Stick Horse Cowgirls

Who invented pajamas?  I’m serious.  Who is the person who came up with the idea that we must have something loose and comfortable in which to sleep?  Whoever came up with it, I am indebted to him/her. I am absolutely certain that it was a woman.  Men seem to relish things like sleeping in the outdoors on the ground.  In their clothes.  Now that I think of it, I bet women invented beds, too.  And three-hundred -count sheets.  Don’t you think? Could it be our Asian friends who came up with this wonderful attire?  Some of their clothing looks very pajama-like.  Geishas walk around in robes, don’t they?  (Don’t think about those awkward shoes and bound feet…)  See these stylish Asian pajamas, to the right? All I know is this: I have been working waaaaay too hard lately and waaaaay too many days.  I am troubled by this, especially since I am just coming over hump-day today into what should be the home-stretch of the...

The other night I had insomnia.  It's been a while since I really had insomnia. Well, I guess, not all that long in the broad scheme of things. At the beginning of my marital problems three years ago I would often go on three hours of sleep a night.   Let me tell you, that’s not good. That is highly uncharacteristic for me, I was always the kid who required the full eight hours. I was, throughout my life, early to bed and very early to rise.  (Unlike V, who was mostly the opposite—a night owl)   It is still common to find me in bed before 9 p.m and up before 5 a.m.  Falling asleep is easy—it’s the staying asleep that is sometimes difficult. My sleep patterns have become very odd over the past year or so.  Most nights I have a pretty good night’s sleep.  Chili usually wakes me to go out (wolf dog that he thinks he is) around 2 ish, but normally I cruise by the bathroom and go right back to sleep.  Some nights, well, I wake up inspire...

Some of you have asked for more of the story of Cassie, Barney and my childhood farrier, Bud, after my previous post on Cassie.  Indeed, that post spurred lots of memories for me, and my brother and sister have chimed in their own, bringing up that long unplowed memory ground.  If you haven’t read it, that previous post would give you a back story to this one.  It came to me as I was writing this that “Bud’s” real name was “Jesse James ‘S.’”  I had forgotten that, having become so accustomed to calling him “Bud.”  I doubt  that many knew his real name.  My brother was surprised when I mentioned that to him, saying, “ You’ve got to be kidding!”   I worked for our father some, and we did some legal paperwork for Bud, so his real name was required. I can’t tell you how fittin’ it was that Bud was also “Jesse James!”  Why he had a buckboard, wore cowboy boots everywhere he went (which wasn’t far, mind you) and he lived a very “Old West” lifesty...

When I was in fourth grade (1961) we left our next-door-to-V home and moved out to the country where I lived until I married.  Immediately upon moving there, “Ginger” was purchased.  She was a tall, gentle  chestnut mare, and she was with me until she died, after my marriage. Ginger was my boon companion.  I rode her all over the countryside with a freedom unheard of in my world today.  It was magical.  I must write about some of the adventures that Ginger and I had.  But that is for another day—my mind is on someone else today. The tasks of feeding Ginger and caring for her (and her several later offspring) fell largely to me, which I did not mind at all.  Part of those duties was seeing to her feet.  And we were fortunate that our farrier, Bud, lived about a half mile down our country road.  When Ginger was in need of shoes, I saddled her up and rode down there.    That experience, too, was magical in a different so...

I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but some things just are what they are. Truth is truth, and if it’s part of the story, then so be it. My people are country folk.  My grandmother, Gertrude, (I’ve written about her before here ) had two sisters, Anis (yes, that’s right, “Anis,” and she’s another story…) and Dona (pronounced with a long “o,”) but always called “Donnie.”  Gertie was the eldest girl; Donnie was the youngest.  And you could tell. Gertie was a “take charge” type of girl, being big sister and without a mother by age 12.  Donnie, on the other hand was, as we used to say, “nervous” and “high-strung.” Gertie was upright and moral—to a “t.”  Donnie, on the other hand, took up with Fred, a previously-married man with children—remember, we’re talking the early 1920-s, here.  Donnie and Fred eloped, eschewing the traditional church wedding, probably because they knew that folks were looking askance at them.  Not the least of all, Gertie....

C's sister, "K," works every day with her, and she is known throughout the office for her "persnicketiness" on the subject of coffee vessels...here's her take: Having coffee is as much about the "experience" as anything; and choosing the correct coffee cup is crucial! When I have a large variety of cups to choose from, I have certain eliminating criteria such as, "too big", "wrong color", "wrong handle", and the worst, "wrong shape, lip thickness, and lip curvature!!!" I am not a fast coffee drinker, so if the coffee cup is "mug-sized", the coffee gets cold before I can drink it, causing multiple reheats in the microwave!!! This often requires a trip down the hall and is, quite frankly, not worth it. The perfect coffee cup is, of course, white or at least off white. If the cup is NOT white on the outside, it must at least be white on the inside. Why? the greatest amount of color contrast with ...

Bet you thought this was going to be about some “ah-ha” moment in my life where I realized what is important versus the “little things.” Or where I finally understand how to juggle my busy workload and social life and home upkeep (which usually fall in exactly that order). Not so! This post is, rather, about the no-small-thing topic of striking the right mix of bed linens, a topic that is on my mind on these cold winter mornings. Bed linens (We call 'em “covers” in the South) are a big issue with me. I CANNOT sleep without the right ones. Do you know people who can sleep atop all bedding? You know, on a hot summer night, they lie exposed to the world with nary a sheet covering them? Are you one of them? Not me, I can tell you right now. I simply do not un derstand how someone can sleep that way—why, anything at all could get you! I must have something over me to sleep or I feel very insecure. Like, if a vampire was going to bite me, it would be because I don’t have a she...