Category Archives: Wisconsin

It all comes back to being a mom ..

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It’s been kind of a rough week on the home front for a few reasons.

One, I’m pretty hard on myself when I don’t feel like I’ve been the best mom I can be.

Two, sometimes so are others.  Hard on you, that is.  Certain that – if put in your shoes they could live your life and do the job better.

Three, it’s been an insanely busy week.  One where I’ve had much more on my plate than usual.  And usual is already ridiculous by most people’s standards.  On top of it, I haven’t felt well.  I do believe my nose is bleeding at the moment from blowing it so much, darn this cold/sinus infection/whatever it is.  So I’m sure I’m looking good to boot.

I sincerely don’t mean in any way to complain.

Everyone around me is sick.  Busy and hard on themselves I think at times, knowing if they had more time to do it all, they could do any of it better.  Some, I know are far more sick and challenged than I am at the moment so I try to rise everyday thanking the good Lord for whatever level of health I do have.

Just stating the facts.

But, everything this week:  event-wise, situation-wise, health-wise and otherwise, has come back to the whole issue of parenting for me and what I want for myself and my (and my ex’s) daughter.

Big picture stuff.

And big picture can be tough when you and your spouse or ex or whoever else might be in the picture .. can’t seem to ever get on the same page when it comes to even the little things.

(It sure is interesting, though trying to get it all worked out.  Thoughts to be shared perhaps, later.  For now, the Cowboy and I are off to solve the world’s problems over beer and a fish fry.  Isn’t that where all good problems are solved?)

Name them all?

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I was going to write tonight about another topic related to marriage/divorce and some of what lies in-between .. because more good spinoff topics seem to keep coming up via (not even the Cowboy anymore but) friends, the more I write on any of this it seems.

But quite honestly, I just want to change the subject.  At least for now.  I need a breather because I’m relatively depressed after hearing from more friends that weren’t at all a part of the crazy mix last weekend .. Friends who are also struggling either personally or in their marriages.  And for some reason, having never read my blog before, they happened to log on this past week, digest the past couple of posts and reach out to let me know it was in some way helpful.  Which should make me feel good.  But I feel awful knowing any of them are hurting.  So .. I’m going to temporarily change the subject.

Come to think of it .. you know what else I might do?  (I’m always dreaming up new ways to further run myself ragged…)

What about creating some sort of ‘buck-up’ boot camp where we run everyone through a ‘things could always be worse’ series of events .. so whenever we might need a boost that our lives really aren’t that bad .. and we should appreciate even the crap we get from whoever it is when we come home each night .. (For me, that’s literal.  I come home to the dog that I have to walk each night and follow her with a baggie so that she can poop and I get to pick it up .. or the cats.  I hate cleaning out litter boxes.  But I hate the smell of litter boxes that haven’t been cleaned out even worse.  That may be obstacle, hmmm.  #3 I’m thinking) it is there to remind you.  Or, perhaps all it will do is prove to you, things are that bad and you’d rather scoop poop and run through a field of electric shock than go home.

People actually do pay good money to do that these days.  It’s called a mud run.  Look for one near you.  Sign up.  Toughen up and let’s get going on some positive changes in your life.

Sorry.  Tangent.

The whole point of what’s above is to say, I’m skipping relationship topics tonight.

In exchange …

I have a quiz for you.

(Insert cheer!  Or, collective groan.  You, of course get to choose.)

This is how I have spent the past couple nights now, with my daughter.  Studying states and their capitols.  There has been hand ringing, tears shed, some elation when she gets them right but mainly frustration that she gets any of them wrong.  If not what the state is or where, it’s how to spell it.

As she was struggling still with Connecticut and seemingly at wits end, I told her, “Try not to stress so much.  Just do your best and picture in your mind what you’ve written down time and again to practice.  Or, just write it down and then go back and sound it out to be sure you’ve spelled it as correctly as possible.”

