A CHRISTMAS PONY

                                     
(Dedicated to Sandy Adams and Mary Shappee horse trainers extraordinaire)         

Don’t we all remember our first Pony!!! Of course we do, and especially our family remembers with great love and affection, our pony “Oatsie Daisy”.

There was a little girl, age 7, who wanted a Morgan horse, but her Mama only had $300.00 for a pony. The girl was really a little too small for a big horse anyway, her Mama told her. It was a little before Christmas, and typical for the Mama – she decided on a whim to buy her youngest daughter "K", for that is the child’s name, a pony. 

Sandy Adams and Mary Shappee the riding instructors searched the classifieds, made phone calls, and who know what other resources they had for a pony. I got “the” call with the news they had found what they thought was a suitable pony to go and see.

On a very cold, Oklahoma winters day, we three bundled up and loaded into Mary’s old truck pulling an older trailer behind us. I can’t remember how far we had to drive, but we had a great road trip to see this promising pony. We got out of the truck and of course, the old guy didn’t have the pony up for us. I remember he went out to the pasture to bring her in. I can still see the man’s silhouette in my mind, with the pony coming along beside him.

My first impression was what a weird color!!! I had never seen a dun colored pony with a dorsal stripe and primitive leg markings before. And she had a very large, almost deformed wither. But that face! What an adorable pony, cute and friendly, with large, large velvety brown eyes. But the thing that stood out for me was her wild, untamed mane! The wild, untamed look reminded me
of my "K" – who had more joie de vivre than most, and who was a very animated child!

If I remember correctly, Sandy was awarded the honor of riding the pony first. Sandy, being a petite, pixie of a woman, was small and didn’t look like a giant riding the small pony! That pony briskly trotted around, just like a merry legs!

The pony was pronounced to be a winner by Sandy and Mary, and then the dealing began!!! I think the man was asking $400.00 for the Pony. I had only $300.00 for the pony. If I had been alone, I probably would have gone home with an empty trailer, not being much of a horse trader. But as luck would have it, Sandy and Mary practically had the man crying! The story they told was so moving, even I had tears in my eyes. How Christmas would be ruined for a little girl who would wake up Christmas morning and no pony in the stall! How the little girl was at home right now pleading with Santa and the Baby Jesus to bring her her heart’s desire - which apparently was the dun pony now standing before us.

The story sunk in. To his credit, the man didn’t have the heart to ruin a child’s Christmas, so I bought this awesome (and we didn’t know then how awesome) quirky Dun pony for $300.00. Another horse bargain!

The day or so before Christmas, "K" went for a lesson and was told to saddle up the pony. All the kids at the barn thought it was Mary’s new lesson pony. After the lesson, while "K" was still on the pony, we asked her if she’d like her Christmas present early. DUH!! Yes she excitedly said. And we told her, YOU’RE ON IT!!! "K" was one happy girl.  The beautiful blue halter for the pony matched "K"'s blue hooded zipped jacket.

 Due to Oatsie Daisy’s weird wither, she was a Saddleseat pony extraordinaire – picking up her feet and moving on like a saddle horse! Oatsie also rode hunter, jumped and was a good trail pony. "K" learned to ride on Oatsie Daisy and rode and showed that marvelous pony for many years - that is, until she got too big for the pony!

Later, Mary bought Oatsie Daisy for a lesson pony and Oatsie lived the rest of her life at the stable. Oatsie provided many children with a safe, stylish, obedient pony- not often found in the world of ponies.    I still have "K"'s and Oatsie’s 8 x 10 portrait on my dresser with a large piece of Oatsies’ mane draped over it. She was a once in a lifetime pony and we were lucky to have her in our lives.
Rest in peace precious Oatsie Daisy, the memories remain.

A Horse of Her Own

In 1989 I moved my girls from San Antonio, TX back to Norman, Oklahoma. My oldest daughter did not want to leave Texas and all her friends.  I knew I had to make the move a happy occasion for her so I tried to find a place for her to continue to ride horses.

