objects on the side of the road and Roy's kolaches...

The stretch of I-35 between here and Waxachachie might be mostly empty pastures and outlet malls, but I still find it oddly beautiful at times. Then again, I'm a 6th generation native Texan and I cut my state a lot of slack in the beauty department. Of course Larry McMurtry, also a native of the state, calls I-35 the ugliest interstate in the whole wide world. Maybe he missed a few things, maybe he's not looking as closely as he could, maybe he didn't see Bruco?

Bruco is a giant caterpillar made of geodesic domes. Bruco is where all the magic happens at the Monolithic Dome Research Center in downtown Italy, Texas. Just turn left at the Alien Space Ship restaurant, which is still for rent if anyone is interested, and you will find a little road that leads you right up to the dome home community.

I stopped in there for a bit on Monday morning. There is a sweet little network of little dome homes with carports and Christmas lights and fenced yards. Some were all fancied up with special facades for a Spanish or cape code style dome, others were just little round houses. The President's house looks like an Italian Villa that is made out of domes. It actually works pretty well. The domes will be one of the stops on the Roadside Texas series tour. I'm excited.

On down the road, I stopped in West for Kolaches. My neighbors always take care of the dogs and cats when I'm out and they love the cream cheese kolaches. I picked up a half dozen cream cheese Kolaches for my neighbors and a warm poppyseed Kolache to go.

When I arrived in Austin, I unloaded the car, let the dogs in and I guess I was just road weary and I let my guard down. I left my stuff in a pile the couch and just started puttering a bit. I knew something was up when Roy Bean was looking really happy and Cowgirl was looking really guilty. Cowgirl often gets guilt transference. If something "bad" happens, she takes it on, she feels it, she puts herself in the scapegoat role, though I tell her all the time that she's a damn good dog.

The box of Kolaches had a tear in one side, a tear just the shape of Roy Bean's smile. With Roy, now happy and bouncing around the house, and Cowgirl, almost collapsing in guilt, I picked up the box and looked inside. There was one damp blueberry cream cheesekolache left that Roy couldn't get to in time. Roy was sent outside. Cowgirl got a bit of the last kolache and Keni, who didn't really know what happened, got a dog biscuit. All was well again, and the neighbors understood, of course.

Last night, I was taken out for dinner. Just down the street from the restaurant is a house full of lights, and lighted objects, and animated Christmas toys, including a tiny Santa Claus that climbs up and down a ladder to hang Christmas lights. When the home owner told me to "get on up there and push some buttons and make them all dance and move and all", I took him up on it. The man's heart is all over the yard, meticulous and fun and colorful, silly and somehow electrically stable.

A good day, a good night and not just for Roy Bean.

Monday

Feeling good. Lots of things happening that are fun and interesting in the film world and otherwise. Let's just say that October has been very good and November looks even better.

There's a point each fall in Texas when the weather changes, just enough of a shift so it feels different. We used to call it football weather, but what we meant was that things just felt different, a new season was coming in. That's how I can best describe what's going on in my life, too. I feel light of foot, happy and right on track. Let me just say that giving up on the impossible gives one a lot of new energy bringing some new inspirations and some new friends.

wedding and friends

Last weekend I was in fort worth for the wedding of my high school friend, Katherine. In high school, Katherine was the majorette. Brave girl, she twirled batons of fire!

My friend Lori was the heartbreaker, the boys loved her. She had excellent fashion sense, which is saying quite a lot for someone who came of age in the 80's.

I was in drill team, and in theatre and sort of juggled my way between various "groups". You could do that in small towns, no one really got stuck in a crowd for long. It did seem that people focused more on the fact that I was on the drill team, the Keller Indianettes, and that we were known for routines with over 100 high kicks that would send our little white boots flying across the football field at half time, than that I went to state prose reading. That's just Texas.

Kathy, Lori and I were like the three musketeers, we hung out every weekend, talked on the phone till all hours, passed notes, the usual stuff.

We also took ourselves and our friends out to Crazy Man's bridge and scared ourselves silly. Crazy Man's bridge was out in the middle of a field, it was hard to get to, and, of course very dangerous. The myth involved a bridge, a tractor, a young couple and a crazy old man and his wife. We'd drive out to the bridge until we saw or heard just about anything, headlights, a car horn, something in the bushes, a tree shaking in the wind, and we'd high tail it out of there as fast as we could.

That was how we went crazy in Keller, Texas back then. That and hanging out at the creek sipping from the occasional Tequila bottle someone got from their parent's stash. We had tequila with the worm in the bottom of the bottle, no one drank much,
at least the girls didn't drink much. Some of the guys tipped cows. Some of the crazier boys did chicken races and at least in my time there, no one got hurt.

