Sorting Calves

There is a distinct possibility that I might get my butt tossed today.

We're gonna be sorting calves off... keepers, and ones to sell. Since I'm here, and have the opportunity, and we have plenty of time, I'm gonna hop on Etta and see if I can get her started sorting.

She's quick, she's smart, and she really does seem to enjoy pushing the cattle around (unless they don't respect her authority and she has to reach out and bite one on the top of the tail because it won't move it's furry little butt...) so if she decides to "turn on"... she might go one way, and leave me hanging in mid air like Wile E Coyote.

And if that happens, I'm gonna be doing a happy dance before I ever hit the ground.....

Wish me luck!

Next New Year's

Well, my "BFF" and I were very disappointed this year. We didn't get to spend New Year's Eve together, and she had to work. Drawing blood for DUI's. In Colorado Springs.

She was swamped.

So, while we were chatting last night, texting, we decided that we are going to save up all year, and go somewhere next New Year's Eve.

We're pondering Vegas. If we book early enough it ought to be cheap, and it's far enough away that no one will expect us to rush back for minor crises.

I'd be hollering for Hawaii, but I think we'd have to plan two years in advance to save up for that one....

We'll see what we can come up with, as far as saving, but we're going away somewhere... and, BFF being BFF (my sister, confidant, hairstylist, fashion consultant and emotional crutch... and very much a girly girl) we'll be going somewhere "civilized."

And, preferably, with an enormous supply of alcohol....

A New Year

Wow. Another year. Can Ya'll believe I've been doing this for a year and a half? I sure can't.

I took a peek back at last year's New Year's Eve post, and man, things really haven't changed much.

A lot of things have happened this year, but I'm still thankful for the same things.

This year, I rode a whole different horse. Etta is gonna be a hell of a girl, too... and I'm gonna stretch out her training as much as I can because once she's "finished" I'm not sure I'll get to ride her again. Farmmom is in love with her, and Mamaw is so proud of her it's actually pretty funny. I used to joke that she carried more pictures of her horse than me, so she started carrying the one that had both me and the horse in it. Now, she's got more of them. Pictures of me on her horse. Of course, I fully expect to be replaced by the pictures of her on her horse, but that's the way things roll in the Farm Fam.

I got "new" teeth. I'm getting there on being comfortable with them. I do know that I'm smiling a lot more freely these days.

I learned more new things, spent more time with friends. I got to spend some time pushing cows across the fields, and a little bit of time just enjoying the sunshine and my ponies.

I had love, and then I didn't. I've always maintained that nothing in life is worthless, and nothing in life is entirely bad. One of my hopes for the new year is to get myself to the point where I can look back on my time with Cowboy Mechanic and see the things that made it worthwhile first. I'm workin on it.

Grandpa. God I miss that man. But, occasionally, I can still feel his hug, smell his shampoo and feel the bristles of his beard stubble against my cheek. A lot more, I hear him murmur in my ear. He's at peace, now. As a matter of fact I'm pretty sure he's got Grandma in a bikini on a lake somewhere, skiing, or fishing. He missed her for so long, how could I not be happy that they're finally reunited?

I made very little progress on Jane, but I did make progress. I'll get her story told one day.

I don't know if I'm better, or worse than I was last year. I do know that I wouldn't change anything. It's my life, my choices, and they all combine to make me, me. And, I wouldn't want to be anyone else... it'd just be too weird!

Thank you to everyone who reads. I love doing this, and entertaining people, and ya'll make me feel so great when you tell me you enjoy it.

Here's wishing each and every one of you a Happy New Year. As with last year, I'll wish you all more joy than sorrow, more smiles than tears, and more money than debt!

Ya'll have fun tonight, and be safe.

Well, Hell

I had been planning for a group for New Year's. Unfortunately, things aren't working out the way I'd planned.

One guest is snowed in... in Washington state.

One has to work early early the morning of the first, more than an hour from here.

