Ole Betsy, a '79 Grand Prix, had personality. She loved playing games. Her favorite ones included Possum and Freeze tag. She played these games often, which necessitated my carrying clothes pins at all times so that I could tickle her butterfly to get her started. The fun we had did not last. I tired of the same old routine, day in and day out. Ashamedly, I let my eyes wander into greener pastures.

    Suddenly struck with the desire for something new and exciting, I strayed from home in search of something that would fuel my desires, which led me to Spur, an '88 Ford Bronco II. What a catch; sexy, sleek, classy, and full of surprises.

    Then several days into our blossoming romance, speeding down the highway with the wind to our backs, without any warning whatsoever, Spur halted in mid-stride. I was at a loss. How could she do this to me? She was to be my savior. I looked her over from top to bottom, but to no avail. A foot, I walked to the nearest home, this was before the days of cell phones, and asked for assistance. The dealership, sent a posse to the rescue, and what we discovered was that her fuse was overloaded.

    However, that was not to be the last of our troubles. Just days later, I was stranded again. Cruising down the expressway, Spur stopped dead in her tracks. Lucky for me, we were going down hill, so I was able to guide her into the median. Dejectedly, I left Spur grazing in the median as I trudged to a retail outlet, where once again I summoned assistance.

    As I sat in the blazing Texas sun waiting for my cowboy on the white horse, I had to wonder, was it worth it? Seven new cars later, I realize at last that all cars are alike. They may be more luxurious, but they have problems all the same.

    Two husbands later, I realize the same thing about men. They may come in different shapes and sizes, but they all need fixing. The thing is you have to decide what you can live with and what you can't live without, then split the difference, and get on with living.

Creatures

    Living in the country brings all sorts of wildlife right to the front door. Some are warmly appreciated and others are unwelcome guests. Skunks, snakes, coyotes, and armadillos are some of the more unwelcome guests that we receive often. However, just a week ago, while my daughter and I were cleaning out our cars to prepare for a mini-vacation, a baby armadillo dropped in for a visit. My first instinct when my daughter shouted, "there's an armadillo in our yard" was to call for my husband to come kill the darn thing. These pesky visitors have been boring holes in our yard all summer and with no rain, our yard looks like we had our own personal meteor shower.

    But on closer inspection, I realized it was just a baby. In my eyes, at that moment, it was absolutely adorable. So, we just let it be. It meandered around the yard gaining what sustenance it could find, and my lazy cats just looked at it as if to say, "oh, you again." I began to call it "Baby Dillo", and as I continued my chores I kept an eye on it. Baby Dillo, walked along the porch among the cats and moved between the back and front yards. My daughter, delighted by his antics, wanted to touch him. She said it felt sort of soft and leathery. Eventually, she asked if we could keep him. Now, I do have a menagerie of animals: dove, chickens, cats, dog, etc... But an armadillo, I had to say no on that one. But, I did offer to relocate him to a more suitable habitat. Which later that evening my husband and I did as promised. As we released him, I said a little prayer that the good Lord would keep him safe, and thanked him for showing me that sometimes an unwelcome visitor can be a blessing.

    As luck would have it, that very same evening, we had another encounter with one of God's creatures.  We were walking back from tending the chickens when I noticed a baby bird hunched down in the grass just inches from our back porch. As I said we have cats. Four adults and three kittens. Not exactly a safe haven for baby birds to learn to fly. I pointed him out to my husband, Paul, but before he could scoop the tiny thing into a can, the one the chicken feed had been in, Zoro, the same lazy cat that didn't even blink when the armadillo walked by, pounced on that poor little bird. I screamed, the bird screeched, and the cat ran away with the bird. Now for Paul, that was that. Not me. I had just saved one baby today, and I was on a roll. I cried for my husband to help the bird, its cries were just too much to bear. Finally, he caught up with the cat that had retreated with her new play thing under a bench, and swatted the cat on the mouth until he finally released the bird. Paul scooped the frightened thing into the can at last and released it on top of the chicken coop. I worried that the cats would find it, but it is still there today-having learned its lesson, it now practices flying with all its siblings to and from the tree to the coop.

