ClickonCowboy

No Country for Old Men

2010-01-10T11:13:00.000-08:00

One of the things I am missing while I am living in the city is country music. There is one radio station in this city and they seem to play music that sounds more pop than country. I miss listening to cowboy songs on my front porch, sitting in my rocker.

The country music of today is for a younger crowd. I love the songs that remind me of this country's history, that take me back to a better place. It truly seems that there is no country for old men.

Wired

2009-12-18T11:59:00.000-08:00

As I am writing this post, I am sitting in a Starbucks, connected to their wireless network, and wired on their coffee. And I thought I made strong coffee!

Anyways, I got to thinking, what this country needs is more barbed wire. That great invention that helped to make cattle ranching what it is today: contained. It keeps the cattle in and the unwanted out.

We could put it all around our borders, we could put it around all the fast food places to keep us from over-eating. Wrap it around your wallet to keep you from over-spending. And most of all, we could wrap it completely around Washington D.C. to keep those maniacs from getting out in the public where they might do some real harm.

As the saying goes, good fences make good neighbors. Back at the ranch, good neighbors helped to make good fences.

Cowboy in the City

2009-10-06T16:04:00.000-07:00

The cowboy life is a hard life. What sets a cowboy apart is that he is not afraid to do what has to be done.

What I had to do was live in the city. Now that's hard! No fence to ride, no time to ride, and the daily chores are behind a desk now. Times are tough for ranchers and so I took a job in the city. And not just any old city, but Los Angeles of all places!

I don't have time to ride, I don't have space to roam. I live in an apartment in the city. The only place to ride is through the park next to the freeway. So much for home on the range. For the last two years, I have hunkered down and I'm pushing paper instead of cattle.

I haven't been back to the ranch in a while, and my friends don't want to come see me in the city. Don't get me wrong, I'm not feeling sorry for myself, I'm just getting citified. Hopefully, if I take the time to write, I can go back in my mind to a quieter, slower time and place.

Who know's what the future brings, but for now, y'all will have to settle for my ramblings about being a Cowboy in the City. Hope I haven't lost all of my cowboy sensibilities.

Stopping on the Trail

2007-12-20T16:42:00.000-08:00

I reach the crest of the hill and look back. It has been a long ride so far, full of detours and disappointments, fun and surprises. The trail did not lead where I thought it would, some of it was much more difficult than I had expected. I have seen some amazing sights and some things I wish I had avoided.

When I set out on this ride, I did not expect that the trail would twist and turn so much. I have had to skirt some very dangerous side trails, that could have lead to disaster. But I have seen some beauty along the way that I never would have imagined.

I have met some really nice people too. I hope to get back this way again and see them. I ridden hard to put distance between myself and folks I'd rather not see again. All in all the ride has been interesting so far to say the least. Though looking back, I think I would have liked to tried a different trail.

I can't start over, but I can be more careful where I head for the rest of the journey. I don't really know what's up ahead, but I've made it this far, I'm sure that my horse and I can handle anything else that comes up.

Well, that's enough of a breather, time to start down the hill toward the next part of the trip. Such is life.

Mrs. Mildred McGrew and the Missing Watch

2007-12-09T17:33:00.000-08:00

Last Sunday, Bobby and I were at Aunt Mildred’s house for supper. While we sat in the kitchen, watching her make a pecan pie, she told us about her latest adventure.

“Betty Silmar from down the street called today. She had a problem she needed help with. It seems that her husband’s watch was missing from the jewelry box, and she suspected the Juanita, her housekeeper, had stolen it. She wanted me to come over and look around, talk to Juanita and figure out if she stole it.”

“So I walked down the street to her house and she showed me the scene of the crime. She said ‘I haven’t touched a thing, when I saw that the watch was missing, I sent Juanita out of the room and locked the door. It is just the way I left it.’”

“I turned on the bedroom light. The room was dark because the shade was down. There on the dresser was an open jewelry box. I looked around, in the closet, under the unmade bed. Then I turned to Betty and said, ‘Tell me everything that happened up until you discovered the watch was missing.’”

“While Betty relayed her story to me, I sat on the love seat in the living room with my eyes closed. ‘I woke up about six thirty this morning and went for my walk. While I was out walking, I saw my husband, Bob, drive by. He waved to me and then turned right and disappeared around the corner. I finished my walk and went back to the house.’

