Shoulda been a Cowboy...or girl

Years ago, there was a show on TV called Wagon Train, starring Ward Bond and some cute guy whose name I can't remember. I loved this show, as I was addicted to anything about the West, prairie living, and cowboys.  All my picks from the bookmobile were Laura Engalls type stories.  I read all the Zane Grey novels and dreamed of my heart being captured someday by a handsome stranger on a horse. I wonder if that's what attracted me to my Texas born hubby...

Despite my non-love of horses, I am infatuated with anything cowboy - hats, tiered skirts, big trucks, turquoise jewelry, rodeo, small Texas towns, boots, etc. I think that's why our trip through the Southwest was so delicious.  All that desert, all those red rock canyons and high plains meadows - I imagined being a pioneer and wondered how any of them survived.

There were many, many great experiences on our trip, but it was hard to beat our visits to the two ranches of our friends.  In Oklahoma, we stayed at the Strom Ranch, dear friends that raise show quarter horses ( and sell them if you're interested:). It thundered all night long, typical of Oklahoma weather this time of year. We spent some time at the National Cowboy museum in Oklahoma City - what an incredible museum, full of Western art, cowboy memorabilia, and Native American artifacts.

On a Sunday morning, we headed for our old friends in Texas who have a beautiful ranch near McKinney.  Much to my utter delight, it was rodeo Sunday.  Jim and his son raise bulls for the rodeos, and a couple of Sundays a month they host a "rodeo" for wannabe bull riders right there on the ranch.  It gives the future rodeo stars a chance to practice, but also some training for the bulls.  Evidently, bulls need to learn how to be a good "ride" in the rodeo world - I didn't know that.  It was an incredible afternoon watching all the young guys trying out their skills, kids running all over dreaming of the day when they might ride a bull, giant BBQ with brisket smoking, wives sitting around biting their nails and taking pictures...

Yep, shoulda been a cowboy.

Laurel. Dreamer.

Hotel People...

8 states and 5,252 miles in 17 days days through the Southwest. Our road trip was everything I had hoped it would be: beautiful mountains, stunning high deserts, fascinating places and wonderful experiences.

The first half of our tour included visits to many friends and family who opened their doors to us and gave us a place to sleep, cajoled us with libations and plied us with delicious meals. But once the "mooching" part of the trip was over, we were left on our own to find a hotel along the way.  We didn't want to make reservations as we don't like being strapped to a "schedule".  There is nothing worse that happening upon an adorable little town that you want to explore and having to leave because you have to be somewhere else by Tuesday. 

When you decide to do a trip flying by the seat of your pants so to speak (remember my post on Croatia?) you take a risk. We had at least one incidence of "no room at the Inn", and the Inn was the only one in town.  So we just kept driving until we found one.

Hotels come in all shapes and sizes, and since we were not on the 5-Star road tour, we were always on the lookout for comfortable, affordable places with clean beds and fresh towels. Hotel chains that we are familiar with were not always in the towns when it was time to call it a day. Beggars can't be choosers, but that isn't always bad.

In Colorado we finished the day in a hell hole of a town that looked like it had been abandoned: wood on the doors and windows on the main street (there was only one street), empty stores with junk piled to the rafters, one restaurant...etc. So Dave says "oh come on...it will be adventure!"

Looked kinda sketchy, but the proprietor was as kind as she could be.  The bed was comfy and clean. And the chicken fried steak in the sole restaurant was as good as you can get.  Everyone said hello to the strangers in town. Sweet.

We took fewer chances when we knew we were going to be staying in a town for a couple of days.  I did reserve a room in Santa Fe at a wonderful establishment owned by Native Americans. Stunning place and the service was impeccable. Hotel Santa Fe Hacienda and Spa...next time we come here I'm getting the deluxe room just for fun!

When I finished ravishing the town of Santa Fe we moved on to Flagstaff and Sedona. Both were on our bucket list, as was a trip up Hwy 64 to the Grand Canyon.  Usually you can count on a Best Western motel to be pretty good, and the one we chose in Flagstaff did not disappoint.  We got a huge suite for a very reasonable price, the breakfast in the morning was tasty...an all around solid place to stay. You gotta love those waffle machines!

Dave's plate...not mine...I didn't use that much butter!!!

