I want to curl up into the fetal position and cry after Googling the sharp shooting pain from my left shoulder. It started after an hour long car ride where I did nothing but sit still and face forward. Google informed me that it’s probably an issue that is most common in people over forty (cue the crying in the fetal position) and after activity such as gardening, tennis or baseball (cue continued crying in the fetal position as I haven’t been doing any of those things, and even if I had, I’m right handed.) I also understood Google to instruct me to wait a week before calling the doctor.
I won’t drone on about how difficult it is to manage a one year old little boy that is always go-go-going on a day when both of my arms work, {This week he figured out how to climb onto the seat of the couch, then move to the arm of the couch and stand up in order to climb over the back of the couch. Yeah, he’s only been on this earth for thirteen months. What are we in for after he’s been here for thirteen years?!} but you can probably imagine what it’s like to try to do it with one arm held to your side by an elastic bandage over an ice pack. I’ve been walking around the house for two days looking like I just pitched seven innings of a major league baseball game minus the bubble gum, and sunflower seeds, and chewing tobacco…and the muscles, minus the muscles. I have been wearing my pants tucked into knee-length socks though.
You realize just how much you’ve taken your non-dominant hand for granted when you can’t raise it more than about 25 degrees. And although I’ve somehow compensated for pretty much everything else, the one thing I can’t seem to get by doing one handed is fixing my hair. I love a good ponytail at the end of the day (or all day most days anymore), but I almost passed out from pain as I attempted it this evening. So, I called my husband in to help.
First I asked if he even knew how to put hair into a ponytail. He laughed and looked at me like I had asked him if he knew how to spell his own name. But really, I still think that’s a very valid question! He started by grabbing the rubberband and then gathering my hair while standing face to face with me. I eventually convinced him to stand behind me, facing the back of my head. He again gathered my hair and started to put it into the rubberband. Part of the left side fell out of the ponytail, and he couldn’t really understand why that wasn’t satisfactory. But, he tried again anyway. This time he asked if the bottom half of my hair really needed to be included in the ponytail. He tried a fourth time and the picture below is what we ended up with. Just after this picture, my favorite part occurred. He decided it needed to be tightened and rather than pulling two halves of the ponytail out to the sides like I would do, he rolled the rubberband closer to my head like you would push a rubberband onto a rolled up poster.
So, this is the best of four attempts. But I’m just happy to have him to do it. And it still looks better than the ice pack that he elastic bandaged to my arm.

*As seen/read on the front page of the Moberly Monitor Index, October 12, 2015.