She looked at me, I believe, still feeling rather defeated.

“Chances are,” I added .. “You’ll do better than most adults if we gave them the same quiz anyway.”

Her eyes flew wide open.

So there.. my challenge to you.  And, her challenge to me tonight.  Well, hers and ‘the boys’ .. that’s what the neighbor affectionally calls his stepson.  Despite the fact the two go to different schools, they have the same quiz tomorrow.  They were testing each other for a few minutes this evening.

Name them.  Can you?

The 50 states and capitols.

Not just name them, though.  Can you also get them in the right place?

Have fun .. good luck .. and in case a little music might help put you in the right frame of mind:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k_HeLofy7IE   I had never heard that before this week. You?

Here’s the deal:

No matter how you do on the test, referring back to the assignment a couple days ago .. if you only talked nicely about your significant other today, you get an A+.

A good marriage …

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‘The grass is not greener on the other side of the fence.  It is the greenest where nurtured and cared for.  If your grass is not green, what are you doing – or not doing – to have it that way?‘  –  Wedding Ceremony Sermon

…………….

The Cowboy and I had a wonderful weekend together .. filled with family and friends and more friends and family.

And some drama.

Fortunately, not between us.  But it was .. surrounding us.  And as we were caught between conversations (and this is just in one 48 hour period); 1) of a friend miserable in their marriage, wanting to know about a single friend 2) of a married couple we are close and spent time with but who were at each others throats 3) of a single friend over the phone wondering why the only people who want to date her are married 4) catching up with another couple who plans their week scheduling as much time apart as possible because its easier than being together and 5) of another couple in the midst of an affair and very open about it ..

The Cowboy asks me as we’re trying to navigate phone calls and how to respond to any of it, “Who do you know that really has a good marriage?”

I paused .. and when I went to answer, I paused again for a long time.

…………….

Thinking about the question posed, now almost a day later and as I write, I do know quite a few friends who are in wonderful marriages.  Not that any union is ever without its challenges.  But when challenges come, from what I have ever witnessed, they face them together, with respect, love for each other and a commitment to stick together.  And they have come through it stronger.

Far too many of us know …

… That’s not always possible.

Having been through divorce myself though, I get it.  I know the feeling of hopelessness. Years of it.  Of, no matter what you do, it’s not right.  Of defeat.  Of trying everything you can to save it.  Then being told its never enough.  Of counseling.  Finding hope.  Of a few months of things going well only to have the cycle reverse itself again.  Of knowing there is more to life than the misery it seems two people bring out of each other.  Seeing the pain in a child’s eyes of what the two of you are when you are together.  And imagining the sorrow and confusion in that same child’s eyes, of what it will be should you part.  Of wanting to run your car into a tree versus return home at night because it would be easier than making that decision.  Of knowing that’s not the answer.  And then, of getting to the point you know the pain of staying is worse than anything else you will have to go through to get to the other side.

My ex still says he wishes we had never married in the first place.  That it was the biggest mistake of his life and he should have known better.

While I don’t feel the same .. I get it.

And I’m not going to lie ..

There are so many reasons why one might choose the option of divorce over staying married.  Statistics show over half of our population now does.  While I was devastated to be the one to finally force that step we had both talked about for years, I have not regretted the decision to separate from my ex for one day.

But had there been any chance for us .. any .. to live in harmony and have the life we both wanted, I would have continued to try and make it work.

…………..

Marriage .. even just a committed long term relationship, is hard.  And as the Cowboy and I talk about where we go from this place we are at .. in life .. in location .. in any of this and we look at the challenges being faced by so many around us and the situations they are creating for themselves as well as having been in some of those places in one way or another ourselves, the question posed stumped us both.  At least momentarily.

We have something good.  But at one point, so did we with our -ex’s .. and so did all of these family and friends ..

How do you hold onto that, the good?  Or the great.  We have talked about this before.  Many times.

