Ain’t no time for a cowgirl that always has to go…

Recently I had to travel back home to see my family.  My roots are all the way back in a small town of Oklahoma.  I grew up country, not just your run of the mill one acre yard country. Nope, I lived in a small farm-house with horses, dogs, chickens, pig, goat and sheep.  I have to say I didn’t love my living arrangements, but there is some charm to just being back on the farm.

The first day, my son and I helped my brother-in-law feed the horses.

Then we get to feed the jackass.  No, not the jerk that cuts you off Highway 1 in Princeton, New Jersey or Lincoln Tunnel.  I’m talking about the real jackass, the one you pinned the tail on at birthday parties, but this one of course is alive.

Next, I ran like Phoebe from Friends into the house with my legs and arms swinging because the cold air is burning my nose hairs. Time for breakfast before we haul cows to the stockyards, hmmm, there is bacon, coffee, cereal.  I forgot to mention I have a horrible, rotten, absolutely, ugly stomach. I am on one of those strict diets of fresh fruits, fresh vegetables, nuts and 12 servings of water a day. I sit eating my nuts and drinking my water as I watch my sister and her husband sip on their coffee. I wait till they are not looking and grab a little bitty, tiny, cup of coffee with milk.  Oh mother of yum yums, this coffee is hot, creamy and awesome. I hurry up drink my forbidden coffee and put the cup in the dishwasher before my sister catches me.

Now, I am in the truck with my son, my brother-in-law, a former professional bull rider, and another cowboy I went to school with. This is when a cowboy begins to do what he is famous for, he sings.

We drive down a steep hill. “Hoot-Hoot!” I holler.

“Did ya mean, ‘Hee-haw?’”

“Oops, I forgot.  Hee-haw!”

After a long country drive, our first stop was to a man’s farm who wanted to sell only two cows. The two cowboys get the cattle in the trailer in one attempt.

Then we drive another twenty minutes to the next farm to pick up more cattle. I get adventurous. I get out of the truck and being to snap pictures of my son and I near the cows.  Outside of the truck, I can smell the dropping of the cows, but that does not stop me from taking pictures.

I get chilled so I jump back inside of the truck.  GRRRRRR! My stomach begins to roar.  I try to ignore it. The cowboys are taking much longer this time, because they have to separate the herd of cows some are coming and others are staying.  GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR! Ruuuuuuuuuuuugggggggggggggggg!!!  I hunch over holding my stomach.

“Mom was that you? Did you fart?”

“Noooo, it’s my stomach…Don’t talk. I think I need to go.”

“Seriously?”  He looks at me like I’m an idiot.

GGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Roars my stomach again.

“I can’t hold it.” I jump out of the truck.  The owner of the ranch is standing at the gate.  Holding my irrational stomach, I stumble up to the old man. “Excuse me, Sir. Can I use your bathroom?”

He shakes his head and mumbles something. “Fine, follow me.” He leads me to a garage with guest quarters and small bathroom. He leaves.

I get comfortable in the bathroom but now my stomach just stops. I can’t do anything. I literally put myself together and go back to the truck. Everyone is staring at me. I get in the truck. “I couldn’t do it.”

“What?”

“I couldn’t go. I had to go, but I guess I had performance anxiety. I don’t know.”

“I tell ya what. We’ll head up to the diner. You can use the bathroom there, eat a salad, drink water and then we’ll head out.”

“Sounds good” I reply. Sure enough at the diner, I did my duty. Talk about relief. Everyone was eyeballing me as I walked to the table. Talk about awkward…Then I ate my grilled chicken salad without dressing and drank my two glasses of water. Then we went to the stockyards.  This is where the two cowboys unload the cattle.

Leaving the stockyards and after drinking my required bottle of water, plus two glasses of water at lunch I got to go pee.

“Excuse me, I think I need to go.”

“Again?”

“Yes, but the good news is this time it’s only number one.”

“Fine” my brother-in-law responds. We pull off at a small gas station. I use the lady’s room and purchase two bottles of water. I pop back into the truck. We begin heading down the highway.  The problem is Interstate 40 in Oklahoma is bumpy, I mean real bumpy like you are driving with a flat tire, yet we didn’t the road is just bad. After about five minutes of bouncing in the truck, I have to go to the bathroom again.