‘While I was in the kitchen making coffee, Juanita arrived for work. I talked to my sister on the phone for while and then went in to the bedroom. I noticed that the jewelry box was open. I looked in the box and immediately saw that my watch was missing. I hadn’t put it on today because it needed a new battery. I was planning on getting it fixed.’”

“After listening, I sat still for a few minutes. Suddenly I opened my eyes and said, ‘Juanita did not take your watch, your husband did.’”

‘What,’ she exclaimed, ‘how can you tell that?’”

“I explained to her, ‘It is really quite simple, you know, first of all, the jewelry box was left open. Juanita is very neat, she would have closed the box, not left it open for you to notice. A man would leave the box open, just like they leave the toilet seat up, dear.’”

“’Also, the shade was down and the bed was unmade. A housekeeper would open the shade the minute she entered the room. Juanita was never in the bedroom today. And finally, you said you husband turned right. His office is to the left. So he must have been going somewhere else.’”

“Betty said, ‘I’m going to call Bob right now!’ And she did. Bob told her that he had remembered that Betty’s watch needed a new battery and since he was going to the mall at lunch time, he thought he’d take her watch in for her and surprise her. Betty was very grateful and told me that I was quite a detective!”

I asked her how she put the pieces together so quickly. She just smiled and continued rolling out the pie dough. “Oh, dear, it simple really, I saw Bob at the mall today and he told me he was getting Betty’s watch fixed. But don’t tell Betty, she thinks I’m a genius”

Meet Mrs. Mildred McGrew

2007-12-08T13:27:00.000-08:00

My friend Bobby has an aunt who lives in Sierra Vista. Her name is Mrs. Mildred McGrew. Mildred has been widowed for about 20 years now. Mrs. Mildred McGrew was born out on Middle March Road and went to school in Tombstone. In her younger days she met a young soldier stationed at Fort Huachuca and married him. She moved to Sierra Vista and later became Aunt Mildred to Bobby and many other young soldiers stationed at the fort and away from home for the first time.

When Mr. McGrew, by then Sergeant Major Martin McGrew, passed away, Mildred stayed in Sierra Vista. She was and always will be Aunt Mildred to Bobby, and to me as well. I stayed many nights at Aunt Mildred’s house when Bobby and I stayed a little too long in town and were in no shape to drive back to the ranch.

Aunt Mildred would fix us breakfast in the morning; we’d mow her lawn and fix whatever needed fixing, then head back home with stomachs full of biscuits and our heads full of the local gossip around town. Mrs. Mildred McGrew knows everything that happens in Sierra Vista.

If fact, Mrs. Mildred McGrew has sort of a sixth sense about what goes on in town. She seems to know it before everyone else. And she has a knack for figuring out the way things happen and why, before anyone else. Perhaps that’s why her neighbors turn to her for advice, including a certain sheriff who goes to her church, and has been known to enjoy Mildred’s butterscotch chip and raisin cookies.

Aunt Mildred is a pleasant and plump lady with curly gray hair, a smile, and a tendency to become red-faced easily when exerting herself, or when she gets flustered. And she gets flustered quite often. It is not unusual to find her in her kitchen, her reddened face dusted with baking flour, and talking to herself, as if working out some tremendous puzzle in her head. The end result is usually some mystery or dilemma solved for a neighbor and a delicious pie for some lucky young soldier.

I like visiting Mrs. Mildred McGrew for Sunday supper and hearing her latest story about the goings on around Sierra Vista. I hope you do too. See you on Sunday at Aunt Mildred's.

Been Away too Long

2007-12-08T12:32:00.000-08:00

I've been away too long. I have been very busy, my partner had surgery and has been laid up for several weeks and I have been working (shocking), in the city, even more shocking. This is the first chance I have had to sit down in two weeks and even think about writing.

Boy, keeping up with a blog is hard work, I don't know how others do it, thinking of something to write about every day. I'd like to write more about current events and such, but there hasn't been much humor in the news.

Keep an eye out here. Now that I am back at the computer, I have some stories to tell you.

The Right to Health Care?

2007-11-26T07:18:00.000-08:00

As we enter the primary season, the candidates are staking out their positions on the issues, which is like playing golf in quicksand: as soon as the ball hits the ground, it disappears and you can't stand still long enough to sink a put.

The issue of the day among the Democratic candidates is health care. They discuss it as if everyone actually has a constitutional right to health care. But when they talk about the right to health care, what they are really saying is that everyone needs to be able to buy insurance. Wait a minute, are the insurance companies running this country?