One is on call at her hospital... and she's the one that draws the blood for the drunks. Yeah. She ain't comin, short of by some miracle finding someone to cover for her, or an even bigger miracle, the drunks holding off being stupid until she passes the torch to someone else.

Of my back up, last minute guests (not because they weren't high on my list of people I wanted to see, but because I figured they had their own plans... tried just because I might have been wrong and they're spontaneous kinda folks)

One has to work at gawdawful in the morning on the first, four plus hours from here.

And One hasn't called me back yet.


I really, really want to get all gussied up, and go out and feel purdy for a while, and have fun with friends. I'm gonna be pretty disappointed if I wind up ringing in the New Year with just me myself and I and a bottle of Cuervo.

Small Towns...

Can turn a flu into an unplanned pregnancy,

An argument into a knock down drag out battle,

"Hi" into "I want you I need you I can't live without you,"

And, a heart attack into an epic shootout, complete with illegitimate children and cheesy one liners.

Gotta love the small town rumor mill... always entertaining.

Peace.

There’s a place that I like to go. It’s not a real place, although it started out that way. Years back I spent a week in Yellowstone, camped on Slough Creek, and I fell in love with that place.

It’s peaceful there. Even with dozens of people camped around me, it was peaceful. Birds, chipmunks, deer and bison, and the sound of the water trickling over rounded stones. Elk bugling in the twilight hour, and the scent of pine on the air.

I loved it. I was in Yellowstone with so much to see, so many places to explore, and I spent four days just sitting in my campsite watching the world go by.

I use that memory, when things get bad. I close my eyes, and take a deep breath, and put myself back there, in the opening of my tent. I guess it’s a form of meditation. It’s not exactly a “happy place,” more of a relaxing place. It doesn’t work as well as spending an hour in a pasture surrounded by my horses, but it does buy me time to get there, when everything is going to hell.

And, every once in a while, it just provides a few minutes of peace.

It’s changed. It used to be a straight up memory of the time I spent there. I’d pick a day, or a moment, and just bask in it. Now, when I go there, other things happen. I saw deer, when I was there. A bison crossed the creek and walked by not ten feet from me, as unconcerned as if I’d been a tree stump.

Now, if I think of the evening, I hear the elk, like I did, but I also hear the wolves. I never did hear Yellowstone’s wolves when I was there, although I listened every night. I hear the wolves singing to each other and it doesn’t make me afraid, it makes me feel even more peaceful. I think because that’s the way it should be. The wolves, they belong there. That place belongs to the animals, to nature, far more than it does to man, for all of our building roads and campsites and the thousands of people who go there every year.

With very few exceptions, we leave. The animals are always there. That’s how it should be.

Inside my head I watch a grizzly wander across the meadow across the creek, a cub gamboling around her feet. The sun shines down, the sky is so blue it hurts the eyes to look at it. The trees are a deep, deep green, and the grass is golden and waving in the slightest breeze.

I’m sitting on the ground with my feet in the crystal clear water, resting on a rock polished smooth by unknown decades of flow. My back leans against a fallen tree, bark gone and wood bleached white by the sun. My head tips back and I savor the sensations of the sun warming my body, and the breeze ruffling over my skin, through my hair.

Birds that I don’t know tweet, twitter, and sing in the trees surrounding me, while squirrels and chipmunks chatter back and forth. It smells of life, dirt and growth and animals mingling in my nose. I can’t hear an engine, I don’t smell gasoline, diesel, cleaning products. I can’t see a human being, and I know I won’t, as long as I stay here. I know that people have walked across this creek, crossed the meadow in front of me, but I might as well be the first person ever to see this, for all the impact they’ve left.

I lean back again and let the wild world wash over me, eyes closed. As the sun begins sinking behind the purple mountains, the wolves sing their evening song, lulling me into a deep, peaceful sleep.

I like it here.

Christmas Day

For many, many years, Farmmom and I would go to her sister's house for Christmas Day with that side of the Fam. Farmdad was banned, due to an unfortunate incident with the other sister which involved hypoglycemia, deliberately honey glazed ham, and Farmdad mooing.