Of our threesome, I was first to get married and had a baby super young. Lorie was married for many years before she had her first child, about the time my daughter was about to start high school. Katherine met her husband about a year ago and decided it was time to take the plunge. (I should clarify that I plunged in and swam back out and haven't plunged since, not that I won't, I just haven't.)


The wedding was like most weddings, it was beautiful, there were wonderful flowers and excellent cakes. Most of us looked puzzled when the preacher read about women submitting to the their husband, but, to each their own, I guess. (Maybe he read the wrong page?)

Best of all, I got to see my old friend, Steve and his partner, Ted. Steve was part of our gang, too. He was like family. He was the guy who'd go anywhere with us, who really listened to us, and who took part in some of our best adventures. He helped me release a bunch of dogs from the dog pound truck at the Keller Fair one year. He also led the group who rescued a friend's clothes from her house when her parents went crazy and refused to let her in the house or let her come and pick up her stuff. We waited until the crazy parents were out one night, then we waited until it was pitch dark and we broke in and got all her stuff before they got home. Exciting times!


Old friends remind you that you've always had someone there beside you, pushing you along, leading you into adventures and sharing some crazy times with you. It's pretty wonderful that seeing them again after many years, you can just pick up where you left off, feel that feeling of trust you had for them back when you braved Crazy Mans bridge and the comfort that gave you after your first broken heart.

Friends are the best thing in the world.

horsing around

This Christmas, Dakota and I had two nice rides around the farm in Granbury. He did great, much better than his rider. There's nothing better than a long walk around 40 acres on the back of a pudgy horse. Especially at dusk, most especially at dusk.
I convinced my Dad to go out and sit on the rusty old tractor while I took some pictures with my Seagull. The light was golden and rich and I knew it wouldn't last long. While it did, the tractor, used long ago by the same people who put in the windmill and the log cabin, now all rusted and still, looked just a little magical.

On Monday morning I ran 6 miles through the cow pasture. The cows couldn't figure out what I was doing there. I think it troubled them. They ran toward me and then stopped and just stood and mooed at me. One, Buffy, is almost tame, she was bottle fed before being turned out to the pasture and still sees people as some sort of "helper herd". (All the cows have good names because Skyler and Annalise named them, we have Cinderella, Sky Gray and Snow Belle.)
On my sixth lap around the pasture, the cows seemed pretty used to me. I love cows.
The cows in the neighboring pasture went crazy every time I ran near their fence. They got very excited and ran back and forth and around. The big steers rushed the fence and the little ones just got silly and ran in circles. I guess they don't get much excitement in the North pasure.

The horses just whinnied at me and the donkey got a little nervous. I ran through their little pack and they ran around a bit. Dakota seemed to think I was a bit nuts to run when I could just graze.

I liked it. I'd only planned to go 4 miles, but I just felt great. The cool morning and the dry pasture and the quiet. I could have gone farther, that is a feeling for which I am grateful.

Granbury again

The cows were missing. I' d not seen a single cow since I arrived. They were gone. All of them, Snow White, Cinderella, Gertrude, Jesse, White Star, Buffy, all were not where they were supposed to be. This was a job for a horse or a four wheeler. I picked the four wheeler, Dakota and Breezy had too much attitude for such a job.

I grabbed one of my Dad's straw hats and pulled the four wheeler out of the barn, started her up and off I went. I love following the cow trail, you get to go through some nice dips and turns. It's fun. I followed the trail out to the far pasture, not a cow in sight. I moved to the fence line, followed it to the neighboring farm, where those cows looked a bit worried, and uncertain of me on my four wheels. I followed the fence, didn't find a break anywhere. I headed up to the other pasture and did the same thing. The horses started following me, Bubba, the donkey got real close to me, too close, I shooed him off.
Still no cows.
I drove along the entire 40 acres of fence one more time for good measure. No cows.

Later I learned they had jumped two fences in a quest for love. They found a willing and available bull a couple of pastures away. I've never seen a cow jump a fence, I hope I see that some day.

Day 2: Breezy and Dakota

I love horses.
Breezy and Dakota are the fat lazy horses who live with the cows and the donkey at my parent's farm. Breezy is a tall quarterhorse, she runs the pasture, she's in charge of all the hoofed creatures. Dakota is a chubby gelding.
My cousin brought Breezy from Waxahachie one day, unasked for, she was just left there out of the blue when her owner lost his pasture lease. We didn't have tack for her, we knew nothing about her.
We mentioned this to one of our cowboy relatives and he helped us find a bridle and a big saddle for her. This trip was the first time I had a chance to try them out.
Breezy seemed happy to be haltered and brought in, she stepped high, tossed her head and acted proud.
We saddled her, bridled her and I climbed aboard, standing on a feed bucket so I could reach the stirrups.
She did fine, for awhile. She was happy to walk from the barn to the house and back. When I asked her to go to the back pasture, she balked, but we got through it.
In the back pasture, her ears were back, she was pissed, but we moved along. Then, all of a sudden she cut away, made a sharp turn and refused to go where I asked her to go. I turned her head, and she resisted, but eventually headed moved in the right direction, before turning around again. This time when I turned her head, she bucked.