I asked the one married friend who was calling to ask about my single friend and if I thought they might have any chance to hook up with them .. first, I think I said, ‘Are you kidding?’  Second, I know I asked if they were willing to work on their own marriage.  Tend to the grass.  Work on making it green.  Had they even talked with their spouse about how devastated they were.

“No, not really,” they said.

“Wouldn’t that be an important first step?  Do you want to save your marriage or are you just done?  My ex and I went to counseling on and off for almost 8 years, you know that,” I said.

“I think I’m just done.  There is no love.  There hasn’t been for a long time,” this person replied.

……………

How .. how do you bring it back?

How do you make sure the grass is greener on your side of the fence than what it appears on the other.  And what can any of us do to regrow the lawn/a relationship when it seems so far gone?

Or are we just a throwaway society anymore and it doesn’t matter if there is still some life in the yard .. we just want to rip the whole thing apart, and start over with some fresh sod.  Because sometimes that is all you can do.

The Cowboy and I have been pondering all of this …

And they have been good, ongoing conversations for us, as we work to keep our own relationship strong and green and help others we love and care about through some pretty rough patches.

Something I need more time to think about .. before I write any more.  That will be tomorrow’s post.  Your thoughts in the meantime?

Flavor of the day ..

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I’m tired tonight .. it might be that I’m coming off a sugar buzz.  Or the dramamine I took earlier today so that I could ride in the passenger seat and not feel like I wanted to hurl.  I’m not sure yet.  But forgive me for being lazy right now.  I’m wiped out for some reason .. so I’m going to go with that whole feeling, actually go to bed at what some would consider a decent hour this evening and in the meantime, rely on a lot of photos to help me get through this post.

…………..

I believe I had my first taste of frozen custard years ago .. it was in the form of a Concrete which we grabbed from this hot little joint in St. Louis, with my Aunt and Uncle.

(Now, if you looked at that photo at all closely .. you’ll see the pic isn’t at all at a custard stand.  It is all of us at Grant’s Farm, http://www.grantsfarm.com/ part of the Anheuser Busch complex and these are beer cups and not ice cream cups .. but who’s fact checking.  It was the same time and close to the same place.)

Since then…

I have been hooked.  On frozen custard.  Don’t get me wrong, plain ice cream will forever be pretty good in my books, and there’s little left to call plain about most ice cream anymore.  It’s good and the choices are astounding.  Popsicles have their place, too.

But frozen custard.  There is just nothing quite like it.

I went through a banana strawberry malt phase when I discovered the likes of the old Cleary’s Frozen Custard years ago in Madison.

Cleary’s has since come and gone.  The empires of places like Michael’s Frozen Custard and Culver’s have built themselves up since .. making millions (one would think – have you seen the price for a sundae lately???) both here in the great dairy state and beyond .. on our weak souls and lack of willpower to grab, say an apple when we are searching for a snack each night.

Night after night .. especially during the summer, we stand in line seeking a taste of the good life.

And it is delivered.  Handed to us through a cute little window  and received with a smile on nights .. like tonight.

I have long wondered .. since we have always lived within walking distance of one storefront or another .. if hoofing it there and back meant we might negate the whole calorie transaction.

I’m not so sure that works.

But on nights like tonight.. when my daughter and the fine young boy next door who just got done watching a couple of our animals while we were away on vacation begged to go tonight for custard yet again .. because I said at some point I would take them (note, some point)

I decided I was worth continuing to try and figure it out.

And I picked up a schedule of the ‘Flavors of the Day’ for the month to be sure we’d know when we might like to get back in line again.

No soup for you ..

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When is the last time you had REALLY good customer service?

I mean, the kind of help or over the counter service that just stopped you in your tracks and had you saying, ‘Wow, I didn’t know people/businesses did it like this anymore?’

Perhaps the better question is, how many businesses have you decided to not return to because the service was appalling?

………..

