Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Half Cocked...

Most of my wrecks have come either around cattle or on horses.  Some were bloody, some were just plain funny, and some just were.
 One normal day the Cowman and I were moving a 100 head of heifers from one pasture to another.  The pasture they were in sat in a small valley between rolling hills and high mountain ridges.  A small dry stream with many deep cut banks traversed the valley.  
The Cowman sent me to bring'm, while he was busy setting the gates.
Heifers can be tough to work, they have a tendency to be flighty, one minute huddled together and the next kicking and running in all directions.  Most days if you take your time, and keep them at an even pace, things work out.
This day wasn't going to be one of those days.  I gathered them up at the far end of the valley and started them toward the gate at the other end.  Everything was going along smoothly when over the rolling hills popped three black helicopter gunships. This happened often enough on that ranch that the Cowman and I were used to them.  In fact, I loved to watch them play hide and seek thru the draws.
File:AH-64 Apache.jpg

  
This day they swooped down the valley fast and low, banked, made another run down the valley, then powered up to go over the high ridges and were gone. I'm pretty darn sure they were laugh'n their heads off on that last pass. Because those wringy heifers had not seen the like before and started stampeding.  There we are: the heifers, the big bay horse and I, all pretty much going full out, when out of a deep cut bank came a large herd of squealing wild pigs.

 The heifers went berserk, what with the gunships having gone over them twice, and now wild pigs shooting out of the ground.  Of course, that big ol bay horse had to join in.  As I'm grabbing leather, for the third time, to stay on the bucking horse, I look up. There off to the side, a horseback, sets the Cowman.  His arms crossed, reins resting on the horn, and I swear to God, giving me the steely eyed look, with one eyebrow cocked and a smirky smile...
 

Monday, September 23, 2013

Back to the 'stan

We've been down this road before, 





but dammit, it's going to be a long seven months...
 

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

No matter where I go it carries me...

Came across a short video that brings so many memories with it. 





(We ran cattle in the summertime a few ranges SW of the ZX in Paisley)

There is much to see:
Sterling, the little buckaroo that reminds me of other little buckaroos...
How Scott, so gently, pushes up the horse halter...
The look in Scott's eyes when he's talking to Sterling in the barn...
The way Scott talks with the sure knowledge that he is where he's supposed to be...
Sterling at 2:55 to 3:03  so many times that speech has been given to moms & grannies...
There are many more tells, your heart will find them if it's been there.   

The imprint of a way of life
no matter where I go it carries me...
 

Sunday, September 15, 2013

All Kitted Up...

With all the comments on perms and wigs, now might be the time to tell The Kit tale...

It started by my getting the bright idea to add a little spice to the Cowman's life.  I know your saying Danger, Danger...  But seriously the man needed it. 

After some extensive research, and a glass of box wine, I found the perfect solution:  The Sweet Potato Queens ReVirgination Kit.  I mean it was Made to Order.  It contained: a killer margarita mix
Knock You Naked Margarita Mix, 4 Pack
 wicked sunglasses with rhinestones, a tiara, and a Red Wig with long flowing locks.
 I could just picture the Cowman's steely eyed look of amazement coming my way.   How could I go wrong with this get up on, right?  Will you stop with the Danger, Danger...

I know the whole thing looses a little of the spice if your wearing a long sleeve shirt, wranglers, chinks, and boots.  But really, that was no reason for my neighbor to roll around on her lawn, splitting a gut laughing, when I showed it to her.  And, to laugh harder when I said I planned on loosing the wranglers and keep the chinks on.  As she kept up with the OMG's and Only You's and Danger, Danger's...  I went off home to fine tune my kit. 
 
The steely eyed Cowman liked that Kit, and I heard thru the ranch vine there was a run on red wigs & RV kits after he mentioned it to some of his friends.  
Danger, Danger...

Saturday, September 14, 2013

Over Done...


Having managed to stay out of trouble for a whole week, it's time for a cigar, a wee dram of scotch, and a recap:

Got really tired of the straight hair look, so I went and got a perm. No, not the little ol lady short hair perm.  Never going there.   It was supposed to be a spiral perm, and look like this (not the girl, the hair):

 








 





Around here things never go quite to plan, so I wasn't too surprised when it turned out to look more like (not the girl, the hair):


 
This perm, if nothing else, has sure added interest to interactions with others.  I went up to my mom and dad's to take care of some things for them.  No sooner did I get in the house and my mom frowned and ask if I wanted to go do something with my hair.  Nope, it's supposed to look like this!  
On the way back to the bunkhouse, I stopped at a boomer deli to pickup a sandwich and a Kilt Lifter.  Kind of makes you feel different when the person your talking to keeps staring at your hairdo.  My dog still likes me though, and will get over that head tilt eventually.

Took my revolver up home with me.  Found that the son of a family friend had recently opened a gunsmith shop.  What a difference from my experience with the ol boys club here.  He was full of helpful info: about classes, instructors, ranges, and guns. So the revolver stayed with him, is being tweaked, and when done will go back to dad. (Dad mentioned that he missed it.) Which means I can get another to replace it.  Everybody wins.

Found a charter bi-plane flying service that will fly up and take dad on his birthday ride.  It's not a Stearman, as there were none in the area.  The guy that owns the Travel-Air gives rides all the time, and is almost as excited to be taking dad on this flight as I am.

We are having a small party, with his golfing cronies, at Dad's house.  Dad doesn't know about the plane ride yet, because to throw him off the scent, I told him I was getting a stripper for his party.  From the look on his face I may have over played my hand...

Thursday, September 5, 2013

This and That

Baling hay can be damn hot work, as you can see in:  
http://brighidsplace.blogspot.com/2013/08/wanted-ocean-view.html 

Here is a picture of the roasted tractor carcass...

The baler was repairable, the tractor, as you can see not so much...

 *****
These are pics my Devil Doc sent me, they have nothing to do with the toasted tractor. 
 He knows how much his granny loves whirly birds...









Here is one my Marines (by other mothers) sent, with a Haboo in coming...


 and here is my Devil Doc grandson...



Wasn't it only yesterday we made the mad dash to Mountain View (his mom was stationed at NAS Moffett) in time for his birth...

Sunday, September 1, 2013

Into the wind...

My dad has had a larger than life influence on meHe is full of it most of the time, and although I resemble my mom, I'm fairly sure I take after him in temperament.


Mom is the quintessential Southern lady. We do not mesh well her & I, never have, never will. Bless her she has certainly tried to make a silk purse out of me. I have not become the daughter she wished and worked so hard for.  Always outside, always wandering, always wondering, always asking why and how, that's me. Sorry mom, I'd rather be riding, on the water, working cattle, fishing a stream, camped under the stars, building or learning a new skillset.

Dad is a kindred spirit.  We like a lot of the same things.  He taught me to question, to validate, to be responsible, to wonder, to hang tough, and to dare...



He's going to be 90 this month. I've been saving up for a while to get him something a little different.  He loves to fly and has piloted a long list of planes from prop jobs thru jets, but it's been a while.  I want to give him a ride around the valley in a Stearman, and have been working to that end. I think it would be a kick for him to fly over the ranches he herded ducks on with the Cub, and his ol hunting grounds.  I hope it will be a memory he can hold close.  And I pray that I have many more years of sending him the nightly e-mail: Good Night Dad, Love You Sis.