Anyway, a couple years ago (I guess it's officially three years ago now) we went up to Aunt L's house for Christmas Day with Grandpa, Aunt L, Aunt M, Uncle D, Aunt P, and the Herd of Cousins, only to be surprised when we arrived.

See, I tended to dread that trip, mostly because the food sucked, but Aunt M would be snarky enough that I'd suffer through two full plates, while she picked at a half a portion of green salad. Aunt M is unfortunate enough to have gotten the other side of the family weight issues. I have to struggle to maintain my weight and keep from losing, and she can't hardly lose at all.

She's also a bitter old harpy. So, she was just as snarky as she could get away with in front of Grandpa, to me and to Farmmom, every year. And, every year, Farmmom would extract a promise from me outside the house to behave myself and not cause waves. So, I ate seconds. And pie. And seconds of pie. It was the only weapon I was allowed....

But, this year, practically as soon as we walked in the door (all the while with me thinking "white its all white I can't touch anything I'll smudge it it's white don't touch....") we realized that something very important had changed.

They had Booze! The aunts and Uncle B, Aunt L's husband, had decided to make it an alcoholic Christmas.

There was apple cider with three different kinds of liqour in it, and Uncle B was in the process of making home made Egg Nog.

I thought... finally! Something to make the day bearable!

Then I realized how heavily they'd been into the Special Grown Up Cider. And decided to sit back and enjoy the show.

Of course they offered myself, and Farmmom, a libation. We politely declined on the grounds that we had a three hour drive home, cops everywhere ya know.

Then they offered some to my sixteen year old cousin... Who was playing Chauffer that day for Grandpa.

She was wise enough to decline.

Bout then the Eggnog was remembered. When Uncle B went to check on it, he discovered that he'd left it on the heat too long... it was about the consistency of oatmeal.

Aunt M insisted on trying it anyway, so in went the rum, and into a glass.

Less than five minutes later she's wandering around with a glass of oatmeal-nog and a spoon, happy as a clam.

That was about it for entertainment, until we got to the table. Aunt L has this long formal dining table... in white marble... so we were fairly spread out. Uncle B got the head of the table, Grandpa got the foot. Uncle B was bracketed by Aunt L and Aunt M.

Somewhere between pass the potatoes and 'scuse my belch, Aunt M leaned over and started extolling the virtues of Salt and Pepper haired men... while running her fingers through her sister's husband's hair. At the dinner table. While murmuring "Oh, so sexy..."

I snorted. I looked at Farmmom, beseaching. She squeezed her eyes shut, wrinked up her forehead, and nodded.

She says that the grin that came over my face at that moment looked like a portal into Snark Hell.

Well, maybe. But after howmany years of having to promise to keep my snark locked behind my teeth (and as a result saying a total of about twelve words in the entire day most times) it was frankly a relief to let it out.

Still, it was a family affair, and Grandpa was there, so I confined myself to a single comment.

"You know, I think that end of the table might just have had a little bit too much of the Christmas Spirits."

Grandpa choked on his mashed potatoes. Farmmom nearly snorted peas.

Aunt M merely looked down her nose at me, wavering as she attempted to decide which one of me to snob at, and said "You can never have too much Christmas Spirit."

Well. So much for one comment.

"There was an S on the end of that for a reason," I said. She couldn't seem to decide whether or not to be offended.

Meanwhile Grandpa stopped even pretending to eat, and Farmmom was preparing to carefully move her plate to one side so that she could perform a headdesk maneuver on the marble table. Probably regretting giving me the go ahead. Grandpa, sitting right next to me, was shaking, and for a moment I wondered if I'd crossed the line.

Then he snorted a bit, trying to hold in laughter, and I knew it was all good.

All in all, I gotta say, the food was better than normal, the company was far more entertaining than usual...

Yeah, it was the best Christmas Day I ever spent at Aunt L's.