Let me just start with two thoughts:

1.)  I believe we are technically – all in the customer service business .. unless of course, you don’t have a job.  But even job hunting means, essentially, that a potential employer is the customer.  Doesn’t it?  And you had better leave a good impression if you truly want to make the sale/get the job.

2.)  I know there are days when I can do a better job myself of working like whatever I am doing is the only thing that matters on earth.  I know this.  I admit this.  And I continue always to try and do better, keeping others in mind.

Well .. three thoughts.

3.)  I have just returned from a week and a half away.  Which, for those of you who have ever left for that period of time know, most likely there is no good ‘real food’ to eat upon return.  If it was good and fresh when you left, it is now moldy.  I will spare you a photo of what was in my refrigerator that is now thrown out.  Needless to say, Monday, I had not eaten .. really, any breakfast, lunch or dinner (until now, and at 8:00 pm I just wrapped up a run to the grocery store)  other than a packet of oatmeal, two pieces of plain bread and an apple all day.  So I may have been a bit hungry and ornery because of it, as I wrote what follows.

BUT ..

……………

8:28 pm Monday (and I know this because I make a point to look at my watch).  I walk into a local business that I frequent often after a grocery store run.  I am looking for a coffee, bottle of wine to take home to sip on this week and perhaps a cup of soup.  I am famished.  The place closes at 9 pm, something I am keenly aware of. There are 32 minutes to close.

8:31 pm.  I walk up to counter having found a bottle of wine for purchase, order a latte and ask if I might still get a cup of soup, thinking, I know they’re closing soon.  I don’t want to ask for anything that might have them doing a bunch of work.  But soup, soup should be do-able.  That’s what I’m thinking.

Clerk at register asks woman who might usually be helping prep food but who is instead now washing dishes if soup is still available.  Dish washing woman who is cleaning out soup containers says:

“No.  It’s past 8:30 and the kitchen is closed.  We’re done serving.”

She proceeds to say not missing a beat, “Were you going to stay here?  You know we close at 9.”

I smirk, thinking, if I owned this place and knew what just flew out of her mouth, I’d be absolutely appalled.  She is more worried about getting out of there by 9 or as close to it as possible than making sure a customer is happy and satisfied and will care to come back because the experience was just that good.

“Oh yes,” I say.  “I am well aware of what time you close.  I came in thinking there was still enough time I might get a cup of soup.  I haven’t eaten all day.  And I’m hungry.”

She paused.  Stepped back.  And then returned about a minute later after I finished paying for what I could get (wine and coffee), “Well, I guess I could still heat a cup up for you if you’d like.”

“No thank you,” I replied.

At that point there was nothing she could have said to me short of perhaps, ‘I’m sorry’, to get me to even think of staying.

8:32 pm I again look at my watch as I stand, waiting for my latte.

……………

Because I have had many a wonderful experience at this particular establishment, chances are, I will return.  I peripherally know the owners.  I know they run a good business.  And I want to support small local business wherever and whenever I can.  Even if its through a cup of coffee.

But if that’s my first experience in a place, I’m just saying, I may not ever return.

Monday night .. I took my business next door.  My dinner business anyway.  Where I am perhaps all too often a regular as well (because I’m terrible about cooking for myself on nights when its just me.  Plus the margaritas can’t be beat).  Where I have never had anything but the utmost awesome service.  And where I sat down to write .. this post.  Over food.

Which was all I was looking for and hoping for tonight.

Listen.  I’m not trying to be snitty here.  I promise.  I’m just wanting to offer some thoughts .. my own perspective, some of which I hope wear off at some point on my daughter.