The basic problem with health care in America is health insurance. Anyone who has had dealings with Blue Cross knows this. The problem is not that people don’t have access to health professionals. There are free clinics, county hospitals, and many other options. The problem is the way the system works.

Let me give you an example that apparently occurs many times a day in many parts of the country. Last year, I went to the doctor’s office. Due to circumstances related to cowboying that we won’t go into here, I needed to have my shoulder rebuilt as well as some “work done” on my nose (so I could breathe again).

As I discussed the procedures with the various doctors, I was asked if I was going to pay cash or use my insurance. If I paid cash, I would get a discount. I told them that if the insurance would pay for the procedures, I would end up paying less, so the doctor’s assistant notified the insurance company and requested authorization for the procedures. After we received authorization, I had the surgeries.

When the bill came, the insurance company refused to pay. I contacted them: “But you authorized this,” I said. “Well we authorized it, but we didn’t agree to pay for it!” was their answer. I was left with huge bills, at the insurance company rates, which were twice what I would have paid if I paid cash in the first place.

What’s wrong with health care in America is that the insurance companies have made it so expensive, and have made the entire process so complicated. The insurance companies are running, and ruining, health care. And here the candidates want to mandate that everyone must buy into this already broken system.

There is no constitutional right to health care, let alone health insurance. But I do believe that this is an area where compassion and common sense says helping is serving the public welfare, which is a function of the government.

I am sure that any of you could come up with better suggestions than the candidates have. How do we ensure quality health care is available to those who need it? Any suggestions?

Thanksgiving

2007-11-22T08:16:00.000-08:00

Family, freedom, friends, faith,
Forgiveness,fun and food;
Honor,horses,humor,help;
Peace, patience, parents,protection;
These are the things I am thankful for today.
We have been blessed to be in this country, one nation under the watchful eyes of God. Safe and secure on our shores because of the great sacrifices of others, from the pilgrims who dare to start a new life, to the partiots who founded this country, to the men and women fighting hard to protect our way of life. We have much to be thankful for today.

Happy Thanksgiving

The Cat on the Hill

2007-11-19T09:52:00.000-08:00

We have had some unusual weather lately. At first it was hot and dry late into the season. It really upset the local wildlife; the snakes are out late and they are unhappy about it. They should be coiled up neatly in their dens for the winter, but they’re still out hunting meals of mice and packrats. The packrats have been prolific and digging holes everywhere.

During the first deer season this year, hardly a deer was seen. Usually by now the young does and bucks are plentiful and busy eating gardens and grassland. But even as I have ridden to the higher altitudes I have not seen many deer. Nor bear tracks; the bears are staying up further into the mountains where it is cooler.

The coyotes, as always, have been hunting jackrabbits, but their nightly victory howls have been unusually distant and infrequent.

Two days ago, I saw cat tracks in the wash behind the house. A lone mountain lion passed through recently, but I saw no tracks of his prey. He must have gone home hungry.

This morning I woke up with an eerie feeling. I looked out and could not see any sign of the moon, or the first hint of sunrise as I am accustomed to witnessing. I felt a silence and a closeness that I hadn’t felt in a long time. I knew without looking it was a rare blanket of fog that had settled over the ranch.

As it got a little lighter, I saw the wall of fog beginning to drift. Up on the hill I caught a glimpse of the cat, a medium size mountain lion, most likely disoriented by the fog, a rare occurrence in the high desert plains. My movement on the porch had caught his attention. He sat and watched me. I sat coffee in hand, and watched him. Both of us wary of each other, acknowledging the other’s presence, but careful not to move.

It made me uncomfortable. I cautiously calculated the distance between us. Could he cover the distance before I could get safely inside? So we sat, for a few minutes, until he yawned and turned away, empty-handed, and empty stomach.

Relieved, I went inside, rinsed my coffee cup, and put it away. I felt a tinge of loneliness and sadness. Was it the fog, or was I feeling for the cat? Or maybe for me? I shook my head and put the thoughts away. I have chores to do.

But I keep thinking about the cat on the hill, will he be back with the next fog?

Pinto Saves the Day

2007-11-10T08:05:00.000-08:00

Old Pinto has a knack for being in the right place at the right time. At least that’s what he says. Most folks say that he’s a regular hero. Why, he’s had more adventures than Louis & Clark and Daniel Boone put together! He’s rescued so many damsels in distress, thwarted so many evil-doers, and had so many near death experiences that you’d have to live three lives just to keep up. Let me give you a few examples, so you see what I mean.

