me feel better about myself and the fact that I am gracefully challenged can chose from the following 8×10 matted metallic prints to be sent to your door.

Photo #1:

Photo #2

Photo #3

Because I like to celebrate our shortcomings 🙂

Oh, and don’t forget to visit the “Meanwhile, back at the ranch…” Facebook page and hit “like” for more ranch updates, contests and photos.

Love you and happy accidents everyone!

Melty Monday Trivia Question (prize alert!)

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We were foiled again by the big sky this weekend. After days of blue and sunshine that was working miracles on turning things green and purple and yellow and other glorious spring colors, in its predictably unpredictable bipolar attitude it freaked out and poured down snow and freezing rain, covering us in ice and white and shutting the lights off in the little ranch house for hours.

I was pretty pissed, I’m not gonna lie. For a few minutes.

Until I realized that it was a perfect excuse to leave  the laundry for another day.

And the dishes, and the vacuuming and the yard work and the emails and all things productive in general.

Ok. Ok. I took one more snow day in stride.

And read a book.

And cried and got all depressed because my favorite books are the sad kind.

Dammit.

But that’s it. That’s all.

Cause I want more of this…

and a little less of this…

I love a good adventure, but a girl has her limits. And snow heavy enough to snap tree branches on the last day of April is pushing that limit.

Anyway, the thing about spring snow is that it is gone before you even get the chance to use all of your favorite curse words. So when I was on my way out the door yesterday, the green grass looked like it was making its way to the surface again.

Phew.

Because today I am hitting the road on behalf of the North Dakota Humanities Council to learn about a community that was home to the first North Dakota Farm and I will be interviewing two women who are working the land for a living.

I can’t wait to hear the stories.

And can’t wait to see if anyone can guess what town in North Dakota I will be visiting this morning based on the hint above. 

First correct answer (for those not related to me who know my schedule) wins a matted 8×10 metallic print of this photo sent directly to the comfort of your home. 

I think it’s appropriate given the feisty attitude of the season.

Because nothing fixes a Melty Monday like a prize.

Love ya!

Mother Nature. It’s a woman thing…

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Good morning from the land of indecision. And by that I am referring to the weather.

And me. But we’ll get to that later.

Ok, so remember when we talked about that spring thing and the melting and the running water and the removal of the wool caps and scarves and my fantasy about wearing cut-off pants and running through the sprinkler.

Well, that’s all shot to shit now and after the last few days, I am firmly convinced that nature is a woman.

A moody one.

Out my kitchen window yesterday...you're supposed to be able to see the red barn...I can't.

Because just as she gets nice and comfortable with a bit of sunshine and blue skies, raising all of our hopes up of sun kissed skin and BBQs, she laughs like an evil queen in a Disney movie and then throws some more snow and wind and fog and freezing ice in our faces…only to come back and apologize with something like a rainbow or 70 degree weather.

Ah well, like a rocky relationship, we’re all used to it by now.

And for those you who think an all out school cancelled, no travel advised, wind whipping snow pellets in your eyeballs, no Schwanns man for the rest of your life and zero visibility day is unheard of after spring has been declared,  I’ll tell you, you haven’t met Mother Nature in North Dakota. In March.

No birds today...

Yes, Mother Nature can be a completely unpredictable, annoyingly indecisive bitch sometimes.

And I can relate, because I have had those kind of days. I am a woman too and lately I have been driving myself crazy with a little project I like to refer to as “Mission: the rest of our lives” and I have displayed all of the above qualities and more during this process. So I’d like to take this opportunity to thank Mother Nature for mirroring the conflicted mood I’ve been in by slamming sleet and snow against our windows and blowing a drift across the door and blocking husband and I inside this little house together in the middle of a bathroom remodeling project, forcing us to make some damn decisions already.

Because it worked.

See, after we sold our house in Dickinson at the end of December, husband and I have been discussing and researching and making decisions and canceling plans and going through books and websites and talking out where exactly on the ranch we are going to live for the rest of our lives.

