Silver Lining

Tags

donate, Moore, Oklahoma, pray for Oklahoma, Prayer, silver lining, Tornado, Tornado Alley

“Oklahoma is the heart, it’s the vital organ, of our national existence.” – Will Rogers, 29 May 1926

Over 50 tornadoes touched down in my home state yesterday. Lives were lost, many were injured.

Sometimes there just aren’t words to say what you want to say.

As I spent, my afternoon yesterday glued to the weather radar, and then over an hour in the basement of the municipal building in my town, along with anyone and everyone, while we waited for the tornado warnings to expire, I thought back to my childhood.

As a kid, my favorite part of severe thunderstorms and tornado watches was right after they passed. Not because everything was suddenly safe, but because everything was so green, there were puddles to splash through in my bare feet and frogs everywhere to catch. It was pretty common to see all the neighborhood kids outside with buckets, after a storm, collecting as many frogs as we could gather — for bragging rights purposes.

I was trying to travel to my parents house last night and ended up having to pull over and wait, since they were under a tornado warning. This is how crazy the sky was near the Oklahoma/Kansas border.

As a kid, it was always easy to find the silver lining in something that ten minutes before was completely terrifying.

So as I stood in the basement yesterday, knowing what had happened in Moore, knowing how much destruction was occurring all across the state I love, and even into my Middle-of-Corn, Kansas I wondered where was the silver lining in all this? Collecting frogs and splashing through puddles wasn’t going to make this better.

My answer came in the hours after the storms passed, and into this morning. News stations, Websites, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram all completely covered with people showing their support, prayers, love, donating money, blood, clothes, water, their own time. What surprised me most was that is wasn’t just the state of Oklahoma banding together, it was the Nation.

Wow. This just goes to show even in a time when our country is so divided, people can put aside everything and the majority can come together in the aftermath of destruction.

There really is a silver lining in every dark cloud. If you are looking for ways to help, donations can be sent to the Red Cross by texting REDCROSS to 909-99, or to the OKC Food Bank by texting FOOD to 32333. But most importantly continue to keep the those involved, their family and friends in your thoughts and prayers.

WW: A family that prays together, stays together

Tags

capturing moments, Christmas, Christmas 2012, dani.b.photography, family, Prayer, togetherness, wordless wednesday

Controversy Bandwagon

Tags

Angelina Jolie, Breast cancer, current-events, entertainment, haters gonna hate, prevenative, society, todays news, women's health

Yeah, I’m jumping on it…

In case you haven’t heard, Angelina Jolie recently had a double mastectomy. Now before everyone jumps to tan my hide for glorifying celebrities, I was actually trying to do my morning ‘catch up on the news’ by visiting all the major media Websites. There’s the Benghazi scandal, AP reporters controversy, updates on the three Ohio girls… but today covering all three as a headliner was Jolie.

So I read. And I read as many different versions as I could get my hands on. Which I do, on every topic. One reoccurring theme on each was the comment section. The hateful, slanderous, bigotry comment feeds.

It disgusted me.

Personally, I applaud Jolie on sharing her story and reasoning behind her actions. As someone who has watched family members battle breast cancer, and who has a mother who is a RN in the women’s unit of a large hospital, I’ve heard the stories, seen the results and even know women who have undergone the same preventative procedure for the exact same reasons.

This topic wasn’t foreign to me. But apparently, to a good portion of the population it was and WOW did they have a lot of opinions on it. Calling it selfish, “she can do it because she’s wealthy,” unnecessary, paranoid, etc.

Well, we’re all entitled to our opinions, but genetics and cancer aren’t discriminatory to social status, and if it takes someone famous to get the word out, so be it. In no way would that ever be an easy decision, while I’d like to sit here and say I’d make the same one — “What?! Extremely high chance of developing breast cancer? Heck yeah, chop those suckers off and build me a set of perfect ones!” — but I’m not faced with that predicament, so I really don’t know what I would do.

