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 |   You never know what you'll find - humor, ramblings, rants, randomness- it's all me! |
This description part is challenging. I never know what I will blog about until I start typing. I do know there will be typos. I don't reread or correct my blog. Otherwise it turns technical instead of my feelings and thoughts. Trust me, on stories and poems I'm a grammaraholic, but this is freedom. Sometimes to keep it from getting too personal, I even turn my head away while I type. Weird, right?. I hope you find this somewhat entertaining, thought-provoking, and humorous.   A little about me. The most important things in my life are family, especially my son, Reese, and my husband, Bruce, my walk with God, and making a positive impact in some way. I am a teacher, currently teaching 6th grade Language Arts. While at times my job can be trying, overall, it is one of the most rewarding passions in my life.   This is my wonderful son, Reese. He is now 20 and and a junior at Oklahoma State University. I may be partial, but he is an exceptional kid with the best heart I've ever known. He makes me laugh, think, and want to be a better person. We are both huge Oklahoma State Cowboy fans - Gooooooo Pokes!  This is Reese's dog, Betty. She shares a name with my mother. Reese named her that because she was beautiful and kind just like his Nanny (my mom). I'm not sure my mom is quite convinced it is a compliment though. Betty is a huge part of our family. She even had her own blog for awhile. Poke around at your leisure and shake your head at some of things that go through mine. I always return reviews/comments, though admittedly, sometimes it does take me awhile depending on what life is serving me at that point. Keeping the faith, Audra  |
| Some Buildings Just Give Off Vibes I haven't been watching Ghost Hunters with my husband, but I do believe that some buildings do have 'personalities'. Example: Today, I went to my 'pain doctor' to get shots in my back. Something I have done quite often in the last 2 years. We usually go to the north office but I couldn't get an appointment for a couple of weeks there, so I agreed to go to the south office. I mean, I'm on summer break so it's not like it's any big deal, plus, Bruce and I would get to try out a new restaurant. (We did; it was good. I give it a 7 out of 10 rating). When we got to the office, we both immediately felt weird - and it wasn't the Japanese food we ate. The thing is, apparently, the staff travels to the south side once a week or however so often too. Same receptionists, nurses, doctors, technicians. But both of us couldn't wait to get out of that building, which is odd in itself since we were getting into an un-air conditioned pickup truck on a 96 degree day with an hour and 1/2 ride home. This doesn't happen often, but once in awhile. It took us awhile to find a place to get married two years ago too. Face it, you don't want a bad karma location. But we eventually found a wonderful railroad warehouse that was built before 1900. Some friends of ours had bought it and are renovating the upstairs part to live in. It was perfect (well, it was a little warm - no air conditioning; what is it with me and no cold air?). The downstairs they have turned in to a place to have small parties/get togethers. Not to rent out (though they definitely could). It had great vibes; and it being free was an added bonus! As I sit here pondering what makes some buildings have good feelings and others not so great feelings and yet others are just buildings, I can't help realizing they are similar to the people we meet. Some are blessings, some make us realize we need to be more thankful for the ones that are blessings, and some are just people who don't affect us one way or another. But yet, to other people they might be the biggest blessing they've come upon. Okay, I need wine or either it's a reaction to the shots - I don't usually go deep. Honestly, I don't even understand the last paragraph I typed, but hey, that's just me. Definitely going back to north side office, Audra |
| My 20 year old son, Reese, asked me the other day what I had been doing. I ran off the list of things I'd done that day and finished with 'oh, yeah, and I added to my blog'. Apparently, he had no idea I had a blog or even thought of a blog even though I've had it off and on for about 9 years, I think. Heck, I even made a blog about his dog - Betty's Blog - while he was in Minnesota because he missed her so much. (Sadly, that blog got more attention than my blog, but hey, she's a pretty good dog. He asks me what my blog is about and I was like whatever I'm thinking about. He proceeded to tell me that blogs had to have a central idea - like the Pioneer Woman. He suggested I write about school/teaching. Blah! Tons of those I told him; plus, teachers don't have time to read them except in the summer and then they don't want to. He said, "How about living in the country?" I responded, "Pioneer Woman." He still wasn't grasping that I didn't care if it didn't have a central theme. While, I like to pretend this gets read, I'm not delusional enough to think I'm going to get enough followers to grab the attention of Steve Harvey. He is persistent though. 