Address

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Current information on relations. Please update as needed.

Spring_Clean

self explanatory

Kailani's 5th Birthday

Once again this year, April 21, 2009, no birthday party celebration for Kailani. I do not understand why, and never will. I hope that she is not bitter and hurt when she grows older in realizing that her Mom never chose to honor her birthdays as a special day. She has had only one planned birthday party that I know of, this one on her 3rd; http://tejasmidget.multiply.com/photos/album/139/April_Birthdays ..All of the rest were either skipped, merged into some cousins party some other month, or on her brothers birthday in August. We always try to do something for her, http://tejasmidget.multiply.com/tag/birthdays but never exclude her brother to keep the hostilities down. There seems to be some sort of confusion that dictates what is, and isn't to be done. Perhaps there is some recollection of her third when her mother insisted that presents be brought for Cody also, then incredulously, as his punishment for some unknown reason to us, his were put in bags and put away.
Darrell and Heather are going to church regularly since Easter. She wants him to give up drinking, which is a good idea. Perhaps she will hear a sermon or two on cleanliness. She blames the unkempt condition of the house on these two children. Darrell has resigned himself from his angry bouts of house cleaning and states that his temper is their only problem. I wish this were the case. They have wedding plans for July 25th, 2009. You are invited.

Off to mow/trim the yard as per my instructions :)

lmports

miscellaneous pictures

Curts

Calender

Christmas 08

a little late, but here for posterity.

Easter and others

Kay snapped this tree in Autumn foilage.

A few Easter and some wayward pictures that I haven't included in any albums.
I'm cleaning out the media locker.

On the range

borrowed from the bank to buy this 4 horse trailer (credit building). Can squeeze about 8-10 head in here.

Curt is steadily pushing toward his vision of being a modest cattleman.
Here are the most recent photos of his Charolais and horses Easter Day.
I suppose he will get there, he just turned 19 yesterday.

Excursions

Years ago, I wanted to buy what was known as a "Party Barge" , which were selling for around $5,500 at the time and now over $16,000. Two of our boys have purchased a pontoon boat, and after a few minor repairs and painting, they invited me for a late evening trip up the Tensas, which runs behind our properties.
This was way too fun, and I can hardly wait to go on the next fishing expedition. I live vicariously :-)

The Nothing Box

On Being Poor

http://dantcer.multiply.com/item/share/dantcer:journal:498?xurl=%2Fjournal%2Fitem%2F498