All I’m saying is, no one was harmed in her decision. She shed some light on a topic no one talks about, but thousands of women have to deal with and she did her part to help ensure her children get to keep their mother. If you ask me, that’s pretty dang courageous.

So educate yourselves people, hug the women in your life, because being a chick is hard — one word: childbirth. — and haters gonna hate.

That’s all.

Rockin’ the hanging plant

Tags

colored flowers, Cowgirl Crush, flowers, hanging plants, new black, Orange, plant hanger, plants, spring

I’m going to be honest, when I think hanging plants, I think the back porch of my Magoo’s house (Grandma, not a code name, that’s what she goes by — to me at least) brightly colored flowers in plastic containers, possibly with little clay racoons hanging off the side and next to the outdoor freezer holding the Holy Grail of popsicles. In other words, not me.

That was, however, until I came across a cow silhouette plant hanger from Cowgirl Crush. And well I slipped, tripped and fell head-over-heels for it. With a couple clicks of my mouse, I snagged one of the last available cow silhouette hangers and clapped my hands excitedly from my work office.

To make things even better, on a Sunday afternoon trip to SAM’s, mom decides to purchase both my sister and I a cute little flower arrangement of our choice for our homes. My sister, picks out a respectable and very pretty porch planter …and I made a beeline to the hanging plants.

Looking at me strangely, she asked if I was planning on transplanting them. “Nope!” I said. “I have something to hang them on.” Cue even stranger look from my mother.

Haters gonna hate, I’m rockin’ the hanging plant.

Excuse the iPhone photo, it’s all I had on hand.

It even has orange flowers. (Go Pokes!)

Since installing mine, I’ve come across several other 20-somethings with similar displays of suspended flower prettiness.

So in conclusion, hanging plants are the new black.

That’s all.

Finding my blogger identity

Tags

backwoods, blog identity, buffalo, cookie cutter, dolly parton, me, Oklahoma, people pleaser, random

I’m rapidly approaching my one year blogversary, and what a year it has been. But we’ll get to that in June, when I’ve actually reached a year.

When I started this blog I wanted to encompass who am I as a person — High Heels and Shotgun Shells — City turned country, small town homecoming queen turned professional, tomboy/girly girl, and the brunette version to Dolly Parton’s Backwoods Barbie (I mainly just like the expression)

I wanted to write posts people could relate to, maybe put a little sunshine in someone’s day or even simply just to let my family know what the heck is going on in my life. As an agriculture writer and editor for a living, I wanted my blog to reflect me outside of the ag scene.

But agriculture, I just cain’t quit you. So the topic leaked into my posts from the beginning and I accepted it. It’s a pretty big part of who I am after all.

And somewhere in all that, y’all started actively reading, interacting and giving me feedback (Which I love!). I found myself suddenly, very conscious of what I was writing about, and began tailoring my posts to satisfy others. By nature, I’m one hardcore people pleaser, and it turned into this:
•Don’t be controversial.
•Write more about agriculture.
•Don’t write so much about agriculture.
•Everything must be butterflies and unicorn poop.
•Educate.
•Don’t educate, just be fun.
•Filter yourself.
•That will offend your family.
•Don’t be the obnoxious, twitterpaited girl who always refers to her boyfriend.
•Be yourself.
•Don’t be yourself, give the people what they want.
•Uhh… what do “the people” want?

I was desperately trying to fit this “blogger identity” and I didn’t know what that identity was exactly. So I’ve decided to forget trying to blog please everyone and carry on with my random all over the place writing.

My blog is my outlet, to discuss what I want to discuss, and to be me. A year ago I would have never EVER imagined almost 100 people would email subscribe to my blog, or that my Twitter followers would jump from 80-something to 477. Never EVER. Because of HH&SS I have met some AWESOME people, received some great advice, opened new doors of opportunity, gotten closer to distant relatives and in a very random way it brought me My Someone…

So I’m just going to keep on keeping on writing about outdoorsy/super-girly/redneck-tendencies/ag-nerdy/religious/love-mush/Okie/Kansas/Cajun/life-as-I-know-it/random things, and make no apologies for it.