“Can we stop again?”

“Whatcha need?”

“I think I need to go.”

“Talk about high maintenance. How about I call your sister to pick ya up at the next ranch? At the rate we’re going we’ll never get the next load of cattle delivered today.”

Sure enough, my short-lived experience as a cattle hauler ended.  That’s ok. I enjoyed my time laughing and hauling cattle but there just ain’t no time for a cowgirl that always has to go.

(P.S. I know ain’t, ain’t a word but if you ever want to use it you are welcome to in Oklahoma. Hee-haw!)

Daddy is a seismographer

It was black Friday, Vern and her father drove to the King of Prussia mall in Prussia, Pennsylvania. After making the way around the first floor of the mall, the two had lunch. Vern’s father was tired of shopping. “Vern, can we go home now?”

“Daddy, this is the best shopping day of the year.  I’m not finished.”

“What’s all this stuff you’re buying?”

“Things”

“What kind of things?”

“Just some things.”

“Sweetheart, who are you buying that stuff for?”

“Fine daddy, all this stuff is for me. I’m going around buying things for me. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Well, yeah, I kind of do. My feet feel like I’ve been in a twelve-mile road march with a ruck sack. I want to go home, take off my pants, drink a beer and watch television.”

“Daddy, I always take care of you. After everything happened, I stopped taking care of me. I am ready to start treating myself. This day is mine, so you can sit over here on this bench. It has a great view of the first floor and second floor.  I only need to go in one more store.”

“Ok, ok, I get it.” Vern’s father sat on the cross walk on the wooden bench. “Hurry up, I’ll wait right here.”

“Fine, don’t get adventurous, just stay there.”

“With feet like mine, I’m not going anywhere.”

Vern walked off in the direction of the nearest department store. Daddy sat on the bench playing a shooting game on his cell phone. He started getting agitated, because whenever someone walked in front of him the floor would shake. The shaking was strong enough to lose aim and cause him to lose the game. He kept attempting to play the game over and over again, but the vibrations were getting worse with the growing crowds. Frustrated he stopped playing the game.  Searching on his phone, he found an application called seismograph. He wondered for a moment if he could actually measure the vibrations of the floor of the people walking by.  He downloaded the application and began to use it.

Vern,toting two large shopping bags, walked towards her father. She could see her father was up to no good.  He was sitting on the same bench, but when large groups of people would walk by, he would start chuckling while looking at his phone.

“Daddy, what in good nations are you doing?”

“Nothing”

“Let me rephrase that; what are you doing with your phone?”

“I’m using my seismograph when people walking by. Watch, it’s funny.”

“Daddy, that’s so rude! Put that thing away. People are going to think you’re making fun of them.”

“I kind of am.”

“Daddy, you cannot go around measuring the vibrations created by people.”

“Who said?”

“I do. Seismographs are to measure seismic waves of earthquakes. You’re being rude.”

“But it’s not fair to me when people stomping, running and giggling by are messing up my video game. I lost a lot of points here.”

“Fine, old man let’s go home.”

“I’ll go home, but I’m not an old man. I’m a warrior.”

“Really, I think today you are more a seismographer than a warrior.”

Cookie dough

“Whatcha doing?”

“I’m making cookies.”

“No, whatcha eating?”

“Cookie dough”

“That’s not good.”

“Yes, it’s real good. I made it.”

“No, I mean eating raw eggs is not good.”

“So, who said I’m eating raw eggs?”

“Well, does your recipe call for eggs?”

“No, that’s stupid. My recipe doesn’t talk.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Stop talking and hand me the spoon over there.”

“Why?”

“Because I need it”

“But all the cookies are now in the oven now.”

“So, I want the spoon to eat the dough.”

“No”

“Yes, give me the darn spoon!”

“No, I’m not going to let you eat more raw eggs.”

“I told you. I’m not eating raw eggs. I’m eating cookie dough!”

Shirt and vest combo

“Whatcha doing?”

“I’m watching people.”

“Do what?”

“I’m watching people watch you.”

“What?”

“Yeah, wait a minute.  Stand here by the canned soups. Act like you’re looking for something.”

“Why?”

