Tag Archives: Love

The ‘Do-over’…

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While my ex and I had a tough time with a lot of things..

We did a few things well.

One of them… was the ‘Do-over’.  (Which, for the record, was his idea.  I want to give credit where credit is due.)

If we had had a rough start to the day or the week or the whatever .. we’d recognize when we had come to an impasse.. or just a better place.  Of understanding.  Of compassion. Of wanting to move forward.

One of us would say .. ready.. set..

Refresh

And in an instant, we let go of whatever was nagging at us.  Give each other a fresh start.  Smile and come back at the day.

………..

The Cowboy and I have needed a do-over all week.  And we’re finally there, I think.  We hit the refresh button a few times.. but much like my computer these days.. we’ve gotten stuck halfway, loading any page .. and out of frustration we’ve both shut down for the day.  Feeling in need of a good repair person to come tell us what the problem was and fix it for us.

I’m pretty sure this time we’ve officially rebooted the whole system and are back at 100%.

………..

Spring is kind of like that ..

A time to hit the reset button. It has been a beautiful spring throughout many parts of the country.  Things which usually don’t come back to us yet for months are already in full bloom.  Life as we know it, in nature anyway.. has returned as well.

But the cycle of life.. always includes challenges.  And sometimes with the beauty of spring, come some very terrible storms.

It has been a tough week, not just for the Cowboy and I .. we have been quickly reminded of how small a storm we are weathering compared to others around us.

Some very dear friends have announced divorce.  Have lost a child.  A father and grandfather.  News has come two others are now managing end-of-life care, losing their battles to cancer.  And a second mother to me is back in the hospital.

It has been a challenging week.  One that reminds me there is a cycle to life and to relationships.  That along with the good I always look for and try to hold constant, the constant spring..

… that there are seasons.

And every chance we have for our own spring .. our own reset .. or do-over with those we love and hold dear, much like the time with the delicate magnolia blossoms on this tree, is a gift.

Clay.

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One of the hardest things we have to do in life, is trust.

But it’s also one of the most important.

Trust that as children, our parents will provide for us, the basic necessities.

Trust that as we grow, we have what it takes to survive and thrive in an ever changing, often very tough world.

Trust in something.  Someone.  Bigger than yourself.

For me, it is God.  It is what grounds me and gets me through, not always unscathed, but through the challenges that present themselves day to day.

Trust that there is a reason for everything.

And that when it is your time, for life.. for death.. and whatever may lie in between, you will have what you sincerely need to get through.  To get through to that place He, for whatever reason, has in store for us.

I struggle with that sometimes when I really go back and think of the experience we had with my mother dying.

When I really give myself time to remember what it was like to look into her eyes.. hold her hand .. and try to reassure her it would be ok, as she struggled to breathe, very afraid of both leaving us.

And the process of dying.  Would it hurt.  Was there really a place she was going called Heaven.  The why’s.  The how’s.  Mostly, the why’s, although she only once ever said it.

I can’t imagine.. whether it is death, losing someone in any capacity .. or the life some of us feel we have been given to lead,  that most of us don’t feel challenged in our faith on a consistent basis.

Having had so many that mean so much .. come and go in my life in such a short time, I try and just feel blessed I have the people in my life I do, however long it is possible.

……………..

I took the photo above, at our church the other weekend.  The church had been host to an artists conference and there were a few works on display yet that Sunday morning.

Out of everything there.. this one photo stood out to me.

The parallels to life, of clay being molded into something beautiful.  Starting out as a heap.  Slowly being spun.  Not always holding it’s shape, but reminded time and again, turn after turn of the wheel, where it is supposed to go based on the work of the hands.  That it will be ok if it just trusts in what is happening, works with the artist and allows guidance.  The edges are softened.  Eventually, a beautiful pot is made.

…………….

I wrote a blog earlier today walking through some of the conversations the Cowboy and I have had this week.  I asked the Cowboy what was off limits.  ‘I trust you’, is what he most often says.  ‘I have nothing to hide.’

I wrote it carefully as I do every entry.  Well, most.  Sometimes when a post seems relatively benign and just for fun and I’m in a hurry to document something, my grammar is terrible and words are misspelled everywhere.  But whatever…

I did everything I could to be factually correct throughout and provide the essentials of one small moment in time.  This one very small part of a much bigger story of my life which will unfold piece by piece otherwise in any true daily journal.

Because it seemed too much for one quick read, I split it in two.  Tomorrow was going to be the lessons learned from all of this.  Most of which detailed my ignorance to what most other people who lead what might be considered a ‘more normal life’ than I do, find acceptable.  Versus what I consider normal.  (Is there a normal out there anymore?  I ask as I am up writing at 4am after having fallen asleep again earlier in the night with my daughter)  And why I have learned through this I need to get back to a place where I know I have to work on being more considerate.  Because the last thing I want to ever do is hurt anyone, especially someone I love.