It was a tiny buck, but it was a buck. Damnit.

When a horse does this, you have two options. 1. You can simply get off, tell them they won, and never ride them again. 2. You proceed, you don't give up, you urge them to what you want, consequences be damned.
I considered both options.
I proceeded. I asked Breezy again to go to the back pasture. Ears back, she went, then she bucked some more. I yelled at her, I cussed at her. She stoppped.

Slowly we made it to the back pasture. I won the battle and we turned back toward the house and barn. She was fine with that.
As we neared the house, I turned her for one more lap to the back pasture. She refused. She stood stock still. Then she reared and bucked. Damn her.
I yelled at her, refused to go where she wanted, stood my ground.

I saw that I had an audience. Dakota, the chubby gelding was watching us, whinnying at Breezy, encouraging her. My daughter and niece watched me from the porch, they were telling me to get off the horse.'
I asked Breezy again to turn and go to the back pasture. She reared again, she bucked.
I asked again. She did it again.
But damn it, I won it again.

I knew if I gave in, she'd never allow anyone on her back again. I think having an injury has made me more hardheaded about things, and it's more terrifying to fall than it is to hold on and ride things out. Falling off is riskier.

So, I'm 42 years old. That's really pretty darn young, but sometimes around all the young people that I seem to know, it can feel old. It's good to know that I can still run three miles and ride a bucky horse. It's good to know that it's still a hell of a lot of fun to do both.

on being a 2-day cowgirl...

I needed to get away. Last week, the week before, never a dull moment, never a moment, never a chance to breathe, I slept some, but not enough...
So, I made my trip to pick up Annalise into a mini get away...

I drove down to Ft. Worth Sat. afternoon, stopped at my best friend Maggie's house and she immediately whisked me back in the car. We were off to Hip Pocket Theatre where Maggie, Fred (ex-husband, my good buddy), and Jim were going to play some blues after the opening night of the new show: Mars Needs Women.
Off we went back down I-30 headed West. Occasionally, we heard the sound that had me a bit worried on the drive down, like something was dragging under my car. I had looked u nder the car a few times, everything seemed in right place, but the sound was troubling, and a bit disturbing.
Arrived at Hip Pocket in time to shake down some barbecue beans and ice cold water and exchange greetings with Fort Worth friends old and new.

The play was amazing. Hip Pocket is in the open air, under the stars. It was threatening skies, but it was empty threats, not a bit of a rain drop fell, just the crazy summer wind.
Okay, so they took the really bad early 60's film, Mars Needs Women and made it a fabulously funny play complete with a Mee Maw M.C. and dancing Martians and lots of lip syncing to the movie sound track. Afterwards, Fred, Maggie and Jim played...and they were wonderful. Then Maggie and I headed back to Albertson's for cheap red wine and three ours of girl talk.
Good start to the weekend.

(All this time, my sweetheart, Steve the Great, was at my home, taking care of my four dogs and both of my cats.)

On Sunday late morning, I awoke, made good, strong coffee, picked up Annalise at her Dad's house then headed to the Jazz Cafe to meet Maggie for brunch. It was tasty and Nick the Handsome Greek Man (but we know too much about him to consider him romantically for any of our good girlfriends...) played Saxophone and trumpet and damn he's good.

After brunch, Annalise and I headed west to Granbury for some time with my parents. My grandmother is slowly fading from us with Alzheimer's, I hadn't seen her in months. My parents had stories to tell from their trip down the Panama Canal.

On the way we took a shortcut so we could get off the main road and stop to check on that strange dragging sound we kept hearing...Annalise pegged it right away...it was that sheet of plastic under the front part of the car, it was loose, flapping around, but no hazard. We made our way through a country road, passing, The Little CowHand's for Christ Summer Camp, on the way. (I have nothing against the little cowhand's for christ...I have nothing against cowhands and nothing against Christ, I just think that maybe the Cowhand for Christ Summer Campers might be hearing a little more right wing rhetoric, then they are hearing about Christ, but that's an assumption, and I know how bad assumptions can be.)

We arrived in late afternoon to a field of wild flowers, fields and fields of wildflowers, my parents are returning some of the land to wild flowers and Native Grasses. The log cabin my Grandmother was born in was in good shape, the reconstruction work almost completely finished, and the horses, Dakota and Breezy were running around the pasture acting all crazy, along with Bubba, the sad little donkey. ( I love this donkey, but he's just sad as he can be, like Eyeore, and he's very afraid of people. We don't know his history... he sure does keep the cattle safe.)

And so, my weekend away began...