'You know, Mom, like a theme.' "Politics?" I say. "Don't be ridiculous. It has to be something you know about." He wasn't being sarcastic, but I was. He mentioned it again tonight. . . kind of like I was a lost cause. "So, how's the blog, that is basically just a journal of your day that you let people read?" As I sit here typing, I realize what I could write a blog about that would disturb him more than me not having a 'set theme'. In the morning, I will tell him I've decided to write my blog about 'Reese Stories' all the memorable, embarrassing things he's done. Maybe then, he'll realize the freedom of writing off the cuff, and that his mom doesn't tend to do things by the rules unless there is a risk of imprisonment. No law against it, Audra |
| This morning at 3:00 a.m., I was awoken. Now, this might be too much information, but this wasn't a real shock to me because it is normally this time when nature calls. I either read a book or saw a horror movie where this girl was awoken at 3:00 a.m. every night - so it freaks me out slightly when this happens to me, but it is such a re-occurrence that it doesn't faze me much - plus add in there that my barely awake mind is screaming at me that my bladder needs my immediate focus. When it happened this morning, I lie there longer than normal, because my back has been killing me and in my foggy state I wasn't sure which would be worse the back pain or peeing the bed. Eventually, I chose to be a good wife and not pee the bed I share with my husband, reasoning of course, that I would have to change the bed and that would really be inconvenient and painful to my back. On my way to take care of business, I saw a flashing out the front door - like a light bulb that can't decide if it wants to be burned out or not. But, we've never had a working light bulb out there for the 2 years I've lived here. Then, I thought lightning but this was continuous and usually lightning has a partner - Thunder - and I wasn't hearing any. Then my bladder screamed, "Who the hell cares! Go pee, woman!" I didn't notice the light out the bathroom window. So upon washing my hands (I'm pretty sure I did - it was 3:00 a.m. so who knows), I went to check out the flashing light again It was still going on; so, I decided I'd investigate. In retrospect, I realize now that I don't think clearly at 3:00 a.m. I had narrowed it down to 3 things: 1. Someone outside with a flashlight (we live on a farm, so this would not be a welcome guest) 2. Lightning who has had a feud with Thunder and they have separated ways 3. Aliens or supernatural beings (go ahead laugh - I understand). I opened the door and put my hand out to see if their was rain. No rain. Hmmmm. I thought maybe I should get a gun, but then I remembered who I am and that probably wasn't wise. I returned to the bedroom and could see the light somewhat out that window. I woke my husband to ask if that was lightning. "Woke" is not truly the right word. I said, "Bruce, is that lightning?" I think he said something like 'sure'. I'm almost positive he never looked. I asked where the thunder was. I guess he didn't know because he didn't say anything. . .there was a slight snore though. I watched it for about 20 minutes. I heard some faint rumbling. In my wakefulness I have come to 3 possible solutions that involve flashing lights and faint rumbling in the middle of the night on the farm. 1. A burglar/killer who so weak from hunger he couldn't continue with his evil ways. Thus, the rumbling was his stomach growling. 2. Aliens who were having engine trouble and sending flash signals for road side assistance via space, of course. 3. Lightning and Thunder were having a huge fight. Lightning was yelling all kind of accusations, but Thunder was giving the silent treatment with just a couple of sarcastic remarks thrown in here and there. I'm going with #3, because when I went out to get groceries the ground was pretty wet. Obviously, Rain came in as mediator and settled the spat and all is good in Storm Land now. Or either the burglar/killer or aliens really had to pee at 3:00 a.m. too. Happy Father's Day, Audra |