Sometimes, the only thing that leaves a bad taste in your mouth are the people who stay in hotels.  I am sure they are tired like we were from driving 350 miles, and yes, they want to get home too. But in the true spirit of Seth Meyer's "REALLY?" segment on SNL, I am always flabbergasted at the behavior of some people in public places:

I can hear her tromping down the hall, her flip flops popping on her heels, and hollering to someone at the other end of the hall.  It's 5:15 a.m. REALLY? She drops a couple of F-Bombs, as she is apparently irritated with the other member of her party.  I hear a baby crying, needing attention. She plows down the stairs and starts her diesel SUV, which just happens to be parked under our window. REALLY? 30 minutes later, several trips back and forth tromping up the stairs, she is now outside with her travel mate, diesel still running, issuing orders, slamming doors, etc. I take a peak out the window and see a older chick with a slightly overweight crying baby slung across her hip, and she is chowing down on a Styrofoam container full of last night's Chinese food, sans fork, like a cow eating out of a trough.  REALLY? She has a tramp stamp on her behind which is hanging out of her too tight shorts and is still yapping at what appears to be her grown daughter, who is also sporting multiple tats.  It's now 5:45 and the diesel is still running.  They throw the baby in its car seat and grandma then proceeds to finish her "breakfast"...but she's got a fork this time. Daughter has come back into the motel and Grandma finishes her meal, all the while rocking back and forth in front of her SUV, looking behind her like shes afraid she's going to be caught or someone will take her breakfast...kinda like she's a tad "hopped up", if I know my druggies. REALLY?  The daughter returns, snaps a couple of last minutes of the hotel windows with a very expensive camera, they get in the expensive SUV and then sit there for another 10 minutes, doing God knows what.  As they finally pull out of the parking area, grandma still chowing on the leftover Chinese, it's almost 6:00 a.m. I am almost ashamed as I see their California license plates. REALLY?

We aren't all like that, I promise.

Laurel. Really.

You are what you eat

Magpie Tales

Mag #120

image by Klaus Enrique Gerdes

Farm to market to table

picked fresh daily

grown locally

certified organic

 no pesticides

hand picked

fiber rich

no preservatives

minimum daily requirements

chalked full of vitamins

flavor rich

wholesome

Eat your vegetables

An apple a day

Those are good for you

Clean your plate

You are what you eat.

How appropriate for my first post back from our road trip.  Trust me, we did NOT eat as we should. We had great food too...trendy restaurants that featured wonderful, exquisitely prepared dishes. But too often we joined the countless Americans all across the Southwest chowing down on hamburgers, fries and all manner of fast foods.  We are a fat nation of "free continental breakfast" eaters who know exactly how to operate the waffle machine and spoon the fake gravy over our biscuits. Over sized tee shirts hiding paunchy stomachs...spandex stretched over fat butts...more muffin tops in the buffet line than on the table.  We saw it all. And we renewed our resolve.

I went to the Saturday Market yesterday.  I stopped by the strawberry patch. I bought some lean pork tenderloin at the grocery store. I passed the Starbucks without stopping.

Happy Sunday to all my Magpie friends.  So great to be back!

Laurel. I love you guys!!!

Missing my blog

Loving the road trip... Will have lots to write about! But I miss all of you and keeping up!!!

Road trip!

Be back soon... Laurel

Seeing Green...

Early morning green in Tuscany.  From our room in San Gimignano.

See other contributions of GREEN on  Observing Beauty Photo Challenge.  Best wishes for a successful photo challenge, girls!

Laurel. Ready for our road trip!

Where's Papa?

Magpie Tales

Mag #117

The Meal, 1891, by Paul Gauguin


Did you wash your hands?
Yes Mama.
Did you finish your chores?
Yes Mama.
Did you see your father leave?
Yes Mama.
Boys, you will have to feed the goats now.
Yes Mama.
And Katia, you will learn how to make the cook-up.
Yes Mama.
We will be fine. We will be just fine.
Yes Mama.

See other inspirations from this Paul Gauguin painting from my friends at Magpie Tales.

Laurel.  Happy Mother's Day everyone!!!

Weekend's End

Weekend Reflections #137


For almost 30 years we have spent a weekend in the Fall on a houseboat with old friends.  We party, we float, we sunburn, we eat and drink and we fish.  Come Sunday, we begrudgingly pack up and head for home.  The drive on the Interstate just seems longer, the rock music has been replaced with talk shows and news and Taco Bell becomes the dinner of choice. We smile, remembering our antics around the bonfire, our disagreements over who the real cribbage champs were and who caught the biggest fish. In the distance, a spacious king bed and a hot shower await our return...

Posted on Weekend Reflections

Laurel. Enjoying the weekend.

Ah Ha Moments

There are times in your life and travels that you come upon a person or place that is so captivating, soul wrenching or inexplicably joyous that you don't ever want to forget it.  You immediately try to encapsulate the experience, storing it away in some recess of your brain to be conjured up at your beck and call. If you are fortunate to have a camera, you try to seal the image by taking a photograph.  Usually our photos don't do the real thing justice, but we need something tangible to take with us. 

I've had many of these experiences in my travels and even in my own back yard.  You know the moment...you see something beautiful or moving and it stirs emotion somewhere deep within and you want to own it, savour it forever...transcend maybe. 