I didn’t think I’d be able to find a saddleseat instructor for Sarah, age 12! Sarah had fallen in love with the Saddlebred horses.  Her best friend’s mother trained show horses back in Texas. Sarah had earlier quit riding at the stable where I rode hunter/jumpers - she didn't care for them.  She did get the opportunity to ride the fanciest and high style horses on the planet, so of course, she wanted a Saddlebred.

To my surprise, not only did I find a riding stable in Norman, but the Stable had a saddleseat instructor available!!! Sarah and I were very excited and she began lessons with Sandy Adams. Sandy and Sarah hit it off from the moment they met - Sandy was a small wiry woman, much the size of a child! Sandy was always so encouraging, but she really put Sarah to the test! She knew just how much to push to get the best from Sarah, and Sarah adored her. If I were silly enough to make a comment about horses, I was quickly put in my place by Sarah. Sarah only listened to Sandy!

At the stables there were not really any saddleseat horses, only an Arab! Sarah was a good sport trying to perfect her saddleseat equitation on the Arab, and even on a western or hunt style horse. However, Sandy knew what was best for Sarah’s riding and she took me aside and said, “Woman, get that child a saddleseat horse”!

As a new lawyer just starting out, I didn’t have much money for a horse, but I told Sandy Adams that if she could find a “show” horse for Sarah for only $2,500.00, I’d buy it. Of course I thought Sandy wouldn’t be able to find us a saddleseat show horse for such a small amount, so I wasn’t concerned – I certainly did not have $2,500. I just needed to pacify the Sandy-Sarah faction to buy myself more time to actually buy and board a horse! Economically, I was hoping it would be a long wait.

I got a call at my office one late Spring day – a miracle had occurred – Sandy found Sarah her first show horse. My heart was in my throat and my mouth went dry. I’m sure my jaw must have dropped, had anyone in the office been there to witness it. How in the world could I come up with that amount of serious cash??? I had just bought our first house in Norman, and a new car and a dog!!!!

Somehow, I don’t remember now, I begged, borrowed, and scraped, to come up with the monies. The horse wasn't a Saddlebred, but a Morgan horse.  I had always wanted a Morgan horse!

Sandy had already made an appointment for us to see this miracle  Morgan horse mare located in Topeka, Kansas. I knew I had bought a horse come hell or high water. Apparently, the owner of this mare had financial troubles, and Sandy worked her magic to talk the lady to coming down on her price. (Not the last time Sandy came through on price- but that’s the next story!!!) Sandy assured me that indeed, it was a miracle; this horse was a blue ribbon winner – a Ladies Park Horse Champion at the Wheat State Regionals, as well as numerous high ribbon wins in the Park classes at the Morgan Horse nationals. Of course, being new to Morgans, and saddleseat myself, I didn’t really have a clue just what that meant. All I knew was that I was going to buy a horse!

I will never forget the trip up and back to Topeka, Kansas. It’s one of my favorite memories, Sarah and I followed Sandy who was pulling the Horse trailer. I remember I kept listening to Chris Issak’s song “ Wicked Games” over and over again, driving Sarah nuts.

When we arrived in Kansas, Sammy- the trainer there, took us into the barn to see our new Show mare for the first time!!! For Sarah, it was love at first sight. I’d never seen Sarah so happy; Sarah was not a demonstrative child – evening opening birthday or Christmas presents was always nonchalant for her! But on this day she threw her arms around the mare, hugged her and was just ecstatic! So was Sandy. However as I recall, I couldn’t believe the homely, shaggy, big bellied mare, with tons of whiskers, hairy ears, rough looking hooves, and totally out of shape equine was a “show” horse -- Cairnbrae Cameo!