I pulled the post.  Even though I do plan to save it for my daughter.  Because the lessons all around still apply.  They are tough lessons.  And one I wish my mom were around to talk with about.  (I have several other ‘second moms’.  A story to be told closer to Mother’s Day I think.)

For as authentic as I want to be always in person, in writing, in life .. the whole reason I am journaling ..

I also at this moment don’t believe it is worth dragging out some of the pain the Cowboy and I .. feel the situation we’ve found ourselves in, worth.

I hope that is authentic enough in and of itself.

I need him to trust I will take care of his heart.  And I am fairly certain, until any of us ever heal from previous unhealthy relationships, hurt or pain, losses in life through things like divorce or in death, that it is tough to lay your heart fully out there to trust anyone again.

We are still being molded.  And I want to take the best possible care of the clay we have been given in the trust it will turn yet, into something even more beautiful.

Insight gleaned from hydrangeas on the floor …

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My cat right now is chasing a guitar pick around the living room like it’s the best toy, ever.  Like, it’s on the run from him and he’s totally not going to let it get away.

I’m pretty sure its the first thing to bring a genuine smile to my face since about 8:00am yesterday.

Of course.. it follows him knocking over a vase freshly filled with water to get a drink.

Which makes me smile, too.

Now that I’ve cleaned up the water, anyway.  Because it’s my own damn fault he knocked it over.  I knew he was thirsty.  He had been looking for something for probably the past ten minutes.  I could hear him checking the shower for any residual drops.  I was folding clothes.  He came and looked at me.  I asked if he could give me a few minutes.

He went to the dog dish.  Nothing there.  I’m still folding clothes.  I hear the vase go.  He always goes for the flower vase when I don’t respond quick enough or there are no other options.

I pick up the hydrangeas off the floor..

I pause, before placing them back in the vase.  Go and get some more water.

And put them back on the table.

I tend to buy myself flowers when I need a pick me up.  Or, just because.

Today, I needed the pick me up.

………….

Oh the irony, I think to myself.  The cat knocks the vase over because he needs something.  Something I didn’t get him immediately.  A bit drastic?  Perhaps.  But it reminds me of my day.  When you wait too long to address a situation, it can easily get out of hand.

………….

I received a text Monday morning from the Cowboy about 25 minutes after he hit the road to head home to South Dakota.

“Please call when you drop (daughter) off, need to talk” states the text.

We had just had 48 hours of pretty much nothing but time to talk.  Time in the car.  Hours.  Together with nothing to do but talk.  We had some really fun, wonderful conversations.  So much so in fact, I pointed it out specifically after one very animated chat about shows we each used to watch when we were kids.

“My brothers and I used to not get out of the car unless we could go through the windows,” said the Cowboy.  “Dukes of Hazard.  Did you watch that one?  We loved that show.”

He shared some more ridiculously fun and fond memories about times he and his brothers did some crazy things to be like the Duke boys..

I’m laughing.

“These are really great conversations,” I honestly said to the Cowboy on our return trip Sunday from Chicago.  “Have you ever been able to talk to someone like this?” I ask.

“No,” he said smiling.  “I haven’t.”

I even took a few notes because they are conversations worth journaling.  Internally I’m thinking, how can we make sure we always continue to talk like this?  To keep learning from each other?

‘Need to talk.’

I hear this and think, oh no.. what’s happened.  There is so much going on right now.  So many moving parts in both our lives.  The Cowboy has a big day back home, Tuesday.  Monday was a prep day.  And here I was concerned it was something in regard to ‘said’ meeting.  Or the kids.  Something is horribly wrong.  Someone’s been hurt or is sick.

Nope.

‘I want to ask you about some texts I saw on your phone,’ says the Cowboy.

………….

Besides the whole host of things that might need to be discussed here ..

And mind you, I leave my phone lying around with no concerns about anything anyone might see on my phone because I have nothing to hide…

This all started Saturday morning …

It is now Monday.  And he’s left, on his way home.

…………..

I struggled with what to write, if anything at all tonight/today.  Because quite honestly, I’m still baffled about the entire situation.  But more importantly, the Cowboy has enough on his plate and the last thing I ever want to do is upset him or distract him from major life tasks that are imminent and need his focus.

I’m also wondering if stress isn’t playing a major role in any and all issues we’re having right now versus actual problems.

So I’m leaving it at this .. for now.

There are lessons, always, to be learned in our every day.  And there are stories and wisdom I wish my mother were still alive to hand down to me.  From simple things like how she made such awesome rosettes for instance .. to the complex.  Relationships.  Marriage.  Finances.  Friends.  Dreams.  Even cats.  (Yes, even cats.  I’m sure they fit in here, somewhere.)