Take the time he stopped a bank robbery with a heeler’s rope.

The way Pinto tells it, he walked in on a bank robbery in progress. Now Pinto has a habit of riding One-Eyed Bill to the bank out in Pearce. The bank doesn’t have a hitching rail, so Pinto ties One-Eyed Bill to the door handle of the bank manager’s car. He says he’s going to keep doing it until they put in a rail.

One day Pinto and Bill rode up to the bank to transact some business. He rode around the back and tied Bill to the door handle. As he was sliding down off the saddle, he glanced in the window and saw two men with guns holding up the tellers. He reached for his pistol, and realized he had left it at home. So he thought fast and grabbed the heeler’s rope he had tied to the saddle from last night's ropin’ out in Benson. He made his loop and tucked the rope under his arm.

Walking into the bank like he didn’t have a care in the world, he strode up to the window, pretending not to notice the gun in the hand of the man at the window. “Howdy, June, how are you today?” he sang out. Quick as a flash, he struck the startled bank robber in the face with the stiff rope, knocked the gun out of his hand, threw a loop around the ankles of the second robber. He yanked up and sent the unsuspecting criminal sprawling to the floor. He had both bad guys hog-tied and subdued before they before they knew what hit them.

When the sheriff’ deputies arrived, they found the two crooks waiting for them, tied together, guarded by One-Eyed Bill who stood over them, and Pinto talking to the bank manager. “Pinto, you can tie your horse to my car anytime you wish, but I suspect that the main office will finally let me put that hitching rail out front, just for you. You saved the day!”

Pinto smiled, and as he climbed on Bill, he said, half to himself, “And to think that I missed 5 out of 5 loops I threw last night at the contest!”

Or how about the time he talked a mountain lion out of eating a little boy?

It seems that Pinto was riding along a trail up in Rucker Canyon, when he heard what sounded like a little boy crying and growling like a mountain lion at the same time. As he came up through a stand of trees, he spied the answer to his puzzle. There on a rock was a mountain lion staring down at a small boy shaking like Jell-O in an earthquake. The cat certainly was eyeing his next meal with relish.

Now One-Eyed Bill wasn’t bothered any more by the cat than Pinto was. They had both seen their share of mountain lions. Pinto gently walked Bill right in between the mountain lion and the boy. Turning in his saddle, he ignored the boy and spoke directly to the lion. “Hey cat, now, Ah know yer thinkin’ that this here rug rat would make a might fine meal, but yer wrong. Ah’ll tell ya why. That there critter is as scrawny as they come; why there ain’t ‘nough meet on those bones to satisfy you for more’n a minute. You’ll still be hungry, and want somethin’ else. You’ll go looking for more, and you’ll probably come ‘pon this blubbering bag of bones’ pop, who probably has a gun, being its hunt’ season. That old man, havin’ heard the screams of his boy, will shoot you dead. Now it ain’t worth riskin’ your life for a half ounce of meat and 50 pounds of bones, so why don’t you just mosey on out of here, an’ forsake this lost child for a nice fat unsuspecting deer?”

Well, I don’t know if the cat truly understood him, or just grew tired of listening to the old man who was interfering with his dinner, but he wandered off to hunt somewhere else. Pinto scooped up the boy, who had wandered away from his family’s camp, and rode him back to his very relieved and thankful family.

When I have more time, I’ll tell some more stories about One-Eyed Bill and Pinto, but right now I have to run. Someone just came in and told us that Pinto had a wild boar trapped on the roof of the post office. I can’t wait to here how this happened.

Lets Get Stoned, 100 posts and Other Stuff

2007-11-06T10:18:00.000-08:00

My friend has been having trouble with kidney stones and computer viruses. I have been helping with his work for the last two weeks, and so I have been very tied up. I have hauled a lot of hay, fed a lot of horses, baby-sat his kid, gone shopping.

I spent the night at his house the other night, in case he had to go to the hospital again. That's when we discovered the computer virus. I was trying to get on line to post something and his computer ate it, and then crashed. He eventually passed the stones and is back to normal.

According to my readers, this is my 100th post. Whoopee! Lets celebrate..... Okay, we're done. Now its time to get on to other things. This has been a tough season for us at the ranch, costs are up and we are feeling the pinch. There is some much I was planning to do that will have to wait for a while. The price of fuel is affecting hay cost, transportation, etc. My friend, a long time cowboy, just bought himself a Volkswagen. We all laughed at him, but we all call him when we need to go to the city. I'm thinking about going back to the horse and wagon.