| Two days ago we dug into savings and bought a 820 John Deere Gator. If you are like me, and aren't sure what I'm talking about, it's a farm man version of a kick ass golf cart - my husband will roll his eyes at that description. It's got power steering, a cherry (?) engine, 3 cylinder, four-wheeler drive, a cup holder, and can haul things.. . like a sprayer or trash, and can go about 50 mph. Knowing this lingo, is making me feel bilingual. We bought it in a town that seemed a long way away but was probably just about 40 minutes from home. Our Uncle Emmitt came with his flat bed trailer to haul it home for us. Here's the scene: We are following behind him hauling our beautiful Gator. We have some tunes going, drinking our Sonic slush (though I was wanting a 7/11 icee -no such luck in Midwestern small towns), talking about what a good decision this was - money well invested to help us both be able to get around the farm easier (and look a little cooler doing it), when my vehicle stops. Not the Gator (remember, it's on Emmitt's trailer), my jeep that I purchased in February. My Jeep Renegade with only 20,000 miles on it. I've never had a newish car like this. It stops while I'm driving. Just kaput. I pull over, because they frown at non-moving vehicles in the middle of the road, wait about five minutes, and it starts finally. I'm behind Uncle Emmitt again, going around what we refer to as the dangerous curve, and the jeep stops again. I find a semi-safe place to pull over, and Bruce calls Emmitt to inform him of this little snag in the road while I call roadside assistance. At this point we were a little over 8 miles from home. By the way, Oklahoma is hot and humid in the summer - it was about 98 degrees and 100 percent humidity. I don't do heat well. Uncle Emmitt needs to go back to his farm; I mean it is daylight and that means working hours to farmers. He unloads the Gator , and we decide after my Jeep gets towed (it took an hour and 1/2), we will ride the Gator home. This is about as country as you can get. We did take mostly back roads but at one point we were on a small highway in a farm vehicle - not like a tractor, that's fairly common, but a Gator. I guess it would be more backwoods and a more interesting story if it were an alligator, but it was still pretty odd. .. . but amazingly fun (even if I did have to pee extremely bad from the Sonic slush)! I do need my jeep back though; air conditioning is greatly missed. Sorry for the typos; my contacts are fogged up and dirty, and I'm not sure where I took my glasses off while sleepwalking. Google John Deere Gator - it's kinda a cool deal, Audra |
| Are you perpetually early or late? Ironically, I am about eleven hours late getting this blog in, but I am normally an early person. At least when I'm going somewhere or have an appointment. In fact, I get antsy if we aren't going to be somewhere on time or early. I come by this from my dad who will leave 45 minutes early when going somewhere that is 10 minutes away. It is ingrained in me. However, it is not ingrained in the rest of the world. . . or my sister which goes to show you being consistently late is neither a nature or nurture issue. When my husband and I began 'talking' before dating. You know how it is. . . you are just throwing all kinds of questions out there: Favorite music, types of movies you like, any sexual diseases not taken care of (kidding - my husband would have passed out if I casually brought that up), do you have most your teeth, and are you an early or late kind of person? My husband's response: Well, I try to be early but it never works out. I knew right then he was a 'later'. But, I still love him. And he comes by it naturally, too. His whole family is 'laters'. So technically, I shouldn't let it bother me if we are late to an event with them because we will still be the first people there, but it does. Case in point, we were supposed to leave at 10:00 a.m.; it is now 10:30 a.m. He's outside somewhere with the neighbor riding his new Gator. The things that keep me calm in scenarios like this is music and writing. I have some '80's tunes playing and I've written a blog. Tada! I would color but surely we won't be so late that I could finish one of those intricate adult coloring book pages. No use getting mad - honestly, it never makes me mad. It does however make me fidgety. Tapping my toes with the music and fidgeting, Audra |
| I know I set a goal to blog everyday in June, but I just can't tonight. And the irony is I actually have things to say tonight. But my body, mind, soul, feet, neurons are so exhausted they would be numb if they didn't hurt so dang much. I think I will write a few lines to remind me tomorrow what I had to say. A turtle pen Was built by men A gator out shined a jeep I am too sore to sleep The tow truck man Seemed to be missing a plan (and lasagna) The top of my foot hates me A huge kid stepped on it you see This is the worst poem, I know it's 98 degrees and I'm dreaming of snow I fell asleep typing that last line, My phone fell on my face...yeah, I'm fine. Sort of a blog, Audra |
| The Sacrifices We Make For Those We Love My husband and I are so alike but yet so different. The biggest difference that comes to mind is television shows. His Favorite Shows include car shows, ghost shows, cattle shows, PBS, big foot, travel channel, velocity channel, history channel, national geographic channel, Mystery at the Museum, etc. My Favorites are more along the lines of Criminal Minds, Real Crime channel, Joe Kenda, So You Think You Can Dance, Dateline, Big Bang Theory, The Voice, Impractical Jokers, etc. I stopped watching PBS after Sesame Street. He never watched Criminal Minds...until now. Wednesday is our date night. He watched Criminal Minds with me. I watched American Pickers with him. He critiques dances on So You Think You Can Dance. I pick a favorite on Forged in Fire. We compromise willingly because being together is more important than watching a favorite alone. Almost all the time.😀 Besides I can always DVR Dateline, Audra |