Cowboy BarT is a very special friend of ours. He was there when we started dating. During our courtship, he was even with us at the end of several good dates (okay, so we ended the night at one of his performances.) He was with us on our wedding night (okay, so he was the entertainment for our reception.) He was there for our baby’s first wedding dance that he could really enjoy (okay, so he also performed at my cousin’s wedding.)  But nonetheless, he really has been with us during a lot of important events in our lives.  And so has his musical partner in crime, Red.
Bart Colliver is an extremely talented musician and performer (33 years and counting), and the lead vocal and acoustic guitar player, along with our friend Red who plays electric guitar (and more), in their band: Cowboy BarT and Band of Redman, formerly known as Cowboy Bart’s Imaginary Band.
I believe my husband met Cowboy BarT in the local tavern, but I first met Bart in a little (I mean teeny-tiny) party shack in my husband’s grandparents’ backyard that sits on the banks of the Norfolk and Southern Railroad tracks, and which we named the “Trackside Saloon.” Bart describes it as a “remodeled chicken coop.” It was a snowy winter Christmas night (yes, it was actually Christmas) and a whole gang of us were hanging out at the Trackside Saloon in the late night/early morning hours. Bart was kind enough to join us and break out his guitar for some fabulous entertainment. We had that coop rockin’. And we made Bart’s version of Wagon Wheel a #1 hit way before Darius Rucker did. From the first strum of Cowboy BarT’s guitar, I was in love with his music.
As Bart and I got to know each other over the years, we had some other connections. We grew up (well, Bart never really grew up; he’s still hoping to one day) in the same area (although he was born one county to the west and spent his early years in Tina {that’s Ty-nuh, not Tee-nuh}, Missouri).
[Side note: Tina is where my husband and I went to our first cattle sale together.]
Bart and I both moved to Warrensburg for college. Bart has spent the past 25 years traveling, but usually still parks his RV somewhere around The Burg.
Cowboy BarT not only sings and plays guitar, he also plays Hammond organ, piano, bass, synthesizer, squeezebox, and he even played tenor sax in college. Remember when I said he is extremely talented? I’ve also seen him play the accordion (a favorite of mine.) Bart’s favorite instrument is just whatever fits the song; maybe a different instrument than everyone else he’s pickin’ with.
He figured out his voice before any of the instruments. When he was about five, he harmonized his voice with a boat motor.
Now, not only can Cowboy BarT sing and play all those instruments, he can write, too. He covers some of my personal favorites like John Prine, George Jones and Don Williams, but Bart’s originals are always what you’ll request over and over again. He wrote his first song, Imported Love, for–you guessed it–his first love. He’s flexible when it comes to his favorite songs. He says it changes with the direction of the wind. His favorite lyric however, just surfaced last month in the recording studio. It’s a lyric by his buddy G dub: “My ekg is laughing at me.” Bart recently wrote a song about having a band out in the barn that could only play the theme to the Benny Hill Show. It contains one of my favorite lyrics (and Bart’s pretty fond of it, too): Chicken was nervous but the eggs got laid; we passed the hat and the band got paid.” (And we have passed the hat to pay Bart and Red many times!)
He’s opened for Jimi Buffett, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, “almost George Jones”–Asleep at the Wheel ended up filling in for George–, Bobby Bland, Delbert McClinton, Joe Ely, Doug Sahm Quartet, Commander Cody & His Lost Planet Airmen, Al Stewart, Bachman-Turner Overdrive, Bo Diddley, Cate Brothers, The Band, Rainmakers, Bottle Rockets, The Byrds, Bill Wharton (The Sauce Boss), Eddie Rabbitt, John Conlee, Lynn Anderson, N.I.L.8, The Jayhawks, and more. Now do you believe that he’s extremely talented?
Right now, Cowboy BarT is enjoying the joy he brings to the residents he plays for in a nursing home. He also has several regular gigs and he’s always willing to schedule in a wedding or other event. Some of his past favorite places to play were Key West, at a hog roast last month along the Neosho River, and in the walled city of Tournon, France.
Aside from Cowboy BarT’s musical and writing talent, he can also cook. He started out in a restaurant in our hometown at age 14. Now he’s learned to clean as he goes so when he’s done eating, he only has a plate and fork to wash.
Ladies, this guy also grows out then cuts and donates his hair, had a pet named Scairdy Cat and found her a loving home with an elderly lady that was blind, loves to throw horseshoes and see a good baseball game at the stadium, and he’s traveled all across the US and parts of Europe with his music. And he’s single!
His first car was a ’72 Dodge Charger. He found it at a garage sale and his dad helped him fix it up. They even painted it right out in their front yard. He totaled it four months after he turned 16; distracted by his cassette player.
When he was a bluesman with King Alex and the Untouchables, the folks at Harold Penner in KCMO helped him pick out the coolest Italian suits. He never left the store without matching shoes. He’s still got all of them.
He used to feel guilty for being a musician, so he cured that with ten years of pipe organ building. He says it was hard work and it later gave him the patience for songwriting.
If you’re wondering about his name, he was named after Bart in the TV show, Maverick. His parents thought about naming his brother Bret, but Bart wanted to name him Corey so they did! His nickname comes from the Frank Zappa song, Lonesome Cowboy Burt. He dropped the Lonesome (because he has lots of friends!) and stuck with Cowboy BarT.
Cowboy BarT’s advice: Question. Make mistakes. Try not to repeat them. See where the horseshoes land and make new friends along the way. Never stop learning. Enjoy the little things. Skip, because it’s hard to skip without smilin’.
Cowboy BarT is friendly, approachable, and he loves to let a higher power play through his fingertips (R.L. Burnside’s drummer told him he did that!) He likes to live simply. Greed bums him out. He believes that music is the highest form of communication. And he appreciates Red for putting up with him.
Cowboy BarT and Band of Redman were at our house for Labor Day. We used a flatbed trailer for a makeshift stage and they entertained our family and friends, creating a Labor Day party better than anyone else’s. This past weekend they were at the John Hartford Memorial Festival for the Hartford Boogie in Dunmor, Kentucky. Anyone that was lucky enough to hear them play had a good time, no doubt.
Cowboy BarT’s favorite thing about his music is making people smile, and he definitely does that.
To watch and listen to their audition for the Hartford Boogie go here: Cowboy BarT and Band of Redman  If you don’t have time to listen to the whole audition, at least listen to Whatever Floats Yer Boat written by Bart (about two minutes in) and I promise by the end of the song you’ll be on your feet dancing and ready to set it on repeat.  If you have lots of time, watch their other YouTube videos, too!
To contact Cowboy BarT and Band of Redman for your next event (they’re reasonably priced!) or purchase one of their many CDs, find them on Facebook or call (660) 864-5211.

