Why "A View from the Middle"? Because my home sits on the middle of a hill overlooking a horse ranch. Because I've always considered myself "mid-height" for a woman at 5'2". And because I'm middle-aged looking back on half my life and forward to the rest of it.

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Becoming a Rancher

A lot of people already consider me a rancher.  But other ranchers would have said I still have a ways to go.  Well, I think I've taken large strides in to reach rancher status in the past month.  Here's how...

First, I've encouraged my son to show a lamb at fair next year with his Creston 4H group.  That was a big step for both of us because we both know that basically means raising an animal that will be eaten at the end of the project.  Neither of us would have done that in the past, but we're ready for it now.

Secondly, because we're going a different direction with our sheep herd, we're getting rid of a lot of our existing sheep and bringing in some higher-grade ewe's.  I've already found a good home for six of my wethers and my ram--not an easy feat considering most people think that wethers are useless money eaters. And I'm still trying to find good homes for at least six to eight more of my sheep--mostly ewe's that are "heavy" which means they like people.  My goal is to cut my herd back to about six of my existing sheep before bringing in the new ewe's in October or so.

In changing the way my herd is configured, I've picked the brains of some of the top sheep breeders in the area, and have had the pleasure of meeting several nice people, including a very helpful woman in Templeton who is the 4H leader for the Santa Lucia group.  She's been instrumental in teaching me what  to look for when choosing my new sheep, and helping me purchase three new ewe's that will be bred to some nice rams before coming to live on my ranch.

That leads me to the third, and probably most shocking of my new rancher-like thinking--I'm actually going to allow my husband to choose and butcher one of the four market lambs we have on the ranch.  I've never been able to raise and eat one of my own animals before, but I'm finally to the point I can do that.  We've been raising two pigs that will get butchered this month; two cattle that will be butchered by the end of the year; and now, one lamb that will be butchered this month as well.

So, in raising and eating my own animals, I think I've finally reached rancher status.  What do you think?

Sunday, June 6, 2010

More Proof I'm a Country Girl

Need any more proof I'm a Country Girl?  I just went to my barn to feed the animals and discovered (another) snake.  This wasn't the little 1 foot baby I discovered a few weeks ago.  This must have been the mama, 'cause she was at least 4 feet long.  And she's a Gofer Snake.

Did I scream?  Did I run?  Did I try to kill it?  NO!  I helped her find her way to a better hiding spot so she would continue to catch the mice I've seen scurrying around my barn, that my cats seem to be missing.  And I've got plenty of squirrels and mice for her to catch as well.  She's not bothering my sheep, pigs, or chickens, so why scare her away?

No, she's welcome in my barn.  Do you need any more proof I'm a Country Girl?

Sunday, May 30, 2010

Five No-No's That Will Get You Kicked Off Facebook

With the steady increase of Facebook users, there has also been an increase in those violating the Terms for holding a Facebook account.  Here are the top five reasons for getting kicked off of Facebook.

1)  Obscene, pornographic or sexually explicit photos or those inciting violence or depicting graphic violence.

A man in San Francisco posted a nude profile photo of himself.  Though it was from behind, he was partially turned towards the camera.  Facebook found this offensive and disabled his account.  He was later allowed to open a new Facebook account with the promise of a more tasteful profile photo, but, in the mean time, had lost all his existing contacts and had to start from scratch.

2)    Use of a fake name, falsifying information or creating more than one personal profile.

Businesses are the biggest violators of this rule, and most break it either because they feel that having a profile page for a business is more advantageous or because they simply don’t know how to create a Fan or Group page.  They create a profile page with a name like “Ceramic Flooring,” build a following with hundreds of customers as friends, then loose everything they’ve built when Facebook discovers the page and shuts it down.

3)   Spamming or offering contests, giveaways, or sweepstake promotions.

There have been several instances where a person or business has offered something in exchange for more fans or friends, only to be shut down quickly and without warning by Facebook.  Facebook takes this violation very seriously since they greatly discourage spamming or selling.