Sandy quickly saw the look on my face and hauled me out of that stall so fast it literally made my head swim! She got me in the barn office and whisked out the glossy, colored photographs of the MOST BEAUTIFUL Park horse mare anyone could ever ask for. This IS Sarah’s new Show horse she beamed! Just give me three months and she'll be transformed.  I made Sandy promise. 

Sandy did not let Sarah or me down. I remember Sarah took her mare to a small show in Edmond, OK in the early fall.  Cairn Brae Cameo and Sarah were the most magnificent sight I had ever seen. Sandy not only had the mare looking like the Ladies Park Champion she had been and was, but she took Sarah Brown the rider to the next level. Sarah had worked with her horse everyday after school and really dedicated herself to riding to Cameo who was not an easy mare to ride. But when Sarah came into the barn Cameo whinnied, Sarah was her girl, the bond was real!

By the second year, Cameo and Sarah were always in the top ribbons, and won show after show. Sandy even got the park mare to back up for equitation classes. Sandy, you are indelibly engraved in my mind and heart. You, Sarah and Cameo were an incredible team – a match made in heaven. You were an important mentor for my daughter Sarah during an impressionable time in her life.

Later Sandy helped us purchase another phenomenal mare, at only 4 years old, Chessie (HVK Obsession). And because Chessie was so fabulous we were able to trade her for another remarkable horse, Future Entertainment (Bo) that Sarah continued to win the ribbons on under saddle and under harness.  These are some of the best memories I foster.  Although I never got to be a stay at home mom, I hope Sarah remembers the wonderful times we shared with the horses.  Sarah was a beautiful rider, who successfully rode many other horses, and I miss those times dearly.  Rest in peace, Cairnbrae Cameo and beautiful Bo. You are forever in our hearts......



         

Problems texting a blog by Phone! or Human Frailties.

I was on a roll the night before last!  I mean the words just flew from my mind like honey from a hive. I wrote a beautiful analogy between Somerset Maughm’s writing and my own personal experience involving my gifting several Maughm short story books to a friend. It involved lots of coincidences that arose, incidents that may or may not have been related to the gift of books, and lots of surmises and analytical thinking on it all by yours truly.

Oh, surely you known Maughm, “Of Human Bondage”, “The Moon and Sixpence”, “The Razor’s Edge”, “The Painted Veil”, and the list goes on and on…… Many of his writings were produced as Hollywood movies.  Maughm writes about human frailties – you never know a person really.  Even the quietest or most conservative or the worst rascal, has a side that will only reveal its other self under the most curious or unforeseeable circumstance. Sometimes its about the tipping point, and sometimes a moment in time.

My father introduced me to Maughm – my father was a lover of a well told tale of the human condition. (and he also introduced me to the likes of Kipling, Defoe, Trollope, and many others, but my introductions to these other writers will make for another  blog).  Maughm perhaps understood human nature more than most. He had an uncanny ability to weave his knowing into the development of his characters. The cast – their choices, consequences, and their journey as they go through life, unfurl the circumstances and that moment in time that can change a life in an instant.  Maughm themes and characters show us that you can’t judge a person by their history – just like you can’t judge a book by its cover. (I did judge Robert Louis Stephenson by a bad cover – shame on the publisher, editor, or whoever choose the cover.  I judged wrongly of course, being human, ’cause Treasure Island is one of my all time favorites! The plain red cover was deceiving.) Though Maughm’s characters show us our own human frailties, those are the qualities that make us love them. After all, we’re all just human. (Yes Einstein, (my dog) even you!)

