The Fort Worth rodeo is here! On Saturday night we headed out to the movies and got a good dose of what happens to Fort Worth on the weekends that the rodeo is in town. First, since we live right near the stockyards, we were overwhelmed by the traffic--hundreds of pickup trucks filled with ten-gallon hats. Then, as we headed up University Ave, a major street that runs through Fort Worth, we were stopped by a parade of horses--probably about 100--as they headed out of the rodeo. There was every kind of horse and, if you're going to be stuck in traffic, there are worse things to look at. It was just kind of bizarre. In normal cities, traffic doesn't get backed up to the highway by a parade of horses.

Anyway, this year we are really making an effort to go to the rodeo. Tomorrow night is Bulls Night Out and we will be there. I will likely be making comments about the inhumanity of the rodeo too loudly and we might get jumped by some cowpeople, but then we will go look at the stockyard animals, who will be peacefully awaiting their fates in their pens inside of the Will Rogers Center. I like the goats the best. And it's pretty funny to see a cowboy blow drying and brushing his 900 pound steer.

Stay tuned for rodeo pictures.

Happy New Year! Our New Years resolution is to blog more! I'm sure that everyone is eagerly awaiting the exciting adventures of Claire and Jim in Big Bend: the beautiful hikes, the close calls with the mountain lions, the treks through the caves wearing our new headlamps that we got for Christmas, how we survived for 6 days with the nearest shower 14 miles away!!!

Well, we'll have to tell you some other time, because we didn't go. What we can tell you about is the virulent stomach virus that we both came down with the day that we were supposed to head out for Big Bend. It started with Jim, who spent eight hours or so with his head in the toilet, purging his body of Christmas dinner, and then Sprite. Then I started up 12 hours later, with violent chills and then sweats and then fainting on the bathroom floor.

So, we didn't really feel like camping after that and were glad that the sickness came BEFORE Big Bend and not after we got there. Fortunately, we were camped out at Jim's parents (unfortunately, they were also sick, along with our two neices and their parents...good thing there were a lot of bathrooms around). We had lots of Sprite and crackers and then, when we felt well enough, we went to Louisiana to see my parents. Instead of spending the night under the stars in Big Bend, we slept in my lumpy, saggy old bed and we wore our headlamps out into the pecan grove to watch shooting stars and to listen to owls and bats and coyotes. It wasn't Big Bend, but we still had a great vacation.

Buster

On My Overdose

Well, by now, I'm sure that most of you have seen one or two versions of this embarassing picture. Yes, that's me, wearing a bonnet, or satellite dish, or whatever you want to call it. What can I say? First they forced me to throw up, then they forced me to eat some disgusting black stuff, which gave me black diarreah, and then they stuck an IV in me. No, I didn't want to have that IV in me, so yes, I tried to pull it out. Hence the ridiculous looking satellite dish. I also didn't want to stay in my cage...would you? I was in a completely strange place, with people who had abused me thoroughly, so yeah, I tried jumping out of my cage a few times. What's four feet? I jumped much further down than that when I learned how to balance on top of our fence at our old house...but I digress.

Probably you are wondering what possessed me to eat 25 ibuprofen. Why, when I have such a happy life, would I throw it all away like that? Well, to be perfectly honest, it was an accidental overdose. I've experimented in the past with carrot cake, cat food, raw meat, egg shells, cookie icing, gum, and I've even dabbled in benydril, but ibuprofen was a new one to me. I've always eyed the giant container of ibuprofen that my parents keep in their bathroom. They take it a lot, so I figured it probably tastes pretty good.

Now, let me tell you a little bit about my family life. Ever since my parents got the new couches, life has been pretty glum. I'm NEVER allowed on them and if I do get on them, I get yelled at. The other night, I wasn't even trying to get on them and I still get yelled at. What I was trying to do was let my parents know that I needed to go out, but they blew me off and yelled at me for jumping on the couch...so I peed on the living room table. They asked for it.

Anyway, things are usually pretty good, even though I'm not allowed to get on the couch, but my Dad can be pretty tough sometimes. My mom is pretty much a pushover about everything. Usually if I want something, all I have to do is look at her the right way. Anyway, she left me with my Dad and the cats all weekend and that was stressful for me. Things just never feel right when we're not all together.

My mom was gone for three days! When she came back, she smelled like another dog and she hardly paid any attention to me. The next morning, she got up, took me out to pee, and then LEFT ME ALONE with hardly even a good morning and not even a greenie! I was devastated. Had she found another dog? Had she decided that I wasn't good enough? Anxiety turned to sadness and then to resentment and I did what any distressed dog would do. I ransacked her purse. First I pulled out all the papers and scattered them all over the floor. Then I pulled out her pens and pencils, her chapstick, her wallet. It was only by chance that I found the ibuprofen, which was inside a partially zipped compartment. It was in a childproof bottle, but that had never stopped me before. I've chewed through many a plastic container in my lifetime. So, I did it. I ate her ibuprofen. I figured that, since it seems to be a pretty important thing to her and to my Dad, it would hurt them the most.

Of course that plan backfired...I ended up the hurt one, manhandled by aggressive nurses who kept the things I vomited up in plastic bags for my parents to see. My mom cried, which gave me a little satisfaction, but it wasn't worth the two days I had to spend in the slammer. And then there was this:

I was gone for two days and Chowder took over my new hotdog that Libby gave me! (Turns out that the "other dog" was my cousin Libby. If only I had known!) The nerve of that cat! He steals my bed, drinks my water, uses me as a launching pad, is allowed on the couch AND the bed and now has violated my hotdog! I"ll get my revenge...