| Things I just don't get I'm in a list mood, folks. Well, it'll probably have some commentary/explanation too. 1. How do mosquitoes poke through your skin to extract blood and it doesn't hurt? I mean they are basically cutting you. Are you with me here? A pinprick kind of hurts, and it's not sucking your blood. I probably should google this because maybe I'm not understanding the mosquito process correctly, but I take no shame in being uninformed. Plus, if you do a google search with the word 'blood', some nasty images could come up and I'm just not in the mood for that. 2. Why are songs from the '70's so long? Don't get me wrong - I love them for the first eight minutes or so but after that I'm like 'this guitar solo with an occasional scream is killing me'. Give me a slow fade, and let's move on. Except for Bad, Bad LeRoy Brown; that one can be longer! Maybe I just have a short attention span. Potato! I just threw that potato thing in for my husband; I think he'll get it. 3. How to upload pictures on here without going through adding them to your image folder! That takes forever and there has to be another way because some people have pictures on everything. Okay, if you look at the bottom of this post you will see I sort of figured it out, but I can't move them to where I want them to be! grrrrr! 4. Why when you finally make an appointment with the doctor, you start feeling normal about five minutes before the appointment. But don't cancel it, because then you are going to feel really like shit and if you die you are really going to regret cancelling the appointment. Plus, getting a shot is just like getting bit by a mosquito - apparently! 5. How kids who are 13 years old and older don't know their address or how to spell their middle name. First of all, I'm pretty sure you learned your address in kindergarten. I can see how you might have moved since then, but 'hello!' you might need to know where you live - for emergencies - like the pizza delivery guy. And your middle name??? It's YOUR name. You can figure out how to hack a computer, program any phone, ride a bike, feed yourself, but you just can't use that talent to learn how to spell your middle name? 6. Why my legs hurt at night and not during the day. This is just cruel. During the day, I wouldn't mind getting up and taking a Motrin. And I'm moving so hurting would make sense. But no, let's wait until I'm horizontal and tucked in. And taking a preemptive pill doesn't work; it makes the pain mock me. Recently, I've resorted to this expensive essential oil concoction called Deep Blue; it does work pretty well. However, I get the feeling my husband doesn't think me smelling like a 80 year old is very sexy. Now, that I type that I realize I'm actually relieved the smell of 80 year old men aren't a turn on to him. 7. Why do I keep dreaming about school!? Bruce (hubby) said last night I yelled, "I've about had it with you, Jerry. Sit down!" I don't think I've ever taught a Jerry, and I sure hope I don't have one in August because then I will know these dreams are signs of things to come; then the only thing to do will be to quit and find another job, because I'm not living out these dreams. Once is enough. And, according to the internet the only jobs teachers are qualified to do is teach. Try it - google 'other jobs for teachers'; you get tutor which is um... teaching. 8. Why if you ever accidentally overdraw your bank account, do they insist you rectify the situation immediately, but then a deposit takes 2 to 5 days to go through. Basically, they are asking you to do the impossible even if on the off chance you have money to deposit. Mind boggling. 9. British Comedy - Don't hate me for it; it's not my fault I hate it. Now it is my fault when people start talking about Dr. Who and I refer to him as Dr. Who Cares. 10. I have to think of one more because we must end on an even number. 'Why?' you ask. Because I'm me. Okay, I got it. Why can I never find a matching pair of shoes. I realize I kick them off as soon as I get in the door, but they should both still be there when I need them. It's not like I kick one off by the door and one off in the bathroom. Or do I? Also, why do I love to buy shoes but hate to wear them? Thanks for pretending to read, Audra Explanation of pictures I just put on here to see if I figured it out. A pretty view of our farm and sky, my son and I, Me looking like death should be on the other side of me with my hair down. It's backwards. The hair down one was taken before I went to school; the other one at 3:45 - it's a great before and after look at what a day can be like in 6th grade, Just a collage when I was trying to see if I could figure it out, Laynie, my sweet puppy, hubby and me -- I might have missed some because now I can't see the pictures on here. Geez!!!