The Maughmium theme of my lost blog was just that – human frailty, and the friend who was gifted the Maughm stories, choices that were made changed lives forever. What looked like solid ground by us all, was really quicksand – unsubstantial, swallowing our conceptions based on outside appearances. The illusion of all’s right gone, like a tumbling tumbleweed, swept away by a gust of the Oklahoma wind.  On and on I wrote, such beautiful prose, so good in fact, that I can’t seem to reproduce it!  My dog might as well have ate it! (and he would have too, if it weren’t texted)

After spending hours texting my opus on my tiny phone keyboard, I wasn’t sure how to publish the blog on the mobile phone version of WordPress, and damn it, I hit the back button instead of the return arrow at the top and poof!, one poor choice and the blog disappeared forever. I was stunned.  As you can see in your mind’s eye – me, snuggled with Kitty Murr on the couch, I tried everything I knew to bring it back!  Sometimes you just have to accept, it isn’t going to happen. The smart phone outsmarted me and took advantage of my human frailty.

I’m sorry you won’t get to read the wonderful blog post that isn’t; but it’s just as well because after thinking on it, the story would have been read by some that might have been wondering if it was about them, or maybe it would have been taken by another as biased – and not towards them, or any other silliness that sharp analysis causes!  Human  frailties.

I love when fiction mirrors life as it must.  I wonder if books we read subconsciously act on us, even contrary to what we deem as our own true nature.  Have you read a book that influenced your actions, and surprised yourself by what you did or chose???

Now you really want to read the lost blog too, don’t you – that’s just human, and just what Maughm would expect. And me too.

CHANSON SOUVENIR - AN UNFORGETTABLE MORGAN GELDING

LISTEN TO HIS SONG!  https://youtu.be/_t262zn5Fb0

Once in a blue moon, a rider is lucky enough to own a horse that can do it all, safely, willingly, and will right you when you’re wrong.  Souvenir Chanson, is just such a horse, and when I purchased him 24 years ago, I was just hoping that he would be the perfect show horse for my youngest daughter, “K”.  She had sadly outgrown her pony, “Oatsie Daisy” and was ready for her first Morgan show horse.  K was a spirited saucy child, noisy, often lacked focus, but she also had that certain je ne sais quoi that got her noticed.  She was the “squeaky door gets oiled” type of child, so, not just any horse would have been a good fit.  My older daughter “S”, was a quiet elegant rider who loved a complicated horse, got along with mares, and could tame a contrary beast, and make it look effortless.  Surely, none of her past rides could be handed down to a wild tornado of a girl!
A friend of a friend of a friend told me about a gelding that had been driven hooked to a large cart all over a small town in Oregon, in traffic; he had been on stage in a play, had ridden in an elevator, and was gorgeous — dark liver chestnut!  His size and price were right, and I bought him and had him shipped to Oklahoma.  He arrived unfazed by the long trip, and thus began his adventures as a child’s mount! K was 9, and the horse was 11.
Souvenir Chanson came with the call name “Chance”, and by chance, he was one in a million.  He forgave rider mistakes, was unflappable, and he loved his girl!  Patient and kind, putting up with erratic grooming, loud noises, fast and unexpected rider movement, singing, hugging, cats or dogs, he was a horse you could count on. This upcoming April 30, 2016, Chance will have his 35th birthday, and as a tribute, I dedicate this blog with tears in my eyes and a catch in my throat. He is that special.
K was showing what is called “walk/trot” when Chance came into our lives.  Chance was much taller and bigger than Oatsie Daisey, he had a long stride (and a longish back) so K had some real catching up to do.  Her first Grand Nationals was on Chance, walk/trot, and the class was huge!  About 20, more or less, kids riding “saddle seat” in the area, and its surprising no one had a mishap with so many young riders.  A lot of the kids were riding very expensive horses too, and Chance’s price was a bargain.  A horse is only worth what someone is willing to pay, they say, and  Chance’s price was cheap, we didn’t know before that time, that we got more than we bargained for.  Because of his huge trot and his love of traveling forward, K must have circled the arena more than twice what the other kids did!  He knew what he was about; although Kelsey was flirting with the judges and the audience, Chance took control, showing them both off to full advantage.  He knew the commands and when the ringmaster asked for the trot, he was off!  The ringmaster called for reverse – Chance reversed, he knew the voice command for  “walk” and when the judge asked for the kids to line up – he was the first to line up and park-out. When the judge asked K to back, Chance was on auto-pilot! She was top 10 (8th) out of a lot of fancy horses her first show.  Chance didn’t care about the judges placing, he knew they had won!