I feel strongly the situation that has unfolded the past 24 hours specifically holds a lot of food for thought for my daughter, as she gets older and will undoubtedly face similar situations.  So I will figure out how to tactfully write about what has transpired.  Just not now.

……………

Much like the vase tipped this morning.. and the gush of water and flowers on the floor .. some things become bigger messes than they ever need to be.  Or are worth being.  Because attention wasn’t given at the right time.  Or to the right thing.  Sometimes, it can be as simple as someone/something wanting to make a mess.  But usually there’s a deeper cause.  Whatever the case .. in the wee hours of the morning as I write this:  I’m not sure how the Cowboy is.  I want nothing but good things for him and us however .. so we shall see how well we navigate this road.  But the cat .. the cat is the only thing at the moment, I feel I can appease.  And because he let me know very swiftly there was an issue..

Apparently I need to clean my floors again. I know.. I know..

There is now water in every dish.

A content cat on the sofa sleeping.

And a guitar pick that can rest.

……………

I’m off to try and do the same.

Don’t look ’em in the eye..

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We got sidetracked over the weekend .. (which has me now 2 days behind in posts but I’ve got some great stuff to work with .. so no shortage of material, just time.)

We were heading to a friends place in Chicago.  I wanted to make three stops along the way… and none of which entailed a bar.  Which, is apparently where most of Chicago likes to hang on St. Pattys day so we may have to make that trip again and do it appropriately.

I wanted to see the Chicago River turned green, a longstanding tradition .. (I’ve seen it look rather green, but probably not on purpose)

http://www.suntimes.com/news/metro/11345105-418/they-dye-the-chicago-river-and-a-few-other-things-green.html

And, I wanted to stop in at two stores, both of which are essentially a few doors down from the river.

One where I usually go anymore if I’m going to buy a new suit (http://www.benetton.com/) …not that I want or need anymore than I already have.  But my job demands I dress well and stay up to date with current trends.  And people are very vocal (like last Friday) when they don’t like what you are wearing.  So I have to make an attempt anyway .. I walked in .. tried on one blouse .. and walked out.

(I walk out by the way, to the Cowboy and my daughter, who have found comfy chairs across from each other in the mall, seeing who can stare the other down first without laughing.  It made me smile.)

The other…

… http://shop.nordstrom.com/c/womens-shoes-shop?origin=topnav was just down the hall.  One where my daughter was very much a participant.  And the funny faces she was making here.. were in the mirror, at herself.  As she asked for pair after pair of shoes to try on.  Heels and all.  (10 years old mind you.)

Quite honestly, she’s the one who needs new shoes the most.  She’s gone from a size 5 last fall to a size 7.  I’m pretty sure she’s been cramming her feet into shoes that don’t fit for months.  Regardless ..

………..

Nordstroms on Michigan Ave.  (Yes, I’m quite certain there other other more magnificent shoe departments but this one is closest to home.)

I don’t always buy.  I swear I don’t.  Not any more.  I used to, perhaps twice a year.  I’d go and buy one new pair.  Something I feel pretty good about given I usually see women buying several at usually upwards of $150/pr if not $300-$500.

Slowly and steadily, I’m trying to get rid of shoes I don’t wear anymore and only buy comfortable shoes for my busy lifestyle and aching feet.  Ones that are stylish enough to wear to work, for everyday or to the ranch.  (They do exist.)

I bought one pair for myself.  Cute, casual.  But wearable for work.  Under $100.  And most importantly, while they may not look it, comfortable.  Like, crazy I’m walking on pillows, comfortable.  And we got a pair of glittery flip flops for my daughter so that she could remove the tall, sweaty cowboy boots she had on that 80 degree day.   Because she had no other warm weather shoes that fit her.

The Cowboy had no intention of spending any money.

No intention.

But on the way back to the car .. we, meaning, I.. or my daughter..  apparently made eye contact with the guy at the kiosk in the middle of the mall.  Well, actually we didn’t make eye contact.  But he noticed we were strolling, friendly folk and likely suspects .. and he reeled us in.  You know, those kiosks where they say here, try this hand lotion and if you stop you’re in trouble.  The Cowboy has apparently been reeled in by this kiosk before, at a different mall.  I have too.  These people are good.

But I was prepared.  And wasn’t spending any more money.

The owner realized that.

Then started talking with the Cowboy.

We were there a good 20 minutes.  Had fun.  And we walked away having spent some money.   Not on beer.  Shoes.  A suit.  Or anything Irish this St. Patrick’s Day.  But it was still refreshing and hopefully worth the price.

It’s okay to get sidetracked.  But eye contact in the big city isn’t what it might always be out on the back roads of South Dakota.  Where all it might cost you, is a friendly wave.

“No more eye contact,” says the Cowboy, laughing, before we’re even done.  We went off and had what I thought was a wonderful rest of the weekend..

