Boys.

Now that Wiley is big enough to participate in all of our activities, I am realizing that when he was born, I basically had twins.  Some days he and JD are men and some days they're little kids. 

Wiley often talks just like a man.  Tonight, he asked to drive the pickup out of the pasture, exclaiming, "I'm a drivin' son-of-a-gun".  Really?  You can't see over the steering wheel or reach the pedals, thankfully.  And JD plays a mean game of hide and seek and runs through the sprinklers with the best of 'em. 

One of the things common to both men and boys is their sense of competitiveness and their need to one up each other.  It really started to appear in Wiley this spring.  He's a Philleo with a little bit of Buzzard thrown in; very little Buzzard though.  Some days I wonder if he's even mine.

Anyway, here's how the night played out...

"Hey, I thought you said Bullseye is fast.  I'm riding a Ferrari."

"Well he goes over the bridge."

"But can he go over it sideways?"

"My horse really watches a cow."

"What do you call this?  He's locked on."

"My two year old crossed water with no problem."

"Get in line Dad."

"Alright Hot Shot, get your horse on this tilt trailer."

"You mean like this?!"

Abby and I just sat back and watched.  They're pretty good entertainment.  Boys are weird.

Estoy Hecho!

La cucaracha, la cucaracha, I'm all done pulling weeds.  

La cucaracha, la cucaracha, why did I ever plant those seeds?

Well its official, the garden is weed-free!  And it only took me two weeks...

And when I say me, I mean we...as I often mean around here.  That's how chores usually are done right?  About day five into the weed pulling misery, I decided that Abby would have to step up to the "country kid" plate and help out.  I have had her help me in the years past but, this year, since she has other chores she already does everyday, I thought I would let her skip most of the weeding duties and help with the harvest and canning instead.  I thought that...in the beginning...when I still had a good attitude, a pretty manicure, wasn't sunburnt and my quads weren't cramped.  I figured that since Oprah is now off the air, she won't have anywhere to bash me publicly for her tortured childhood when she's famous.

Child labor victim...I mean "country kid".

She really was a ton of help everyday and worked right alongside me.  We got up at 4:30 each morning, ate breakfast, did the chores and then went to work in the garden.  We pulled weeds until noon each day, when it got too hot.

So...now its time for that margarita and pico!  Except I don't have any tequila...or limes...or triple sec, or however you make them.  I made them here at home once.  Pitchers of them.  Hmmm...how could I have forgotten the recipe?

Junior Rodeos

Two punk kids.

Saturday was the end to the Pavillion Youth Rodeo Association season.  There are lots of different events for the kids, including some on foot for the five and under kids.

This was Wiley's first year to participate.  He was absolutely unbitten by the competition bug, that laid back attitude must come from the Philleo side...  While getting down on his sheep, JD kept having to tell him to pay attention because they're going to open the gate.  Most of the other kids were at least a little apprehensive and some cried.  I think Wiley was just as at home on the sheep as he is on the pony or his bike.

Abby has become more and more interested in showing in our reined cow horse competitions and has entered two so far.  She placed second in the first show and won the second.  We have focused much less on practicing the individual rodeo events and much more on refining her general horsemanship skills this summer.  Although I'd like to keep her my little girl until the bitter end, I still can't wait to see how far she takes her riding.  She is going to pass us up in no time and we'll be attending her clinics at some point I have no doubt.

Wiley pitching his loop in the dummy roping.

Abby and her friend Jesse Becker.

Wiley running the stick horse barrels.

 

Abby in the sack roping, an event the will weed out the weak.  If they catch that sack and she usually does, they drag it behind their horse back to the finish line. 

Abby on Hippie in the barrel racing.

Wiley and his friend Sammi.

I Fell Off My Soapbox

Remember yesterday when I was perched high atop my "everybody should have a garden" soapbox?  After approximately fifteen hours of weeding, I am about a third done weeding my garden.  I now remember why I didn't have a garden when I was single, had a job, or a life...  Do you know how many margaritas I could have drank in fifteen hours?  How much pico and chips I could have eaten?  How many horses I could have ridden?

Weed free on the right, jungle on the left.

When I came in for lunch, my dad called and I complained to him about how I have spent the last three days.  In typical Dean, not so sympathetic fashion, he said, "well, I guess you'll have to decide which you like to eat best, vegetables or weeds."  I told him I was going to make the switch to weeds, a million goats can't be wrong. 

I did pick an armload of radishes before I came inside.  What am I going to do with all these radishes?  As I was standing at the sink thinking about what to do with them, this was all I could think about...

 

Anyway, like I was sayin', the radish is the fruit of the garden. You can barbecue it, boil it, broil it, bake it, saute it. Dey's uh, radish-kabobs, radish creole, radish gumbo. Pan fried, deep fried, stir-fried. There's pineapple radishes, lemon radishes, coconut radishes, pepper radishes, radish soup, radish stew, radish salad, radishes and potatoes, radish burger, radish sandwich. That- that's about it.