A View to a Kill

Here we go...it's Duran Duran week!

I may have to take a break for my 100th...yes, 100th blog! This is number 94, by the way...

If you have read all of them...well, you surely have better things to do, but if you have, I truly love you for it.

So a view to a kill...get ready, this is a "past memories/stories" blog.

Because today I didn't do much in the way of killing MYSELF except my early walk (still doing the "before breakfast" thing..by the way, it was C-O-L-D) and an hour on the arc trainer. Dimples and spin are on board tomorrow.

Weight...not budged...

I'm about to kill the scale.

Dimples will have his hands full tomorrow...but being my positive optimist, he will remind me to be happy that I didn't GAIN any weight during the holidays either.

No, I will not kill Dimples...just the scale...this isn't his fault. My body is rebelling. He has plans to "knock me off center" and get the weight sliding down again...I'm afraid to ask so I have told him to give it to me in small doses.

I'm mostly afraid he is going to kill the wine!

My favorite cousin, Awesome Mike, posted a photo the other day from his hunt at the ranch. He mentioned tamales on the manifold...it brought back some memories.

My dad loved to hunt and was an expert marksman. My mother wasn't bad with a gun either. Most of us inherited their talents with a gun. I've mentioned my sisters and I blowing out the competition for riflery at camp, and my brother was as good or better.

My dad loved to hunt. He shot quail, turkeys, dove, deer, exotic game and once, on a trip to Africa, he shot an elephant. The elephant was at the request of the game camp...it was old and very sick and charging the camp so they gave my father the honor of putting him (the elephant) out of his misery. My father said it was a very solemn and spiritual kill...and devestating all the same. As much as he loved to hunt, putting down something as mighty as a big bull elephant was not trivial...and it affected him to do it.

But most of my dad's hunting was at the ranch and mostly it was South Texas white-tailed deer.

He made us go hunting. And he made us all kill a buck. I cried my eyes out after I shot mine and begged God to make it get up. I only shot one other deer after that and that was enough. I have no problem with hunting...I just don't enjoy it. At least not deer. I have no problem with killing pigs or javelinas---javalinas killed my beloved dog Lambchop so I don't much care for the smelly things. Only shot one...it was enough...that was payback.

Hunting on the ranch was always an experience. My father would bribe us with thermoses full of hot chocolate and tamales. He would heat up the tamales on the manifold of the suburban. We would stop after a while and have a picnic in the car...that was always the highlight of the day.

My dad had a hunting car...it was an old Tornado that he tricked out to hunt out of. He had the roof and doors removed and had big gun scabbards mounted on the side. We loved to ride in that car. Once he had it painted (temporarily) as the Bat Mobile and picked me and my sister up from high school. She was mortified, I thought it was awesome...and yes, he was dressed as Batman when he did it.

When we got a Suburban, my father had the King Ranch Saddle Shop custom make him a bed liner for the back of the suburban so he could toss the deer back there. He removed the third seat and would buckle in the liner and off we would go. Some people have special areas at the front of the truck to haul deer with but on the King Ranch, with all of the bump gates, it was best to just toss them in the back.

Bump gate = gate that you gently "bump" with the front of your car and it swings open...and you have to drive carefully so that it doesn't spin around and hit the back of your vehicle.

My dad would kill something and toss it in the back. The hooves of the animal would hit us on the head as we drove home.

Not a cool feeling...

Neither were the ticks we would usually pick up while hunting...

I told my cousin that it is a wonder we weren't scarred for life from it all...

I was always afraid the deer was not going to really be dead and was going to stand up and charge about in the car, but my father assured me that would never happen as he had removed the entrails from the animal before he tossed it in the back...I guess you don't get up if you don't have a heart...

One of my dad's friends, Dick, always had to kill the biggest buck on their annual hunting trips. Dick would drive everyone crazy with his need for the "big one".

So one year, my dad decided to fix him.

He found some deer that died or was dying from natural causes. So he and his partner in crime took the animal to the taxidermist and had him stuff it so that the front of the animal was stiff...and he had him leave a hole in it.

Into that hole he stuffed...dynamite.

So he has his friend Peyton go and put the fake deer (well, it was a REAL deer but no longer alive) into some brush so it looked like a big buck emerging from the brush.