“Shhh!”

Thirty seconds later

“Look, look now.”

“That man was staring at me.”

“I know, hysterical. Right?”

“No, why are people staring at me?”

“I think it’s what you’re wearing.”

“Is there something on me?”

“Yeah, your vest”

“My vest? What’s wrong with my vest?”

“Well, it’s puffy and it has that pony and bull on it.”

“Yeah, that’s what makes it cool.”

“If you say so.  Did you see that girl?”

“Was she looking too?”

“Sure was.  I think it could be your shirt too.”

“First it was my vest, now you say it’s my shirt.  What’s wrong with my shirt?”

“It kind of looks like a pirate shirt, in plaid.”

“So the sleeves are a little puffy. I like it.”

“Where did you get it?”

“I made it.”

“Yep, it’s the pirate shirt and cowboy-bull vest combo; it makes for a good laugh.”

Green juice

“Neilson, come eat your toast and drink your juice.”

Neilson sat down at the table.  Then he began to yell, “Mommy!  Mommy!”

“Neilson, I’m busy doing the laundry.  Eat your breakfast.”

“But mommy! Come here!”

“Neilson, what’s wrong?”

“Somebody pooped in my juice!”

“No one pooped in your juice.”

“Ah-uh look.  It’s green with stuff in it.”

Neilson’s mom chuckled.  She went over to the table. “That’s not poop. We didn’t have any orange juice so I gave you some of my broccoli, spinach, pineapple, mango juice. You’ll like it.”

“That’s ok mommy.  I’ll have water.”

Biscotti

“Watch ya doing?”

“Nothing”

“Really? It looks like your eating something.”

“Just a small snack with my coffee.”

“Aren’t you on a diet?”

“Kind of; the doctor just said to stay away from white flour.”

“What’s that?”

“A biscotti”

“Really, should you be having that?”

“It’s chocolate; only 100 calories.”

“It’s made from white flour, right?”

“No! I said it’s chocolate.  What part of chocolate do you not understand?”

The Newspaper Theft

When Vern pulled up to the house her father was standing at the doorway. She gathered the box of donuts, coffee and juice and hurried through the door so the rain would not soak her or the groceries.

“Give it to me.”

“Give me a sec. Here take these while I put the juice up.”

“Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“My blasted paper!”

“They ran out because of the hurricane they said they won’t be getting anymore.”

“Then go somewhere else.”

“Are you kidding me?  It is raining and flooding all around, yet you want me to risk my life for a newspaper.  How about you use the internet to read the news like everyone else in this century?”

“Take it from your neighbor.”

“No!”

“Why? You don’t even like her.”

“So, that doesn’t give me the right to steal her newspaper.”

“Yes, yes it does.  Look here.  This is an opportunity.  She will never know it was you. She’ll think the rain washed it away, plus she deserves it.”

“Grow up, here’s your coffee. Now go watch TV or use the computer.”

“No, I’m a war veteran.  I deserve that newspaper and you are going to get it.”

“If you want it so bad, then you go. I’ll blame it on insanity.”

“I just might.”  He put on his robe and boots.  Standing at the doorway he said, “Remember how she told you she didn’t want you to ever talk to her?”  Then he cleared his throat. “Remember how her friends parked on your flowerbeds last weekend?”

“Damn it! Fine I’ll take the freakn paper, but I’m not doing it for you.  It is revenge for my flowers.”

Humorous things people say in a fabric stores

I took my best friend fabric shopping. She is not a seamstress, nor has she ever bought fabric before. I explain to her how I am looking for fabric to make a blouse for this blog. I realize she is very unfamiliar with purchasing sewing items, so I verbally explain myself as I walk around the store. To my amazement some very humorous statements, puns and words fell from my lips like:
1. I need filling for my cock ( fluffy stuff to put in the fabric chicken I made in earlier post)
2. I need binding
3. Hold the bolt (bolt of fabric)
4. Grab the needles
6. Can I make pants with liquid thread?
If I make pants with glue what do you call it when the seam comes apart? A rip, tear, or non-adhesive
7. Small needles keep your stitches tight and small
8. Get the interfacing
9. She needs to measure it with a yardstick
10. This fabric is so pretty. What could I use it for?