Punchy Protagonist

 On the eve of my 31st birthday, I have the day off. I have been sitting watching a play I have never seen, "You Can't Take It With You," on a new Blu-Ray player because I broke our other one today while trying to pry the door open with a butter knife.  As I sit here, sipping on my Sonic drink and thinking of what kind of play I could write one day, the thought of friendships come to my mind. When I was at the store buying a new Blu-Ray player, I ran into a woman that I work with that asked me about a friend of mine. She did not know that we knew each other and asked probably the most loaded question for me to answer..."How do you know her?" I explained to her that my friend and I were very close in high school, played basketball together and went to church together. That I had also graduated and been good friends with her husband. We exchanged goodbye pleasantries but I kept thinking about my friend. What I should have answered was "you do not have the tim...

 I had, just a few hours before, posted about good memories and sweet times. I had posted about being where I am and the future and doing things I love. But last night something changed. Something hit me. Maybe it was sleep deprivation, maybe it was the fruity danger in my glass, maybe it was my husband leaving for work. Maybe it was a bad cocktail of a combination of dark thoughts and even darker skies. Last week was so busy that I did not have time to dwell on many emotions, and definitely did not have time to have mixed ones. If I am honest, I am so tired of feeling tired the majority of the time, or on my way to being there. I know it is just not getting over one exhausting event before moving to something "completely different" as Monty Python would put it, but I can also tell that I am not as young as I used to be.  We lost a calf last week.  I had named him Olly because he was born close to my Papaw's birthday. We had to bottle feed him for a while when he was youn...

Small town summers are made around it.  Prizes are won and lost at it. Chris Ledoux and Tim McGraw sang songs about it. That's right. I have survived another year of the county fair. Ever since I was a young tike, I have loved the county fair. When I was younger, I longed to show my cattle, walk around the bright midway lights with my friends, listen to my Papaw's stories of past adventures and vehicles at the car show, and crawl up on the family wagon that we parked arena-side to cheer on the annual PRCA rodeo.  These are parts of the county fair I still enjoy, but they are a little different now.  I watch the same excited and anxious looks I had on the junior's faces as I help them get ready for the livestock show. I cheer them on from the sidelines and offer help and guidance when needed. Instead of getting to miss school, I am now responsible for the ones that do. My family and I show in the open show, a one-night appearance of friendly competition fit in between busy...

 My first show heifer was a black baldy, hand-picked by my family and I and gifted to me by my grandparents.  I named her "Domino" and she was everything a first show heifer should be. Today, her legacy lives on in our herd, bits of her sprinkled in our herd in ways I am so proud of. Domino not only quickly became the matriarch of our herd, but was known county-wide.  The school FFA teacher at the time is a long-time very close family friend, and was instrumental in getting me started in showing.  He not-so-subtly suggested that I walk Domino for about half an hour every day, which I took seriously.  At the time, we did not have a barn at our house and were keeping her at my grandparents' house in town, meaning Domino's daily walks took place on the city block, as to not disturb the other cows in the pasture and to provide us with a consistent route. As Domino lumbered around the block day after day, afternoon after afternoon, the sight of us became pretty popul...

2020 has been incredibly difficult for everyone. Teaching was especially difficult and exhausting.  There were a lot of things that got cancelled, were put off, or left altogether to gather dust of a world set to pause. Personally, I abandoned many things and one of those was not only blogging, but writing.  Part of this was due to the weariness my eyes and the rest of my body felt from being bogged down with an ever-changing schedule and an attachment to a screen during the day.  I felt myself growing increasingly negative and cynical when it came to the world around me. I felt myself being in want of a lot of things with a loss of how to find them.  The year brought me many fantastic things, many joys, and many celebrations.  However, with the whirlwind that was the year, writing has taken a back burner to say the least. I have heard a quote that my cynical side finds somewhat corny that says “do more of what makes your heart happy...” or something along those...

The cattle pasture was calling. The crisp, fall air was whispering to me to come outside and enjoy it.  Around me, things that needed to be done. The reminants of a long day at work of doing my best and still feeling behind. Freshly cleaned floors and bathrooms and a sore shoulder. Dishes and laundry to be both washed and put away. Lessons to create only to be unappreciated and questioned.  Wedding plans to fret over.  Outside my window, a picturesque dusk setting and my trusty steed (the Polaris Ranger). My couch all of a sudden felt uncomfortable and my soul restless. I needed therapy. I needed peace and to quiet my mind.  I needed to get the hades out of there. The cows were not up where I could see them from my deck, so I decided to go to them.  My favorite feeling of cool fall air rushed through my hair and lungs as I drove through the green pasture, gaining solice with each breath. It was a beautiful night to forget responsibilities. I might have been less...

She stood there, panting and taking turns eyeballing each of the four of us. She had never been away from her home, her safe place, and now she was five hours away staring at four brand new faces in a brand new barn as we just stared back. The look in her eyes read of fear with not a glimpse of trust to be found. Yet.  She didn’t trust any of us as far as she could throw us, and at a year old and around 1000 pounds, she could’ve thrown any of us pretty far if she so desired. Two attempts got her off of the trailer with no injuries to anyone, but it was certainly the journey getting her to her pen. She breathed heavy and plastered herself against the barn wall, where she adamantly stayed any time one of us tried to approach her. Getting too close to her was met with a bolt in the other direction.    If she could have climbed the panels of her pen, she would have.    We all knew she wasn’t crazy, but she wasn’t going to just be one you walked in there and started ...