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| I'm such a slacker (today, anyway) that I'm too lazy to reach over to the remote to change the channel from this show that is stupid but yet still making me feel like a grand champion life slacker. This is a sort of game show called Super Human. Don't think for an instance it is anything like American Ninja Warrior - that shit rocks. Just to give you the lame scale on this show. . . Mike Tyson is one of the judges. Apparently, you can still have a career after biting someone's ear off. I have never even heard of the two other judges, but that's not saying much. . .because, I'm a slacker even in staying up to date on has-been celebrities. This 'contestant' on there right now has the Super Human power of naming frogs and toads by only hearing their croak or ribbit. I'm not saying it's not impressive (to some people), but I'd almost rather be a Super Human slacker. I do have 2 uvulas - that could be my Super Human power. I guess I have wrongly been calling it a freak factor of these years - because, yes I'm a slacker. OMG! The frog dude just made it to the final 3. And Tyson just said 'yo' at least 4 times in one sentence fragment. Somebody turn the television off for me. . . Please. Fine, I will reach the 6 inches and do it myself. It might kill me though because I have a sugar headache and I can't find my essential oil headache oil. Sure, I could just give up sugar. But I'm slacker not a quitter. Ladies (pretending there are some reading this), what do you take off first when you get home - shoes or bra? I only ask because it varies with me which makes me feel like I can't even commit to comfort. But right now, at this moment, I'm too much of a slacker to ponder it. I wonder if the frog master eats frog legs. Maybe he imitates their 'call' and lures them to his lair. Definitely, need to quit thinking tonight. . . or start. Uvulas R Us, Branson (Audra) P.S. The dogs are getting cat food tonight because slackers don't carry a bag of dog food in from the car at 9:14 p.m. |
| In case you are unfamiliar with the topic of this blog, here is your vocabulary lesson: Takis Snacks by Barcel are tortilla snacks that resemble rolled tacos; this crunchy snack is coated with salsa and seasoned with lemon powder. They come in four flavors with varying heat intensities: Fuego (Hot Chili Pepper & Lemon), Salsa Brava (Hot Sauce), Takis Nitro (Habanero & Lime) and Crunchy Fajita (Taco Flavored). I hate them. Not the taste of them, mind you - actually, I'm not even sure if I've had them, but, in general I love spicy. But, I hate Takis! 'Why?' you may be asking. Because of my 6th grade homeroom class this year (though I still love them - the kids NOT TAKIS). I realize I'm one of those weird teachers that likes the students' minds to be working while I try to torture them with knowledge that they have convinced themselves they will never use. And while it's true that it probably won't help them get to level 48 on Call of Duty, I like to pretend they will use it at sometime in their young lives. After all, it is...English! So, anyway I let them eat so their brain has some sort of fuel other than the energy drink they got at 7/11 for breakfast. My rules are simple (at least to me): 1. Don't ask people for food 2. Don't smack or eat with your mouth open 3. Pick up your trash and any mess 4. It can't require utensils to eat (This rule was added on a couple of years ago when a student brought a bowl of spaghetti) 5. You aren't leaving the room to get a drink so you better bring water if you have salivary glands. 6. Basically, don't interrupt the lesson Well, 6th graders are addicted to Takis. It is like steak to a starving dog; marijuana to a 70's hippie, chocolate to a woman with PMS, late fees to the cable company. They lose any common sense they once had despite my expectations regarding food being continually reminded to the point of offensive redundancy. They will suck the spices off them to make them last longer. I saw a kid pay $2.00 for two Taki chips, not bags. . . just 2 pieces. I've seen a kids puke from gorging on the sauce. They sneak them, they sell them, their breath smells disgusting, they burn their taste buds off, and their hands are filthier than normal. Well, one day I lost it. I was attempting to discuss something of importance I'm sure and everyone was looking at one student who was counting out his Takis on his desk - I'm sure to see if he would earn enough money after sales for a PlayStation 4. Keep in mind, up to this point I had taken Takis away for the week as a punishment, taken snacks away for the number of days as wrappers were left out, etc. So, like any sane teacher, I screamed: "NO MORE TAKIS! IN THIS CLASS EVER! I REFUSE TO COMPETE WITH A FOOD PRODUCT THAT SMELLS HORRENDOUS AND I'M QUITE SURE IS WHAT IS LEADING TO THE GASEOUS FUMES LATER IN THE DAY!" I think I said more than that but at one point as I noticed their mouths (and takis coated tongues) hanging open in shock and I realized I was losing my cool over a snack food. I have to give it to the kids. . . they did learn something - when you think a woman has gone psycho have the sense not to mention it. I thought this was the end of it. (The Takis Drama, not my career) But, noooooo! Later that day, I found probably one of the neatest, well-thought out posters on my desk. I mean it was colorful, things were spelled correctly, there was a border! My heart was so proud. . .until I actually read it. Takis Lives Matter! I did smile at the creativity, so they thought they had me. Poor, silly kids. They looked at me with angelic smiles with a hint of winning in their eyes. I looked back at them and smiled. "Do we get Takis privileges back, Mrs. Branson?" asked the designated speaker. I met each students' eyes, letting the moment linger - the possibility of triumph. And then I squashed their dreams like a cockroach on the Thanksgiving table. "It's either me or the Takis - and I'm the only one voting. So you figure it out." Several of them were confused. Apparently, they hadn't learned what a dictatorship was. They know now. Whatever Happened to Funyuns, Audra |
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