I walked out on my front porch the other evening and was greeted by a very large and very angry rattlesnake. I haven't seen him since, but I'm being a little more careful. I don't usually get snakes on my porch, but it has been warm and dry and without all the critters, they are braver than in the past.

It's time to start acquiring more critters. A few goats, a pig or two, some cats, a mule and a few dog will do it. We've paired our herd of horses down to 26. The grass is thin and we've had to start buying hay again.

Well that's all the news here, kind of exciting isn't' it? Hope to get a change to write more soon.

Mystery Truck

2007-10-30T11:50:00.000-07:00

I went out to work on the mystery truck. It has been sitting around at the ranch with a flat tire, dead battery, and a broken transmission. The other day, I decided it was about time to tackle the repairs.

Now the tire hadn't been holding air and I knew I needed another tire. I figured, I'd put some air in the tire and jump start the battery just enough to move it over to the tool shed to work on it. I filled the tire, started it up and prepared to nurse it to the shed.

Lo and behold, it fired right up, and drove just fine. I took it out for a test, and the transmission worked great! I've been driving it all week and it runs just fine. The tire is even holding air.

I'm not even going to try to solve the mystery as to why it runs. I'll just be thankful that there are some things too mysterious for me to understand.

Riding

2007-10-26T06:13:00.000-07:00

It is six o'clock in the morning on Friday. We've been up for about an hour and a half. Today we have visitors, so we are saddling about 10 head of horses and taking our guests on an all day ride in the surrounding mountains. We'll end the day with a cook out at the campgrounds.

It will be about 75 degrees today in the hills, and sunny. Just wanted to keep you all wishing you were here.

Having a Hay Day

2007-10-23T11:51:00.000-07:00

Today, I had a hay day. Arizona is a free range state, or what is know as a "Fence Out" state. We have up until now been able to let our horses roam over a large area of grass land, thus reducing our cost of feed.

I say up until now because, apparently our county planning department has regulations that now require us to fence our horses in. Some one who does not like horses filed a complaint and we were told to keep our horses locked up. We are looking into i right now and will most likely appeal, but for now we are complying. We try to be good neighbors (plus it's a $750 a day fine if we don't).

So for nor now, we're buying more hay. Today, I bought two tons. Which brings me to my point. I actually like hay days, its a chance to see friends and talk about the state of ranching in our area, joke around with other ranchers as I wait my turn for the squeeze to plop two 1 ton bales on my truck. We talked about the price of fuel and the weather, because it matters to us.

Then I drove the 20 miles back to the horse pasture to unload the hay, one flake at a time, by hand. It is dirty and dusty, and it makes me sneeze, but I like it. It is all part of the life I like. A day of hard work mixed with socialization. A welcome break from mending fences alone out on the ranch.

Miss Beth

2007-10-21T08:25:00.000-07:00

Pinto showed me a picture of the most handsome woman I had ever seen. I don’t say she was beautiful, handsome is a better word; her warm smile and sparkling eyes showed through a face that told of a lifetime of hardship. He told me her name was Elizabeth Stryker, but he called her “Miss Beth”

Mrs. Elizabeth Stryker was a widow. Mr. Stryker had been thrown by a horse and broke his neck. All he left his wife was a few scraggly acres, some horses and about 50 head of Bramer cattle.

Pinto told me that they met shortly after he had died. He responded to an ad in the paper to sell a horse. When he pulled up to the little ranch with his truck and trailer, he saw the woman standing on the porch of an old whitewashed ranch house. It was weathered but well cared for. She invited him in for coffee, and although Pinto is not one for socializing and small talk, he followed her in. He could not take his eyes off this striking lady.

But this lady was not one for small talk; she got right down to business. “ Mr. ….?” “Ma friends call me Pinto”. “Mr. Pinto, I wish to sell a horse to you, he is the paint out in the paddock. I will take twenty-five dollars for him. I must tell you that he is wild and unbroken. That is the horse that caused my husband death. I do not blame the horse; he was only doing what comes naturally to him. Do you wish to buy him?” Well, right then I think Pinto would have bought the Brooklyn Bridge from her, so taken was he!

“Ma’am, Ah will take the horse.” And he loaded up the horse in the trailer and paid her the $25. As she was writing out a receipt, he asked, “What will you do with this ranch, now that you’re alone?” She responded, “Why, I will continue to ranch here. This was my father’s ranch and my grandfather before him. Of course, I will have to hire help with the cattle.”

