Monday, June 8, 2009

Oklahoma Weekend

Spitfire and Destructo inside the Giant Windmill Wing
Aunt Kianna, Cousin Kalie, and Gpa Donnie standing by
Feeding the chickens--Spitfire called them stinky

Growing up, I didn't really notice the wind in Oklahoma--that's how oblivious I can be. After this week-end, it is apparent to me why the part of Oklahoma that I grew up in, is the site for 98 HUGE, space-age looking wind mills. But the gales are welcome! They stave off the heat and allow us to enjoy family time on the porch. We watch hummingbirds flutter cautiously to the feeders. Later, when the hurricane calms some, Spitfire and I giggle at the sound of the them--miniature helicopters whizzing by us. We all have a good time visiting my sister, her hubby, and my niece (age 13 and bound for the WNBA or modeling at 6 feet tall and with beautiful, high cheek bones!) who drove the thousand hours in from West Virginia! Although I do have a mild panic attack when Destructo lands barefooted in fresh cow poop, Uncle Ron saves the day, scooping him up and carrying him straight to the kitchen sink (because no amount of germ juice can effectively remove a party foul of this nature, even though it was close by in my pocket).
On Sunday, I witness the transformation of my Dad from genteel farmer, to agile marathon runner, when he has to herd an errant, disgruntled group of the neightbor's cattle from his garden. Unfortunately, about half of the corn, potatos and onions get trampled--a sight sad enough to make a grown man cry. Though I didn't see any tears from my Dad, I do feel pretty sure he uttered a few choice words during the chaos. Spitfire loves the sight of lazy, eyed cattle up close until the big, lumbering, noisy bull comes into view, which is a little scary to behold.
She also loves the sound of "Jack," beloved donkey from a neighboring pasture, speaking distinctly to us while the cattle mew and complain at the rude interuption of their feast.
A great big thanks to Gma Janet, Aunt Glenda and Uncle Albert for hosting a great gathering and birthday celebration, and especially to my cousin Jennifer, who labored on an, absolutely, perfectly-rendered Spongebob cake. We all had a marvelous time. I am convinced there was something "extra" in that cake, which caused Destructo to engage in an impromtu striptease, complete with throwing his shirt into the crowd.
It is lucky that Dart Guy is unusually tough and pain tolerant--he can take all kinds of kid excretions, muddy, back-yard throw-downs, and, even the longest drive home in the history of drives home. While I commend the kiddos for pretty great behavior all week-end long, the streak is broken during 41/2 hours in the car back to Dallas. Aptly-named Spitfire is spouting off sass faster than I can comprehend it, but Dart Guy keeps his calm, even though our first inclination is to pull over and sass back. Cudos and love Dart Guy! Check out more pics below, and thanks for reading.
One of the miniature helicopters


Strawberries and Blackberries

Garden, Pre-Cattle trampling

1 comment:

  1. SOOOOOOOO jealous....i want to get away to a country wonderland....:)
    great pics...and i wish i could have seen the look on your face when he landed in the poop...i would have come unglued! :)