x-mas...ranch style

Just a little review of our Christmas trip. Here is what the territory looks like:

This is where my FIL used to take me and say...I own everything you can see. And I would think...why? But it's true. He owns something like 20 square miles of this land. And why? To run cattle. Angus, to be precise. He also owns some pretty prime farming land. Interested? Here's a story about them. Not interested? I understand.

I promised to show at least one of you the joy that is Car-man's teen bedroom. Here you go:
He built that bed/bookshelf combo when he was still in high school. And how about that comforter? I imagine it was pretty rad (or cool?) in 1978-1982. Here's the other side of the room:
I'm not sure if he built the dresser. Check out his ball-cap collection. (And yes, he permanently moved out of that room in the 80's but the caps are still there.)

While we were out west we visited Agate Fossil National Monument. This is a place where paleontologists have found fossilized mammals from 9-11 million years ago. It's pretty interesting and very remote. These rock formations are where they found certain prairie dog style mammals in their spiral dugouts.
The last picture looks a lot like my FIL's ranch, but this is the Cook Ranch. Specifically, the son of Captain Cook...the guy who Cook's Inlet in Alaska is named after. Yea. I know. You don't care. Neither did I, really. But it was either this or take my third trip to the local Wal-Mart. There isn't a whole lot to do in Nebraska's panhandle.

Now, I must introduce you to the highlight of my trip. The dog that gave me heart palpitations every time he entered the room. This is Patch, the face-eating, cattle dog. Yes. You read that correctly. Face. Eating.

He bit the nose off a six-year old little girl the night before Car-man's grandmother's funeral last year. Yup. But, you see, he's a really good cattle dog and he was expensive, so they decided not to put him down. (Yes, my brain is screaming right now. I cannot comprehend keeping this dog alive. It WAS NOT the little girl's fault. Yes, she was hyper and running around. She was SIX. Yes, she bent down to pet the dog. But then he ATE HER FACE.) (In case you are worried about her, they drove her to Denver--4 hours away--where she had reconstructive surgery. They apparently did a "really nice job.")

Every time that dog entered the room, my heart leapt into my mouth. Every time I heard him growl...which was really quite a lot...I wanted to grab my girls and stuff them in a closet to keep them safe.

But on this trip, Patch didn't eat any faces. So it's all good. (Sorry for the macabre sense of humor.)

Ok. On a lighter note. Funny story...brought to you by Car-man who thought this was perfect blog fodder.... In Harrison, Nebraska, a town near where he grew up, on the day after Christmas they were having a tumbleweed decorating contest. Seriously. It was in the paper. Can I find that paper online? Nope. I hope that tells you something.