its me backup

It's about me

I hurt my child again today, but that's all right you see, she was talking very loudly, and irritating me.
So I whacked her pretty smartly, across the arm or face, it doesn't really matter, to me it's no disgrace.
I've done this so many times, it just comes naturally, just like my mother raised me, it's the fool in me, you see.
I've told her not to spill her milk, about a hundred times, never mind the floor is filthy, I don't have to make it shine.
So I slapped her very smoothly, and made her cry once more, I'm immune to her whining, she makes it such a bore.
You've gotten ketchup on your shirt again, don't look at me and pout. I don't know how to get it off, I can always throw it out.
Washing clothes is not important, I have better things to do, if you weren't such a messy eater, if you would only chew.
There'll be no more food for you today, I'm really bothered see? Can't you understand simple English? I said get away from me!
I care about my child, I do, and I'll prove it in a minute, why just last week a playmate pushed her, and skinned her little knees, and boy I was so upset, I put my two cents in it!
I was yelling and screaming, it's the teacher's fault, you see?
She didn't watch the other kids, all much bigger than she is, she can't take care of herself because she's not yet three.
Don't let the children hurt her, that's reserved especially for me.
I hurt my child more than anyone, but it never dawns on me,
I'm hitting my own children, I'm the mother, can't you see?
She cries when she is hungry, or if she's cold or wet, I swear she's getting on my nerves, I'll have to beat her yet.
Sometimes she reaches out her little arms, begging to be held, but since I mustn't spoil her, a slap is what she'll get.
I'll put her in her little crib, she can't get out of there, and I'll just turn out the lights and leave her crying there,
when she's too tired of crying, we won't hear her anymore, if she wakes up again, I'll have to close the door.
Spare not the rod and spoil the child, is what my mother said, I think God made her an expert, I must listen to what she says.
It must be right, just look at me, it doesn't hurt a bit, this is the way that I was raised, and nothings wrong with it.
I am immune to those weak cries, and surely God don't care, I was also beaten as a child, and no one raised a prayer.
One day when social service comes knocking at my door, I'll make up some excuses, it's the neighbors, nothing more.
They spoil my child, they pick her up, they give her what she wants, she laughs too loud and plays too long, she's happy all at once.
They just can't stand my discipline, I can see it in their face, every time that I hit her, while we're over at their place.
Somehow it gives me pleasure, to be in such control, its perversion at it's finest, I'm enjoying this I know,
they better not say anything, we'll just get up and go.
I wont let them visit her, that'll teach them, yes it will, then they'll start to see things my way, it's my way or the hills.
Who are these people anyway, who raise their kids so kind, and do they think that they are perfect, that their children always mind?
They've never spanked their children, or maybe once or twice, all of their kids are well behaved, their son is very nice
He hasn't ever hit me, I wish he would sometimes, then I could get attention, and this would be just fine.
I may have Munchausen by proxy, sometimes my child is ill,
if another child has fallen sick, mine will too as well, but I don't know how to fix it, its a very bitter pill.
I'll have to call my mother, she'll answer right away, doesn't matter if I call her, thirty times a day.
I wouldn't have to call so much, every time I try, if only she had picked me up, and held me when I cried.
My child hit a teacher, and I spanked him very hard, I yelled you can't hit people, this is what I said.
My child then hit a playmate, just like I showed him to, I then had to hit him, and remind him what to do.
I don't know where they're learning this, it's from the other kids, I said you can't hit people, you're not people, don't you know?
You're just my little angel, and now it's time to go.
This poem as I have read it, has made me very mad, they're sick the ones that read it, and are smitten very sad.
There is only one thing more, that's left for me to do, I must stop that incessant whining, they don't have a clue.
Although the sun's still shining, I can see it through the door, I must put my child to bed, because my hands are sore. It's about me.

 Its about me, a poem©Copyright Dec 2005, byron c, All rights reserved.

it's about me, a poem div

It's about me

I hurt my child again today, but that's all right you see, she was talking very loudly, and irritating me. So I whacked her pretty smartly, across the arm or face, it doesn't really matter, to me it's no disgrace. I've done this so many times, it just comes naturally, just like my mother raised me, it's the fool in
me, you see. I've told her not to spill her milk, about a hundred times, never mind the floor is filthy, I don't have to make it shine. So I slapped her very smoothly, and
made her cry once more, I'm immune to her whining, she makes it such a bore.
You've gotten ketchup on your shirt again, don't look at me and pout. I don't know how to get it off, I can always throw it out. Washing clothes is not important, I have better things to do, if you weren't such a messy eater, if you would only chew. There'll be no more food for you today, I'm really bothered see? Can't you understand simple English? I said get away from me! I care about my child, I do, and I'll prove it in a minute, why just last week a playmate pushed her, and skinned her little knees, and boy I was so upset, I put my two cents in it!
I was yelling and screaming, it's the teacher's fault, you see?
She didn't watch the other kids, all much bigger than she is, she can't take care of herself because she's not yet three.
Don't let the children hurt her, that's reserved especially for me.
I hurt my child more than anyone, but it never dawns on me,
I'm hitting my own children, I'm the mother, can't you see?
She cries when she is hungry, or if she's cold or wet, I swear she's getting on my nerves, I'll have to beat her yet.
Sometimes she reaches out her little arms, begging to be held, but since I mustn't spoil her, a slap is what she'll get.
I'll put her in her little crib, she can't get out of there, and I'll just turn out the lights and leave her crying there,
when she's too tired of crying, we won't hear her anymore, if she wakes up again, I'll have to close the door.
Spare not the rod and spoil the child, is what my mother said, I think God made her an expert, I must listen to what she says.
It must be right, just look at me, it doesn't hurt a bit, this is the way that I was raised, and nothings wrong with it.
I am immune to those weak cries, and surely God don't care, I was also beaten as a child, and no one raised a prayer.
One day when social service comes knocking at my door, I'll make up some excuses, it's the neighbors, nothing more.
They spoil my child, they pick her up, they give her what she wants, she laughs too loud and plays too long, she's happy all at once.
They just can't stand my discipline, I can see it in their face, every time that I hit her, while we're over at their place.
Somehow it gives me pleasure, to be in such control, its perversion at it's finest, I'm enjoying this I know,
they better not say anything, we'll just get up and go.
I wont let them visit her, that'll teach them, yes it will, then they'll start to see things my way, it's my way or the hills.
Who are these people anyway, who raise their kids so kind, and do they think that they are perfect, that their children always mind?
They've never spanked their children, or maybe once or twice, all of their kids are well behaved, their son is very nice
He hasn't ever hit me, I wish he would sometimes, then I could get attention, and this would be just fine.
I may have Munchausen by proxy, sometimes my child is ill,
if another child has fallen sick, mine will too as well, but I don't know how to fix it, its a very bitter pill.
I'll have to call my mother, she'll answer right away, doesn't matter if I call her, thirty times a day.
I wouldn't have to call so much, every time I try, if only she had picked me up, and held me when I cried.
My child hit a teacher, and I spanked him very hard, I yelled you can't hit people, this is what I said.
My child then hit a playmate, just like I showed him to, I then had to hit him, and remind him what to do.
I don't know where they're learning this, it's from the other kids, I said you can't hit people, you're not people, don't you know?
You're just my little angel, and now it's time to go.
This poem as I have read it, has made me very mad, they're sick the ones that read it, and are smitten very sad.
There is only one thing more, that's left for me to do, I must stop that incessant whining, they don't have a clue.
Although the sun's still shining, I can see it through the door, I must put my child to bed, because my hands are sore. It's about me.