…………

What I realized this morning.. ironically .. is that I should have made more eye contact with the Cowboy over the weekend.  Because I may have then realized,  there were other discussions to be had.  And that would have been good to have, when we could have looked each other in the eye.

Instead .. I get a text.

Sometimes conversations with a cowboy.. heck, anyone, aren’t easy.  Or fun.

Stillwater …

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If you’ve never been to Stillwater, Minnesota, you’re missing something.  It is a beautiful .. quaint little town along the banks of the St. Croix River (I thought it was Mississippi but, wrong.) just as you cross the border from Wisconsin into Minnesota.  Or, I guess.. the other way around, too.  Leaving Minnesota heading into Wisconsin.  Whichever direction you’re coming from, it’s just a few miles off the highway.  And well worth the trip.  There is a great downtown and a gorgeous landscape surrounding the small town.

http://www.countryliving.com/antiques/shops-and-shows/getaway-st-croix-valley-1106#slide-1

Lot of antique shops.  Well, a lot of quaint little shops in general to be honest.

Golf courses.  Water recreation opportunities.  B&B’s.  And of course.. some great restaurants.

I’m pretty sure the Cowboy and I checked out each and every one of them in the three hours we were there.  The day we actually met, in person.  Late last June.

Because I was hungry for breakfast.  I had just come from a long run.  And it was past noon.

As we were told, ‘no breakfast anymore’ walking from place to place, we finally settled on a nice bistro on the edge of town (no more restaurants to hit).  We sat in the window at a table for two.  And I quickly realized it didn’t matter what was on the menu.  I was happy to just delve into the person sitting across the table from me.   (Take that however you want.  But at that point it was all about the convo.)

…………..

Another old friend I just ran into and who knew something about someone in South Dakota  said to me .. ‘how exactly, did you meet again?’

………….

Six years ago .. the Cowboy got a call from a friend to show some horses.  He was living in Oklahoma  at the time.  It was to rope at the World Appaloosa show in Fort Worth, Texas for a horse trainer from Wisconsin.  He went.  They won.  They have been great friends and worked together ever since.

Which brings us to a year ago…

That same trainer…

Became my trainer for an event I was asked to do along with some others for the Midwest Horse Fair last April, I believe it was.  We worked together for a few months.  Unlike the Cowboy, I …didn’t win.    But the Trainer and I became fast friends as well.

(He shall from this point forward be called the Trainer.  Because he and his family have now become a big part of both our lives.  Chances are he will make some reappearances in future blogs.)

Fast forward to a Memorial Day weekend trip the Trainer took to South Dakota with a client of his.  They went to the Cowboy’s to have him teach the client how to rope.  They roped.  They drank beer.  And one night the Cowboy got our his guitar and started to play.

“You have to meet a friend of mine,” says the Trainer to the Cowboy.

He bugged him about it again the next day.  The following day on his drive back to Wisconsin, the Trainer calls me and says, “You’re not dating anyone right now, are you?  Even if you are..  I’ve got someone you need to meet.  Go on Facebook or something .. Friend the Cowboy.”

I’m pretty sure both of us laughed and said .. ‘Yeah, sure. Get right on that’… because neither of us was wanting or looking for anything at the time.

Which may be why this has been so good.

We did nothing but talk for what seemed quite a long time.  Great conversations.  Long conversations.  About everything.  Including why neither of us was in the market for a relationship at the point.  Usually it was from about midnight-3am on many a night last June.  And then we thought, perhaps it might be nice to meet.  Because while neither of us was looking to get into another relationship, there was something there.

On a weekend when both our plans got canceled for other reasons.. mine, a trip to Nashville to scope out some potential life changes and him, to North Dakota for a roping school which got rained out..  we decided on a whim, to meet.

But where..

One of my best friends had out of the blue, said, we’re home with no plans, come to Minneapolis and see us.

The Cowboy said, I have a friend who’s been at me to come rope.  He’s just outside Minneapolis.

And on that weekend, we met.  For lunch.  Which turned into an afternoon.. one of the best afternoons of my life, thus far I’m pretty sure.

Other than the distance.. we have been together since.

Stillwater deserves a return trip .. I’m thinking.  And breakfast, lunch or dinner.. will be great.  As long as the company is the same.

‘Try this,’ my 10-year-old says..

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I was going to post earlier today .. the answer to ‘Most Asked Question #2‘ when it comes to me and the Cowboy.  The, ‘He lives there and you’re here?  How did you meet?’ post.  But that’ll come later, I guess.  My internet is giving me hell.  I didn’t get a chance to tweak it.  That’ll happen yet tonight, I would imagine.

In the meantime, I’ve had the most wonderful afternoon with my daughter.  And given I want her to have as much of me and ‘us’ documented to remember .. I’m going to take this moment to write about our evening.  Because there is much to be savored.  Literally.

………..