By the time K was ready to move up to the walk/trot/canter, she and Chance had become a real team. Chance later was shown western, hunter and hunter over jumps, classic, equitation and driving.  He could do it all.  Finally, K had outgrown him, and was moved up to another horse, but luckily for us — and Chance, the stable where we trained bought Chance as a lesson/show horse.
For over 20 years Souvenir Chanson taught many children and adults to ride.  His canter was a true “rocking horse” canter, and many who had trouble learning to canter found their way, learning on Chance.  After he retired from being ridden, he still loved the kids, and has been used as a model for kids to learn to groom, braid mane and tail, in summer camps.
HAPPY 35th BIRTHDAY CHANCE, WE’RE SO GLAD YOU CAME INTO OUR LIVES AND THE LIVES OF ALL AT MAJIC STABLE!   YOU ARE TRULY OUR SOUVENIR CHANSON, “MEMORABLE SONG”, THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES.

My Silver Lining!

Recently, I’ve just felt lucky. It’s about time – rarely have I had that lucky feeling. I am a person who would never name a pet “lucky”, I don’t usually experience bouts of luck, that’s why my recent lucky streak is so exciting- show me my, silver lining!

First, I won A pack of herbal seeds, then I won a sewing magazine – a sewing blog liked and chose my comment, then best of all, one of my photos was chosen as the winner of a view of the “west” (as in cowboy or wild). A blog post on here will be featured on some official Morgan horse media! See, it doesn’t take a whole lot to make me happy.

Makes me wonder where does this lucky strike come from? Why is now different than other times?? What can I do to keep it up? Is it…

PENCIL ME IN!

My grandmother, “Grandma Mac”, had a set of coloured pencils I remember.  I was about six years old, or thereabout, young enough that I could not use them without her watching me.  Circa 1960’s.  She used them to draw and sketch.  I was just as fascinated with the box they came in, the lid slid away from the pencils, and folded back, acting like a stand, so you could easily draw out a pencil from the hard cardboard case. 

I purchased my own coloured pencil set as a young adult – I found some Berols on sale. Through the years I’ve purchased many more, and now there are many other brands in my pencil box! Some of the colours are duplicates. Still, just looking at them delights me.  I have stored them in the same cedar box with a hinged lid for over 40 years now. Its the small cedar box that Lane Cedar Chest company used to give to high school graduates.  My good friend Catherine gave me hers.  I still colour and draw with my coloured pencils.  In fact, I have loved colouring before it was considered O.K. or even “cool” for an adult to colour.  Sadly, my ability to artistically sketch has always been sketchy at best, so I am not skilled at drawing.

Knowing I was not going to be an artist never stopped me from drawing and sketching though.  I still have no qualms about putting pencil to paper and happily draw and colour for myself.  When my daughters were young, I drew black and white “object d’art” (using the term lightly) or, more like rather funny vignettes, scenes, animal, plants or anything else so we could color them.  I thought commercial coloring books with the latest cartoon or movie characters dull.

In later years,  my fascination with coloured pencils grew to extend to black graphite.  I love writing pencils —  the history, collecting them, writing with them, holding them and looking at them in a lovely vessel:  crystal vase, vintage cream bottle, pretty bowl, tin, wooden, or any other kind.  And once you buy a pencil, you just can’t stop. And, you just can’t stop with pencils — you must also have pencil sharpeners, erasers, pencil caps, pencil extenders…….. the list goes on, all lovely.

So, if you give a mouse, I mean girl, a pencil, she’ll always want more!  