As you know, I have lived here, in the house my grandfather built, since June. And since I moved my shoes and bed and table and books and music and body between these walls almost a year ago, slowly I have found myself coming back into my own again. I have rediscovered this landscape where I grew up and began to throw myself into the things I loved to do as a kid, because I couldn’t help it, I felt 10 again. I picked wildflowers, rode my horses, explored the old barn, walked the coulees, played in the rain and rescued lost kittens.

And I wrote about it, worked through it and relaxed a bit into myself again.

But during this time I have always had it in my head that my existence in this spot, with the window that looks out to the barn and the other that faces the corrals, would be temporary. Our plan was to build a house over the hill and leave this house the way it is, with some updates and an open door to guests.

That was our plan, so we moved forward–kind of. We talked to builders and picked up pamphlets and searched the internet for custom homes and asked questions and never really did set it up and move on with it already.

What I was most excited about was fixing up this house. Putting in some new floors, siding, deck, appliances–the works. I wanted to see it glisten and shine again. But really, what about our house already? What was wrong with us? What was the hold-up on making our forever home?

Forever.

Home.

Forever.

Well, on Sunday we brought home some tiles to fix up the shower in the farm house. Tiling. Not my favorite by the way. And as we were taking a trip out to the shop to get the tools, on the way back husband stopped short of the door and put his hands on his hips. He leaned back. He inspected. He moved around the house making noises like “hmmm…” and “wellll…” and “huh.”

I watched him for a bit, my arms full of tools. Then I asked the inevitable “What?” “What are you doing? We have a mission here.”

He turned to look at me through the foggy air and mist that settled in on the barnyard and over the square brown house before the storm hit and out of husband’s mouth came words that, simply said, seemed to clear that fog and mist and hovering clouds that had existed in my mind as indecision…

“We could stay here. We could stay in this spot. We could make it work.”

I sat down on the deck that is in desperate need of repair and put my head in my hands.

“Yes,” I said.

“Yes,” I whimpered.

“Yes,” I wailed.

“Yes,” I sobbed.

“Yes. I want to stay here.”

And so we took the time that was reserved for tiling that Sunday afternoon and talked it over, made some drawings and gave ourselves some options on how it could work.

And I was happy.

And still am.

And think I always will be here.

At home.

Even with the storm wailing outside and painting this house and barn white.

Even while other people were hunkering down against the storm yesterday and watching bad movies we were inside tiling and tiling and making plans for more work like this.

Even when I can’t get my car out of the snowbank.

And since many of you are snowed in today I think this might be a good time to share with you a little extra reading: My winning essay and answer to the question “Who Inspires You” for the “Inspired Woman” magazine out of Bismarck, ND.

Read it and then tell me why I didn’t listen to myself and figure this whole forever-home thing out months ago when I placed the last period at the end of the story.

It must be a woman thing.

You can see the entire article in the magazine, complete with photos, here: Inspired Woman Magazine

P.S. The decision to stay in the this location doesn’t mean we won’t have space for guests. It just means we will have different space available…

And so a girl changes her mind and I am confident it will work out for the best.

Something about the pug and the radio

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Top ‘o the afternoon to ya! Hope you’re all enjoying a beautiful St. Patty’s Day. I am going to confess here that I am wearing gray and black, and not the required green and feeling a little guilty about it. But I am in mourning, because today Chug the pug is getting his eyeball removed. After his unfortunate run-in with a porcupine, it seems the porcupine won.

And the eyeball lost.

Sweet mercy.

The burial (of the eyeball, not the pug) is tomorrow.

RIP Adorable Eyeball

Anyway, on a more exciting note:  the reason I’m popping in today is to let  you all know that  my story about one of the greatest cowboys I know will be airing on Prairie Public this afternoon at approximately 3:46 pm and 7:46 pm central time.

You can listen to it live here at Prairie Public’s website, or if you ‘re in the ND area, tune in!

All of my commentary will also be available online after the fact on the Prairie Public Radio “Hear it Now” program page so you can listen at your convenience.