“Ah’d shore like to come around and help you with gathering, if’n ya needs me.” “Thank you, Mr. Pinto, I’d like that.” And that started a friendship that bordered on romance for eight years. Pinto would travel over to Miss Beth’s place once every two weeks. He’d work around the ranch and sleep out in the bunkhouse, being too shy to accept the offer of the guest room. Miss Beth would cook dinner and they’d sit and read, never speaking much; they both seemed comfortable with each other’s silence.

Pinto loved Miss Beth deeply, but could not bring himself to tell her. So many times he wanted to say the words, “Miss Beth, I love you, will you marry me?” But the words stuck in his throat and he couldn’t manage to coax them out. For her part, she was a patient woman, she felt such affection for this rough man, she was sure it was love, but she would wait for him to speak of it first.

One day, when Pinto came to Miss Beth’s place, he found her still in her bed. She was ill and did not have the strength to get up. “Miss Beth, Ah is going to take you to the doctors.” And he did. And he waited and waited while they doctor ran tests and more tests. When the doctor finally came out, he said, “I am putting Mrs. Stryker in the hospital over night, I can’t tell you anything more, because you are not family.”

Right then Pinto knew several things, it was serious, he did not like to hear her called Mrs. Stryker, and he wanted to be her family more that anything he had ever wanted before.

When they finally let him in to see her, she looked so pale and weak, it broke his heart. “Hello Miss Beth.” “Hello, Mr. Pinto.” She smiled a weak smile. “I wish you didn’t have to see me like this.” Pinto smiled back, “Ah want to see you anyway I can.” Then, for some reason the words came out: “Miss Beth, Ah love you with all of my heart. Ah have loved you since Ah first saw you, an’ Ah was too shy to speak up, but now is the time, will you be my wife?”

Miss Beth looked at him for a moment. “Mr. Pinto, it will not be easy, and we may not have much time together, but if you will have me, I’d be pleased to be your wife. But there is one thing I must know.” Pinto looked into her eyes, “What do you want to know?” She grinned slightly, “Your real name; if I’m to be your wife, what is your name?”

“Walter, Walter Tillman,” he said softly. “Well Walter Tillman, you best hunt down a preacher and some flowers. If I am to go home from here as Mrs. Walter Tillman, I would like flowers at my wedding.” They were married right there in the hospital room and he took her home the next day.

They had four months together; Pinto caring for her as the cancer slowly stole her life away. But they made the most of their time together, being very much in love. He buried her in the family cemetery out on the ranch, sold the cattle, boarded up the house and drove away. He knew he could never love anyone else that way again, and he never has.

That was ten years ago last September, and this anniversary hit him hard. I sat with him in silence for over an hour after he told me his story. As I quietly got up to go, he looked up at me, “swear ya won’t tell a soul?” “No Pinto, I won’t tell a soul.”

As I reached for the door, I turned to him and smiled. “Walter, huh?” He threw a book at the door as I closed it behind me.

I've Lost my Memory

2007-10-18T07:23:00.000-07:00

I've lost my memory. I don't have the faintest clue where it is. That's the darn thing about growing older, the memory is the first thing that goes. I never believed that old saying until now.

The problem is that I need that memory. I know I put it somewhere to keep it safe, but now I can't remember where I put it. I have looked all over the house, it every pocket and small place I could put my memory, and it's just nowhere to be found.

Oh, before you start thinking I'm crazy, I talking about those little portable memory sticks for your computer. You know the ones? Well I saved some very important information on two of them and stuck them away for safe-keeping, and now I can't recall where I put them. So I guess I really have lost my memory, in more ways than one. By the time they pop up, they'll probably be obsolete. Then they'll just be old memories I can't get rid of.

Politics Today

2007-10-17T14:12:00.000-07:00

Bush asserted today that he is still relevant, as if that matters.
Gore said he won't run. With his weight, he can't run.
Clinton is facing a fund-raising scandal, but you'll never hear it in the news.
Edwards' hair is getting more attention than he is.
Oh, and Cheney and Obama are related, if you can believe that.

Well that about sums up politics today.

The Heart of a Man

2007-10-17T08:51:00.000-07:00

The heart of a man determines the range that he rides
His dreams and desires are the limits of the plains
His standards are the fences and gates he must tend
Not to keep others out, but to keep the wild beasts in
Imagination is the pasture where a man's ideas grow
Food for thought and strength of character.

