I TOLD FRANK I HAD FINALLY FIGURED IT OUT

The Tank and I were laying in bed the other night talking

about this and that.

One of the things I shared with him was that I had

 finally figured out Oprah's question that hadn't been

  weighing on my mind though I know

 she'd be so proud to know that I had finally figured it out.

I'm a stress eater.

But, I get ahead of myself...

Y'all know that mom moved to the ranch in the middle

of January this year for me to take care of her.

She moved here from a memory center

in Portage, Michigan, where she was residing because

she had onset vascular dementia.

So, we make it to the ranch a couple of weeks before

this............

drove up.

Oh, heavens, that was one big moving van. 

Before I became concerned as to how much room mom's

things were taking up inside the van, I derived a great

sense of satisfaction knowing that whomever was

driving by the ranch as this monster drove up the lane,

would be wondering why we were moving, where we

were moving, had we run out of money? goats?

Center Point is like so many other small towns in that respect.

The sight of this van driving up the lane would give

the old men that drink coffee at the local mini mart

great fodder. Still makes me smile when I think about it.

Here are some shots of mom's things.

Not all of them be any stretch, but, enough that you can

get an idea of what those men pulled out of that moving van.

Oh, the boxes.

The entire mess was supposed to fit into mom's

room - a really decent sized bedroom with a 

sitting area and attached bath. Lots of storage.

But, please! A whole house into a suite?

And, of course, she wanted to start going through

the boxes one...at...a...time, handling, touching,

caressing every...single...item...in...each...box.

This picture is of mom shortly after she arrived.

I remember when I looked at this photo that it struck

me as so odd -- my mom was "old", you know, 

a senior. I had never seen it in her before and 

maybe that's because she was never "sick" before, 

I don't know. But, though she looks different to me here, 

she's still beautiful and 85 this summer.

Mom has to use a walker to get around.

She is a bit frail and her sense of balance is

somewhat off. This is the safest way for her

to get around -- even when re-introducing herself

to the goats. 

So, mom has dementia, she's moved everything

she's ever owned to the ranch and

on top of that, after she had been here for a few 

weeks, she fell and sustained three hairline fractures

in these two bones that attach to the bottom of your

hips. Yeah.

Pain, such pain sitting, standing, sitting.

Nothing that can be done (in the way of surgery) 

and thank goodness she is almost healed and the

pain is lessening weekly because she has really been hurting.

However, even in the middle of hurting she manages to

dig out her sense of humor...the picture above is mom in

a sweat suit, hood up, topped by her heavy robe 

(and an asked for pathetic look) because she 

was/is/is always cold. Someone needs to tell her she's 

in south Texas now, not Michigan.

This picture was taken this Easter, just a couple of weeks ago.

We had just been to church to witness Blake, Clay and

their daddy's baptism (it was so cool).

Blake and Clay wanted a picture taken with Grammy once

we got home. Oh, and Sophie, too.

These are the moments I like to remember.

The ones I must remember to get through the

other moments that fill my days.

I remember growing up, into my adult years, always

fearful that one of my parents would get cancer and die.

The word "cancer" had always scared me and I could

picture having to live through one of my parents getting

sick with "the C word".

Never, however, did I or have I thought that one of my parents 

would develop dementia.

It's a condition that does no apparent 'physical' harm to the person

suffering from it because they don't know that there's

anything wrong. It's the children and all of those who love

my mom that have been the greatest affected.

She has moments with me where she will question "why"

in reference to her confusion and memory loss,

but, except for those moments, 

it's those of us that love her that are feeling

the most pain. And, I'm sure there are many of you

that can relate to that.

And to those of you that are the care givers or have been

the care giver, I know what you're feeling.

I know your frustration, your feelings of inadequacy,

your fear, your exhaustion, the pounds you've added

or the pounds you've lost, those moments of delight that

you share with your parent. I know all of it

and I pray for you as I hope you are praying for me

and all of the caregivers.

AN ALZHEIMER'S POEM

Do not ask me to remember

Don't try to make me understand

Let me rest and know you're with me

Kiss my cheek and hold my hand.

I'm confused beyond your concept

I am sad and sick and lost

All I know is that I need you

To be with me at all cost.

