Stick Horse Cowgirls

When John Denver wrote/sang, " Life in the farm is kinda laid back.. ." I'm afraid he did not know what he was talking about. Surely the only person who could intone these lyrics is a singer who can hire stuff done and then lie back around his country home, enjoying only the relaxing part. Believe me, there is another side... In my own country world, there is always something that has been left undone: fences need mending (or the horses lead one on a harrowing chase), grass needs mowing, and electricity is sometimes missed. But it has its many, many moments of beauty. Just look at my horse, Bill, gazing out over our country place. In this picture, he embodies the nobility and serenity and peace of my life in the country. And then there is Chili, the Belgian Malinois pictured above. He is my constant companion when I am home. Oh, he can be noble, too. Sometimes. But then there is today. See that picture of him? That little item lying just next to his crumpled rug is a fres...

I love animals; I love all kinds of animals! If you read this blog long enough, you are sure to see a lot of conversation about my cat, my two dogs and the two horses I have remaining from my herd of seven a year ago. Besides my domestic menagerie, I have a penchant for African animals. My dream trip would be safari in Africa, seeing the great herds scattered across the savannah. Of course, I want the kind where the white-coated servants have the wine chilled when you return from photographing, and where there is turn-down service and hot water for a shower. Truthfully, any safari for me will likely remain a dream. I love other wildlife, too. I read about grizzlies, I love tigers, and I think the American Bison is truly magnificent. The many times I visited Yellowstone, I never got jaded about Bison. They thrilled me no end every single time I came across them--which is a lot when you're in the park. Now, this is going to feel like a change of subject to you, but bear with me: I am...

My son (my conscience) has me working out at the "Y" five days a week. Those of you who know me personally know what an accomplishment this is, as I hate physical exercise! I must admit, however, that it is making me feel better and better both physically and from that emotional lift of accomplishment. With the exercise has come a decreased appetite for junk food and overeating ("they" told me this would happen, although for me it is counterintuitive), and that has felt good too. Why, oh why, then did I stuff myself crazily yesterday? Can't I enjoy Thanksgiving with family, be thankful and not overeat? Apparently not. After eating turkey, ham and all the trimmings plus two kinds of pie yesterday, my son and I climbed into the car bloated and sluggish as we have not been in months and slunk off from my brother's house. By the time I left the feast scene (leaving every scrap of what I had brought, knowing how dangerous leftovers are), I felt like I was flee...

First, the disclaimer: The women pictured to the right are not the "us" to whom I refer in this writing; they are professional models. In fact, they don't even remotely resemble most of us, who are life-worn rather than sleek models. But they appear to be girlfriends, and this is what the story is about. And, if I am going to illustrate while you can't really see me, I may as well plant a pleasant picture in your mind. Now, on to my story... Last weekend on Sunday afternoon I threw what my mother calls a "hen party." This is rather pejorative-sounding, "hen party," but somehow it seems the right thing to call it. It refers to a gathering sans roosters, I suppose; a girlfriend party. We had a blast. We rimmed our glasses with pink (!) sugar and made Bellinis out of fresh peach puree and champagne--strawberry puree for those who prefer (or want both! Why not?). We ate fancy, calorie-laden food that men eschew (pomegranate seed garnish, brie and ...