Thank you Grandma Mac; I envision you sitting at a cloud desk in heaven, sketching and colouring, glancing down ever so often to smile on me.  Your Lorrie-Caroline, still sketching and colouring like mad, writing and smelling the pencils.

SISTER....

Red dirt twister sister, the wind is in your soul,
Coyotes call, you hear, and understand them.

Clouds are on the move, you watch them come and go,
Like your racing thoughts.

What’s that sound? Rumbling of thunder like a heart beat,
Storm is rollin’ in, the smell of ozone wakens memories.
Startled by the sound of bird wings flying low, rain drops scatter,
Down pour.

Sister, let it wash away your sorrow……

THE RELUCTANT LAWYER – A SHORT HISTORY

I spent years working there, the family law firm. Although I did good work, my head and heart were never in it. I went through the motions, figuratively and literally. Still there were everyday thoughts: I want out.

Chapter 1

I was a lawyer, until I woke up one day.

Those hungry mouths that relied on me were out of college. I only had myself to worry about day to day, I knew I could finally hang up the law license. I had options didn’t I? But admittedly, it was hard to break out of the cycle of practicing law, making the kind of money I had gotten use to making, and needed to pay for all my stuff! Acquired: pickup, Jeep, Miata, large 2 story Victorian home, horses (too many to admit to) stable bills, horse trailer, and all the accoutrements, fashion conscious clothing, shoes (yes, separate from clothing) food, utilities, and chronic three day weekends. It seemed a lot. I was possibly spoiled, and I was overwhelmed, stuck like a tire in swampy mud, spinning and spinning yet going nowhere.

In a fit of self-pity, my first try at “options” was to run away! I bought 50 acres, 50 miles away, and sold the yellow jeep wrangler. Plus, that jeep was wanted (and the driver) by the police Dept. and possibly the state patrol, because of driving a violation in the town of _______, that I had to drive through most days. That great get-a-way from all humanity, except for at work, cost me a commute of about an hour and 15 mins a day and I missed my jeep! But it sure was a peaceful home for myself, my dog and horses. No more stable bills, downsized the home, downsized my living large.

Still, running away hadn’t really taken me away from my stressors – you know, “Life”. Not just the clients either. A family business can be hellacious – and believe me, it was. All those years of family dysfunction wrapped up in a law practice. I bet if you are reading this a migraine headache could develop just thinking of the scenarios possible.

Then my options widened. My brother, my law partner decided to leave the practice of law. Yes, more complications, so instead of dealing with the problem head on, I chose to run again. I didn’t have a plan, I just wanted “OUT”. I left a thriving practice, impulsively because my gut said “go”, we sold out to another firm.

Sure, my friends said, “you’re nuts, how will you make a living, where will you go, and what??????” Some made bets on how long it would take to get me back to the city, but by then, I was already long gone. Heads were still spinning with curiosity and I was chalked up as being crazy! I was saddling up a horse, and was gone. I sure did a lot of riding. That is the thing that always grounds me. That’s where my heart and mind collide, on the back of my horses. Surely no one could catch me now!

Still, after the horses were turned out every time, the cold hard facts of reality were still staring me in the face, you can only leave “it” behind for so long. I had to figure out what I was going to do, and fast. I had just given up the law firm and being a lawyer – just like that. What do you want to be when you grow up? That’s what popped into my mind, who am I, what in the world am I going to do? If I’m a grown up, why am I still asking myself what I want to do when I grow up? Shouldn’t I know by now? I was 45.

CHAPTER 2               “A cowgirl.”

I was told as a young girl, “Cowgirls aren’t real – you can’t be that. Choose something else.” God, what an ego & mind crusher. “Hey you” dream crusher, “lighten up for Chrissakes, I was just 6, can’t a girl dream?” Not in my family, if you didn’t know your career path at age 6, you were just medi-f_cking- ocre. And the career you chose had to be one my parents understood. Cowgirls were not on that list! I didn’t believe them – they told me I couldn’t be a cowgirl – I didn’t let that distract me. My heart’s desire had been reinforced by “Sand Dune Pony”, a book about a boy and a wild buckskin stallion! It was a book I read too many times to recount. Could be that book started me learning how to ride.