A man can live on the vast plains of this country
And still be closed in by the smallness of his thoughts
He can be hemmed in all about by the closeness of the city
And ride a range as big as his dreams
But if a man does not tend the fences of his integrity
The beasts of desire will escape and trample the plains

Yes, a man is limited only by the expanse of his mind
A vast rangeland awaits the dreamer in him
Restrained only by the fences of his own
Fear keeps us from exploring the plains before us
It makes us want to stay close to home
And never venture out to find
The life that lies beyond our sight

The Visit

2007-10-15T09:30:00.000-07:00

I hadn’t seen Pinto for most of the summer. It had been hot and rainy, and there wasn’t much cattle business going on. I had spent most of the summer in California, and I was anxious to get back to the ranch, looking forward to seeing my friends and catching up.

The day after I got back, I ventured into town to get supplies and the latest news. I asked around about friends and found that everyone was about the same as when I left, except no one had seen old Pinto for over a month. Now that in itself was not unusual, Pinto kept to himself most of the time, and no one knew exactly where he lived. We all knew about where he lived, but no one had ever been there. What was unusual was that the post office had a package for him and he hadn’t come in to pick it up.

Pinto got a package about once a month and he seemed to know exactly when it came in. He would show up at the post office the day the package came. The old cowboy doesn’t have a post office box; he doesn’t get much mail and the postal clerks just kind of hold his mail for him. But they had been holding this package for a long time.

“I’m kinda concerned about Pinto” said Clara at the post office when I picked up my mail. “He hasn’t come for his package, and no one’s seen him for a while.” Clara was a matronly grandmother who, as head clerk, was also the town’s best source of information, knowing the comings and goings of everyone within 20 miles. “Someone ought to go out there and check on him.”

So there I was caught in the middle of a quandary. Pinto didn’t like visitors and might take a shot at anyone who ventured up to his cabin. But when Clara said someone should go up there, she meant me, and Clara was not one to be crossed. “Well, I guess I could take the package up there and see if he’s okay, if I can find the place,” I said.

I drove out towards Dos Cabesas and turned onto a dirt road a bumped along for about 2 miles to an old broken gate with a cattle guard covered by weeds. The truth is I’m probably the only one who knows where Pinto lives. I had to give him a ride home from the Doc’s the day he took a bullet in his leg. But that’s another story. He never told me to, but I decided it would be best to forget how to get there. As soon as I crossed the hidden cattle guard, I saw One-Eyed Bill lift his head out of the tall grass, look at me and take off running up the hill toward the cabin.

I eased my truck about 2000 yards further up the road and turned off at the bunch of scrub oaks and mesquite trees that hid the old building from view. I got out of my truck and hollered, “Pinto, it’s just me, you here?” I hollered because I didn’t want to get shot walking up to the porch.

“Pinto, you here?” I hollered again as I walked up to the cabin. I saw that the front door was ajar. Cautiously, I pushed the door open and whispered, “Pinto?” I took a step inside and gasped.

What a mess! There were papers everywhere, boxes open and their contents strewn about, and books, books everywhere, but no sign of Pinto. The coffee pot was still warm so I knew he had to be around. I went outside and walked to the barn. There was Pinto working on a saddle. “Pinto, I called to you, didn’t you hear me?” “Ah heard ya.” I asked, “Why didn’t you answer me?” He didn’t even look up, “Ah figurt ya’d find me.”

Now Pinto could be a cranky old cuss, but he was downright sour. “Whatcha doin’ here?” I said “I’m sorry to bother you, but you had a package in town and Clara was worried about you.”

“Humph, Clara, that old bat can’t keep ta herself,” he muttered, his tone a little softer. For all of his guff, he was actually fond of Clara. “Tell her I’m alive and to leave me alone.” I asked him why he hadn’t been to town for a while. “Snake-bit”, he said. “Laid me up fer two weeks.”

He got up and walked to the house, and I followed, stopping at the truck to get his package. When I brought it into the cabin, he told me to put it on the table. I watched him open the package and pull out a book. That crusty old cowboy! Most people would think that he couldn’t even read, and here he belongs to a book-of-the-month club! “Mystery.” He said, “Who-done-it.”

For a brief moment his lips curled up. I knew he wanted to smile, but he was too busy being cranky for my benefit, just to remind me that I had invaded his privacy. “Pinto, tell me why you haven’t come to town for over a month.” He looked at me, “Ah done tole you, snake-bit.” But I sensed there was something more.