Daddy took his time driving Dick around and finally arrived at the spot where they could "find" the big buck. Daddy points it out to Dick and tells him to take a shot.

Dick shoots...

The deer blew up...or rather, the dynamite made the deer blow up.

According to Peyton, that deer went sky high.

Dick freaked out...Daddy started yelling at him telling him that he must have shot the Exxon gasline on the ranch.

Dick freaked out...

And then Daddy died laughing. He said he laughed for a full 10 minutes before he admitted it all to Dick.

Dick got a new nickname...

Dynamite Dick...

Years later when my father had his own ranch he hired one of my favorite men on the planet to be his wildlife manager and Vice President and Director or Ranch Operations. This man, and I will use his real name because he is sooooo awesome, is named Bob Cook. You will find his name on monuments and things around the state because after my father lost his ranch Bob went on to become the Director of Texas Parks and Wildlife.

Bob and my father were also notorious partners-in-crime. They spent hours and hours creating perfect hunting in Hunt and Montana. My dad didn't just like to hunt, he cared about the wildlife on his properties...and cared enough to hire someone who knew what the hell he was doing with that wildlife.

Bob has stories...I don't know all of them...and I'm a little afraid to!

One thing my father did exceptionally well...he found GOOD people to surround himself with...and Bob is/was no exception.

Even if he (Bob) once took me into a cave full of bats...

I wanted to kill him for that.

I'm off to bed...I have a couple of workouts that will kill me tomorrow so I plan to rest up and get ready.

The scale might move...or it might not...but I won't let it keep me from doing everything I should to have a healthy, good day...and the only thing I plan on killing is calories!

Inspiration Song: "A View to a Kill" by Duran Duran...we'll just have to see what tomorrow brings...but it will be Duran Duran...

Bye Darlings...and don't be killing anything but your own calories!

Red Red Wine

Right now, upstairs in my house, is a group of teenagers...

I can hear the subwoofer pumping across the house. I don't dare ask how many are up there. I came home after the "party" started and told hubby not to tell me so I don't freak out. I also don't want to know how many soft drinks are up there to ruin the carpet.

I think it is an indication of how loud it is that my cats won't venture into the hallway where the staircase is...

I guess I wont' be getting to bed early tonight...Camiel's bedroom is right above mine and attached to her bedroom is the sitting room (too small to call a gameroom)that is currently teenager heaven. The Cutest Boy in the World has asked if he can sleep in our room because his bedroom is at the foot of the stairs leading to the party.

what I do know is there is no alcohol or cigarettes up there...but there does appear to be some Red Bull.

I don't "get" the whole Red Bull thing. I tried it once...make that twice. I tasted the regular kind and promptly spit it out. I tried the diet kind and after 3 sips declared it disgusting and nasty and threw it away.

A friend who is a bit younger than me informed Bacchus and me that Red Bull and Vodka is a good combination. What does he know...he is under 30. I love him but do not trust his taste in what constitutes a "good" drink. I listen to Bacchus and stick to wine. We patted him on the head and told him we would teach him to drink like a real grown-up. Of course I would have to be a real grown-up to teach him and since I'm not a real grown-up...well, that poor boy will learn...

Now wine on the other hand, well, I totally "get" wine. I like wine, especially if it is red. I'm quite fond of champagne too, as you regular blog readers are aware. And I like white wine too...but mostly I'm a "red" girl for just drinking.

So I found this article by the Mayo clinic about red wine. I won't copy it here, but it does have some information about red wine and heart health.

http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/red-wine/HB00089

I don't think my blog makes hyperlinks so you will have to cut and paste.

I also found this great article on the benefits of Omega-3 in fish. Since I have been eating enough salmon to basically grow gills and find myself with a desire to swim upstream, I am interested in the health benefits of it (salmon) and not just as a good source of protein for me.

So here...read this:
http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/omega-3/HB00087

My father died from heart disease...or rather, he had heart disease and died having bypass surgery. One would think that knowing how and why my father died would have been enough for me to have kept my life and weight on track but it wasn't.

But now I know better...and I feel better...

And I love knowing that some red red wine can actually be GOOD for me...in moderation...all things in moderation.