4)    Bullying, intimidating, harassing or cyber-stalking,

A woman in California was not only removed from Facebook, but had charges filed against her for harassment for sending multiple friend requests to the current girlfriend of her ex-boyfriend.  In the friends requests she included messages warning the girlfriend that if she didn’t accept her friend request, she’d find out where the girl lived and pay her a visit.

5)    Unlawful multi-level marketing, pyramid scheming, or solicitation of login information.

Unfortunately these types of solicitations are everywhere from email to postings on social media platforms such as Facebook.  And though we’ve gotten wise to such requests for information, people are scammed by new promotions and schemes daily. 

Though these rules are in place for a good reason, there are times when innocent users of Facebook get caught posting something that sounds like it is violating the rules.  Often times, depending upon the violation, Facebook will warn you that a rule has been broken by sending you a message or temporarily disabling your page.  By being aware of the Facebook Statement of Rights and Responsibilities, you better your chances of never having your Facebook privileges revoked. 

To find a complete list of rules, click on the “Terms” link at the bottom of your Facebook screen. 

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Juggling Act

January 27, 2010

No, I don't know how to juggle--at least not in the true sense of the word.  But lately I've been doing a lot of juggling of my various businesses.

I toss the first ball (okay, business) in the air as the sun comes up.  It's usually the Wine Country Charters ball that starts the juggling as I return phone calls, check emails, assign drivers, schedule tours, etc.

Next comes the Virtual Assistant ball (business).  I check on contracts, market businesses, connect with fans, write proposals, and so on.

Then the third ball goes in the air--Tobin James.  I race off to the office to sign up new wine club members, take wine orders, plan events, and the list goes on.

And let's not forget the "family" ball, the "ranch" ball, and the "friends" ball...

I'm getting good at juggling.  Maybe I should run away and join circus!

Friday, January 22, 2010

Goin' to Town

It's funny.  Since I've moved to Central California and out into the country, I find driving anywhere more of a decision process than before.

When I lived in Southern California I never thought twice about driving 30+ miles to work, or jumping in my car to go to a store 15 miles away.

Now that I live on the outskirts of Paso Robles I plan my day around "going to town."  Here's the kicker--it's only ten miles away.  Ten miles.  That's it.  So why is it such a big deal?

Yesterday I had to go into town twice!  That was one time too many!  And I ended up missing a meeting because that would have meant going back into town again. 

Granted, the road into town is a small, one-lane, windy road for about half the drive.  But it still only takes 15 minutes.  It used to take 15 minutes to drive to the grocery store when I lived in Southern California, and the store was only four blocks away!

People who come to visit my house the first time always say I live "way out in the boondocks."  Really?

So goin' to town is now a planned event.  All errands that need to be done are carefully mapped out and lists are made.  I wouldn't want to forget anything while I'm in town, because if it doesn't get done then, it's gonna have to wait until next time.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

My Favorite Wine

January 19, 2010

Because of my profession--a transportation/tour company owner in wine country--I often get asked, "What's your favorite wine?"  What's my favorite wine?  That's like asking, "Who's your favorite kid?"

As part of my job I have to check out new tasting rooms and taste the wine.  I have to know what the wineries are serving so I know how to fit them in to my customers' requests. It's a difficult job, but I'm willing to sacrifice myself to do this for the betterment of my company and for my customers.  Are you buying any of this?  Neither am I.  But it's a good excuse.  And it really does help me to make recommendations when needed.

So what kind of wine do I like?  Just about everything.  It just depends.  It depends on my mood.  It depends on the weather.  It depends on what I'm eating--or not eating.  And it depends on what's being poured at the moment.

I go through phases.  Sometimes I like big, bold reds--Petite Sirah (yes, it's spelled Sirah when it's Petite, not Syrah like when it's not), Cabernet Franc, and Zinfandel.  Sometimes I like Sauvignon Blanc or Viognier or a dry Riesling.  And often times I like everything in between. 