There is a store in Madison where, every Wednesday, when I pick my daughter up from school for either the two days I have her each week or the 5 .. we stop to pick up fresh produce.  Because neither she nor I can get enough of it …

Other stores carry produce.  I shop there too.  But usually, none can compare to what we find at this particular Madison based store.  It is just that good.  Or, at least we know it’s that good.  Because, well, because there are samples.  For EVERYTHING.

“Mom,” she says, chasing me around the store with another sample of something.  Always.  “Try this!  You HAVE TO TRY THIS!  Can we get one of these?” she says.

Great marketing.  It works.  We usually walk out with far more than what we would have gotten otherwise.

Regardless..

I’m estatic we have a chance to get home tonight and do little other than finish up homework.  Hang out together.  Cook.  And give the dogs some exercise after being cooped up much of the past two days while the rest of the Midwest comes to life now that spring has sprung.

I put the pork chops in the oven, get the snap peas ready to go for when I return.. and go for a run with one of the dogs.

I was gone 15 minutes.

I come back, she’s cutting up a pear.  I think little-to-nothing of it.

I go back to getting dinner ready.

“Please keep working on your homework,” I say.

I find a granola bar wrapper.

And, as I go to put the other groceries away, I find the cheese, open.

“Did you eat more than the pear?” I ask.  “You’re going to ruin your appetite and we have a nice dinner tonight.”

“What,” she says.  “I only had cheese, a granola bar.. and, I had a pear.”

She pauses a few seconds.

“And I’m still hungry.”

We sit down moments later to a wonderful meal of pork chops, steamed sugar snap peas, fresh salad topped with strawberries and cantaloupe to round it out.

She’s right.  She is still hungry.

And these are moments that remind me, despite how often I’ve been told by her father over the years I am far from being the best mother (to put it mildly) .. make me feel like if I’ve done anything right, she will grow in so many ways, into a healthy young woman.

My 10 year old is growing, in more ways than one.  Precious moments like these, I’m so grateful to realize pass us by too quickly .. to not be savored.

Now about that ice cream for dessert …

“Is He Really ..?” The Questions Friends Ask.

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Yes.

He really is a cowboy.

Not just a straw hat, cowboy boot, teeny bopper shirt-ish made to look western wearin’  wanna be like many of us know and sometimes are.  But a real cowboy.

Like, hangs out with other cowboys.  Can rope a steer.  Fast.  Shoes horses for a living.  Grew up on a ranch.  Makes a big belt buckle look really good.  Can train your horse, all around cowboy.

………..

Someone, actually a close friend who read the blog for the first time, asked the other night who the Cowboy is.  Like, is he real?  Is it your ex?  Is he fictitious?  (I obviously have not seen this friend in awhile.)  But even people I work with who haven’t met the Cowboy yet I’m pretty sure believe he’s a figment of my imagination.

Don't even try this look if you're not a real cowboy .. I'm pretty sure.

Actually .. any man that has swept me off my feet like this guy and actually kept me interested and happy .. for longer than one date (if they got even that far), they probably think is fictitious.  I’ve been pretty jaded .. and, guarded for what seems now, a very long time.  Waiting for the right person to come along.  Especially because I want to do everything I can to not only protect my own heart after several healthy doses of loss and unhealthy relationships.. but that of my daughters.

But he does exist…

And I don’t know that in the blog, I’ve properly introduced him… If you can actually do that with a person who you will most likely never get to look in the eye, at least here in blog world.  Which I’m still learning.  Real world, he will absolutely connect with you in person. Eye to eye.  And a smile.

………….

There are questions I get asked often.  And that the Cowboy does as well, when we’re out and about and I introduce him to anyone new.

Usually, when any of us, ever first meets someone for the first time we say the standard, Hey, nice to meet you.  And then inadvertently it’s followed up by .. So, what do you do?

“I’m a farrier,” he Cowboy answers.

(Well sometimes that’s what he says.  He does a lot of things where horses are concerned.  Trains.  Ropes.  But usually, he answers, farrier.)

Old shoes ..

Cowboys and people that know anything about horses then go about talking about cowboy things.  I think.

More often then not though, my non-horse owning/only ever been to South Dakota or out west to see Mount Rushmore or go skiing at some swanky Rocky Mountain resort, who freely say things like ‘lasso’ (see previous post about why this totally outs you as a greenhorn) and like to wear cowboy boots just because they look good friends will say, “A what?”

As he goes on to explain .. they say, “So, you’re a real cowboy?”

Yep.  He is.

It is a way of life those who live it, love.  Anyone that would call themselves a real cowboy I have ever had the pleasure to know, talk with or read about, will tell you, it’s a hard way of life.  Or can be.   But that they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Then there are those who love what it stands for, but aren’t sure they could ever give up the creature comforts of the non-cowboy way of life.  So they appreciate it from a distance.