I have worked in the service industry since I was about 15.  Actually, before that.  I mowed lawns starting around age 12, had a paper route and babysat all I could to put money in my savings when I was a kid.  But by the time I was 15, I started washing dishes and waitressing.  Back then, it was all about trying to keep coffee cups full on Saturday and Sunday mornings for all the regulars at the Poynette Cafe, how quickly I could remove their plates once their toast was done and hope then that I had served them well enough to earn more than a few quarters per table.  It was tough work, but I realized it couldn’t be about me and what time I hoped to rush out of there to get home or to see my friends.  It was about making sure the customers were happy, that they would come back, bring friends and hopefully tip more next time because I/we took good care of them.  And .. in almost every circumstance, I was also taught that it didn’t really matter what I thought.  About anything.  If I thought their food was done right but they said it wasn’t .. if they ordered one drink but thought they ordered another .. whatever .. the customer is (almost) always right.  And if we didn’t have what they were asking for or when they wanted it, we tried to offer up solutions.  With a smile.  And we stayed late to accommodate.

Sure, it’s not like that in every business.  But, it is in many and unless being rude is your company’s schtick .. what are the consequences?  For the employee or the employer?  Business owners I know say they are having a tough time getting good young help, who most often fill customer service positions.  Among the issues I’m told, too often young workers are so tethered to their iPhones/Android or Facebook they don’t even think to peel their eyes away from a computer screen to acknowledge a customer has even walked through the door.

Has good customer service died?  I don’t think so.  In fact, because we’ve gotten so far away from it, I believe we’re seeing a resurrection of it.  And I know for a fact, this particular place I stopped last night prides itself on it.

However ..

“Some people love to please others and some people love to just be done working and could give an eff (word has been changed to protect my G rating) about you,” says owner of second place, understanding how I came to sit at his table again tonight.

“Can I quote you on that,” I ask.

“Certainly,” he replied.

I can think of shoe departments I won’t purchase from again because nowhere .. anywhere .. was there someone to help, restaurants I won’t return to because the service was as bad as the food, stores I could care less to spend money in and gas stations I can’t stand because pay at the pump should mean pay at the pump, not come inside to pay and we’ll hold extra funds from your debit card for our own use for a couple days and then return it when we feel like it.  Consumers have plenty of options anymore and we need to remember, it pays to vote with our wallets.

Listen .. I don’t consider myself high maintenance.  But I do know common courtesy with me and others would go a long way .. again, a reminder for me to check my own attitude at the door when I head each day into my own job.

Next time if presented with the same scenario, I’m thinking it might be easy for an employee to simply say something to the effect of, “You know what, we just put the soup away, is there anything else we could get you?  A roll?  Anything?”

I might still have said, “No thanks,” knowing they were cleaning up to get out of there and not wanting to inconvenience anyone.  But I would have left feeling much better about the exchange and might have continued to freely tell everyone how much I love your place.

A True Cowgirl …

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Let me just start by saying, I will never pretend to be a True Cowgirl.

cow·girl  n.  A hired woman, especially in the western United States, who tends cattle and performs many of her duties on horseback.

I love the life, the lifestyle and am incredibly appreciative of the opportunity to do more things considered Cowgirl since meeting the Cowboy.  But despite the fact I’ve worn cowboy boots since earning enough to buy my first pair as a teen, love country music and all it stands for and have always wanted to live at the end of a dirt road .. I’ve never called myself a cowgirl and know it’ll take awhile to earn the stripes associated with the title, if ever.

Especially after the events of this week.

………..

We have worked a lot around the Cowboy’s ranch this week.

We’ve also ridden each day.  For hours.  Down dirt roads, through fields, in arenas …

Learning the flag race ..

Around barrels.

And unfortunately for me .. I also rode this week, into a barrel.

It’s happened only once out of all the runs we’ve ever taken.  But I took a pretty good chunk of skin out of my shin.

(Apparently real cowgirls, some of them anyway.. the Cowboy says ones who have horses who like to ‘dive at the barrel’ wear shin guards because they have the gift of that experience.  But I’m thinking most don’t, because true cowboys would most likely make fun of a cowgirl who wears shinguards.)

Anyway, days later the leg still smarts.

But not as much as it did before.   Because I now have a few new aches and pains to help take my mind off a sore leg.

