My Inner Indian

It is not unusual to look up and see my oldest daughter totally absorbed in reading a book.  She is an obsessive reader and it has become my parental challenge to keep her in books.  I was alarmed, however, to see her with big tears rolling down her cheeks while doing so.  She slowly closed her book and sat there and cried.  On the verge of being a moody little tween-ager,  I had to ask..."Gracie, what's wrong?"  She proceeded to explain that she just finished a series of books that she enjoyed and there were no more books to read in that series.  It was over.  She had to say goodbye to those characters and move on.  You'd have thought somebody she knows very well in real life had died.

Oh, the drama.

I breathed a small sigh of relief.  She then asked me what my favorite book was.  I used to love to read and always had a book in progress, but the last book I had read was What To Expect When You Are Expecting, which if you don't know is the worst book ever written to tell pregnant women what all COULD happen...and to EXPECT it!

Gracie then wanted to know why I didn't read any more.  The plain truth is I didn't think I had time any more.  Since becoming a wife and mother my time was filled with other things and books didn't make the Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs pyramid.  It was replaced with laundry, cooking, cleaning, and being the finder of lost things.  For the last twelve years I have told myself I didn't have time for books.  My child, the lover of books, told me that was the saddest thing she had ever heard.  Ever.  She publicly vowed that she would never let things get in the way of her love for books.

It broke my heart and my inner Indian cried.

My mind flashed to the Keep America Beautiful campaign/ public service announcement against littering that used to be in heavy rotation way back in my childhood.  The crying Indian standing on the side of the highway mourning people's trashy habits.  Tears for people who did not appreciate the beauty of what surrounded them.  Those big tears that rolled down his weathered face and the sadness in his eyes have haunted me to this very day.

So I promised her....as soon as the move is over....I would read a book. 

Move completed.  I read a book.  I did. I am in love with reading again and consuming books like they were puffy Cheetos. 

My inner Indian is now doing a happy dance despite the litter still on the side of the highway.

Riff Off

The last couple of weeks have been a blur of constant activity.  That activity primarily being building fence.  It may seem logical that when you buy a ranch you need fences to keep the cattle where you want them. Logical.  I have no idea why I didn't see this coming.  I have no idea why I didn't understand that I was now an integral part of the fence building committee.  I didn't get a vote.

I've never built fence before and had zero idea what kind of physical labor it required.  Also pretty sure I have used some of those math skills I swore I'd never use.  I now have a deep appreciation for fences and those who can build one and it not look like a drunk prank afterwards.  If I had it my way....I'd never build fence again....but...it needs to be done....and there is no end to it.  Like postal workers who have a never ending job and eventually go insane..."go insane, go insane, throw some glitter and make it rain."  Speaking of....to pass the time, I drive my family crazy by coming up with a song that starts with a word they just said, change random lyrics to be about fence building, or selecting a number that perfectly suits the moment.  That's right Aca-bitches...I challenge them to a "Riff Off" right there in the pasture.  In front of God and everybody.

Any who.

Today we were building fence and a nice rain shower popped up.  While I was thanking Sweet Infant Baby Jesus for the much needed moisture and singing Milli Vanilli's "Blame it on the Rain," I notice some calves jumping up from their napping spots.  They were bawling for their mamas and trying to figure out where they wandered off to.  It seems mama cows will just plants their babies in a location and then go about the business of stuffing their faces with food with their friends.  Human mamas take note.

One big calf was heading the opposite way from where his mother was screaming in moo language..."young man, you just stop right there and I'll get to you in a minute...don't make this harder than it has to be."  But no, he didn't listen and wandered off in the opposite direction.  Just like a man child.  He was so beautiful too...acknowledging that some times the prettiest are also the least intelligent....and men refuse to ask for directions...no matter the species.

Mama cow kept screaming to him.  He kept wandering off.  Finally, he turns around and starts heading down the line of fence we were building...mama on the other side...shaking her big bovine head.  They finally get to the end of the quarter mile section, no longer separated by five strands of barbed wire, and stare at one another.  He has worked up a thirst by now calling for her and latches on for a snack. 

I clapped joyously and started singing "Reunited and it feels so good...."

I have no idea why those people I live with think I need mental help.

Shed

It's baby calf time at the ranch...circle of life renewed....new money on the ground. We spend lots of time riding around checking on the cows.  You notice the bulging milk bags and unmistakable look of a female who has clearly had enough.  Her eyes scream out "get it out already."  The new babies have been licked clean and scamper around with their tails kinked like the number nine.  One approaches his mama and repeatedly butts his head into her gorged bag and she turns to look at him with tired disdain.  I grab my boobs in empathy and quietly tell her I have felt her pain.

Driving around looking at calves and seven miles of new fence, I notice something rising from the green spiders that are called struggling wheat.  Even at a fair distance it can be seen and I yell out "stop the truck."  About that time my kids notice the shed antler too and everybody bales out of the truck leaving doors open and Ed yelling how rude we all are (truck manners indicate closed doors at all times to reduce flies and dirt).  The race is on.  In my head I can hear the theme from "Chariots of Fire" and I tell myself I don't care if they are my kids...I saw it first!  After twenty seconds of top speed in plowed dirt the muscles in my legs start to burn and remind me that I am no longer a spring chicken.  Stop Laughing.  They also scream "but you don't run!"  I tell my legs to shut up.  My oldest is right behind me as I summon just a little more strength to snatch the shed antler from the dirt.  It's a beauty.  Five points, big, and heavy.  I hold it high in victory and basked in my glory between gasps of breath.

Don't look at me that way.  I saw it first.  I won it fair and square.  Stop judging me.  I'm older and it was harder for me.  Shut up.

Every spare moment is spent canvasing wheat pastures and fence lines for shed antlers.  We each are on a quest to find the biggest one.  The kids wise up and get sneaky about it, not announcing their potential find or asking me to slow down the gator and catapult from it and start running.  My children have become natural gymnasts in two days.  Best exercise ever invented, I swear.  Even on horse back, they ride back up to the cabin with several sheds dangling from the tie strings on their saddles.

Although the antlers were dropped by the bucks as part of natural yearly process, we admire our little pile as if we had shot them all ourselves.  Each antler like reclaimed treasure from a sunken pirate ship.  Marveling at the size, heaviness, and number of points.  I smile at my children who were not in front of a TV, playing electronic games, or texting a friend.  We have a rule that no electronics are allowed at the ranch. I smile that they have shed those things and are fully engaged in the world around them...and each other.  They are happy and feel blessed beyond measure.

Amazing what happens when you let go of things that weigh you down.