I still remember the first time I had a taste of good red wine. My father loved loved loved Jordan Cabernet Sauvignon. I mean loved it to the point that he bought multiple cases of it. The other night while I was having dinner with my friend Diva D (because she is absolutely fabulousity she gets to be called "Diva"), the table next to us ordered a bottle of Jordan...I almost cried missing my Daddy...

So my Daddy bought all this red wine and one night at dinner he opened a bottle and poured me a (tiny) glass of the Jordan. Into a real (Baccarat) crystal glass. He first told me that good one should always be drunk out of a good glass...preferably crystal...never a paper or styrofoam cup. Then he had me sip it. I thought I was sipping heaven.

When he took me to Europe he allowed me a glass of wine each night at dinner. Now my dad didn't know a whole lot about wine...I mean, for years he drank Lancers Rose...but he was learning and wanted me to "appreciate" it. While in Europe I tasted all kinds of wonderful wines...I will never remember them, but I remember sitting at dinner and my father teaching me about the differences in the wines.

All I knew was that I was getting to drink alcohol...but now I remember those nights so fondly.

I also remember the night I tricked him into eating eggplant even though he said he hated it. Before heading to France I checked out a book in the library that taught me how to read a French menu...I learned it so I would be sure I would get "beef" and not "tongue" and no liver. I knew the waiter said "eggplant" but didn't tell Daddy when he ordered the same thing I did...that had eggplant. He ate all of his eggplant and then I found his fork venturing over to my plate to steal my----eggplant. I waited until he got a forkful of mine before informing him that he was eating---eggplant. I love eggplant to this day...and when I eat it, I think of Daddy.

Eggplant doesn't really go well with red wine by the way...

Daddy taught me a lot of things, but as a cowboy he wanted to raise a lady...a lady who appreciated the finer things in life...like wine, and art, and beautiful things. So he taught me about French crystal...and when I sold my beloved "Monster" steer I took some of my money and bought a complete set of Baccarat crystal glasses...I rarely use them, but I look at them often and remember the joy of going to the Baccarat factory shop in Paris and proudly paying for a complete set of 16 red and white wine glasses and knowing that I would treasure them forever. And I do...

He taught me art, but really just Western art. My father truly loved western art and loved collecting what he could of it. The day he bought his one and only Charles Russell painting he cried and I cried with him. We sat on the couch and stared at it for hours, seriously...Our house was under construction so we were living in a double wide trailer at that time.

I venture a pretty good guess that it was the one and only time a Charles Russell painting hung in the living room of a double-wide trailer...

I tell you this story not as a "brag" that my father once owned a Russell painting, but rather the unbelieveable irony in that he loved that painting so much that he had no qualms about hanging it on the faux-wood walls of the trailer.

He also owned an Albert Bierdstadt painting that was breathtaking. It was his favorite painting, even more than the Russell. He could often be found in the living room staring at it. It was so beautiful and I often found myself staring at it and finding peace. It never hung on the walls of the trailer...

Now when I see a Bierdstadt I usually cry...both for the beauty and for missing my father. There was one that hung over a fireplace in the White House while President Bush was in residence. I spoke to the securty guard about it when I went on a tour...he said he found great peace in just looking at it...I agreed. "W" and Laura had good taste to hang that painting there...

If you have never gazed at one of his paintings, I have a link to images here:

http://www.google.com/images?rlz=1T4GGLR_enUS398US398&q=bierstadt&um=1&ie=UTF-8&source=univ&ei=6eIKTdDjCYqr8AaLqISHDg&sa=X&oi=image_result_group&ct=title&resnum=3&ved=0CEIQsAQwAg&biw=1259&bih=434

So beautiful...

My dad was bound and determined that I was going to grow up a lady who knew things about the finer things in life even if I was the daughter of a cowboy. And I did. I love wine...and I love art...but not just western art...I have found now that I love Bierdstadt paintings but I love Rothko's work just as much. And maybe I love red wine a little too much...

But what I really learned about being a lady was not about French crystal and great art, but in being generous with myself and my love...with my time and my energy...and with loving with an open and full heart. I don't want to be a lady because I drink nice wine from a crystal glass and like art...I want to be a lady because I give generously of myself and my heart.

If you want to protect your precious heart and have some good and yummy red wine, here are my suggestions that Bacchus helped me find and appreciate...here are some of my favorites:

Chateau Raspail Gigondas---HARD to find...last spotted at Costco but that was months ago. If you can find it at Costco, buy all you can and then call me...