………..

We no more than got Ol Joe saddled up yesterday (the Cowboy’s roping horse, who I have been riding all week and every time we’ve been to the ranch), and into the arena with the girls on their horses ..

And he threw me.

It was a valiant effort to stay on, mind you.  I’m sure of it .. (lmao)

But I ended up on the ground.

While I have prepared mentally for that moment for years .. until it happens, I’m pretty sure you can’t really appreciate how little control you have over how you fall.  Unless like bronc riders for instance, you practice .. A LOT.

Regardless, it was the first time I’ve ever been thrown.  And as I lay there in the dirt having hit my tailbone a couple times on the saddle and then my head on the ground after bracing the fall with my arm .. I assessed just what really hurt.

And then the thoughts creeped in .. that a true cowgirl both would know how to ride through something like that .. and that she would also probably get up faster than I was.

I hear crying over to my left ..

I’m still laying there.  “I’m fine,” I say.

The girls, both now standing nearby on their own horses, were upset and worried.

“Are you okay?” says the Cowboys daughter .. mine saying in unison,  “Mom, are you okay?”

I hear more crying.

I start laughing to reassure them that I am, or will be shortly, just fine.

“Really,” I say.  “Just give me a minute.”

I’m still laying in the dirt.  I laugh some more.  And think, that’s about how my own mother would have handled it.  Laugh through the pain.

I got up .. slowly.  Dusted myself off.  And went to help them get Ol Joe back into the arena.

The Cowboy rode him for a few minutes.

And then I got back on.  I wasn’t sure my body was ready for it.  But the Cowboy made me.  Which in hindsight, I appreciate.

…………

“You haven’t ridden enough if you haven’t been bucked off at least once,” the Cowboy tells me.

So .. this was a good thing, I guess.

I may not be a true cowgirl.  But I’m on my way perhaps to better understanding what it takes to be one ..

And as we talk this morning about saddling Joe and the other horses back up ..

I’m enjoying every painful step of walking around, getting ready to head back out again, to ride.

Calving season ..

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Along with truly wanting to take some down time while here on vacation.. we have wanted to get a lot done this week at the Cowboy’s ranch.

My 10 year old has been out each morning ..

Chores in pajamas ..

.. doing what she can to help.  Not necessarily anything that we need or want her to do, but that she wants to do.  And the fact she is out doing anything .. I’m happy with at this point.

She’s actually learned how to do quite a few things so far this week:  Make a fresh pot of coffee.  Go out in the field and get her own horse to ride.  Or goat to rope.  Oil a saddle.  Pull weeds.  Hang laundry on the line.  Take better care to watch after the Cowboy’s twins (not that they need it) and .. today, she added .. give encouragement to a mama cow giving birth.

Offering words of encouragement ..

She took her job so seriously … that when the time came after about 45 minutes of watching, waiting and Neighbor J pulling on the two feet we could see, she almost missed …

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eLI_AxJbNYY&context=C4eb3dfeADvjVQa1PpcFNgrE7DfEEyp6rtXAshDJjXHtVvAfksEEk=

A beautiful sight .. (if you don’t mind all the blood and other bodily fluids that come with a newborn calf/large animal.  Heck even a person.  It’s just messy.  But also, a miracle.)  Something I would recommend you be present at at least once in your lifetime, if at all possible.  Just remember to either stay back.  Or apparenty bring plastic wrap and duct tape for yourself (arms, especially) if you want to get up close and personal through the process.

Appreciate the call, Neighbor J.  We all loved it.  Plus, it was a nice break from a ‘hard days work’.  Especially for my daughter.

She was happy though, to get back to the ranch .. because there was still much to do.

At the top of the list .. concerned it was feeling neglected after all the attention and time spent with the horses this week, show the donkey some love.

 

South Dakota Wind …

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The mornings have all been fairly different here since we arrived early last Saturday .. sunny skies and warm, partly sunny and cool, cloudy and overcast ..