Here’s a picture of a buffalo…

Have a fantastic day!

Wordless Wednesday: Where 150 meets 560

Tags

dani.b.photography, dirt road, dusk, home, Oklahoma, Ottawa County, road signs, rural, sunset, wordless wednesday

My parents have been abducted by aliens

Tags

Alien abduction, dad, family, instagram, mom, mom and dad, parents, social-media, spring chickens, technology, twitter

I hear people say, “I can’t have a Facebook, or Twitter, that’s for the younger generation. I’m too old for those kind of things.”

To which I reply, “My great-grandpa is a World War II veteran, and has Facebook.” (and he’s a busy little bee on it.)

That’ll usually stop all the “can’t” nonsense, because it’s not a matter of “can’t” it’s a matter of “won’t.” Which is totally cool, there are many days I wish I had never drank the social media Kool-Aid.

My parents are were prime examples of this. Growing up, I didn’t have a cell phone till I was 16, which I had to share with my little sister (Oh, the humanity). After some intense lobbying, and some “I’ll pay for it, I swear!” I finally was able to add a “200 texts per month” plan, at the age of 18. And Internet connection at mom and dad’s? Well you could kiss that dream goodbye.

Keep in mind, I’m in my early 20-somethings, and my parents are still spring chickens… so compared to everyone else technology-wise, we were a good 5-10 years behind. In college, my professors actually thought I was lying when I’d say, “I can’t check my email over break, we don’t have internet.”

Disclaimer: Not complaining and/or whining. I’m extremely grateful this is how I was raised. My parents are fantastic to the 10th power.

So you can imagine my confusion within the last couple of years as they got DVR and began texting. They both joined Facebook. Mom got an iPhone, became a frequent FarmVille player, joined Pinterest, Instagram, Twitter and Vine. And the most shocking of all… actually started operating the DVD player by herself.

Mom discovered her new phone has a front screen camera… And they wonder where I get it.

Dad, on the other hand, just within the past month joined the smartphone world. Created an Instagram account …learned how to ‘like’ photos on Instagram. Setup a Twitter – followed the entire Duck Dynasty cast – and was visibly disappointed when his attempt to download Vine failed, due to it not being a Droid recognized app.

Dad, in his signature camo coveralls – ‘tweeting’

WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO MY PARENTS!?!?!

There is only one logical explanation for all this, my parents have in fact been abducted by aliens.

Can y’all relate to this? Are your parents, grandparents, great-grandparents an active part of your social media life? I want to hear about it.

Editors note: I give it an hour after publishing this before my mom, with her more up-to-date iPhone than either of her daughters will start texting Alien themed Emoji’s to me. Emoji’s! My mom! Aye-yi-yi.

Turkey hunting, for the attention deficit.

Tags

Camo Friday, camouflage, hunting, Kentucky, my someone, outdoors, redneck girl, Shotgun, shotgun shells, Turkey, turkey season, whoop whoop

I wasn’t going to write about My Someone this week. Two posts in a row is just too much. Branch out Danielle, don’t be that girl.

However, the two blog post story ideas for this week were turkey hunting and chickens calling, both of which involved My Someone.

So I wasn’t going to write one at all, until I thought of something else. But then the writing bug hit and I thought, “Ahh to heck with it.”

Alas, I’m that girl.

It’s turkey season! Whoop Whoop!

In the past, my experience with turkey season never involved ammunition. I was armed only with camera equipment. I even have the shirt to prove it.

My Someone didn’t get that memo. The day before our first hunting-togetherness experience he handed me a shotgun and some shells and proceeded to begin drawing a turkey head on a piece of paper.

The title of my blog alone should tell you, this wasn’t my first rodeo with a shotgun, but nevertheless, I was confused as to my sudden promotion in the world of hunting.

“You need to be familiar with the gun, this is about you killing your first tom. I’ll take pictures,” he said in response to my confused face.

That my friends, are the words to make any redneck girl’s heart go pitter-pat.