I had never been to Paris and from what all I had heard about it, I was expecting it be cliche, so to speak. I saw the Eiffel Tower from the airplane as we landed and I nodded my head in approval like an engineer admiring his work.  After settling in our quaint hotel, we strolled down a tiny street in the Rue Cler district to scout out the great French food we had heard so much about. 

We sat a tiny restaurant table, jammed with natives and tourists alike, all jabbering in French, English and all manner of language. Our table mates - I say that because the seats were so close together - were two women, who by coincidence had ordered the same dishes that we had on our plates.  Not being shy people, we struck up a conversation.  After brief pleasantries and lively critiques on the food, they learned that I had never been to Paris and that we planned to go directly to the Tower the next day. 

"Oh no," our table mates exclaimed, "you must go tonight!  It's lighted. And it's only a couple of blocks.  We will take you!"

Who ever said Parisians aren't friendly? We finished our respective dinners and headed off into the night. Chatting and laughing, we took in the moment - the smells, the stars, the people strolling arm in arm...everything.  It was magical and I felt my heart starting to pump a little faster. As we rounded a street corner lined with huge trees, we entered the plaza and there in all her magnificence was the Eiffel Tower.  sparkling like a heavenly Christmas tree.  Huge.  Towering.  Stunning.



My Eiffel Tower...manipulated to look like what my mind saw in Paris:)

I caught my breath and tried to speak, but not words came out. I just stood there, transfixed.  And then I broke.  The tears started to flow.  Dave grabbed my arm, encircling me, laughing softly (he loves it when I'm speechless).  I just couldn't get over the fact that I was actually standing there...in Paris...in front of one the most iconic images in the world.  Me. Country girl.

I feebly took my camera out of my purse and snapped some pictures.  We rode the elevator to the second level as the ride to the top was already closed for the night.  I bought a little Tower replica in the tourist shop and took in the beauty of the Paris skyline, trying to capture it in the recesses. It was a magical moment and I was thankful. Humbled.

I doubt we will see anything that majestic on our road trip, but there will be moments, experiencs and scenes to savor and file away.  I am sure of it.



Laurel. Take a moment to have a moment!

Nevermind...

Some days blogging just doesn't work. I haven't posted in a few days and I really wanted to write something clever or inspirational or humorous. When you sit down at your keyboard and stare at the screen for over two minutes before an idea materializes, you may want to rethink putting up a post.

I pulled up my photos and panned through the folders looking for inspiration for a post.  Since I had been a little slack this week by just posting photos, I decided that I needed something with meat in it. I wanted to be clever...funny.  I stumbled upon a picture of my new dress form and was chuckling over the trauma of applying extra padding to her shape so that she mirrored my ample figure.

But here's the deal with writing: you can't fake it.  If the brain isn't working, then go do something else, like laundry or exfoliation. Watch television. Renew your prescriptions...anything mindless.  No matter how many times I started  my opening paragraph on Colette (I name everything, including my dress form), my sentences were boring and banal.  Trust me, stuffing Colette with extra padding was hilarious, but I could not seem to communicate even the slightest degree of the humor of that experience today.

Because I am a right/left brain person, I began to analyze my lack of writing skills on this day.  Okay, so I have been a little swamped getting things together for the road trip.  And yes, I had to make 10 bracelets this week for a friend who needed some thank you gifts.  And I did need to finish a little dress for my granddaughter to wear on her family's Cruise.  Then there is the ever present Colette just standing there in the corner, waiting to have fabric draped on her...patiently...calling my name.

Conclusion: Granted, I guess I'm a little pre-occupied this afternoon.  But it wasn't the busyness of my week that had left me brain dead. The kicker and the root of my lack of humor stems from the mental remnants of a meeting I attended this morning.  I am a lay counselor at our church and we counselors meet regularly to hone our listening skills and learn from experts about common issues and problems that everyday women face.  And today's topic was sexual abuse.  Ugly, ugly, ugly.  Horrific, even. Insidious. Try being clever after that meeting. I left feeling like I had just been slimed...and heart broken for the many women AND CHILDREN who have suffered at the hands of predators and abusers.

Dang....

So I'll just post a picture of my Colette, and tell you her story some other day.

  

After several dozen wedding gowns, decades of buying Butterick and Vogue patterns and hundreds of yards of fabric, I finally got my dress form.  If you have sewn as long as I have then you can certainly understand my excitement at the prospect of designing clothes using draping and other techniques that having a life size twin affords.

I mentioned in a previous post that I did a lot of research before I chose the PGM Pro.  I read that the smart thing to do was to buy a smaller size than your actual dress size and measurments and then buy a fitting kit to  dressform.

Laurel. Brain Dead.