But the one thing that remains constant it seems here in South Dakota ..

The wind.

I had never thought much about how windy it is until this week, where for starters .. we have had a lot more time to hang out.  Usually we are passing through on our way further west.  Or here for all of about 36 hours, turning around and heading back home.

But each morning, when I look out the window, all I can tell for certain, is that it is windy.

And .. that .. if I leave my clothes on the line .. they may not be there when we I go to check on them again.

………..

It is relatively flat, this side of the state.  So there’s not much to stop the wind from gaining momentum and swirling around every corner, every tree, every building.  Watching the grass on days like today is mesmerizing.  The wind almost appears to make everything dance.  So, it’s beautiful on some respects.

It’s just, so windy.

Windy enough that I had no idea how sunburned I was getting the other day because everything still felt cool.  Until I came in out of the sun ..

And, the Cowboy’s ranch is located in only a Fair to Moderate part of the state where wind is concerned, according to http://www.windpoweringamerica.gov/maps_template.asp?stateab=sd.  I can’t imagine if we were in the Excellent, Outstanding or Superb areas of the state.

“Every day in South Dakota is nice .. as long as the wind isn’t blowing,” says the Cowboy.

That has me wondering how many nice days there are here .. but he assures me, most are .. even with the wind howling over the plains.

It also has me thinking .. if the wind one of South Dakota’s biggest crops, is it being harvested to its fullest potential?

Minnesota Public Radio did this piece a few years ago now .. http://tinyurl.com/633srn 

Apparently there are significantly more wind farms in South Dakota today than there were at the time this piece was done.  The Cowboy says one of the biggest wind farms in the state is actually not far north of the ranch.

All I know at the moment .. is that I need to keep my hat cinched tighter when we’re out riding.  That the resistence training on my runs is au natural.  And while it has quickly helped to dry many a load of laundry, saving us from running the dryer .. we need to run the wash again.  Because that white clump out in the middle of the neighbors field indeed is one of my favorite shirts that blew away.

Staying put …

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I was kind of sick to my stomach yesterday.. thinking about making a decision I knew was best to make for so many reasons.

But one that I just didn’t want to do.

We cold decide to stay put in South Dakota .. where we have settled in nicely these first few days of spring break.

Or .. we could head out, leaving the Cowboy’s like we had planned, for a few days in Montana.

……….

We go to Montana every year at least once if not twice. And that’s just the two of us. My 10 year old then goes one if not two more times with her father. I don’t ever feel I can speak on his behalf nor would I want to, but I’m pretty sure it’s safe to say, we all love it. The state. The state of mind. Being there moves me and I think all of us, like few other places.. something I never expected when I moved there so many years ago for my first job. It is where my ex and I met. I’m not sure a day has gone by that my ex doesn’t wish he had ever left. His entire family now lives there, without him. That’s a whole other story.

Regardless .. If we don’t go to visit family, we go to visit all the friends who are like family to us.

The annual roadtrip usually has us swinging a big loop to see friends in Big Sky country, The Bitterroot, Missoula, Ninemile, the Flathead Valley and back toward home .. it’s a lot of driving. And never enough time with any of them.

But this trip, I really wanted and quite honestly, felt I needed time with a woman who is like a second mom to me. The Hat Maker and her family. One stop. One stop I have been looking forward to for a very long time. We had scheduled three days there .. to fall in-between two very long, wonderful weekends at the Cowboy’s.

I didn’t want to back out… but my gut was telling me I should.

The Cowboy and I have had some much needed time together and conversations we just can’t seem to have in earnest otherwise .. since we have been here. All good things.

But until my daughter asked the other night.. “Mom, can’t we stay one more day here?” .. I hadn’t really considered simply staying put for an entire week.

Not only because I’d be changing loosely set plans .. (which I’m typically and all too often, good with)

Or missing out on an opportunity to spend time in a place and with people that feed my soul ..