I don't often like Rose or Pinot Noir, but I found a few of those I like as well.

I very often don't like White Zinfandel or other blush wines, but in a pinch...

And I like dessert wines like Late Harvest Zinfandel or Port--with chocolate, of course.

When it comes to pairing wine with food, I know just what to do.  Pour myself a glass of wine, then ask myself, "Now, what food would go good with this wine?"

So what's my favorite wine?  What day is it?

Sunday, January 17, 2010

Country Girl

I'm a country girl.  Yes, most of you knew that about me already.  But people who don't know me can tell at glance that I'm a country girl.

A dead give away is my truck (okay, it's really an SUV--but it is a Rodeo!).  It's always dusty or muddy--I live down a mile-long dirt road!  I try to keep it clean.  Honest!  I realize first impressions mean a lot, and since I do have two businesses, I try to maintain a good first impression.  But the first impression usually says "Country Girl."

If the dust or mud on my truck isn't enough, opening any of the doors to my Rodeo will say "Country Girl" because hay will fall out.  And the fact that I know how to drive in the mud or that I can drive a big motor home while hauling a horse trailer might be another hint.

Usually my speech doesn't give me away.  I don't have a drawl (unless I want to).  And I don't say "y'all"--much.  But one look at the way I'm dressed and you'll say "Country Girl."  Blue jeans, cowboy boots and a fringed leather jacket are my usual attire.

So, yes.  I'm a country girl.  And proud of it!  Now ya'll wanna drop in for some venison stew?

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Morning Ritual

January 14, 2010

What's your morning ritual?  Mine usually begins with the alarm going off at 6 a.m. and my husband hitting the snooze button at least twice.  I never "snooze" between the alarms.  I just lay there thinking of all the things I need to do for the day and dreading getting out from under the warm covers.

When I finally do get up, I head for the kitchen to make a cup of Chai tea or coffee.  Whichever I choose, it's decaf.  I never was a caffeine junky, and I gave up caffeine about 10 years ago.  I don't miss it.  I just like having the warm liquid with lots of milk.  It's one of the ways I get my calcium for the day.

While sipping my coffee or tea, I make my son's lunch.  He has a ritual too--he always has a peanut butter sandwich for lunch.  And, if I'm not mad at my husband, I make his lunch too.  Then I kiss my husband and son goodbye as they head off to work and school.

Next, I head for my computer.  I check emails, hoping for a thousand new inquiries--okay, at least a few signed contracts--on either of my businesses.  Then I look at the clock, realize in shock that it's been an hour since I sat down at the computer and not the 15 minutes I thought it's been, and run down to the barn to feed the animals.

If I have time, I stop by the garden to check on the latest veggies I'm trying to grow--right now it's lettuce and spinach.  Then back to the house for some exercise.  Usually I walk/run at least 30 minutes on my treadmill while catching up on a travel or home improvement show.

Then comes one of my favorite parts--a nice, long, very hot shower.

I won't bore you with the rest of my day--I've bored you long enough with this blog, if you've even bothered to read this far.  But the point is, it's nice to have a ritual to my day.  I haven't had a morning ritual much since I left the corporate world about six years ago.  And though you can practically make a commercial out of my morning routine, I cherish it.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Cravings

January 13, 2010


Do you ever get cravings? I mean specific cravings. For specific foods and/or combinations. I do. All the time. And they are VERY specific. If I don't satisfy that particular craving for that specific thing--like trying to substitute with something close--then I still crave it.


I used to get asked if I was pregnant when I would voice a specific craving. No, I'm not. In fact, when I was pregnant, I DIDN'T have specific cravings--because I craved EVERYTHING! I've learned not to voice my cravings so much anymore--at least around non-family members--because I always get strange looks, and "the question." But I'll share them with you because I know you won't give me funny looks.


