Once Upon a Time...

Today I'm sad for all the 'once-upon-a-time' dreamers who forgot who they really are. They laid down what they wanted and they picked up what they thought they needed.

The girl who found Mr. Right Now and turned him into Mr. Good Enough. They got married because that's what they were suppose to do. An illegitimate child might be the worst thing that could happen in such a small town so they rushed the nuptials. She was happy for the moment. It could've been the hormones. Staying home all day couldn't be that bad but cleaning crayon marks off of the walls is a far cry from her wild ambitions she once clung to so defiantly. The late nights wrinkled her face, the dishes and laundry wrinkled her hands and the weight of losing herself wrinkled her heart.

The boy who had a few too many drinks and didn't get to make a decision when he found out his mistake a few months too late. Her daddy sat him down and he thought for the first time he was a man, and he tried, but he wasn't. Working midnights was a lot harder than running amuck at midnight and it wasn't any more gratifying. His friends didn't waste any time finding new adventures when their old pal hit the end of his chain. Everybody finds their time to settle down, to live a life worth living. That's what they say anyway. He needed to shed it, it was time to grow up, but rushing things never quieted his restless soul.

When asked, they'll reply. "I didn't lose my dreams, they just changed," and then they'll add with a tired smile, "for the better."

They've had a lot of time between sitting at a steel press sometime around last call and praying that the crying will stop long enough to take a bath to come up with appeasing answers to the trivial questions of childless, unwed commoners.

If it's your dream then you should chase it and have pride. Congratulations on your life well spent.

If you've had to change it to fit your circumstances then it's not a dream, its a prison sentence.

Today I'm sad for the 'once-upon-a-time' dreamers.

National Day of the Cowboy

Lazy or fun??

I'm an hour late for the "National Day of the Cowboy," but it only seems fitting that I was at a ranch bronc riding.

I'd like to thank all the cowboys that have let me in. Some of y'all have welcomed me into your inner circle and for that I am forever grateful. I've lived a life so far that is better than any book and wilder than any imagination.

Thanks to all the old cowboys who have shown me the ropes and taught me how to act right; that ever so important cowboy etiquette. Thanks for being patient and explaining yourself more than once and thanks for making me do things on my own.

Thanks to the young cowboys, a little less patient but wise enough to look up to. Thanks for yelling at me when we were in a rush and I didn't know which way to go; you gave me a hole to fill and it made me feel important. Thanks for cussing me when I missed a yearling that we really needed to catch; you were kind enough to give me a chance. Sometimes I got upset but I sure learned fast when I was threatened with a chapping, y'all never followed through but I always took it to heart.

Thanks to the cowboys with good reputations who talked their bosses into letting me help. I don't know what kind of strings you had to pull but I will always remember cashing my first check for day work. That is the most honest $100 I've ever made. Thanks for trotting through all of your country with me and telling me the names of every pasture; I've tried to remember every one.

Thanks to the cowboys who let me shoe your horses, if I can't be horseback with you I'm thankful I get to help you do your job. Thanks for trusting me with your livelihood and thanks for paying me your hard earned money.

Thanks to the cowboys who didn't laugh at me when I wanted to do cowboy stuff but who helped me instead.

Thanks especially to the cowboys who call me a cowboy, there is no bigger compliment.

Our country is...I can't continue without being deported...

Other countries, take note. If you make these, I will come.

I have a game I like to play, I refer to it as 'Attempting To Find Hope In Humanity.' I peruse Facebook until I find an over-shared post that is completely irrelevant or blatantly false and I scroll through the comments until I find someone that fell off into a Brittani approved rant about how wrong everyone is. Then I slow clap for the seemingly last shred of intelligence left on planet earth and I often click on the person's name and find out some basic information about said genius.

I've arrived at a fairly accurate estimate that 99% of these scholars are of foreign origin.

*gasp* Foreigners? If you're half as narrow minded as I am
(someone else's words, not mine) then you would also believe that all foreigners wear butt flaps and live in thatched roof huts on stilts. I'm under the impression that most of them die from childhood malaria and raids amongst feuding tribes.

Yet, some how, there are some greats minds that rise from the depths of disparity and horrors of oppression to become intellectual, well spoken individuals with an alarmingly natural bit of common sense and more understanding of the English language than a country that has been solely English speaking since, ever. (I'm talking Christopher Columbus, not Indians, just to be clear and not racist, God forbid.)

Why did I even notice that the people I was impressed by were Australians, Zimbabweans, South Africans and New Zealanders? Because American's are too far immersed in a deep, dark, bottomless hole of ignorance. Some people are still interested in world leadership, the current state of affairs and whether or not we are all going to die like turkeys in the rain because we are too damn stupid.

Twerking, text message lingo, race wars, Obama, twelve year olds dressing like prostitutes, pop music, people bashing hunters and ranchers, PETA, and for the love of all things holy, POLITICAL CORRECTNESS. I want to continue but I'm just irritating myself.     

I'll wrap this up before I have to climb into my straight jacket for the evening. Can't we just start caring about the things that matter? We're not number one anymore. We're not even number two. If we aren't already a joke to the world then we're on our way.

If some other country could start breeding cowpunchers that would be great because it's the only thing holding me down.

Australia, get that done please.

Today it won't stop raining...

She couldn't find a cup that was clean, the dishes have piled up for days.
So instead she took the whole bottle, there's errors in her ways.
The rain has finally done it, when it comes it really pours.
So she'll tip back that dark bottle and she'll dream of something more.