This is one of my husband’s favorite dishes; he requests it a lot.  Actually, everyone requests it a lot.  It is an easy dish to throw together to take to a party or serve when guests are over.   Out of everything I’ve ever made for other people, this  is the recipe that people ask me for the most.  It is the perfect go-to recipe.  When I don’t plan well and we are about to walk out the door to an event that requires a carry-in dish, I throw this together.  When we have surprise guests, I throw this together.  When we’re laying around on a Sunday afternoon watching a movie, I throw this together. 
Over the years of making this, I have made a few modifications.  I don’t use artichokes at all.  I use a whole package of cream cheese and a whole tub of sour cream.  I sometimes add parmesan and/or mozzarella cheese.  Sometimes I also add some garlic powder.  I adjust the salt and pepper to taste.  I think squeezing the moisture out of the spinach is the key to making this delicious–I usually squeeze it through a strainer first, and then in paper towels.  We usually end up just eating the dip with tortilla chips if we don’t have pita chips on hand.  Or, if I have a Sweet Hawaiian bread bowl, we really love to use that. Enjoy!

Spinach-Artichoke Dip
1 – 10oz box frozen cut or chopped spinach, thawed
1 – 12oz jar artichoke hearts, drained and roughly chopped
1/2 cup whipped cream cheese
3/4 cup sour cream
1 cup grated cheddar cheese
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
Heat oven to 400 degrees.  Squeeze the spinach between paper towels to remove excess moisture.  In a medium bowl,  combine the spinach, artichokes, cream cheese, sour cream, and cheddar cheese.  Season with the salt and pepper.  Scrape the mixture into a small oven-safe baking dish.  Bake until lightly golden and heated through, about 15 minutes.  Serve warm with pita chips or bread and lemon wedges, if desired.

Children’s birthday parties are a new thing to me, so when our “baby” was nearing his first birthday, I was kind of at a loss as to what to plan. But, I did know that every good party starts with a theme. Then I was at a loss for a theme. I knew I wanted something unique and specific to the birthday boy. One day it just came to me, his favorite book is Goodnight Moon–we read it every single night and he can already point out some of the items in the pictures when we say them. Then I was at a loss for what to do for a Goodnight Moon party. I searched the internet and Pinterest, but there just wasn’t much out there. So, we ended up coming up with our own party pieces.
First, we picked a color palette. I was never a real fan of Goodnight Moon before we acquired two copies of the board book in the past year. I especially didn’t care for the color in the book, but when I switched my thinking and realized we could use a bright palette of red, green, blue and yellow, it became very fun! The book does offer several staple illustrations–the red balloon, the socks and mittens on the drying rack, the cow jumping over the moon, the little old lady bunny and the young bunny, the mouse, the toyhouse, the telephone, the three little bears sitting in chairs, the fireplace, the windows and curtains, and more. The babe was able to point out the “red balloon” when we read the book very early on, so we knew we wanted to make that a big part of the decor.
I did find a picture of a cake I loved on Pinterest and sent that to our neighbor and expert cake decorator. She fashioned up the most beautiful cakes I have ever seen. We had one smash cake for photos, one smash cake for the party, and one cake to serve the guests. I couldn’t have imagined them turning out any better.



We sat down and came up with all of the decoration ideas and then made our list of supplies. I wanted to start preparing early because my sister was coming in from Dallas for the party and I wanted to be able to spend time with her that weekend rather than pasting cardstock and ribbon together.
I designed an invitation first. I used the bright green, yellow, red, and blue, included the red balloon, and came up with a little rhyme that associated the book with the party.

While I was at it, I designed thank you cards to send out after the party and a bookmark to give out as a party favor.


A couple of weeks before the party, my husband helped me cover our dining room window (which was the backdrop for the guest of honor’s highchair during the cake smash) in crepe paper to replicate the window in the book. My mom cut out stars and we used double-sided tape to attach them. It turned out so cute that we still haven’t taken it down!

Then I made a banner for the highchair. I just picked out scrapbook paper in our theme colors and cut out the letters to spell o-n-e and used rubber cement to hold it all together. It’s attached to jute twine with hot glue. I had planned to use this in the background of his smash cake photos, but completely forgot when the time came. Sad face.