Some of the things I crave that are very specific are: grits with butter and Tobasco, peanut butter and pickle sandwich, french fries with seasalt and malt vinegar, broiled chicken breast on a wheat bun with mustard and pickles, crab legs with a dip of lemon, thyme, and real butter (not that oily stuff they call butter). Oh, and don't forget cottage cheese with Nacho Cheese Dorito's as a spoon. This morning it was Maple Nut ice cream.  And the list goes on.


I also like hot sauce on just about everything. But I need specific hot sauces for specific things like Tobasco on the eggs, but Tapatio on nachos or chips or chili (yes, I put hot sauce on my chili), or salsa on my tacos.


What are some of your specific cravings? I'd love to hear about them because I'm always willing to try new things, and, who knows, maybe I can add to my list after trying some of yours! I'll be waiting to hear...


Monday, January 11, 2010

Counting Sheep

January 11, 2010

I count sheep, and it works!  No, not when I can't sleep, though if I haven't counted sheep, it does keep me awake.  But I'm talking about my REAL sheep. 

Every evening I make the trek to the barn to feed the animals, and I start my mental check of everyone.  The chickens are already in their coop for the night, so I don't bother them.  My ram is waiting faithfully in his pen to be fed and locked in for the night, so I throw a flake of hay to him and close his gate.  The cows are waiting by the barn door for their flake of hay, so I toss them their share.  And my barn dog, Rocky, starts spinning around in happiness anticipating his Puppy Chow.

By this time the sheep have heard me enter the barn and they all coming running and "talking" to me.  This is their evening ritual--to come to the barn for the night and get fed.  It's a good habit for them to have, and it allows me to do what I've really come to do--count sheep.

Why do I count them?  Because over the years I've discovered that they can disappear from time to time.  Several have died of old age; some have been stuck in the fence while trying to reach that tasty morsel of grass on the other side; and lots have died in the jaws of my neighbors' dogs.  So when the count doesn't reach the correct number, I begin hunting for the missing.

Luckily that hasn't happened much lately for two reasons:  1) my neighbor has been criminal prosecuted for allowing her dogs to roam free and onto my property--yes, our court system does work some times, and it was all done by the District Attorney, not me.  And, 2) Rocky, the barn dog, is a Great Pyrenees puppy who is currently about 6 inches taller than me when he stands on his hind legs and out-weights me by about 10 pounds.  But he's only a baby of nine-months, so he'll get bigger.  And he loves his sheep!  So, needless to say, their aren't too many creatures, canine or otherwise, willing to take Rocky on.

But the habbit is now established.  I have to count sheep each night so I can sleep.

Friday, January 8, 2010

Fire Building: Man vs. Woman

January 8, 2010

I love fireplaces.  I love sitting by them with a cup of tea or a glass of wine while reading a novel or watching old movies.  It's one of the best ways to relax on a rainy day or to create that romantic mood on date night.

I've had a fireplace in almost every house I've every lived in.  And when I lived in Oregon with my dad, the fireplace and our woodburning store was the main way we heated the house.

So when I scoped out the home I now live in, I made sure it had a fireplace.  But not just any fireplace--a double-sided fireplace with a whalebone fossil encased in limestone as a focal point.

Now, I don't go for those fakey electric fireplaces, or even a gas-burning one.  If it isn't real wood, it isn't a real fire.  Some nice sticks to get the fire going, some smaller pieces to feed it once it gets going, and a few big logs to stoke it up and keep it burning for awhile is the only way to go.  And the wood?  Oak.  It burns the longest and I've got plenty of it.

But isn't it amazing the difference between how a woman starts a fire and how a man starts one?  I start by crumpling up newspaper to make a bed both on top of the logholder and under it.  I put some small sticks and twigs on top of the newspaper, then put a few small logs on top of that.  Then I strike a match, apply it to a few places on the lowest newspaper, and watch it go.

