Dan's Sh*tty Website

Ruth and I (esp. me) can be a little lazy, one of the facilitators of said laziness is iChat. We tend to chat rather than get up and go up/down-stairs to talk face-to-face. Sometimes I think this has affected our brains, I want to share a snippet from a chat earlier today, if only because it gives an insight into the environment Sophia is being raised in:

Ruth: every time the computer made a noise for me responding to you Sophia made the same noise at it while reading a book it's hilarious

I’m not really a rancher. Sure, I raise cattle for a living, I brand the calves and ship them away to become hamburgers, steaks, stews, and all of the other myriad of tasty things that beef can become. I fix fence, round-up herds, and spend much of each day “on the range.” But I’m not really a rancher. Please don’t misunderstand I do love my job, most of the time (which is a dam sight better than many people can say).

As long as I can remember every time we get a winter storm I'm regaled with stories of the legendary winter of nineteen-seventy-seven, seventy-eight. This winter is not remembered, as you might imagine, for being the year I was born. Rather, my birth is merely a passing footnote in the saga of one of the worst winters in living memory: "Seventy-Eight, the year you were born, now that was a bad winter." That sort of thing.

Ruth's and my life is slowly turning into a waiting game. It isn't yet Ruth's due date, but we're getting too close to feel like we can go anywhere more than an hour or so away, and we've started carrying the bags and car-seat with us when we go into town, just in case.