I am so excited to share this story with a broader audience because it is a story about a man with the most optomistic of attitudes, a man who has passion as big as the prairie skies and has taught me so much about knowing who you are and doing what you love.

My pops.

Read the original post, The Art of Cow Cooperation and get ready, like I am, for the cows to finally come home!

Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have one more moment in honor and memory of the eyeball:

Thank you.

See ya on the radio.

A Monday report

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Happy Monday everyone. I hope all of you North Dakotans made it home safe and warm after the crazy weather that hit our great state on Friday. Because as I was telling my dramatic story about the mis-adventures of a potentially one-eyed pug while safe in the walls of this little house, the wind was whipping snow across a landscape freshly coated with ice, shaking the trees and making me bite my nails thinking about husband out on the road.

I couldn’t see my barn, blinded by the wall of white in what I am sure, now that we are out of it, was the worst storm of the season. Friends and neighbors who had braved the much calmer morning weather to get to work, events, the grocery store, meetings and neighboring towns, were blindsided by how quickly the wind picked up leaving  many of them stranded in office buildings, interstates, county roads, gravel roads, churches, welcoming strangers’ homes, hotels, restaurants, gas stations and community buildings.

As the wind screamed over the prairie, over 800 people were being rescued off of the roads by the National Guard and rescue workers with big trucks and snow machines. But miraculously and thankfully, when all was said and done, according the Bismarck Tribune, there were no related deaths from cold or traffic accidents, husband and pops made it home safely and we were greeted the next morning with sunshine and a promise of warmer weather.

In true North Dakota fashion.

And while I was thinking about my stranded friends who were updating friends and family about the low-visability and utter amazement about the conditions with light-hearted Facebook postings, texts, video clips and phone calls, my thoughts were with them out there amid that adventure…

and those suffering from the devastating results of the earthquakes and Tsunami in Japan as I watched the heart wrenching events play out before me on the news.

Because it’s times like these you are slammed in the face with how little control humans have over the world. We can build our bridges and sky-scrapers, update our technology, drive the fastest car and continue the advancement of medicine, but Mother Nature, in all of her awe and glory can bring us the highest highs only to slam us with the most desperate of situations. And over everything else humans are capable of accomplishing– building, inventing, developing, progress–  in the end our most invaluable traits continue to be human kindness, generosity, resilience and our ability to heal and help and believe in times like these.

So that being said, in honor of this beautiful day given to us in the calm after the storm,  I would like to share with you some exciting news. Because this great state, with the people who brave the storm to help weary travelers and welcome strangers into their homes during a blizzard, have welcomed me and my stories into their homes as well through the radio waves. Yup, excerpts from “Meanwhile, back at the ranch…,” read by Yours Truly in all of my northern accent glory, will be featured on Prairie Public Radio a few times a month.

You can listen in your car, or on your radio at home if you are in the area. But you can also listen online at www.prairiepublic.org

My first reading, “The ghosts of winters past”, aired last week. And despite my re-recording it approximately six-thousand times to accommodate for the swearing and “uuugggghhhss and oooohhhhsss” each time I slipped up while holding on to hope that my voice would change from a thirteen-year-old with an uncontrollable northern accent to that of a sophisticated female radio commentator, I think it turned out ok…at least that is what my relatives told me.

Because that’s what relatives have to tell you about things like this.

I wouldn’t know because I can’t bring myself to listen to it even one more time.

Anyway, you can judge for yourself by listening to it here at “Hear it Now”.

And now that my voice is back, I am prepared to return to the ruthless radio voice recording ring once again and I would love your feedback and suggestions on what stories you would like to hear me read on the radio. Any favorites in the archives? Anything you would like me to talk about that I haven’t yet? Send me an email or leave a comment and let me know.

What a great little adventure, thanks Prairie Public for the opportunity. And thank you all for your support. I feel so fortunate to be from an area that encourages its people and welcomes their thoughts and art and music into their lives. And I am feeling blessed that I am here, safe and warm, surrounded by the people I love in all of this dramatic, unpredictable, beauty…

…with a voice to tell you I love you, feeling like that needs to be said today…