My husband, on the other hand, takes fire starting as a battle.  He doesn't use newspaper--he doesn't need that whimpy stuff.  He puts the logs on the logholder--no sticks--then chooses his weapon:  a plumbers torch!  He pops the lighter, and, with a deathly look on his face, attacks the logs with a high flame.  He keeps at it until either the logs give up in defeat or he wages war with the additional amo of a few pieces of cardboard.

Originally I thought this was just something my husband did.  I mean, my dad never used a torch of any kind to start a fire.  But when my step-dad came for Thanksgiving, I noticed the same look on his face as he reached for the torch--that same murderous expression as he attacked the wood and the same pleasure on his face when the wood relented.

Funny.  I seem to get the fire started with as good, if not better, results with my one match and crumpled newspaper than the men do with their torch.  So is it the pleasure they get from using yet another tool or from conquering yet another foe?  What's your take?

Thursday, January 7, 2010

My Dangerous Store

January 7, 2010

We all have a "dangerous" store.  For men, it's usually a hardware supply store or Costco.  For my mother-in-law it's Macy's and Nordstrom's.  For me, it's Farm Supply.

Yes, it's Farm Supply.  I can't go in there without instantly being drawn to the new display of ropes and cinches.  I can't pass by the saddles without taking a deep whiff of the leather or feeling the tooling.  And I can't walk into the gardening department without picking up at least two packets of seeds.

And don't get me started on the clothing area!  At my local store they've at least had the decency to put it in a separate room in an area I don't have to go in to.  But I can see it from the register counter, beckoning me with the latest cowboy boots; calling me with the most recent sparkly button-down shirt; taunting me with the newest blingy belt.

I've been into that section of the store before.  It's danger with a cherry on top!  I wasn't able to leave without purchasing at least two items--but they were from the sales rack.  Honest!

Oh well.  So I wasn't able to escape with just the chicken fee and worming drench I went in for.  But I resolve to be stronger next time.  Maybe I'll drop a note in the suggestion box to put up a privacy curtain over the door to the clothing area...

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Lambing Season

January 6, 2010

It's lambing season again.  Did I mention I have twenty-one sheep?  Well, I do.  And about half of them are ewe's (that's a female sheep for you city folks).

Why lambing season is during the coldest part of the year I'll never understand.  The poor lambs are usually born early in the morning.  They are thrust into the world wet and wool-less onto the cold ground and have to be able to stand up within a few minutes of being born in order to eat.  It just doesn't seem fair.  But that's mother nature for you.

So, anyway, it's lambing season.  And I tried hard this season to keep my ram (that's a male sheep with all parts in tact for you city folks) from getting in with my ewe's. You see, twenty-one sheep is enought for me.  And, yes, I'm a whimp because I haven't been able to slaughter any of my previous lambs for meat, or sell them for meat either.  They're just too cute!  Especially when they come up to me with those big brown eyes and want to be scratched around the ears and face!

My solution?  Don't let any more be conceived!  Or, at least, that was the idea.  My ram had other ideas--again, that whiley mother nature.  He got in with the ewe's at least three times, so I'm expecting, at the very least, three lambs.

Now, checking the ewe's for pregnancy is not all that difficult.  At least the technique that I use.  While the sheep are eating, I simply go down the line, reaching under the ewe's to feel their udders (that's where the milk somes from for you city folks).  If a ewe has an udder that is starting to swell, I know she's pregnant, and I keep an eye on her going forward.

You'd think that after having their udders felt-up a couple of times a week that they wouldn't jump, but they do.  Every time.  I guess it's like having a doctor put her cold hand on you right before a pap-smear. You know it's coming, but you jump anyway.

So far, my luck is holding.  No full udders means no lambs on the way.  Yet!  It may just mean that they'll sneak one in on me when I least expect it.  It wouldn't be the first time.

The lamb watch continues...

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Male-Dominated Household

January 5, 2010

I live in a male-dominated house. I don't mean that they are dominant, just that there are more of them.

There's my husband and son, who have enough male-ness between them to create havoc throughout the house: dishes that make it NEAR the dishwasher, but never into it; remote controls on every surface of the family room, not in the basket I supplied so we could find the remotes easily; and more toys scattered about than any one person could every play with.

