Thursday, April 12, 2012

butter fingers

So I see a tiny finger reach behind my almost wilting jug pitcher of flowers left from Easter; they dip into the soft room temperature butter, retrieving a tablespoon sized glob. Doggedly picking at my own dinner I pretend not to notice. Several minutes later the lad proudly announces and shows off, "look at my butter." Top side of his whole grain peanut butter n jelly glistening in the evening sun. I smile.

Sunday, April 08, 2012

Long, Long time ago....

So I guess its been a while (or awhile?)  since I recorded any thoughts or pecked out any meaningful banter. Multiple problems could be the cause; my computer (laptop) is either missing has sticking keys representing all the important letters and functions. Like "enter" sticks. (.) missing key. (y) sticks and is loose. (T) sticks. (G) not sure what its problem is, doesn't always work. Whine, whine, whine. Yep, I could use the old IPad, except it and blogger are not real friendly and the app is worse. Additionally, after all me years using this forum some inconsiderate geek redesigned the whole shabang...confusing me every time I try and log in or access my stuff. I suppose if I spent more time using the site I might become accustomed and then have one less excuse. But technology changes baffle me. I think I was more computer savvy 15 years ago than now.

Life at the Kimmel Ranch has never been this exciting, well, that probably is not a true statement if I gave it any real thought. The early years did have a character all their own; either I have chosen to forget or like many events that happened more than ten minutes ago its just gone with  no recovery option. If I ponder long and hard enough I can remember finding 22 shells clanging around in the dryer, or all the hair burnt off Ned's cute little 5year old face...the smell of burning hair is quite the memory trigger. Slaughter rock, and the first day of trout season still make me smile. Allen going to the emergency room with half the meat from his elbow lost in the driveway somewhere. Two young boys who used yellow shed paint to decorate our ancient blazer. Faded burgundy and canary yellow...well not quite canary, more like egg yolk. Which by the way reminds me I should put the colored eggs in the fridge. My mom always left them out on the table for a few days decoratively arranged in a real straw Easter basket. But so many things make us sick and kill us that never did back in he day, I'm afraid boiled eggs that have set out might be a new killer. Our house was 58 degrees this morning when we woke up, that's not much warmer than the refrigerator anyhow. But still, why risk it. Course Kaleb tried to eat one shell and all this afternoon. Jer told him the shells would cut up his stomach. Don't think that's true, just some way for Jer to torture Kaleb. Kind of like a big brother would do to a little brother, which of course Kaleb is not, to Jer. Jer is the uncle. Ask him.

Do not be fulled by he cute picture of the two boys sweetly sharing the contents of their Easter Buckets. I am pretty sure they a are making sure they got all the good stuff and didn't leave any of it for the littles. You know, younger sister of cousins. Course I'm confident  Abbi's papa could take 'em, DrewAllen and Kaleb.

Now for the real reason my blog entries are so far and few between, utter exhaustion, which has just overtaken my eyes and fingers. Pushing the silly "y" key multiple times and plum wore me out.

And the excitement at the ranch has finally all fallen asleep.  Too much easter with a small "e" Can never get enough of the Savior Jesus who is the real Easter with the big "E"

warning will be published without proofreading...