The Perfect Omelet

It's Friday Morning, June the 19th, and I have finally accomplished a task I've tried to tackle at various times over the course of my life. This morning it must have been a favor from God, the stars were aligned, or maybe I held my mouth just right....but I finally accomplished the perfect omelet! It being Father's Day weekend just makes the feat a little more special.

My father was a great cook I'm sure that came from having younger siblings to feed, and the lack of microwave ovens. He never ceased to amaze us with some of the meals he could put together given some eggs, flour, salt, and pepper. To this day a number of my fondest family memories are of us sitting around the table waiting for the next great feast he had prepared. There were the cold winter nights that were melted with scrumptious portions of Swiss Steak. Or special occasions that called for Swedish Tea Rings, a sweet pastry filled with various fruits, glazed with icing, and known to induce diabetes in the healthiest of people. However in the breakfast arena my father excelled, dad made the ultimate omelets.

My quest for my own perfect omelet started before I was out of high school. Dad thought it important that a guy know to cook. He related it in terms of women....if you want to impress a girl cook for her, if she leaves you...well then you won't starve!! That lesson has served me well in one way or another over the years. Judging by my figure lately I'm getting to be a pretty good cook, but the perfect omelet has eluded me all this time. I've pursued this quest every few months only to be so close then helplessly watch as my hard work and effort breaks, resulting in just another plate of fancy scrambled eggs. Wreaking of defeat, deterred by another failure I put away the skillet and wait for my courage to come back up for another shot at what seemed to be the unobtainable.

I miss the old man. My father was my best friend, he was always in our corner telling us there was nothing we couldn't accomplish. He wanted us to experience all life had to offer while meeting some great friends along the way, cherishing the ones we love and just simply having a ball. I learned so many things from my father. Lessons like your word is your bond, look people in the eye when you talk to them, manners are never lost, love your family and protect them, never quit, be strong, know many but befriend few, and lastly.....know how to cook.

Whoever it is in your life that you look up to as a father figure deserves your thanks. That's what this holiday is all about. Thanking the male that influenced us, whether it's your father, step-dad, grandfather, high school football coach, college professor, or just a good man. Thanking them is a rewarding experience and they deserve it.

Today, the old man would of been proud. I made the lightest, fluffiest omelet and it held together! Awww to relish and bask in the sight of greatness hence the pic I took. Too bad the pics blurry, but I honestly assure you that what you see is a damn fine specimen of cooking excellence. I should know....I ate it!

It's a 3 shirt morning!

What's a 3 shirt morning you ask? It's a morning that starts off like the picture to the right. Sorry I haven't posted anything in awhile, in fact the last couple of days I've been contemplating what I wanted to post. I guess this morning you could say I had an epiphany!!

There's a reason this blog is called "Mi Vida Loco", and for those of y'all who somewhat have doubts about the infamous Brooks boy's stories, again check the pic to the right. I'm telling you...between the two of us we really do get into some scrapes.

1st shirt....OK, maybe I'm not quite the athletic figure I used to be. As evidenced by the cricks, cracks, and groans I proceed to go through to make it out of bed in the morning. Including the first few bent over steps that mimic that ninety year old man off the Benny Hill show. That being said, I've decided to devote my summer to finally getting in a little better shape, than I've been in the last couple of years. This morning it entailed rolling out at 6 AM after thirty minutes of snooze buttoning, and walk/jog our ranch road a couple of times. Followed by some push ups, sit ups, squats, dips, and stretching (sometimes I actually like yoga). Not much but I admit by the time I was done I had soaked through my first shirt of the morning. On to the shower!

2nd shirt....I'm dressed for work 7:15 and on to the daily grind of life. Which this morning has me heading up to the office to finish a curriculum project. I'm not dressed like they typical teacher but for me its a clean shirt and a pair of jeans. However, I still have to feed the kids...a.k.a. the horses. This is a usual routine for me and it just involves filling up water buckets, throwing hay, and passing out the grain. Routine...a way of life that I take for granted. This morning was not routine. The mare in the pic is really a great horse. Lately she has been a little "bitchy" to say the least. Her morning "routine" is to snap at the gelding "Rebel" she's stalled next too before she gets any breakfast. Whatever was in the cards this morning wasn't routine. This sultry June morning she uplifted her rear-end and proceeded to say hello to Rebel with a kick that left her right hind leg stuck through the panel.

What happened next? Moments like this I feel at times have become second nature to me. Maybe it's these moments that have created the "shoot from the hip" attitude I go through life with. Sometimes not a bad thing. I know there is some urgency here, first thing is to sum up the situation..this is pretty much how it went in my mind, "Mare's calm, geldings not....is there anyone close to help? nope...all alone on this one bud, first thing, move the gelding...ok done, next? get the damn mare free!...how the hell am i going to do that? where's the chain? phone call to Andrew, and its not here...(typical) my first plan is never the right one!!! scratch that..ok need something that will support her and lift her....hmmmm I know i'll use the tractor but what can i tie around her? a regular ranch rope is to thin and likely will cause internal damage...not a good plan, but there are the load straps on the the flat bed, yanking one off, charging the tractor like a rough rider taking San Juan hill, the next moment finds me a little bewildered...did you know applying the right amount of gear, and way too much power that you can actually spin the tires on a 50 hp 4wd tractor?...kinda cool, but not noted right away, as I'm flying to the barn but a little impressed with my ability to maneuver the big red beast like she was a 10 second car on a back street of Military drive instead of the bulky farm equipment she is. Seconds seem like minutes as I feel the sweat pouring through me....tractor fits in the alley way of the barn check, wrapping the make shift harness around her and tying the rope off....thank you mom for all those boy scout meetings as I tie a knot that won't hurt the mare when she's lifted, lifting her gently she staggers to her feet like a hobo awakened from a great slumber but is standing on her own and looking puzzled at the contraption that has returned her to freedom. She seems to smirk at me with a look of...it was worth it!!! Damn horse but I still love her" 2nd shirt soaked and the sweat of adrenaline is rancid...I think of a Chis Ledoux line, "I think my 24 hour deodorant quit last night", but mine didn't last half an hour.

Late for work now but no time for another shower. Reapply the deodorant, snatch my 3rd shirt of the morning and off to work. I opt for the bike because the adrenaline is still pounding, and nothing seems as soothing right now as the wind in your face at 80 miles an hour. Not on time but not too late, sitting at my desk and marveling over the mornings events. Wondering why I'm not committed to an insane asylum? I chalk it up to another day in the odyssey called Mi Vida Loca, and if you don't believe me.....Well pictures don't lie!