Many do.  Appreciate it that is, from a distance.  In fact, they appreciate it so much, marketing to the non-cowboys who want to be like, look like or pretend they’re a real cowboy is big business anymore.  I think.  I can’t find any statistics.  I tried for awhile here and turned up little to nothing concrete.  By the way, have you googled western way of life?  Cowboy economy?  Not what I was expecting.  All it brings up are boot companies.  And some other really entertaining, if not frightening things.

…………

I tried to explain to a friend awhile ago, a business idea a few of us have.  One we believe would totally fly with those who have a love for the western way of life.  He said, “Well, for arguments sake, who does that appeal to?”  I replied, “A lot of people.”  He said, “Prove it. Monetize it.  You want someone to back it, show me it’ll make money.”

They're advertising to someone ...

I wanted to start by saying, I can add up the number of girlfriends I have who are single and have asked if the Cowboy has any single friends .. and if I might ‘help them find a cowboy.’  And then take him to my own closet full of boots, the first pair of which I bought myself when I was 17 .. a pair of Justins,  http://www.justinboots.com/en/  and say, let’s just take even one percent of the US female population and assume they have the same if not more cowboy/girl (my pc self coming out there) boots than I do.  Because I’m pretty sure millions of others have me beat on the boot count .. and say, “There’s your proof.  That’s just one woman’s closet.  How’s that for your indicator.”  Then walk off triumphantly.

But I know he was doing it for my own benefit.  Plus, his wife has far more boots than I do so he’s aware. He just wants me to be fully prepared to defend my idea.

I digress ..

The whole point of this was to say, he’s real.  The Cowboy is not a figment of my imagination.  Or .. my own ex.  Who loves the west, but not being a cowboy.  He wants to be a mountaineer.  I think that’s still the case.  That’s a whole other story.

(Mountaineering, by the way, has been far better documented it appears,  http://tinyurl.com/6porksg  in regard to economic impact than the Cowboy industry.  What gives.)

………….

“So, how did you two meet?”

The above is almost always the second question.  Or, close to like, the fifteenth because its always after the barrage of questions about being a cowboy.  Once though they realize he’s a cowboy there .. and I’m living in a tiny 2 bedroom apartment in the middle of a small city nowhere near the great plains of South Dakota, that is what pops out of many a mouth.

It’s a great story.  I shall tell it.  Perhaps tomorrow.

(A Different) Perspective … A Friend Writes.

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I’m not sure that my comments to the Cowboy are of any reassurance during weeks like this.

Weeks, where it’s the tail end of the two weeks essentially, without the kids.

I can’t imagine being in his shoes.. or ever putting someone else in the position he’s in.  But I’m increasingly becoming aware of how many people are.  In his shoes.  Parents who essentially are told they should appreciate any time they get to ‘visit’ their children.

And on the flipside, in the position of the other parent in many divorce scenarios.  The parent, given primary placement.  The one who gets most of the time with and control over the kids.  And how that can sometimes look.

It’s been an emotional past couple weeks.

It seems the further out he gets from the divorce and the less he continues to see the kids, with each passing day, month or now year .. the tougher it is for him to feel like he can really be a father to them.  The father he wants and hopes to be, anyway.  A few hours each week sitting in a restaurant because there’s not enough time now to go home or good weather to go to a park and play .. and four weekend days each month, is hardly enough time to get anyone back into a good groove.

Just when dad and kids seem to be settled in and getting reacquainted.. it’s time to pack for the trip back to their other home.

………..

Fortunately, more states are recognizing, through time, experience, and statistics .. the rules need to change.  In not all, but most scenarios.  Where two loving, responsible, protective parents both want to be a part of raising their children, and be present in their lives.

http://www.wctrib.com/event/article/id/90932/

Things will change.  Someday.  As more and more states.  And more and more parents, left on the outside looking in at their children’s lives for no apparent good reason other than a judge’s orders, decide that instead of giving up because nothing will change and it only causes more pain to try .. instead, keep trying.  Because it does matter.  Not just to them, but their kids.  That they are not alone.  And the more they come together and speak with one voice, someone will hear them.

But will it come soon enough for some families to heal.

……….

I mentioned it has been a tough couple weeks.

I can always tell when we’re a week into his time without the kids .. because there is an unshakeable sadness.  No matter what the Cowboy says to me, I know its eating at him.  That he hasn’t seen them.  That if he wants to talk with them, its dictated to him how that has to happen.  Yet the conditions are at times not met on the side giving dictation.

When there is a call, it’s quick.  Then usually .. ‘they’re busy and need to go.’

The few hours he had the chance to spend with them this past mid-week .. for many reasons, was emotionally overwhelming and tough.  And because of the weather, the circumstances and one of the boys crying for his mother, he took them home in heavy frustration and sadness a half hour early.  For a man who would give anything for extra time with his children .. this has all been very trying .. emotionally, physically and spiritually.

Not knowing what else to say .. because really, what can you .. I say, well then, let’s pray.