I was born with the heart of a cowgirl. By age 6, I thought I already knew how to ride a horse, though I’d never even seen one in the flesh. I love travel, fast horses, faster cars, wide open spaces. I love feeling the rhythm of the horse move under me and the heat rise off the back of my horse. I love the wild Oklahoma wind whirling me about and tossing my hair. The night I was born, there were tornados twistin’ and turnin’ all over the state. I once published the tall tale that a tornado sucked me out of my mother’s womb! Being born in a storm may help explain why I need to keep moving, and why I also néed plenty of space to breathe. Being a cowgirl is also a state of mind.

FLASHBACK:

Age 9, vacationing near Taos, NM, please picture me in Sears and Roebuck black cowboy boots with turquoise and white stitching, with a longing to ride. A longing that has never left my soul. Picture a dude ranch with a string of stable horses. See a honey haired girl blinking in the bright sun, hoping the horse she gets to ride is a pretty one. Believe me when I tell the head wrangler, “Yes, I can ride”. See, he’s asking me to watch out for my little brother, who doesn’t know how to ride a horse. The wrangler has his hands full with a crowd of folks none of who know how to ride. I know who I am on that trail, on a pretty horse. I felt the sun heating up my scalp at the part of my hair. I remember the trail, the sky and the thunder from far away. The dark thunderhead clouds knew me, friends of mine. It seemed like the only life I had known that day.

Of course, I had never been on a horse before, but I “knew” how to ride I figured. I had watched enough westerns, and had captured and broke a wild Mustang reading San Dune Pony. Apparently, it was easy to ride a horse. Anyone could do it. My babysitter next door was a rodeo queen. She brought us her cast off Western Horseman Magazines, and last season’s lipstick tubes. She gave us a doll trunk full of plastic horses of all kinds, colors and postures. If Hoss and Little Joe could ride, if the Lone Ranger and Tonto rode, if Roy and Dale could ride, and a host of others, then I had grown up riding right alongside them all.

Because I knew I could ride, I did ride that day. However, I was not able to help my brother, who was on a seasoned pony that continually tried to rub him off every fence post and tree; ½ mile from the stable, the pony took off at a dead run – my brother screaming for Mama! I digress.

The reality was, being a cowgirl probably doesn’t pay much. I still had to earn a living, and there wasn’t much time to figure it out. The next month’s bills were starting to arrive. I decided to spend a weekend learning to be a cowgirl, and maybe some bright idea would pop into my brain, loping along on the prairie of NW Oklahoma. Because I knew I had to come up with something.

CHAPTER 3      Paying to be a "Cowgirl"!

I paid to be a cowgirl. I signed up for a greenhorn’s long horn cattle drive, at Selman, OK. It has been said by some wise woman, or a philosopher, or both, that if you just do what you love, love will find you. Maybe that applied to careers too. I had flung aside my career, and was waiting for a replacement to magically appear all while enjoying myself riding. Not only that, but for the record, I had already flunked out of the school of love 3 times, each time as bad a disaster as the first time. If either love or a new career were going to find me, it would be on this trip I told myself. My mind was a blank. Later that day my thoughts were, the wind is fierce – o.k., I love it, my mare and I are both “in heat” with p.m.s. – o.k. we’ll deal with it; there is only one tree out here – o.k. I got here in time to park under it; I will light a campfire, the stars will shine in the pitch dark at night on the prairie, miles from nowhere. Nothing can possibly go wrong.

