Cattle Prodding (CTTWWS 1)

 I once saw a steer jump over a fence.

It's one of those images that is etched like a gif in my memory, even though it was well before gifs were invented.  It was such a strange sight, a hefty huge block of meat lighting up off its dainty feet and barely gliding over the slackened barbed wire.  He's smarter than I thought, I thought.  How are we going to fix this fence?  Mom is going to laugh so hard at this story.

I was about ten years old.  A family from church had more steers than they had room for on their property, so they were renting our pasture.  We raised a steer ourselves during this time.  My brother and I named him Pug.  I'm not sure I had ever actually seen a pug dog, but something about this steer's face said "pug."  

The fences around the pasture were old and a bit unreliable.  We reinforced most of the fences with twine cut from hay bales.  That was a huge undertaking, mostly done by Mom.  But every once in a while a steer would find a way through the fence  I don't remember how it became my job to find and chase steers back into the pasture, but I did find it satisfying. For a long time I had a particular old broom handle that was my cattle prod of choice.  I always worried that they would kick me, but they never did.  There was one steer that escaped more frequently, and was especially difficult to coax back into the pasture.  His name was Fruitcake.  If he was feeling frisky, I would need a second person to help get him into the gate.  He wasn't much afraid of me, either.  I had to hit him pretty hard with that broom handle sometimes.

I think I learned a lot about angles from this job.  I had to figure out the best angle at which to approach the steer so as to move him toward the gate but still be able to stop him if he bolts to the right or left.  My dad helped teach me this.  He would tell me right where to stand, halfway between him and the fence.  

Pug tasted fine.  Mom would say, "We're having Pug meat for dinner."  I didn't watch when they shot him.  I'm not that tough.  There was blood in the puddle by the feed trough for a long time.  The following spring, that whole area was solid chamomile.  

Happy Easter!

 I forgot about my writing.  I'm picking it back up again.

This weekend I have been watching our church's General Conference.  It is a wonderful time of instruction and peace.  Because it is Easter, most of the talks have been about the Atonement of our Savior Jesus Christ.  These talks are especially aimed to comfort due to the difficult times so many of us are facing.  I love General Conference weekend, it reminds me where my focus should be, not on things of the world but on things of God and eternity.  I always hope that this focus will last.  I don't know how long it does.  Taking care of the temporal needs of my family gets me so distracted and frustrated.  

I hope my children know I love them.  I hope they know I love our Heavenly Father.  I hope they understand someday what sacrifices were made for them.

Firefly

 Over the past couple weeks I've been watch Firefly with my husband.  It's okay.  I'm not in the "crazed-fan-would-kill-for-a-second-season" camp, sorry.  It has been funny hearing their cowboy dialect get better over the season.  Well, somewhat better.  Jayne sounds natural from the beginning, but Kayley still doesn't.  In the first episode, the way most of them said "ain't" sounded like they had never said the word before in their lives.  

The Cure for Crazy Dragons

 When dragons get very old, they go insane.

It's worse than senility or dementia that is found in humans.  The older dragons get, the better they get at producing and aiming the acid that gives them their "fiery" breath.  Eventually some of this acid leaks into their skull and damages their brain.  This causes agitation and insanity, which in turn causes them to breathe out more acid.  Thus their brains become more damaged.  The cycle can eventually lead to death.  Some experts postulate that dragons could be functionally immortal if it weren't for this flaw in their anatomy, or if they would simply refrain from spewing acid.  

In more recent times, somewhat of a remedy has been found for draconic insanity.  In a far northern land, some humans got the idea to make a dessert from mixing cow's cream with mashed fruit in a bowl made of ice.  They continue stirring until it is of a partially frozen texture, then they eat it.  It has become so popular that they transport huge blocks of ice to southern countries just so more people can enjoy this dessert.  By some chance, a crazed dragon managed to get some of this dessert in her mouth one day, and she almost immediately calmed down.  Word has spread, so now any town that has insane dragon problems is sure to keep blocks of ice and chubby cows close at hand.

Where do photons go to bed

 When you turn off the night light on your bedside table, where do the photons go?  Do they nestle into the nuclei of all the atoms around, waiting until the sunlight returns?  Or do they fall into your fluffy blankets, slow down to a softer pace, until some electrons get excited about the blanket folds rubbing together?  That is, if you didn't use a dryer sheet.  Certainly they wouldn't have a "Photons Only" meeting inside the light bulb, where they would discuss fashion, politics, and how annoying neutrinos are.  

 When to get out of an investment seems like too difficult of a question for me.  I prefer questions with cut and dry answers.  If I lose out on an increase, I feel like I did it wrong.  But that's my dad talking in my head.

My muscles won't stop hurting.  Even muscles that I can't quite tell where they are.  I can't figure out what causes it, or what abates it.  Such mystery.  The worst part is, if it doesn't have a diagnosis, it seems fake.  Like no one will believe me.  

I am not writing anything great today and it shows.

Humming Hymns

 We aren't yet allowed to sing in our church meetings.  I said to my husband, they didn't say we couldn't hum.  So I have been humming along under my mask, following the words on my phone (the hymnbooks have been taken away as well).  I am surprised how well I know the alto line on a lot of these hymns.  Over all my decades of singing these hymns, the harmonies have sunk into my memory and become natural to me.