    At the end of the day, I thanked God again for all his wonderful creations and for letting me have an active part in nature, at least for today.

Ramblings

    Image is everything. At least that is what they say. I'd like to think that when I am spoken of, that what is said is not that I dress in the latest fashions (because really I don't. I am still a blue jeans girl even at 43, and I really have to look at magazine pictures to gain a sense of style), or that my house is always in order, or that I always look so put together. Well, I guess on further reflection I do not have to worry about any of those things. I am just me. I wear what I like; if I feel like wearing make-up I will, but otherwise I am just a run of the mill country girl. I guess what I am saying is that I hope I'm not judged for not being any of those things.

    Women today really seem obsessed with appearances. How much they weigh, the color of their hair, the clothes they wear, the purses they carry, the jewelry, etc... Of all of these I do worry about my weight and hair. I am not overweight, but growing up a skinny girl and remaining such until after the birth of my two children, I have struggled with my image in that regard through the years. I am a healthy eater, we eat all sorts of fresh veggies from our very own garden and we do not over indulge, but lack of exercise has been an issue.

    We live 60 miles from the nearest city, so there are no health clubs. I have exercised regularly over the years, but there are times when I make excuses to avoid it. Honestly, I love the time alone exercising, and in the summer months it is really a non-issue. I wake up early, hit the road on my bike or walk or jog, and just enjoy being outside. Once school starts, I must move indoors, because exercise time moves to the afternoon and in the months of Aug-early October unless I want to die of heat stroke there really is no other option. Exercising in the home has its draw backs when you have children of any age who want to talk to you about their day or want help with their homework, or where is the shirt I need or did you wash my uniform? So, I have had to set some serious ground rules, leave mom alone for one hour, then I am yours. It works. Sometimes.

    Today, as I was out riding my bike, I began to wonder just what it is about women that make us so vain. Men seem content with the aging process. Oh, some might hint that they need to shed a few pounds, but very few men, at least the ones I know, really do anything about it. Why can't we wake up in the morning and look in the mirror and say good morning beautiful, I love you? I do not have a negative self concept. I like me. I know that I am a good friend, mother, sister, wife, co-worker, employee, but wouldn't I be even better a few pounds lighter. I know I am not alone. Just look at all the ads on TV about diets and dieting. Through all my trials and tribulations I have discovered the secret. Expend more energy than the calories you consume. Now someone pay me a million dollars and put me on David Letterman.

Time

7/31/08

    It is hard to believe that just seventeen years ago, I was awaiting the arrival of my first born, my daughter Tara. She has filled my life with joy everyday since. I know all mom's brag on their children and think that their kids are the greatest, and they are right. Each and every life is a miracle, and watching our children bloom is the greatest joy in life. I wrote the following just days after she was born.

8/15/91

    For months I could feel you growing and moving inside me. I longed to touch your face with my kisses, and to tickle your little toes. I dreamed of holding you in my arms and telling you stories of princesses and fairies, and singing you to sleep. Oh little one I love you more than life itself. Tara Marie, I wept the minute you were born. I was so bewildered that you a perfect little life grew inside me. I am so proud of you, you are the most perfect little girl. No matter what life brings I will always love you. You'll always be my special angel. You have a precious smile, a pretty button nose, almond eyes, and the most fantastic head of brown hair. 

    I pray that I will always be able to give you what you need to become a fine christian girl. I want to teach you of love, honor, and goodness. I want to help you grow to become a beautiful lady.

7/31/08

    Well, I guess I did something right after all. Tara is a beautiful young woman inside and out. She puts her heart and soul into all her endeavors. And like her mom, she is a perfectionist. Just this past weekend she participated in a pageant in Dallas, her first. It was a great learning experience. This pageant does not have a talent or swimsuit competition. Instead it is based on  poise and confidence.