And, then I add.. “They’re healthy.  Let’s just be grateful they are healthy.  The rest will fall into place.  I don’t know when.  But it will.”

He agrees.  I’m not sure he wholeheartedly believes me.  But for the moment, he agrees.

………..

I wasn’t going to write about this today .. I was going to instead, write about another lesson learned by the Cowboy after spending more time than he’d probably like in the city .. (Because we have some great, entertaining lessons yet to be shared.  Like parking tickets.)

But I was reminded again today of why the health of our children, is above everything else, what is most critical.  I am actually, reminded of it daily.  Through my job, I see families put in situations that would bring any of us to our knees.  I have close friends who have lost a child.  And, who have children with severe disabilities.  I thank God each and every day my own daughter is healthy.  There is sincerely not a day that I take that for granted.

I saw this afternoon, a tweet from a dear friend of mine.  A friend I don’t talk with as much as I’d like anymore.  We’re all busy.  But I see it, and I shudder to think based on the content of the tweet, what might be happening.

I message him, ‘Just seeing this.  What is going on?  Are you all OK?’

He shoots back moments later, ‘We’re OK. This explains:’ and he sends me the following link.

‘Lessons from a young Skywalker:’

http://www.espnmilwaukee.com/common/more.php?m=49&post_id=7074

……….

Again, I’m not sure any of my comments or anyone’s are helpful to the Cowboy.  Reassuring.  Or comforting given the struggles he’s facing.

Only he knows.  And honestly, only he can figure out how to work through this stage of his family’s young .. challenging life.  Through his relationship with himself.  God.  And his faith in both.  Something right now, he’s giving everything he’s got.

……….

A wonderful opportunity presented itself this afternoon ..

The gift of a few extra hours with the kids to kick off the weekend.  The Cowboy got a call asking if he wanted to pick them up early.  No one is asking why.  Mom could have had something else she wanted to do this afternoon and it saved her from postponing or getting a sitter.  Or, she could have genuinely wanted to give them all more time together.

No one’s asking why.  Just celebrating the moments.

And grateful to their mother, for offering them up.

How seldom or how often any of us can ever have the chance to spend time with our kids, to hold them, hug them and be present with them, is such a gift.

Reassurance they are also healthy ..

I’m praying tonight, my friend Jason and his family continue to get nothing but the best news .. and care for their young Skywalker, in the meantime.

Cowboy in the City – Lessons Learned Number Two..

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Neither of us can remember exactly what it was we were talking about a few months back … when the Cowboy said something that made me gasp.

“Um, honey … I don’t mean to sound like I’m telling you what to do,” I said.

“But, do you know what that term means?”

A bit taken aback, the Cowboy says, “I guess, but I don’t ever really think about it.  Everyone I know says it.  Why, don’t people here use it?  It just means ….”

Having used the term a few times myself growing up because everyone around me said it as well .. before I really thought about what it meant;

“Not really.  Especially around here.  Can we agree you will be more careful with that?”

………

“Good judgement comes from bad experience.  And most of the time, that comes from bad judgement.” –

The Cowboy found this quote and thought it appropriate in the context of this post.

………

I live in the politically correct capital of the world.

One of them, anyway.  So it is easy to mess up.  It seems near impossible to keep up with the latest words one should use .. or more likely, that you shouldn’t.

It is so politically correct here, I actually felt on my Facebook status update the other night when I posted I thought I might head home and build a snowman after a spring snowstorm .. a snow perfect for packing .. that I should change it to ‘snowperson’ or someone might be offended and correct me.

We laughed about that one..

I’m even a bit apprehensive someone will feel I’m not being pc .. writing about being bc.  Sheesh.

“What do they call Indians here,” he asks last night as we’re talking about all this.  We were hanging out chatting, late again, over the video phone.  “In South Dakota, I’m pretty sure they prefer Indian.  I’m part Indian.  We don’t say, I’m (part) Native American.  That’s how we talk.  Even that is not accepted there?”

My alma mater no longer the Indians.

It may be.  In some parts, anyway.  Others may coil at the sound and tell you you’re wrong to say it.

I’m so sensitized, for many reasons, to not wanting to offend anyone …

That another term the Cowboy uses once in awhile and that I recently heard his grandmother affectionately say to one his boys, hit me as probably a very un-pc term.

I asked him about it..

“Jigger?” he replied.  “That’s not a derogatory term.  It’s just a little bug.”

Yep.  Looked it up.  Can be an insect.  (There are several other definitions as well.  None that should be offensive.  Unless you’re referring to someone as say, a shot glass.  Or a fishing lure.)  But it still sounds like it shouldn’t be okay to me when I hear it.  I have never heard anyone use that term until South Dakota.  Around here, we have a lot of other names for kids when they’re doing cute things.
Like, little bugger.  Lil stinker.  Lil .. well, I’ve never heard lil jigger.  But, I’m learning it’s ok.
Learning that while its important to treat others with respect, it’s probably ok to ease up a bit too over fears of offending someone.