Its about me, a poem©Copyright Dec 2005, byron c, All rights reserved.

New Images 09

miscellaneous

Children

Last night I held a lovely hand,
A hand so small and sweet,

I thought my heart would burst with joy,
So wildly did it beat.

No other hand unto my heart,
Could greater pleasure bring.

Than the dear one that I held last night--
To my baby's hand I cling.
- Author Unknown 

Of Cows and Gold Ñ

For most of my adult years, I've been chasing the American Dream of having a good job, owning one's own home, and being affluent, or at least comfortable. Instead, what I've figured out, and passed along to a co-worker, I'm sharing with you here.
The co-worker was spouting visions of grandor, and non-sensical tales of money making endevors, and pretty much grasping at delusions.

er go:
You've heard of the goose that laid the golden egg, right? Well, for the last 50 odd years I've been  chasing  cows waiting for them to lay a golden turd. I've been following very closely and paying attention to all the rules, but all that ever came out was what? Yep, cow turds. So you've got to stay grounded in reality, sure, keep your vision, but just understand that all cows don't lay gold.


Moral of this story: Don't follow the wrong cow.

Ok, dog, let's see the pictures...

hound dog, or buttercup, depending on who's introducing him.
Darrell rescued this one starving from an abandoned shack.

Took me 2 1/2 months from start to finish, Kay called it my experimental room, but it turned out well. Much of the material used here is scraps, discarded, and leftovers, saved with a vision. The marble tile is over ten years old, some of the paint is about 8, Trim, pieces of the past.
Borrowed heavily from my experiences in the antiquities, It's a one-of-a-kind teaster tub, as in teaster bed.
Curt's old blue bedroom gets the overflow as the new guest room.

Master Bedroom renovations

always find a helper ready to lend a willing hand with those difficult projects.
Last thing to do, pull in a cat5 for an internet connection. All I could hear when I was under the house was pull it!, pull it!, pull it! Sounded so familiar.

Ridgecrest

http://natchezdemocrat.com/news/2008/nov/11/resident-attacked-break-/
Home invasion in Ridgecrest. Weeks circle is across hwy 84 opposite what we think of as Ridgecrest, but also known as Ridgecrest.

Coffee Table Book

Album purchased here with their create a photo album feature.
I hope this one turns out well. April 21 is Kailani's birthday.