It's a warm rain this time of year, there's plenty she's lived through.
She knows because its fallen on her and she keeps coming back to you.
Throughout the years and the promises made she's never found something worth keeping.
It might be her mindset or the way that she lives that keeps her drowning in the deep end.

She'll open her eyes today or a day soon and she'll see all that she's been missing.
It's you that she's had every step of the way through all the tears and all the wishing,
and the rain will wash her memory clean like it has a habit of doing,
and all of those others that have knocked at her door won't be worth pursuing.

One day she'll look back on the path that she's chosen and she won't have any regrets.
She traveled too far and she was gone for too long but she paid off all of her debts.
That woman will reflect and she'll remember her days spent in the pouring rain,
she'll never forget your hand and how one kiss could erase decades of pain.

Her bottle is empty, the rain hasn't stopped coming, today she made up her mind.
It's you that she's wanted, your skin and your words and she knows it's not just the wine.
For too long she's faltered, but not anymore, she's only shared a dance and a goodbye,
Everyone wishes, but few get to know, she's learning how it feels to fly.

Rodeo man...

Photo Credit; Scott Slusher Photography

Hey handsome man, don't you ever get tired of the road? I'll bet it's easy to forget when you pick up a check. I'll bet it's easy to forget when you spur a good one. I'll bet it's easy to forget when you're tipping back that little can you like so well. There'll be times you're not drinking, but you wish you were. You'll see the morning sun burning the fog off the next town on your journey and you'll feel the fog you've put yourself in being replaced with aches; your body, your mind, your heart. How does it feel now?

Hey handsome man, do you think you'll stay young forever? Those dance hall girls and rodeo fans won't be at the next town. Those same distractions won't be there next year, but you'll be. They'll forget you like you forgot them, but there will always be more. Always young, still as pretty as the one you left at the last arena, and when you're dancing and laughing she'll be smiling like she'll stay forever. Forever is just closing time and it's already last call. How does it feel now?

Hey handsome man, do you like being lonely? Those that watch you think you handle it well. Your smile is beautiful and your name is written on so many big checks; it's always felt good when they cheer for you. They call you 'champion' everywhere you go. Lonely are those that blaze their own trail and you're setting the world on fire. You surround yourself with fellas that share the same thoughts, but, surprisingly, you never talk about how tight your chest feels and how often your mind wanders to someone you walked away from one night. How does it feel now?

Hey handsome man, isn't it time you find someone that can keep up with you? You found her once and you let her go. How does it feel now?

Lost earrings, lost hearts...

She lost her favorite earring,
The drinks made her memory dim,
That night she also lost herself,
She lost herself with him.

He has his reservations,
But he's a little past his prime,
He's done more wrong than he's done right,
But I guess that's just his kind.

It's something all cowboys have,
He'll never lose his outlaw heart,
It's not the best thing about him,
But it's the biggest part.

Despite his ways, he shows her love,
And when he drinks he wants to fight,
He never knew how to say it though,
So he often wastes the night.

He'll never know what happy means,
He married off before it was too late,
He might've had the chance one day,
But time just wouldn't wait.

She'll speak her mind to him,
Over a bottle of something strong,
He really had it coming,
But regardless, it was wrong.

She stays awake all night sometimes,
She remembers how he smelled,
Among all the others she's held before,
He was the best she had felt.

They had let each other go,
For reasons that were lost over tears,
The feelings were real, the time wasn't right,
The healing has taken years.

One day he'll find that earring,
Dropped beneath his bed,
It's not from the one he married,
But from the one he loved instead.

I can't let it go...

I'm kind of stressed. Kind of. A lot. I'm majorly stressed. Besides hormones (I'm still a woman) here are some reasons. I'll start off lighting the kindling on fire.

• I washed my truck this morning then remembered I had to drive down thousands of miles of dirt roads to shoe horses. I drove so slow everywhere I went that I didn't get all of my work done. Truck is still trashed. Schedule is still booked.

• They raised the limit on my credit card without asking me first. That was pretty sly Capital One and I'll have you know I took huge advantage of it. Slap on the wrist, do better next month. Just kidding. 27% APR ho.

• Don't have your horse shod for two years, alert me to how much of an emergency it is and then question why my work looks like the contents of a portable John. Do it yourself next time champ, and get your own tools. PS: your horse is a dick.

• My bronc riding idol is at a rodeo I was suppose to attend tonight. He's also engaged, or serious, or something. Failure on so many levels I'm going to induce a wine coma.

• 90% (I'm being lenient) of the folks I associate with are pathetically under educated, overly liberal and less than critical of the things that actually matter. Is common sense still a word? Didn't think so.

• Baltimore. No explanation needed. I'm going to do it anyway though. If you're throwing rocks, chanting, intimidating anyone in any fashion or threatening police officers you are welcome to come to my home. We can sit down and have a little chat about your misconduct. When we conclude our meeting I'll make sure to have a hole dug to drop you into and plenty of dirt to cover you up with. Normal folks are done wasting their time with your trashy ass.  

• Anyone who supports the Baltimore riots or calls cops 'Pigs'; go to Hell. You're worthless too. Take your parents with you, they did a horrible job.

• The Facebook challenge where mindless bodies lacking even peanut sized brains stomp on the American flag. Just leave. Go somewhere fun like Iraq or Nepal. I don't think there's many American flags there for you to defile. Read a book, have a little pride, learn some respect before real citizens choke you in the streets.

Now we have a full blown forest fire. I'm thankful for the very remote location that I live and the numbing effects of booze or else I may be writing this from death row.