So outside we went, turkey target taped up to the side of the shed, we took our seats some distance away.

“Does this kick real hard?” I asked

“Ehhh, not… really,” *shrugs*

In my head, I was trying to convince myself he really meant “not really,” but deep down I knew what that meant. I was nervous to say the least…

A few practice tries and then it was the moment of truth, I loaded the gun and lined ‘er up.

BOOM.

Nailed it.

My Someone moved the turkey target to a tree, “I’m going to watch your form this time,” he said.
Editor’s note: Men are technical. In my world, I shot it, it’s dead. What does it matter how it got from point A to point B?

I once again put the sight on the top of the turkey and pulled the trigger.

Nailed it again.

“You took that like a boss!” “Perfect!” He said.

I wanted to be like, “yeah, I know.” *pops collar* *dusts off shoulders* but really, I was just thinking the heavens that the stars alined, the wind blew just right and by sheer luck I hit the target both times avoiding the embarrassment of being perceived as prissy.

The next morning I was pumped. It didn’t even matter that it was 4:30 a.m. I was finally going to have my own turkey. We got to our spot, sat everything up and waited.

Pretty good start to a day, if I say so myself.

An hour of sitting on the ground, completely still and silent while My Someone called back and forth with the turkeys in the distance gobbling at him. My eyes started to get heavy.

The next thing I know I was hearing, “How’s that turkey watching going?”
“Oh pretty good,” I responded hoping he hadn’t noticed I was asleep.
“Oh yeah, with your eyes closed?

Busted.

A couple of hours later, we still hadn’t seen anything. I couldn’t feel my legs …or my rear. I started getting fidgety. iPhone out, I started trying to make a Vine video.

I dropped my gun…

Recomposing myself, I waited a little while and gave it a second try.

I dropped my gun. Again.

“Really babe, REALLY?!?” he whispered.

As you can imagine, the toms of western Kentucky were spared for another day, and while I was unsuccessful in the transition of hunting/iPhone documentation, my counterpart posted this to Vine. Making me realize, that maybe THIS is why we didn’t see any turkeys.

Yeah, I know. I look like Sasquatch.

Do you have any first hunting stories with your main squeeze? If so, I want to hear them. Till then, happiest of Fridays and merriest of weekends.

Operation Ice Cream

Tags

Easter weekend, food, Ice Cream, ice cream truck, important, Relationship advice, spring, truck chaser

Let’s go back to last Saturday. My Someone was in Middle-of-Corn, Kansas, the weather was absolutely gorgeous, I had only filled the house with smoke once with Easter-prep cooking (as opposed to twice the night before.) — Basically the complete package of a perfect spring day.

My Someone and I were immersed in some really deep conversation, I couldn’t even tell you what about now, because suddenly I heard it.

The melody of my childhood heading towards my Middle-of-Corn, Kansas Hacienda.

Could it really be??

“ICCCCCCEEEEEEEE CREEEEAAAAMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!”I screamed.

Confusion spread over My Someone’s face as I bolted for the front door, and out on to the front porch.

The ice cream truck, was already past my house and heading towards the main road, with an entire herd of offspring trailing behind it, whom he was obviously not going to stop for.

“Drat, we need money. And we need to chase down that truck,” I stated, getting ready to take off running.

“WHAT?! Why?!? Really?!?!” Was all My (very confused/startled) Someone could say.

Well, all this stalling, explaining the battle plan to my counterpart through off the entire mission. The ice cream truck had made it to the end of my street, and with that I watched my frozen bliss twinkle it’s beautiful melodies off into the distance.

It was there, our very different upbringings came rising to the surface. You see, my rural raised, farm-grown boyfriend had never experienced the wonderfulness that is “The Ice Cream Truck.” While my New Orleans/Tulsa suburbs childhood was straight up Sesame Street, complete with sideways ball cap and ice cream truck chasing.

So after some explaining, we’re on the same page. And friends, for the sake of all y’all’s relationships, have the ice cream talk. Establish who is the truck chaser and who is the money gatherer. I mean, because really, these are the types of things that can make or break you.