Then there's the animals: two rabbits, one bird, nine cats (seven are males), a ball python (okay, I don't know for sure if it's male or female, but we DID name it Joe), and three dogs--one of which is female. Does that make us both bitches? My husband would likely say so!

The count does not include the ranch animals. If that's the case, maybe there is more balance that I thought. Let's see. We have nine chickens, all of which are hens (no, they don't need a rooster in order to lay eggs--at least mother nature was kind in this case). Of the four equine, two are female. And about half the sheep are female, and more valuable because they are (at least, per the county agriculture rules).

But back at the house, it's funny how it may be male-dominated, yet it's the females (okay, female--me), who get the most done. My husband would argue that it's because what I consider "getting things done" and what he considers "getting things done" are two completely different things. Maybe I should readjust more to his thinking. After all, watching hours of television while surfing the net and drinking beer is multi-tasking after all...

Monday, January 4, 2010

Eggs

January 4, 2010

I love having my own chickens and getting fresh eggs. Every morning I walk from my house to the barn to feed the animals. As I approach the barn the chickens hear me and begin "talking" to me. They greet me by flying up above the partition of their coop so they can see me and confirm I'm really there. When I open the gate to their pen they all rush forward and gather around my feet, making it really difficult to walk.

I check their water and food, and then head for the hen house. This the best part--gathering the eggs. It's like Christmas--okay, maybe more like Easter--when I slowly open the door to reveal what my chickens--my wonderful, smart, talented chickens--have given me today!

Sometimes it's only two eggs--it is winter after all. But sometimes it's as many as six eggs. And they are all a beautiful variation of green: sage, mint, moss.

I don't know which hens are laying and which aren't. Maybe they take turns. I'm sure they will all be laying when summer comes along. Then I will have nine eggs a day! I can't possibly use them all, so why I bought nine chicks to raise, I can't tell you. Of course, I didn't know then that they would all be hens, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

And it's funny how I can't waste any of the eggs. When I used to buy eggs at the store--you know, those plain, boring, white eggs--I never thought twice about making an egg-white omelet and tossing the yolks. I know it's healthier to eat just the whites, but I can't waste any part of what my "girls" have created for me!

So, it's eggs for breakfast each morning; scrambled with veggies, over-easy with turkey bacon, hard-boiled for egg-salad. Oh, and don't forget the deviled eggs I make as an appetizer for almost every party I attend!

Anyone need any eggs?

Sunday, January 3, 2010

Wakeful Moments

January 3, 2010

I'm best in the wee hours of the morning. No, I'm not talking about sex. I'm talking about ideas.

I wake up almost every night at about 2 a.m. with my brain in full gear remembering the things I'd forgotten to do the day before, worrying about money, coming up with a new marketing idea for my business--and creating my next blog. Like this one!

My husband grumbles as I fight the wakefulness at first. I toss and turn and fluff my pillow yet again, trying to get the sand man to sprinkle more sleep on me before finally giving up and turning on the light.

First, I reach for my handy-dandy pad of paper and pen always sitting faithfully on my nightstand. I capture the illusive idea; make the to-do list; write the worries and how to fix them--all while listening to my husband snore away in blissful sleep. I envy how he can sleep through the night with never a worry. Oh, I forgot. I do all the worrying for the family! I think it was part of that invisibile contract I signed when becoming a wife and mother.

Anyway, once I've scribbled the latest wakeful though, I turn to my sleep aid. Again, no, not sex. A book. This is when I get most of my reading done too. But these aren't the books I'm supposed to be reading: "Making the Most of Your Business," "How to Shear Sheep," "Growing the Biggest Pumpkins." We're talking juicy, romantic, sex-filled vampire books (okay, at least lately since there are so many of them now). Did I say "not sex" earlier? Well, maybe I was wrong. Maybe it IS sex that gets me back to sleep--at least vicariously through my book...