But because it would mean I would actually stay put, in one place, with little to do other than rest .. regroup .. think .. and have absolute down time with people I love and adore and appreciate here as well. My daughter being one. The Cowboy another.

………..

Downtime is not something I give myself permission to have very often. And I hate to generalize but, I believe it’s actually something we, as a society have gotten so far away from. Many of us, anyway. The Cowboy has been good for me in that regard.

The Hat Maker agrees .. as she adores the Cowboy and what he’s meant for us. She told me on the phone as we were talking about the possible change of plans last night, that it was probably good for us to stay put for awhile. Stop running from here to there and everywhere inbetween because often it never gets us where we want to go anyway.

We woke this morning …

And instead of getting in the car for the twelve hour drive ..

We are enjoying staying put.. heading outside where there are two horses saddled, ready for my daughter and I to ride out in the South Dakota sun .. While we wait for the Cowboy to return home.

Setting fear aside ..

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“I can’t believe she doesn’t know how to ride a bike..”

That is the reaction we would get from just about everyone who happened to come across the little tidbit of information that my 10 year old didn’t know how to ride a bike.  Not only did she not know, but she absolutely refused to learn.

“That’s just crazy,” they would say.  “Why doesn’t she want to learn?”

It’s been this way for years now.

She will go 40 mph down a mountainside on skiis despite having rammed head on into a tree when she was probably 4 years old.  No fear to get back up.  She will ride on a scooter.  A skateboard.  She will get on any horse and enjoys not just a leisurely walk.  But an all out run.

Yet she won’t get on a bike.

I don’t know if it was the 4th of July neighborhood parade incident years ago that scarred her when she fell and the decorative red, white and blue pipecleaner on the handlebar went clear through her hand ..

Or if she .. for some reason .. has just truly not wanted to learn.

“C’mon…” I used to say.  “Everyone knows how to ride a bike.  It’s just something you do.  It will be fun!  We can go together.  You have to learn.”

“Not me,” she would reply.  “Not unless it’s the law.  Is it a law?” she used to ask.

I was getting ready to call the Governor’s office.  Who I knew perpiherally through work and who used to live in our modest little neighborhood. I was certain would help me out.

“It is a law, my law.. ” and would say, laughing.  “Would it help to have a call from the Governor?”

“No.  I’m NOT RIDING A BIKE.”

………..

The Cowboy and I were determined with some lovely downtime for us this week .. that she would learn.  And she’s been softening to the idea more and more .. especially since the handsome young boy she often hangs out with now and who lives next door to us rides his bike all the time.

“What do you want to do today,” we asked as she woke on Saturday.

“I want to ride,” she replied.

“Well, if you want to ride the horses later today, you’ve got to first try to ride a bike,” the Cowboy and I said, united.

“Ok.”

………

She didn’t want either of us to help, at least not at first.

The Cowboy tried.

She got off, came back to the porch and said, “I want to do this alone.”

“And two minutes.  I’m only going to try for two minutes.”

We left her alone.  For awhile.  Two minutes came and went and she was down at the end of the Cowboy’s gravel drive still trying.  I went to see if I could help.

We went down the road and back.  A couple times.  The dog in tow ..

“You can do this,” I said.  “You just need some momentum.  It’s hard to start from a dead stop.”

She actually listened.  Didn’t get mad.  Didn’t fuss.  She tried.  And after a few more attempts ..was up and pedaling.

For about 15 feet.

Next try, just a little bit more.  And a little bit more.  By this time, we were coming back up the drive and nearing the porch.

“Ok.”  I tried.  “Can we ride the horses now?”

………

The Cowboy asked if I could see the smile on her face.

I couldn’t.  But knowing that made my heart smile.

So did the fact that Sunday morning, when we came back in the house after returning from town, she wasn’t behind us.  The Cowboy looked out the window …

“She’s on the bike,” he said.