Sundays Are For...

Sundays feel like a warm blanket to me. Sleepy and misty skies, rounded curves and big bowls of risotto. 

Not like Tuesdays. 

Tuesdays are all sharp edges and bologoni sandwiches. 

But we don't have to worry about Tuesday yet because it is still Sunday. 

Today Adrian and I have loads of homework and laundry to do and it doesn't feel like a chore at all, but rather a privilege because there are too many people who will never know what it feels like to pursue an education and chase after their dreams with the assurance that they have done everything possible to prepare themselves to succeed. 

Make lists. Lots of lists of who you are and who you want to be and the things that you want and the things you will accomplish one day. 

Drink a huge cup of something hot. 

Wash your sheets and stay in your pajamas. 

Pet your dogs and go for a run and make something to eat that needs lots of butter. 

Have a lovely day! 

xo xo Liz 

Story Time Sunday - How Two Little Buckaroos Found Christmas Spirit

How Two Little Buckaroos Found Christmas Spirit

Inspired by a story I read in Brownies

            Once upon a time, there were two brothers who lived on a ranch in Oregon with their mom and dad. Their names where Charlie and Garrett. They were best friends and seemed to always be getting into trouble together. It’s not that they were exactly naughty per say, but they did have a lot of energy and when it was cold out like Oregon is come December, they got into more mischief than usual. Their mother tried to get Charlie and Garrett to help her make Christmas cookies to take to their neighbor Mr. George who lived all by himself. The boys didn’t care that Mr. George was alone and had no grandsons to bring him cookies at Christmas time.  All they wanted to do was crash their toy trucks into the kitchen wall, gallop their stick horses down the hall and jump off the top bunk bed and see who could make the most noise.

The boys didn’t notice they were making more and more of a mess in their mother’s house and she was getting more and more fed up with their antics. Until, that is, Charlie pushed Garrett off the back of the couch and Garrett started roaring when his head smacked on the hard floor. It hurt a little, but more than anything he was mad at his brother for getting the best of him! Both boys got very quiet though when their mother came storming into the living room. “Look at you two! You’re not being fun or nice at all! And not only have you made a mess of the whole house, but you haven’t entered into the Christmas spirit!” Their mom rarely got upset or raised her voice and since she was doing both, Charlie and Garrett were very nervous. “Since you two are so bent on being naughty, why don’t you go outside and see if you can’t find some Christmas spirit?” She stared at both of them very sternly with her hands on her hips. When she looked like that she even made their father nervous and he wasn’t even afraid of the big Angus bull out back! The boys sheepishly bundled up in their winter caps and boots, wrapped their wild rags around their necks, pulled on their gloves, zipped up their Carhartt coats and quietly closed the door behind them as they headed out into the snowy cold.

Charlie and Garrett headed down the trail of packed snow that led to the woods where the family had cut down their Christmas tree the week before. “What do you think she meant by Christmas spirit, Charlie?” Garrett asked. Garrett almost always asked the questions because he was littler and Charlie almost always had an answer because he was bigger. Sometimes he didn’t know the actual answer and just made one up instead. “I don’t know, Garrett.” As they continued walking away from the house, they spooked up some cheeky magpies. “Hey!” Charlie yelled at the black and white birds. “Do you know where we can find the spirit of Christmas?” but the birds had no answer and just flew off instead, cawing the whole time. Charlie and Garrett wandered and wandered, getting more and more tired and cold. When the windows of their house were lit up like a ginger bread house, the brothers slowly returned home, hands cold and hearts empty, with no Christmas cheer.

Charlie and Garrett were abnormally quiet during supper and sat in front of the fireplace while their mom put the leftover dinner away. “I’m tired and cranky and I’m just going to go to bed, boys.” mom said to the brothers. “I hope you have sweet dreams.” “Good night mom.” “Good night mom!”