The day of the party, we set up a welcome station which included the socks and mittens (cut out of construction paper) clothespinned to our drying rack, the guest book (one of our copies of Goodnight Moon for guests to sign in), the bookmark favors, and a “message in a bottle.” The message in a bottle started at our baby shower. Our friends and family wrote sweet messages on tags with orange ribbon which coordinated with the shower decorations and our nursery. For the first birthday, I used tags with green ribbon. I plan to continue this each year with ribbons that coordinate to the party theme and continue stacking the messages in the bottle through the years.







The welcome area also included a chalkboard year-in-review. I worked for a long time on this and it ended up being one of my favorite pieces at the party.

The dining room table was covered with a blue sheet and made up like a bed with a pillow at one end and the young bunny in the blue striped pajamas. We also included some balls of yarn in coordinating theme colors, as the little old lady bunny is knitting in the book. The table centerpiece was a Ball quart jar painted metallic silver with a glittery number one and paper flowers made out of the pages of a Goodnight Moon book (ordered from Etsy). We tied a red helium balloon to each of the dining room chairs.



In the dining room entrance, we hung photos of the baby from one to eleven months.

Since the party was on a Sunday afternoon, we just served snacks and drinks. Above the food and drink table were red and white paper fans that we bought at the craft store. They were so cute that I wanted to leave them up, too, but we didn’t.


Last but not least, I bought a little gray t-shirt at the craft store and some iron on letters for the birthday boy’s attire for the party. He already had the shorts that matched the party theme palette.

The morning of the party we got busy making food and decorating. Eventually I had to jump in the shower. I came out of the shower to a perfectly decorated house, thanks to my mom and sister working like busy little beavers without needing any direction!
Once guests arrived, we read Goodnight Moon, opened gifts (an overload of gifts!) and then had cake and ice cream. The babe was very delicate with his smash cake at the party. He just kind of poked at the icing and stayed neat and clean and even preferred to use a spoon. It was a beautiful day and we all ended up outside swimming, playing at the water table, riding the horse, grilling, and sitting around the fire until dark.  

So, one thing you didn’t see in my previous posts under things I love was singing. I don’t know that I should really say that I don’t love it, I should instead say that no one loves for me to do it. Because if there is one thing I really, really fail at, it’s singing. I feel so sorry for my poor child every night as I sing lullabies into his ear. I always think I must be setting him up for nightmares. (cue Psycho music)
I pretty much always knew I couldn’t sing. As a kid in the church choir, I tried to just make it through by pulling a Milli Vanilli and lip syncing. I remember when the choir leader told me to “really belt it out.” I could tell by the look on her face that she wished she had said to “really hold it in.” I got by in my high school and college years singing along to popular songs because everyone was loud and perhaps not noticing small things such as pitch and tone. A few years ago, I was riding home with my husband and brother from one of my brother’s band gigs (yeah, he can carry a tune in a bucket) and from the backseat I faintly heard the radio and let loose on the lyrics to Strawberry Wine at the top of my lungs. Those two boys laughed the whole two hour drive home and that story still hasn’t died. It’s now a constant inside joke.
You don’t realize how often you sing on a daily basis, until you’re no good at it. And when you’re no good at it, it seems like everyone else is the proud owner of a Grammy. When I was teaching Kindergarten, I had to sing every single day. When you go to a birthday party, you have to sing to the guest of honor. When you have a baby, you’re constantly singing ABCs or Wheels on the Bus. At sports events, everyone sings the national anthem. Funerals, weddings, concerts, in the car, in the shower… And karaoke? Eek!
My husband has officially coined my singing as “HARM-onizing” and I think that’s “right on key.”