Do not lose your patience with me

Do not scold or curse or cry

I can't help the way I'm acting

Can't be different though I try.

Just remember that I need you

That the best of me is gone

Please don't fail to stand beside me

Love me until my life is done.

Amen.

DEATH BY GOAT....OR.....I DON'T NEED NO STINKIN' MAN

Now, now, put your tissue up, I lived to tell the story - the goats did not win.

I won and that's why I kinda wanted to name this post, "I DON'T NEED NO STINKIN' MAN".

That's because I beat me some goats by myself.

The Tank? Out of town for the day.

Picture this.....I'm sound asleep *probably not more than 5 or 5:30 am ;)*

and in comes my mom. She tells me that all of the goats

were out and that they were in the swimming pool.

I turn my head enough to mutter back to dear mother, "They're IN the pool??".

"Well, no, but they're all around the pool and what if they want a drink??"

"They'll drown."

The goats loved getting some sun at the pool and no one fell in.

(thought bubble) 'Right.'

I slowly rise out of bed and stumble into the bathroom,

get dressed, take my meds and brush my teeth.

You see, I was real concerned.

The front yard was full of goats, too.

Evidence that the goats were in the yard.

Just outside of the yard.

I was so glad that my table and chairs were still standing!

See that corner??

Several of those sneaky goats tried to blend in and hide there.

I went outside and all of the goats were at the pool, in the yard, outside of the yard, everywhere they weren't supposed to be.

They should have been in a pasture by the barn.

Frank wasn't on the place

and all I had for a ranch hand would be.......my mother.

So, basically.......I was alone.

I got the bucket, a plastic Maxwell coffee can.

(You see, if you're a real rancher you don't need fancy metal buckets.

You just use what's in the trash.)

I filled the bucket with goat feed and got them all into the pasture.

The infamous plastic Maxwell coffee bucket.

No man.
No ranch hand.

No mother.
I did it all by myself.

I don't need no stinkin' man.

However, after it was all over,

what I did need was a change of clothes 

and a shower.

Oh, not because I broke a sweat.

Come on, I am woman.

"BACK OFF, BILLY!!.....BILLY!! BACK OFF!!.........Ohhhhh, Billy!

The problem was that, well, the billy (proud man goat)

rubbed up against me.

So?????

Well, let's see, how do I put this?

Why do I share it at all?

I share it because it's a fact that all should know

in case you are ever caught in the middle of a goat herd.

To attract the fetching female goats for a date

(yes, they date)

the male goat goes through a, well, a ritual......

Billy lowers his head between his front legs

and, well, oh gosh, this is so hard.....

Okay, I'm just going to say it.....

Billy lowers his head between his front legs

and he, okay, he pees on his head.

There I said it.

I know, it's quite vile.

AND, it's the truth. (I know!)

And, since this isn't smell-a-blog

then you aren't getting the real feel for this act.

IT. IS. SO. BAD. THAT. IF. BILLY. CORNERS. YOU......

AND. RUBS. UP. AGAINST. YOU......

you must immediately change your clothes

AND take a shower.

And, I mean IMMEDIATELY.

Oh, it is soooo, soooo disgusting.

Alrighty then, I made it through being ranch hand for a day

and had a renewed sense of appreciation

for what the Tank does.

Babies love the confines of a tight area.

Milling around acting like they had done nothing wrong.

Just like a goat.

As a matter of fact,

later that very day I had that sense of appreciation

all over.....as those damn darn goats got out again.

And, that 2nd time two of the teenagers,

males (was there any question?),

decided that they didn't want to be corralled.

After about 45 minutes I got them in threatening them that

 I could just shoot them.

Look at that precious little male juvenile delinquent.

I warned all of them as I was walking

through the herd to go back to the house

that I would bring my gun (yes, I have a gun)

with me the next time.

I feel certain they got the message

and I don't expect any problems in the future.

it's hard to see the red arrow,

but it's pointing at one of my ideas of their escape routes.

Goat ranching??

Easy peasy.

Thanks for taking the time to read my blog!!    

I really enjoy all of your comments so if you

want to leave one, I'd love it!