Even with good intentions.. Have we taken pc too far?

A lot has been written about the topic.  Just a couple posts I found..

http://www.experience.com/alumnus/article?channel_id=diversity&source_page=editor_picks&article_id=article_115574490604

http://davidhallstrom.articlealley.com/the-act-of-being-politically-correct-has-gone-from-the-sublime-to-the-ridiculous-19236.html

I truly believe most people have a good heart .. and they try to be kind and considerate of others feelings, beliefs and who they are.  They just may not always be up on the latest terms for what they should ever call something.  Or know anything about someone’s religion or culture.  And over concern of being politically incorrect, they refrain from learning or asking or saying anything, out of fear they will offend.

I like this particular post below.  And think the Cowboy would too.  If nothing else, it’s good food for thought.

http://www.wikihow.com/Be-Correct-by-Not-Being-Politically-Correct

There are only a few terms even the Cowboy agrees, should probably be removed from his vocabulary.  But others I’m happy to hear someone not afraid to say.  And he can go right ahead and hang onto.  That reflect who he is.  Where he is from.  And the kind of person he is.   Down to earth.  Straightforward.  Good.  Curious.  Open to whatever is out there.  And willing to change.  Should it be necessary.

He says to me as I’m asking him about this .. “I really like where you live.  I love to visit. But, I’m far more comfortable in central Texas.  Where everyone wears cowboy boots and says whatever the hell they want.  You don’t have to worry about who you’re pissing off.”

He laughs.

Nonchalantly he says in-between our banter, “C’mon you son-of-a-buck,” as he’s waiting for something he’s searching for to come up on his phone.

“I probably swear more than I should,” he looks over at me via the video phone.

He laughs some more.  Then adds..

“But you swear just as much as I do.  If not more.  Maybe that’s something we should talk about … “

What the Cowboy Says He’s Learned in the City. No. 1 ..

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I wonder if I didn’t have to stop to pick up after the dogs … how long it would actually take me on my run each morning.

……

Many of my friends really seem to enjoy talking with the Cowboy.  The cowboys.  My ‘city’ friends too.  They are always asking him about some of the things he does, they know little to nothing about.  Things that back home for him (or even 20 miles outside Madison), are everyday things that everyone knows about and ask rarely for explanation.  Even the posts I happen to write about anything cowboy way-of-life here on the blog, seem to consistently get the most hits.

The Cowboy asked me the other day, what are you going to write about today.  I answer, “It hasn’t hit me yet.”

So he says, “You should write a blog about what I’ve learned from you.”

I laugh …

“I’m not so sure I know what you’ve learned from me,” I say at first.

Plus that isn’t as interesting, I say to myself.

He starts down the list of things he’s learned.

“How about, picking up dog poop.”

He laughs…

………..

The first few times the Cowboy visited this past fall, after I decided to stop being a vagabond (I house sat for awhile after selling my own home just over a year ago, not sure where or if I wanted to plant firm roots anywhere again, yet) and settle into my own place ..

He offered to walk my dogs while I was either a) getting ready to go wherever it was we were heading off to or b) at work.

I came home one afternoon after work and happened to see a big pile of evidence he had most likely been in the back yard of the apartment building with the dogs while I was gone.  But hadn’t quite completed all the steps of ‘taking the dogs out’.

“Is that from one of ours?” I ask.

“Probably,” he says.  “I took them out awhile ago.”

I head out to pick up after them.  And then we have ‘the talk.’

“I hate to tell you this, but you’ve got to pick up after them,” I say.  “I know that’s not a fun job, so if you want to leave that for me, I’ll get to it.  But just know, it’s got to be picked up.”

I’ve been doing it for about as long as I can remember.  Always had dogs.  Always lived where it needed to be picked up.

I used to use Oops Scoops.  But they seem harder anymore to use the cardboard piece inside .. to pick up the pile.  I find myself chasing the pieces around on the grass more than I am picking them up.

So I’ve reverted back to biodegradable small plastic baggies.  Which, used to totally gross me out, but they’re quick, convenient and they just work.

http://tlc.howstuffworks.com/home/green-pet-poop.htm

……..

“You have to pick up after your dogs,” he starts laughing.  “That’s a new one for me.  I live in the country .. never had to do that one.”

For a man used to turning ’em out, letting them run, having them do their business in a pasture or nearby grove of trees and them coming back when they are through… he’s gotten the hang of it all.  Now when I even think of asking if everything is taken care of.. he beats me to the punch.

“Yep.  All taken care of,” he usually says, smiling.

The dogs, couldn’t be happier.  I’m not so sure about the Cowboy.

I promised though, to not even consider asking for help..

With the cats.