Now that I’m in my thirties and have lived in at least seven different places since moving out of my parents’ house at eighteen, I’ve realized what a gullible little fool I was as a child.  With a baby and a husband to clean up after constantly, I see why my grandparents had nine children.  Because, although more children equals more mess, more children also equals more forced labor without violating child labor laws. 
I actually didn’t think my brother, sister and I had to work that hard when we were kids, but more than once a visiting neighbor kid or friend would comment on how much work we had to do.  Once, a girl questioned if I always had to work so hard after my dad asked me to carry an empty bucket about 200 feet to the barn.  Clearly our worlds were very different as I didn’t even consider that task to be “work.”  We did regularly help clean the house, make dinner, do the dishes, and mow the yard.  In the summers, we helped in the hayfields most days.  And also in the summers, because my mom was a teacher and was home with us the entire break, we were roped into projects like cleaning out the basement or pulling weeds in the garden.  I remember doing a lot of whining and complaining (with the help of my siblings) and that always resulted in my mother’s most infamous words: If we all just work together, we’ll get this done much faster.
To this day, it’s an inside joke with my siblings.  Any time we are all together, you’ll hear one of us ring out at some point, “If we all just work together…” and then laughter ensues.  (The phrase has been shortened to those six words over the years.)  But in reality, I find myself using this mantra in my current life.  It rings true.  Perhaps moms do know best.
As my Mom nears retirement and begins her final school year next week, she has taken on a much more leisurely pace in life.  She spends a large part of her summer break reading and napping now, and much less of it cleaning out the basement or pulling weeds in the garden.   This past weekend, I realized that this change has brought about a new Momism. 
Saturday morning my mom and I got up early, grabbed some coffee, and hit up a few garage sales.  We left the house at 6:30am and returned about 10:30am.  The husband and baby were batting a hundred, and insisted that I return to town with my mom to run errands (in husband speak this means “please go with her now so I don’t have to go with you later.”)  So off we went, with a plan to make three stops.  I should have known better as another thing my mom has become infamous for over the years is reeling you in to run one errand and then dragging you along for five or six instead.  Five hours and six stops later, as we were leaving the last store, my mom—looking truly befuddled—asked, “Where does the time go?”
So, until we reach that golden age of retirement, and can really wonder “Where does the time go?” it will be another great inside joke for my siblings and me. 
And in retrospect, I realize that at about the third hour in, I should have said to my mom, “If we both just work together, we’ll get this done much faster.”

[Also posted at my Moberly Monitor Index blog, Sunny Side Up.]

We took a two week road trip through Texas in March, so it wasn't until half way through July that we realized we didn't have a summer vacation planned.  So we've been trying to make the most of some daycation staycations.

Our son is the first grandchild on both sides of the family. His first word should have been "spoiled." We are so lucky to have all of his grandparents and great-grandparents living within a two hour radius, and the majority of them being within ten minutes of us. I said we're "lucky" not boring and unimaginative--watch it. We use the grandparents as babysitters all the time, but we're always going to the office instead of on dates. So, two weekends ago when my father-in-law called and said they wanted to keep the baby on Sunday, we jumped on it. We went to our first movie in over a year (ah! even a matinee is getting too expensive for my cheapskate self) and had dinner without a highchair and without going by the drive through window to avoid waking up the sleeping child. It was pure bliss.

This past weekend, my parents offered to come to our house and watch the little chunk and put him to bed. They've done the bedtime routine a handful of times since he was born, so again, we jumped on it. This time, we decided to take the boat to the lake for some fishing and to watch the Blue Moon rise. We were both clearly determined to enjoy the evening, because when our boat motor still wouldn't start after messing with it for almost two hours, we were both just laughing and smiling (and sweating, my poor husband was really sweating.) We grabbed a blanket and some lawn chairs out of my Jeep, opened the cooler, soaked ourselves in bug spray and had a blast watching the huge, orange moon come up over the horizon and create a beautiful reflection on the lake.

Sunday was the annual St. Mary's church picnic in Wein. Every year it's so hot you're pretty sure you're going to melt, except for the years when it pours rain. This year, we got the heat. They have a huge, delicious dinner of fried chicken, roast beef, and all the yummy sides and desserts. You sit at long tables in the church hall with all the other guests. Young children fill and re-fill your sweet tea and clear the table when you're done. Or, in our case, the young children keep picking up the silverware your baby repeatedly throws on the floor. Everyone knows everyone and you can't walk but a few steps without stopping to talk to someone. After stuffing yourself, you go outside and either post up at the beer garden or play bingo, the turtle races, the ring toss, the duck pond, or several other infamous picnic games, and then eventually make a sashay through the church's thrift store: Share and Care.The whole thing is so charming, from the napkin holders that adorn the tables every year made by the parishioners many moons ago, to the children's ride that has been going round and round for generations. Seriously, I remember riding it with my sister and cousins over and over and over again. The whole thing is a bit of a marvel--the way hundreds of people turn out, no matter how many buckets you're going to sweat, in the true middle of nowhere (we're talking NO cell phone service), and spend their entire Sunday just enjoying each other's company. And where else can you go to a church event to drink beer and gamble? I've never seen anyone having a bad time. The whole thing has such a sweet, antiquated feel, and that's something an old soul like me truly loves.

[Also posted at my Moberly Monitor Index blog, Sunny Side Up.]