           Jan

Nothing much cuter than a baby goat.

AROUND THE RANCH...I JUST WANT TO SHOW YOU A FEW THINGS....

Before I start the short ranch tour, I really want to share with you an exciting new blog that a friend of mine has opened. It's called Pam Warden Art and my friend, Pam, is such a talented artist I would love for you to take a minute and check out her blog! She already has a give-a-way set up - just comment on her post to sign up. And while you're there, check out her precious art! This is the first commercial I've ever done on my blog so go on, go check it out - you'll see that I have great discernment!

The second thing I'm going to tell you before we go on the wee ranch tour is this:
I went to Santa Fe this weekend with my sorority sisters. Everything is stucco.
Everything is brown.
I thought I would lose my mind.
For some reason that just drove me crazy.
I did buy some amazing beads for the grunge necklaces I'm going to be making and that was fun but other than that, give me San Antonio any day. LOL

Okay, so we start the wee ranch tour and of course, all of the pictures are out of order. I still don't get it - how to load them in order - so just pretend that you're at the ranch and not seeing it for the first time....in pictures. First picture...................

hmmmm, I pushed a button and lost the picture of Clay playing B-ball. If you think I'm going to look for it or reload it, you're wrong. Very, very wrong. Use your imagination:)

Clay spends most of his time on our basketball court. I'm not kidding - he lives it - always has. And he's good. Really good. I'm so glad we put the 1/2 court in several years ago - a great investment as most of the kids end up at the Thomason's because of the court, the pasture and the swimming pool.
I've always loved knowing where my boys are!
You know, I feel badly, I really should know this precious baby's name but I don't.
This sweet baby has been hand fed since she was a wee babe and now she thinks that Frank the Tank is her mother.
Isn't that cute? We have some smaller barns, but this is the big barn.
It's really cool because it's been here since the late 1800's and it's just, well, cool.
Love to go into it. And when the kids were small, they loved to go up into the hay loft.
Frank the Tank and his brother, John, used to have to milk the cows when they were kids. To hear John tell it, it was more like corporal punishment.
Oh, my door wall along one of the pipe fences that runs along the pasture behind my old studio - you remember. The pink barn, two rains that flooded it in the spring of '07. Not a good thing for a paper artist! Anyway, I'm now cozy and all set up at the house in the breezeway. It's my own room - it's just a bit smaller! Anyway, this door wall stays put. I like it.
What you're seeing here (above) is the pool house to the far left and the ranch house as you drive up the lane. You don't really get any definition of the front of the house but that's for the best. The yard man is me and I'm not able to do yard work right now.
That's why my theme for our yard this year is "browns" - everything is in browns. (Get it???)
The barns as you drive up the lane. The pink one is the one in front.
Just kills the guys:)
The gate to the right of the entrance to the ranch. Do you love my pink bicycles?
The fence to the left of the entrance - more pink bicycles (you can't see one:).
Love it.

Oh, yeah, this is great.
Frank the Tank really wanted to build (do you build gardens??) a garden this year. So he took my now plagued chicken exercise yard and made it into his garden. One morning he came into the bedroom carrying one of his prize squash (no) and showed it to me and asked me, "Jan, did you know that squash is a fruit?"

"Why, no Frank, I didn't. You wanna tell me where you learned that??"

"I Googled it."

"You Googled it???" Crack me up! After I stopped giggling I asked him to please not google his okra. He's so funny!
Pretty cardinal in the tree next to the feeder.
An old metal gate leaning up against the house. It has *light blue* dryer lint in the 'brown' leaves for the birds to use to build their nests.
Old gate into the pasture behind our house.
Frank the Tank's tractor that I CAN DRIVE. Oh, yeah. I can drive this baby.

These next three pictures are of some of our hummers. The feeder hangs outside my bedroom window and I can watch these precious babies all day long if I want to! They're so sweet and it's looking like it's time to buy a second feeder! Isn't that great???

Thank you for joining me on this rather long post - but I wanted to give you a taste of what the ranch was like though we just touched on it! It's supposed to be just enough of a tease so that you, my friends (no stalkers)will decide that you just must visit the ranch so we can have some FUN!! woohoo!

xoxo,