After Charlie and Garrett’s dad had finished watching his football game and gone to bed, the boys were still curled up in front of the dying fire and maybe even nodding off a bit. All of a sudden there was a noise. An odd noise. A noise that seemed to be strangely out of place. “Charlie?” Garrett whispered. “Did you hear that?” Charlie listened hard. There it was again! It almost sounded like a yearling bull snorting in the cold, but it sounded awfully….dusty. All of a sudden the big buffalo skull that hung above the fireplace shook its head and CAME TO LIFE! Both Charlie and Garrett shot backwards like they had seen a rattlesnake! The boys had always called the old buffalo skull “Jerry.” Now Jerry’s eye sockets glowed blue in the dark living room and he fixed the little buckaroos cowering below him with a firey stare. “You boys,” the old buffalo said in a voice like thunder and the sound of hooves stampeding the range echoed in the distance. “Don’t have any Christmas spirit in you today!” Neither boy could speak from shock, but they nodded their heads dumbly. “I was watching you in here all afternoon, and I could see you out searching in the woods. Did you think it was something you could touch?” Charlie looked at Garrett and Garrett looked at Charlie. “I don’t know, sir.” Charlie spoke up bravely. “We were just looking I guess.” Jerry the buffalo snorted in amusement. “The spirit of Christmas isn’t something you can hold, boys. It’s in your hearts! You know how your mother wanted you to help make cookies to take to your neighbor Mr. George?” Since the old buffalo seemed to expect an answer Garrett said, “Yes sir?” “Showing others love is what the spirit of Christmas is all about! Just like the Christ child showed us love by being born to the Virgin Mary long ago in Bethlehem. Think of other’s more than yourself.” The boys knew the story well and looked at each other and smiled. “I think I have an idea,” said Charlie. “I think I do as well.” Garrett said and helped his brother to his feet. “Thank you for helping us find the spirit of Christmas!” they said to the now still Jerry and they tiptoed to the door.

All through the night, Garrett and Charlie worked hard to show others the spirit of Christmas. They shoveled the snow outside of old Mr. George’s house and stacked the wood neatly beside his door. They salted his front steps so the ice would melt and put new straw in the dog’s house. Once back inside their own home, Garrett and Charlie tried to show their mother that they had learned about the spirit of Christmas. They did the dinner dishes and swept the kitchen floor. They filled up the kindling box beside the fireplace and they put all their toys away. When morning light was showing, the boys were just falling asleep. When Garrett and Charlie’s mother got up in the morning, she was so surprised! “Merry Christmas, my little buckaroos.” She whispered. When the boys got up and helped their mom finish decorating the cookies they were all going to take to Mr. George, they could have sworn they saw Jerry the old buffalo skull wink in their direction.

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xo xo Elizabeth 

Yoga and a Cocktail

I have been supplementing my running and lifting weights with yoga twice a week, and I LOVE IT!! It’s almost addicting….you think you’re going to keep up just fine with these skinny little gals in their stretchy clothes and you think, they’re basically just standing there holding poses. It can't be that hard, right? I buck hay, run for miles and lift, like, iron you know?? And then you stand there, just ya know, holding a pose, and your legs start to shake and you actually start to sweat quite profusely. 

Like I said, LOVE IT. It’s a challenge I didn’t expect and learning some of the more advanced moves is not only difficult but it’s exciting. Who doesn’t want to be able to balance in strange positions like Spiderman?? Unless of course, you’re not Marvel comic obsessed like me.

Here’s a yoga routine by Tara Stile that I did this evening to help stretch my sore muscles from a week of hard training, and help build other muscles that I wouldn’t necessarily use otherwise.

If you try it out, I’d love to hear what you think! Let me know! 

The end of this yoga routine and the beginning of the six o'clock hour brings us to another happy custom. 

Cocktails.

I come from a family where cocktails and horderves are an evening ritual. When we don't have time to have supper together, we make sure to have a little communal something, even if that's just sliced cheese and apples and a glass of red wine. 