The Universe will provide, I had read somewhere. I hoped it was true, and I tried to act like it really would. It was difficult, kind of like meditating. It had been a very long drive to NW Oklahoma, near Buffalo Creek and the Cimarron River. There were no signs, no landmarks, just dirt roads and wind. A herd of Tarantula scurried across the road, it stopped me in my tracks; I wondered if I was hallucinating! Surely the dance of migrating Tarantulas, a tarantella of sorts was a good omen for me. Harking back to memories when my ‘cello teacher sensed my boredom with gavottes, he whipped out a quick and wild tarantella for me to learn! The frightful sight of hundreds of huge hairy spiders almost caused me to miss the small sign showing where to turn in to the cattle drive.

Because there is nothing out in NW Oklahoma but the wind and prairie, when I saw the sign that I had “arrived”, I was relieved. It had been such a long drive, I felt like I was in a Twilight Zone episode. There was not another car to be seen for miles.

Lonesome describes the area. Tumbling tumble weeds. Time is lost, it could be any era, any year, any date, any time. No electric or phone lines, no gas stations, no nothing. Just what I needed to relax my mind, and just be. I was becoming more open to the Universe. My pick-up and trailer rumbled along the dirt road, raising up enough dust to engulf me in a cloud. I saw the camp site, and one tree! I headed for that tree, and was lucky enough to park beside it. I opened the truck door, but it shut closed, after several attempts to open it, and the wind shutting it again and again – the wind was that fierce – I climbed across to the passenger seat and was able to open the door and get out. What a place!

CHAPTER 4        My Chance or Don't Blow it!

I ARRIVED.

My horse was very glad to back out of that trailer. I got her settled in, and she seemed to enjoy the wind and the promise of all that rode in with it. I was looking forward to sleeping with the lullaby of the prairie and the sound of contented horses that night.

My canvas cowboy tipi and poles were laying partly twisted at my feet. I had put it up before on my own, that’s one reason I loved it. Not to mention it was a tipi after all! I was trying to unpuzzle the poles to get the tipi upright, so I could set about to hammer the tie downs in the ground when a good-looking man in a cowboy hat sauntered up. Glory be, what a smile! “Hi, need some help?” I’m not sure why, but I was surprised. So unexpected, a good-looking cowboy was offering me help – right out of the blue. “Well, sure” I answered. He said, “Oh, its’ YOU! Don’t I know you from somewhere?” All this excitement was a bit much for a hermit like me. It really threw me for a loop! I forgot my manners and I totally disappeared, leaving in my place, the stern, “don’t interrupt me I’m important” lawyer persona I had unfortunately acquired. The lawyer took control of my mouth: “I don’t think so cowboy, it’s a good line, but it’s not going to work.” I can’t believe he didn’t tell me to f_ck off, and turn and run! But thank God he didn’t. “Well, I think I’ve seen you somewhere. Are you here with anyone?” The lawyer then replied, “I’m with everyone here at the trail ride.” By golly he tried again, “Well, can I ride with you tomorrow then?” Can you believe the lawyer answered, “It’s a free world, you can if you can keep up.” It’s a fact men love a challenge, and apparently he did; but a woman would have said, what a bitch. I was shocked when I realized, then and there, that being a lawyer for 20 years had changed me into a monster! I wondered if I could ever act like a nice person again. Why was I making it so hard for the Universe?

Handsome Cowboy hammered the spikes in the ground and my tipi was secure. We chatted, exchanged pleasantries, or what was left of them, and he said goodnight

DUSK, AND THE SETTING SUN

Can you feel the crisp air of the coming night? It’s cool and getting cooler as the sun goes down. The wind is reminding me that I am alive. See the beautiful sunset. See the honey haired girl in a western hat sitting on the steps of the horse trailer, watching a handsome man in a cowboy hat walk away. Imagine her wondering where life had gone wrong; was it was still possible to fix it? Hear the nicker of the fine mare, Jolie Blon saying good night. Bullfrog croak carries on the wind from a far-off pond. Smell the campfires all around, and some guitars playing and singing. Tomorrow will be a new day, thank God.