Chateau St. Cosme Gigondas (2007)---can't vouch for other vintage years, but 2007 is pretty darn yummy and worth the $32 price tag.

(Gigonadas is like a Chateu neuf de pape but cheaper...)

La Vielle Ferme (Cotes de Venteaux)---has chickens on the label...found with the big box wines at Costco...in a big bottle...

Little James Basket Press---found at liquor stores...French...cheap (less than $10.50)...all the leftovers from making the St. Cosme wines...yummy...buy all you can because this stuff is good...I give it as a gift...

Erath Pinot Noir---several varieties...good stuff...I'm not a big pinot noir fan (I like syrah, grenach, zinfindel, and blends...), but this stuff is good.

La Bastide---a red blend...liquor stores...again, buy what you can and call me when you find it...

Molly Dooker "The Boxer" Shiraz...this wine inspired a blog...it is good...high alcohol content.

Newton Cabernet...heavy but good...I like me a good cab...

I haven't found a malbec that I really like so if you know of one, tell me...

I do love blends...especially grenache/syrah blends....heck, I just like red wine.

I'm enjoying a glass of the La Vielle Ferme right now...

I'll share my thoughts on white and champagne another day...for today, as you can tell by the title of this blog it is all about the red red wine...

Inspiration Song: Red Red Wine by UB40...

bye darlings...cheers!

When Love Takes Over

Today I did something I haven't done in over 5 years...in fact, it has been 5 years and 8 months since I did it.

I stepped inside Geo. H. Lewis and Sons Funeral Home.

A place I haven't been since my own precious mother died. A place I do not like to go. A place that holds only pain and sadness for me.

But a friend's mother passed away and the visitation was at the funeral home and today I had to go.

Love took over...

Because I didn't want to go in there.

I can handle funeral services (now...but it took a while) in a church. But not THAT funeral home.

Just before stepping inside I had a little tiny panic attack. I had to stop and take a breath and let myself gather up again. I let my love for my friend and his family take me inside.

I didn't look in the chapel. I did not want to go in the place where my mother's body had once been in a casket.

So I just avoided looking in.

I visited with the family. I visited with friends.

I took a lot of deep breaths.

I only had one bad moment inside...it passed.

Love took over.

Tomorrow the funeral is at the same church where we had my mother's funeral. It is not an easy church for me to go to. But I will go.

I seem to be going to a lot of funerals these days. This time it is easier than my friend Patrick's passing since this was an older woman...a woman who had loved a lovely full life. It is still sad that she is gone, but, as we all know and hope to some day be---she is in HEAVEN! She is at peace...she is free of pain...she is with her husband and family members who where there to greet her.

But I don't want to dwell on sad things...this is a season of giving and thankfullness and being with those we love.

Love takes over...our love for each other, for our families, for our friends, for God, for Jesus...

Somehow love has NOT taken over the overwhelming urge in me NOT to shop and NOT to decorate.

I just can't get into it.

I love Christmas and I used to love decorating but ever since my mother passed away some of the joy is lost. That, and having a lot of my stuff ruined in a flood.

But I am bound and determined that no matter how big a pain in the neck it is, I will get a tree up this year and I will put out some of my decorations.

Love needs to take over...because my kids miss it...

As for the shopping, my son just wants gift cards to buy more video games and my daughter wants music stuff and asked if she can just pick it out online and send me a link.

I miss the days of Toys R Us and trying to get the last Beanie Baby...

So this year we adopted a family (I'm letting love for someone I don't even know to take over my credit card) and I got to buy an Easy Bake Oven.

Remember those?

They still make them...

Wasn't that the BEST cake ever? Even if it was smaller than a saucer, hard as a rock and it gets cooked with a light bulb.

One friend told me that she bought a "Baby Alive" for the girl on her adopted family list. It brought back some memories.

I had a Baby Alive. So did my sisters. They are horrible things these Baby Alive dolls. They "eat" and then they pee...

Gross...

You have to feed them special food. Food that disolves and easily rinses out with the water you feed the doll to make it pee.

My sister, N, fed her Baby Alive real baby food.

Not a good idea....

It got ants...and maggots...

Baby Alive died in the trash can...all of them.

My father told my mother never to buy such a stupid doll again.