I generally like single malt scotch, or a gin and tonic so when I found this recipe on Pinterest I couldn't help but try it. Even the name is fabulous, if not a little naughty....the Suffering Bastard. And since I feel slightly like a suffering bastard myself this evening, I'm going to toddle off and try it! 

And oh, here's the recipe in case you want to be a suffering bastard, too! ;) 

The Suffering Bastard

Ingredients       

1 ounce bourbon 

1 ounce gin

1 ounce fresh lime juice

1 dash Angostura bitters 

4 ounces chilled ginger ale 

Good night to all and to all a good night!! 

xo xo Liz 

Just Another Lord's Day

Sleep for 4 hours, dash the tiredness from blue-grey eyes

Stoke up the fire without properly waking up

Make coffee

Rouse the sister that you still think about with fierce, protective thoughts, 

Despite her 21 years

Get ready….laughing, pushing, playing, talking, dreaming 

While long, blonde hair is brushed, 

Shimmy into starched jeans and 

 Stamp into town boots

Start the car and let it warm up,

Bump down the pot-holed road,

Little dogs panting all the while

Elk, pigs, turkeys, 2 baby deer….small gifts opened and treasured on the way to Mass

Worship with others, raise your song high

Home again, home again, jiggity jig

Scrape part of a hide

Shoot until the ammo is gone

Rope the dummy

Listen to the stories they’re trying to tell you, 

That’s printed into your DNA

Get them all down before it’s too late

Cry for the time that’s been wasted,

The mistakes that have been made

Pick yourself up and realize

Tomorrow’s a new day

Realize that His timing is the right timing,

That everything that has happened

To you,

For you,

In spite of you,

Was just setting you up for the

NOW

It’s just right

Smile, tired arms flung out in a bed of

Red flannel and levi quilts

Protecting you until the dawn

Of a beautiful

New day

xo xo Liz 

Photo Credit: Junk Gypsy 

Sundays Written In Code

Sundays are special to us. It’s almost as if HTML code is written into our genes that Sundays are a time to reflect, to recharge our batteries. It’s a time for introspection and realizing that there is a plan bigger than ourselves.

We all work hard during the week and while many of you in the cowboy/ranching world don’t get Sundays off…you need a particular day where you can mentally and emotionally take a break. Sunday is that day for us.

We both of us get a lot of letters from folks who think our lives are perfect. They think because we smile all the time in photos and don’t broadcast the specifics of the troubles we are going through, that we are perpetually happy and our life is easy. They think that because Adrian sings and plays an instrument, she has a cushy job. They think because we are best friends and travel together, that we never fight. They think because we’re artistic and creative, that we don’t actually have to WORK.

They don’t see the hate mail we get, and how that hurts. They don’t see the hours and the amount of sacrifice that actually goes into producing an art for the public. They don’t know about the personal horrors we’ve gone through, and believe you me, we’ve gone through them. They don’t see it, but that’s ok….because we were meant to live this life we are leading…and thankfully, our Sunday comes around every week.

We re-center ourselves. Help each other put the hurtful things in perspective. We look over how the last week went. We discuss how we can do things better, as sisters, daughters, performers, writers and humans. We re-evaluate where we’re going and how that comes through in our art…and we also take a lot of time to just be us.

You’re human, right? (Unless of course you’re a Transformer, which is one of Liz’s favorite movies cuz she’s actually a 12-year-old boy in disguise, and she’s so honored to have a robot-alien reading Buckaroo Barbie!) Anyway….you work hard. You make sacrifices for your family, your career and your health throughout the week. You go through emotional turmoil and the elation of feeling that you’re “winning” in life.

Take a day to just be you. To let it all BE…and to re-discover why you are doing the things you are doing. Make a conscious decision to re-charge your batteries and center yourself. You’ll be able to handle the challenges and the success of the coming week in a whole different way.

Oh, and thank you, from the bottom of our hearts, for supporting our crazy, artistic, Buckaroo Barbie selves….we’re kind of in love with all of you.

xo xo Liz and Adrian