    The contestants must introduce themselves on stage, stating their name, amibition, and anything interesting about themselves in no more than three sentences. When Tara stepped up to the microphone she spoke with such clarity and had the most beautiful smile. After she left the stage she came to find me. She was so upset. She had planned exactly what she wanted to say, but when she introduced herself, she did not say all that she had planned and she was in tears. I hugged her close and reassured her that she and I were the only ones who knew that, but she heard the introductions of the others and was concerned that she did not quite measure up.  

    Next, the contestants are escorted on stage in formal wear. Paul was her escort and together they were absolutely wonderful. She is a beauty, if I do say so myself.

    Finally, they must complete interviews with each individual judge. Most of the girls competing were seasoned contestants and have been competing for years. A few, like Tara were new to the whole thing. Tara felt that her interviews went quite well and she was pleased with the judges reactions to her responses.

    All in all, there were about 150 girls competing for 5 top spots. Needless to say, she did not make the top five, but she walked away with a confidence that no amount of money can buy. There were girls of all shapes and sizes. Some real beauty queens, others more natural and down to earth. The emphasis in this competition was not on beauty, and that was refreshing. Tara was absolutely gorgeous in her dress, she was poised and confident, and it brought tears to my eyes to see just how strong she is. To put yourself in a position to be judged and walk away with a smile on your face when you don't win is a sign of true character.

    She will turn 17 in two days, and I am at a loss for words. Where has all the time gone? My baby is now a strong, confident, and beautiful lady. However, she will always be my baby girl.

 Education

Pets

    I read my friend Barb's blog today and her entry about pets really got to me. My father is a veterinarian and throughout my life I have loved and lost many pets. Each one was so near and dear to my heart that I thought it would break with each passing. First my yellow cat Bootsy, who would let me dress her in doll clothes and push her in a baby doll carriage, then my dogs Machient and Tinkerbelle, followed by my three legged calf, and numerous other cats and dogs.

    I shed the last of my tears when my precious Cinnamon, a Lapso Apso, died due to our carelessness. When I divorced my first husband, I took custody of the pets, two grey cats and Cinnamon, along with our children.  The cats had a hard time adapting to their new country life, as cats do not like moving. They would roam and wander and sometimes stay gone for days or weeks at a time. But Cinnamon we kept on an extended leash when we were not outside playing with her. She did not like being cooped up in the house, and we could not let her wander freely, because she never had a good sense of direction, and would not come home. We were always on the road looking for her.

    One Sunday, after we had a great day visiting with family and rejoicing in Cinnamon's antics we neglected to secure the clip on her leash. The following morning we could not find her anywhere. We called our neighbors, but to no avail. As we were leaving to take my son to the doctor, I noticed buzzards circling in the field across the road. I knew in my heart it was my first baby. My first husband and I had adopted her early in our marriage before kids, when she was but six weeks old. Now, I knew that fate had finally caught up with her. My husband Paul walked into the field and confirmed that yes it was her. My heart broke. I had failed her. She was thirteen and I let her down. I will remember that moment for the rest of my life. We buried her and held our ritual ceremony of prayers and thanks and marked her grave with a homemade cross.

    Our cats, which had been missing came home and I kid you not held their own memorial. They clamored on top of her dog house and cried. It was the saddest sound I have ever heard. When we brought them home at six weeks of age, Cinnamon adopted them. They even nursed on her, although she had no milk. I guess it was just the nurturing they needed. Once when we still lived in Lago, they all ran away together. Cinnamon the instigator no doubt. The kids and I circled the neighborhood, which is unlike any other neighborhood. At that time, our home was surrounded by empty lots. Several blocks away we found all three in the backyard of an old man's home. He said it was the darndest thing he had ever seen, the three of them walking up together. Now the only familiar family the cats had was gone. Shortly after, both cats disappeared never to be seen again.

    Since that day we have lost numerous cats to the elements of our country life. Coyotes, I fear. My heart has become hardened. I love my pets, but distantly. I have a new dog, Humdiah, an American Bulldog, but I just can't give my whole heart anymore. It wasn't a conscious decision on my part; I guess it is just a form of self-preservation.