So the next year she didn't buy us baby dolls at all and my father, after a good bit of "cheer" (of the alcoholic variety) at his aunt's house, was upset to see that she had not gotten us the baby dolls we so desired. (She had, however, purchased us Madame Alexander dolls...which I still have).

So my father called the owner of the only store in town that carried dolls and got him to open up at midnight and he bought us some dolls.

My Daddy loved having daughters...and he loved giving us dolls.

But in that instance I think "Scotch" or "Bourbon" took over and not love...in any case I got several dolls that Christmas.

My dad was acutally quite a world class shopper. He is the one who took me shopping for all of my "rush" clothes before heading to college. We went to Sakowitz and they set up a screen in one of the big dressing rooms. I played dress up all afternoon and my dad was delighted as I would come out from behind the screen and twirl around for him.

Years later, when I was married, I was shopping at Sakowitz and the saleslady told me my father was downstairs in the mens department. We were meeting there for lunch. I had picked out 4 dresses but knew I could only buy one...maybe two. So I went downstairs in my favorite (and the most expensive) dress and twirled around for him. He clapped with delight...

And then he informed me that another man was paying my bills these days and to get back upstairs and get ready to go to lunch.

I stuck out my lower lip and pouted all the way up the escalator.

I returned to the dressing room to see it cleaned out of my other choices and handed the saleslady the red dress I was wearing. She took it and didn't say a word.

I stepped out of the dressing room (after pouting a bit more) and she handed me a garment bag----with all 4 dreses inside.

I told her I could not buy them.

She told me that my Daddy had called (boy was he quick to the phone) and told her to charge them to him.

I turned around to find him standing in the sales area laughing. And then I tackled him and covered him with "daughter loves her Daddy" kisses...

He delighted in surprising us that way.

One year for Christmas he presented me with a very large box. It was a week before Christmas. He told me to open it.

Inside was the frothiest, laciest, pink confection of a gown. The lace was delicate and the pink silk taffeta was as gossamer as a butterfly's wings and the color of baby's lips. It gave you a cavity just to look at it, it was so sweet...

I showed the appropriate amount of delight...because I was barely 17 and I loved dresses that made me look like a cupcake.

He cried.

After he stepped out of the room my stepmother told me the REAL story of the dress.

Apparently he had been wandering about Frost Brothers and as he rode up the escalator he was greeted by a mannequin in the confection dress. He knew I had to have the dress and he wanted to surprise me with it.

So he took the mannequin off the stand and carried it through the store until he found the saleslady helping my stepmother. He began to strip the mannequin of the gown before the horrified saleslady's eyes.

She informed him: "Mr. Shelton...we do not undress mannequins on the sales floor at Frost Brothers!".

He told her to get the damn dress off the mannequin and put it in a box.

She informed him: "Mr. Shelton, we do not put gowns into boxes! They are hung and placed in garment bags!".

He told her to put it in a box...a big box...and he wanted the box wrapped...and I quote here "like they do on tv...so that she unties the ribbon and pulls the wrapped top off the box and can see it inside the box"...

And that is just what he got...a box that had the top and bottom wrapped seperately, with the gown inside, with a huge bow on the outside that I could untie.

He made me do it over and over again...open the box and squeal.

Like I said, he loved giving surprises...and he had a flair for the dramatic.

My dad loved women...good thing since he had 7 daughters.

I'll save the story of me, my daddy and my wedding gown for another day...or I may have already blogged about it...I forget because I have so many daddy and dresses stories.

How lucky was I to have a daddy who loved playing Barbie except that in his case "Barbie" was his daughters?

His love for us took over any embarrasment he might have felt as a cowboy (always in his boots) standing in a fancy department store looking through racks of ribbons, lace, satin, and silk for the perfect dress to give to one of us...

Today made me miss my parents...but even though they aren't with me I can still feel their love...

when I wear my mother's charm bracelet

when I look at their photos

and when I look at the red dress that my Daddy bought me (along with the other 3) oh so long ago at Sakowitz....I still have them....

and so many other times of the day, week, year..

Let your love take over...do something that is out of your comfort zone for someone else...

Inspiration Song: "When Love Takes Over" by David Guetta (and Kelly Rowland)...I love me some D Guetta....

Bye Darlings...