Tales of a Shoebox Princess

My mother as a bridesmaid   Me playing dress up in an old, wrinkled bridesmaid dress I'm going through photos and just wanted to see these two pictures next to each other. I remember my sister and me going through mom's old clothes when we were home from college one year and we took a few photos wearing our favorites. This one was my favorite dress--the top was velveteen, and the bottom some kind of textured polyester (which, as a teenager in the 80s, I wasn't all that keen on--I was a big fan of cotton--but hey, it was pink).  Mom definitely wore it better since she ironed it before she wore it, and it fit her better. The dress was just a hair too tight on me. Also I seem to be wearing grey threadbare socks. I do think my hair was pretty sweet back then. 80s perms rocked!

I can now say that I've helped butcher a cow. That's something I never thought I could claim. I'm not good at it, but I did help. TW: If you don't like pictures of cow carcass, don't read. If you don't like the idea of cutting up a cow to use as meat, don't read. If you don't like pictures of pieces of raw meat, don't read. You have been warned. I did not watch the kill--the animal was killed and skinned before I got there. My brother raises cows as a hobby and provides them with a healthy cow life in a pasture several acres in size.  My brother believes in the farm-to-table mindset, although I doubt he'd call it that. He likes raising his own food as much as possible. He offered us a cow, but we'd have to help process it. We've been in on his pig raising for a couple of years but the pigs are professionally butchered. He has done cows before so he knew what he was doing. And our son in law, Christian, researched how to butcher a cow, whe