She doesn't think she has all the answers. She laughs at herself. She loves her life. --It could be that simple.
Yes, I'm drawn to the fact that she is madly in love with her husband, Marlboro Man. In fact, she would probably wouldn't mind being referred to as Mrs. MM rather than Ms. PW. I'm going to stick with Ms. PW, however, because I'm an incredibly single twenty-something independent, and I appreciate Ms. PW for personality and not her marriage to Mr. MM. That being said, she radiates the joy that comes from a partnership grounded in love, butterflies, sparks and fireworks; how could anybody not be drawn to that? Yes, I'm drawn to the gorgeous views on her cattle ranch. I can almost inhale the fresh air and watch my perspectives change. The reviving powers of rural life - I thrive in it. I love her trampoline. I love the pictures she takes of people on the trampoline. I love the pictures she takes. I love all of these things, but I don't think these are what keep me coming back to her blog.
I keep coming back, because of the simple. She finds the worth, the humor, the love, the joy in the everyday.
Do I want a life on a cattle ranch with four children, a cowboy husband, fields of wild horses, and a barrel full of calf nuts? Probably not. Although, I have spent a considerable amount of of time wondering if my slight obsession with her means I should re-think a city life and a suit-required career. Probably not. Do I want a life with an appreciation for the simple, a lot of humor, more questions than answers, love, joy, and a trampoline? Absolutely. I'm not ready to trade in black heels for tractor wheels. At least not yet...
[links to The Pioneer Woman blog under "For The Love of Blogs"]
Update: Apparently, I am not the only one slightly obsessed with Pioneer Woman - Time named her one of the Top 25 Blogs 2009.
Snow Day Lost
Snow falling behind her so quickly that it comes across the television screen as thin white lines. Car headlights few and far between, slowly move down the one lane highway, the other lanes covered in snow. Despite the camera worthy smile, it is clear her teeth chatter, and she can't wait to get back into the van.
We're please with our snow day plan and the decision to implement it. Cars safely parked off-street in snow ban compliance (another indication of a certain snow day), text books left unopened, homework assignments incomplete, sweatpants packed in preparation for a day of sorting through principles, definitions, black letter law. We will drink pots of coffee to compensate for our disregard of an appropriate bedtime. We are in no hurry to sleep - grogginess is acceptable during study days in ways that the socratic method does not permit. We check the "stormline" before finally heading to bed - the scratchy voices offers no new information, we'll have to wait for morning confirmation.
Only, we never get it. I wake up to the sound the rain hitting the windows and the news that "all classes, events and activities will be held as scheduled." ugh. Tired eyes, quick shower, hooded sweatshirt, drained body, unprepared mess, I drag myself to school. Grateful for delicious travel mug coffee, a bulky warm hooded sweatshirt, and a friend who also grumbles but goes. Three degrees colder, and we would have had our snow day.
coffee addict, exhaustion, plans, wherever you are it is your friends who make your world
Pop it, drop it, slam it. Pop it, drop it, slam it if you want the washing machine to start. I can never, ever get the washing machine to start. Standing in the basement raising and closing the lid, raising and closing the lid, slamming the lid, apologizing to the washing machine, raising and closing the lid... completely domestically challenged, I can almost hear the washing machine chuckle. oh, but won't you please just start! I have to seek out a roommate, pick one any one, to pop it, drop it, or slam it and the washing machine starts - first try. Oh yes, the machine is chuckling, I can just about hear it.