I finally got ice cream (actually frozen yogurt) yesterday from Braums… Not the same as the ice cream truck, but a pretty good runner-up.

People should be more like cows.

Tags

Agriculture, cattle, Corgi, cows, human nature, Kansas, livestock, Oklahoma, people, politically correct, rude, social-media, telling it like it is, truth

…and I don’t mean that in a sense of letting others herd you around.

Recently, one of my Facebook friends posted this article. In it is a list of all 50 states with their people populations compared to their cattle populations.

I’m sure it’s no shock to y’all that BOTH my states of residence: Kansas and Oklahoma were hanging out in the top 10 of more cattle than people. And I may have done a little happy dance that they both came out above Texas.

Disclaimer: No offense Texans, I really can’t help my Red River rivalry, it’s embedded into every fiber of my being.

I’m sure each and everyone of you have noticed, but this past week on social media has been INTENSE. I’ve actually gotten to where I avoid it at all costs and just hang out in my happy little Pinterest and Vine worlds — it’s safe there, no drama. — (I did shamelessly insert my opinion about the GMO scare, sorry I’m not sorry.) I thought election time was awful, but I do believe everyone’s opinions that are painted across my news feeds have topped that.

It’s not that I have a problem with people displaying their opinions for the world, because I don’t. It’s your social media, who am I to tell you what to do with it. What bothers me is people tearing others apart, because their opinions don’t match. These same people, who are jumping in to gang-bang the opposite side are usually the first to wave the “Love everybody” “Peace, Joy, Happiness and Unicorn poop” flags. (Mind you, the people I’m referring to come from both sides of all current issues.)

This BOTHERS me… a lot. Practice what you preach, be the change you want to see, and take one really good long look in the mirror, before you stand on your platform, slinging red paint on everyone below.

…awkwardly getting away from that soapbox.

This subject, combined with the cattle to people ratio got me thinking. People should be more like cows.

I was supposed to photographing a goose hunt when I took this picture… Bet y’all never would’ve guessed I’m easily distracted.

Why?

When cows get annoyed with each other, one knocks her head into another, the favor is usually returned, and then everything is all good — back to grazing.

Cattle don’t have Facebook… or thumbs, computers/Smartphones or even know how to spell for that matter. (Small technicalities)

When cattle “sling mud” it’s actually mud, you know the stuff that comes from the ground after a rain/snow — not hateful political propaganda.

You’re awesome if you win a game of “king of the mountain.” Ever watched calves play? They’ll find the manure pile, climb to the top and knock each other off. This game goes on for hours. It’s usually the short stocky ones that win… Which is maybe why I feel like I’d be great at this.

If you’re mean, you go to slaughter. No sense of keeping something around that’s going to cause physical harm to others. (I’m probably going to receive some backlash for this one.)

Political correctness doesn’t exist in the bovine world. *cough* *cough*

You are preferred to be larger framed, heavily muscled, and a little bit of chubbiness isn’t necessarily a bad thing. i.e. Cows don’t have to worry about swimsuit season.

And speaking of food, wait… Were we speaking of food? Anyway, for cattle it’s socially acceptable to be the first in line when someone yells, “Dinner’s ready.” People, however, stand around, looking at their feet, waiting on one person to jump in line so everyone else can follow. Because who wants that judgement? Who really wants to wear the scarlet letter of ‘that person’ who was first through the dinner line? I know I certainly don’t.

Does that make sense? Do you suddenly feel the urge to rub your neck on the bark of a tree, or randomly buck in circles in the pasture, just because you can? Okay… maybe that’s a little far fetched.

But the moral of this story is…

Lighten up people.

Pick your battles.

And let’s talk about the truly important issues in life.

…Like national debt.

Just kidding.

And for your Friday, here is a picture of a Corgi licking my camera lens. Because Corgi’s can make even the hardest of hearts smile. And because I am the definition of random.

Happy Easter Weekend!
Dani B.