I'm back from the hospital now, was well fed by my Grandma in Tallulah, only peed in the house twice, and only butt scooted once. Life is good and I'm feeling like my problem with ibuprofen is in the past...today I just ate an entire package of dog chews.

Thanksgiving pictures

It's been a very long time since we've blogged! The new couches have been battling it out with the cats (The couches are up, as their covers have been removed and stowed away for special occasions...of course that leaves the wicker open for destruction), Buster attempted to overdose on ibuprofen, Thanksgiving has come and gone. Here are a few updates from our lives:

Cleveland!

I went to Cleveland for a great visit with The Shug, Virginia and Grandpa, Kate, and Mom. The weather was awesome, the leaves were boutiful (see below for action pictures of "The Red Rakers" in Virginia and Grandpa's yard), the food was plenty, and we had a fun time visiting and being all together.

During our big leaf rake, Grandpa taught us all how to drive Big Red (which has no brakes??) We almost ran over him, which was scary. Fortunately, despite falling under the wheels of a moving cart, he was spry as ever survived the ordeal without even a scratch! And, although the leaves were hardly phased by our efforts, we felt like we had accomplished something at the end of the day. Like they say, "Cleveland Rocks."

Buster's Overdose

When I went to Cleveland, I left Jim at home to hold down the fort and take care of the kids--Buster, Emma and Chowder (one dog and two cats). On Monday morning, back in Fort Worth, I told Buster I would be back after my run to take him for a walk, and I headed out. 45 minutes later, I came home to find that my purse had been ransacked, papers everywhere, gum consumed, and bits and pieces of everything were scattered all over the house. That was Buster's revenge on me for not taking him for a walk BEFORE my run. Unfortunately, one of the things that Buster decided to eat, was a bottle of 25 200 mg ibuprofen. He chewed through the childproof bottle and ate them like skittles. So it was off to the emergency vet for him, where he had vomiting induced, was forced to eat active charcoal to soak up the rest of the medicine, and then was hooked up to an IV for two days. In addition to that humiliation, he had to wear a bonnet to keep him from chewing on his IV (see Buster's blog for pictures) AND had a huge sign on his cage which read,"Cage Jumper." Apparently, anytime anyone opened Buster's cage, he would jump out. Anyway, Buster will be writing his own blog about his ordeal, but, for now, he is ok....so far no signs of liver or kidney failure.

Thanksgiving

(Pictures to be attached separately)

I want to start this Thanksgiving blog by remembering Wish, our old family cat who had to finally be put down the Monday after Thanksgiving. Even though she was dying Wishy did her best to look perky during Thanksgiving...she ate like a pig just like the rest of us and wandered around aimlessly, occasionally running into things and peoples' legs.

Jim and I got Wish illegally, when we were in high school. We rescued her from Mr. S. our chain smoking, crazy, dramatic English teacher. Wish was named after the Cure (of course) and Jim wasn't really allowed to have a cat, so we spent several months sneaking Wish in and out of Jim's bedroom in a bookbag. Eventually, when Jim went off to college, Mom adopted Wish and she lived almost 13 years on the farm.

Thanksgiving in Tallulah was REALLY fun. We left Fort Worth early and got to Tallulah on Thanksgiving afternoon, where the usual Carpenter feast awaited us. This year, it was just the family (Mom, Dad, Kate, Will, Jim and me) and we managed, by the end of the weekend, to eat almost the entire 21 pound turkey (among other things...). Dad also built a huge bonfire in the giant grill, which kept us warm at night. We took a walk around the farm in the dark, listened to the coyotes and saw a shooting star and Dad cooked up some delicious steaks, which Jim boldly branded with Dad's initials, sacrificing the palms of his hands in the process. And, most important, Kate and Will turned 27 and 24 Thanksgiving weekend! Hooray!!

For Christmas, we'll be headed to Houston, where the holiday adventures will continue and then....Big Bend.

Ode to the Couches.
By: Claire

This past weekend, Jack and Mindy brought us some beautiful new/old couches and I am so happy not to have to sit on our old couch that I have decided to write a haiku in honor of the old one and an Ode to the new!


The Old Couch: A Haiku

Banished to Jim's room
Infused with the smell of dog
Die evil couch, die

Ode to the New Couches!

Joy and rapture! Fluffy and white, they are longer than I am! Oh new/old couches, we welcome you with open arms and much celebration! Never will we lie in cramped and painful positions to watch a movie or throw the back pillows over your edge so that there is enough room for us to sit. Never will we wrinkle our noses at the smell of you or fight to keep your slipcovers on because the zipper is broken. You don't have a zipper to break!!!!!! Never again will we opt for the cold hard floor or worry that our friends might catch a strange odor emenating from within...Oh new couches, you seriously rock.

The new couches stink

By Buster

Joy and raputure? What is this nonsense? First I have to wear the hotdog costume and now I'm not allowed to sleep on the couch anymore? What gives, people? My world is crumbling to pieces. Everytime I even go near the couches, someone screams at me to get off the couches. I'm not on the stupid couches, ok? I know I like to pretend like I can't understand anything, but it's only an act. I get it about the couches. But what is truly an injustice is that the cats get to walk all over the couches and sleep on them as much as they want. I'm going to stage a protest and throw up on those couches, the first chance I get.

And by the way, I don't smell.

A few pictures of the 80's Icons