Loving on an Open Range

Loving on an Open Range
Blue Skies, His Blue Eyes

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Broccoli Cheese Potato Bake

Went to the school today for Latin training...really? I teach kindergarten. Although the session was a bit of a snooze, the day did have a nice ending. As I was telling the Pre-K teacher goodbye, a little girl who's going to be in my class told me to wait. She came towards me with her little arms open and gave me a hug. Little kids are so cute! Then I stopped at the local coffee shop, got a frappe for the drive home, and arrived at last to my adorable dog Peaches. Preheated the oven to 350 degrees and made this simple one dish dinner for my family served with applesauce:

Broccoli Cheese Potato Bake

  • 3 new potatoes, diced
  • Tablespoon ranch seasoning
  • 1 cup broccoli florets
  • 1 cup shredded cheese (I like the Mexican cheese mix)
  • Salt and pepper to taste
  • Butter flavored PAM
Season potatoes with ranch seasoning and spray with PAM. Bake potatoes on their own for about 20 minutes. Top with broccoli and cook until the potatoes and broccoli are beginning to brown and the potatoes are soft. Top with cheese and bake until melted. Delicious, and the PAM butter spray is a trick to save calories with no loss on flavor! Salt and pepper if needed.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Cookout

Just got done unloading and reloading the dishwasher...for some reason this relaxes me! Preparing for our cookout tonight. Am having friends over for grilled hot dogs and hamburgers. Have some lemon bars in the oven right now. Just poured myself a refreshing Coca-Cola. I love summer Saturdays.

Wedding Bells...Like a Virgin

The little girls knew what they were talking about...and they were all flower girls at our wedding the following fall. We got married in a private ceremony on his ranch. I was only 21 years old. We married on his 31st birthday. He told me that I was the best wedding present a man could ever have and that he didn't mind sharing his birthday with our anniversary. We went on a week long honeymoon to Red River, New Mexico. I was a virgin, and needless to say, we didn't do much sight seeing. Our son, Reed, was born nine months later.

My husband's birthday marks a long line of special moments in my life. From our first meeting, to our wedding, to today...happy birthday Mr. Stetson Hat. You have roped my heart.

And He Courts Me...

He began courting me after that day. He would call me after work and ask if he could come to my apartment and rub my tired feet. He would call me in the morning before I had class to tell me I was beautiful, and he hoped I had a good day. He would bring me to his ranch and take me horseback riding during warm evenings. He would take me on dates to expensive restaurants I could never in a million years afford on my own. He visited my Sunday School Class and charmed every little girl in there. The little girls told me, "Ms. Jaimie, we think you should marry him. He's nice and gave us candy."

Too Beautiful to Be Bad

Okay, so maybe I was hoping it was love. I nervously accept his offer as he invites me to sit in the booth with him. I have on the standard truck stop t-shirt, my long blonde hair is piled on top of my head in a messy bun, and I smell like barbecue. Much to my dismay, this man seems genuinely interested in me as a person. Most people that come in the truck stop assume I live in the run down trailor behind the restaurant and probably draw welfare for the four children they assume I have. Not him. I told him about my dreams of teaching kindergarten one day and how I was studying early childhood education at the local university. I told him I taught a 2nd Grade Girls' Sunday School Class at my church. I told him I love cheese fries, and that's the only way they keep me working at the truck stop. I told him I love kareoke. He told me he knew of a good local joint and that it was his 30th birthday. He told me a few of his friends wanted to take him out to celebrate. He said he really wasn't into the bar scene anymore and was getting a little old for it. He said if a pretty girl like me would join them though, that he might have a reason to celebrate. It slightly occurred to me that he might be the type of person that regularly picks up truck stop waitresses, but looking into his gorgeous blue eyes, I soon dismissed the notion. He was too beautiful to be bad. At least I hoped...

Truck Stop Meeting

We met nearly three years ago on this exact day. I was 20 working as a waitress trying to pay my way through college on tips I earned at the local truck stop. Mr. Stetson Hat, which I lovingly refer to my husband as, came in to the truck stop after filling his three quarter ton Dodge diesel with gas. I must say, I noticed his truck before I ever noticed him. Brand new, shiny with chrome on the wheels, a fancy looking horse trailer hooked up behind it. I've always loved horses, but growing up, my family was too poor to ever afford to keep many.

Then...I see him. As my gaze fixates on the man stepping out of the truck, my breath catchs a little. Men like him are ones that just aren't interested in girls like me. His boots are covered in dirt, his jeans hug his buns perfectly, and his dirty white t-shirt is snug across his perfectly muscled chest. He's tall...maybe 6'4. After he finishs filling his truck up with diesel, he opens the door and walks inside the truck stop. He pays the cashier for the gas and asks for a couple of crispitos. He takes those and a fountain Dr. Pepper over to one of the old booths. Loudly, Wanda, the truck stop owner beckons me to go clean the restrooms. Embarassed I walk by this hot man trying to remain unnoticed. No such luck. I fail to notice a small amount of water on the floor and fall flat on my butt. Being the gallant man he is, Mr. Stetson Hat hurries to my side and helps me up. Our eyes meet. It's love.

Friday, August 13, 2010

Birthdays are fun on the Ranch

So today is my beloved's birthday. He turned 33 today...wow. He does not like being an entire decade older than me. Can I blame him? This blessed occasion prompted a trip down memory lane.