One-Eyed Bill poked his head in the window and Pinto absently brushed his nose. Bill seemed to sense the sadness in Pinto’s touch; he put his head down and breathed out a sigh.

Pinto sat down, and searched for words, “Ten years last month.” He put his head in his hands for several minutes, composed himself and looked up. “She’s been gone ten years last month.” We sat in silence for a long time, and then he told me a story that forever changed my image of Pinto.

Homes For the Homeless

2007-10-12T09:04:00.000-07:00

While we're on the subject of reforms, I have an idea about solving the homeless problem. While in the city, I have been hearing on the news lots of talk about the problem with homeless people. It's apparently getting so bad that even the liberals want to get rid of them.

I've also been hearing a lot of discussion on the decline in home sales and how the government should step in and help the markets. So, I have an idea to end the homeless problem and solve the glut of unsold homes at the same time. Give every homeless person their own home! It's so simple, I'm surprised that the far left hasn't proposed it yet.

The problem with homeless people is that they have no home. So we should give them a home and they won't be homeless anymore. If the government would just buy all of the unsold homes and foreclosures, they could then give them away to the homeless, eliminating two problems at once. And we taxpayers could foot the bill!

As a matter of fact, since the liberals are so big on equality for all, we could concentrate on giving the homeless homes right next door to the Democratic leaders, they could set the example for all of us. I could just see Hillary Clinton going out to get her paper in the morning and looking across the street at her new neighbors' house, the one with the two shopping cart garage!

Healthcare Reform

2007-10-11T10:58:00.000-07:00

Writer's Block is a serious desease; I have it, but I can't get my insurance company to cover it.

I have all of the symptoms of WB, lethargy when sitting at the computer, a lack of creativity, the inability to focus, etc. I called my doctor, but he said there's only one cure for WB, and that is exposure to new places, people and ideas. So I called my insurance company and told them that my doctor had prescribed a world cruise to cure my ailment, but they said they wouldn't pay for it.

So here I sit a living example of the need for healthcare reform, I mean what kind of system it this if my insurance won't cover a prescription I need so badly? How will I ever get cured?

Coffee Break

2007-10-05T07:01:00.000-07:00

Morning Coffee breaks are a great thing. I'm not talking about the 10:00 gathering in the break room at work. I'm talking about ranch coffee breaks.

After rising at 4:00, a cup of coffee to clear your head and start your heart, then out to feed the animals and start the chores. A ranch coffee break is when you stop to have a cup of coffee on the front porch and watch the sun come up. It's the time you take stock of your life, think about your day, and give thanks for the life you get to live. That's what I'm doing right now, and I wanted to share it with you all. Wish you were here.

Well, it's back to work, break's over and the sun is up now. Breakfast at about nine, by then the days half over.

See ya'll soon

Still Here

2007-10-03T20:08:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to let you know that I was still here, since people worry when I'm gone for a while . This is a real busy time of year and it is difficult to find the time to sit down and write. When I get done with my work I am so tired, I can't think of anything to write.

There are several more chapters coming in the lives of One-Eyed Bill and Pinto, and some new stories as well. As the elections heat up, we'll talk about that some more. On the food front I might have some news to share next month.

But for the next week or so, I'll try to pop in as often as I can, but we've got a lot of ground to cover and work to do at the ranch, and on my house, so Ssay tuned. Thanks for caring.

COC

Abducted by Aliens

2007-09-29T16:43:00.000-07:00

It’s been 30 days since I last wrote anything here, and I have the most amazing story to tell you. I know that this sounds crazy but I can’t account for my whereabouts for the last thirty days, at least not logically. I mean, I can tell you, but you aren’t going to believe it.

I was driving down the dirt road to my house one night in my old beat up pick up truck, when all of a sudden the radio started to go haywire, the lights went out, then the engine sputtered and died. The sky above me got real dark, I couldn’t see anything, the nsuddenly the brightest light I’d ever witnessed encompassed my entire truck.

I had a strange sense of weightlessness, and then it felt like my truck was floating on air, rising up, up, up. Suddenly, I was engulfed by total darkness again. I couldn’t open my door. I sat in the darkness, too stunned to move.

One by one little blue lights began to blink on all around me. Gradually, it began to get light around me and I saw that I was in some kind of garage or something. Then, to my amazement I realized that the little blue lights were flashlight-type things being held by odd-looking little creatures that looked like men, but shorter and funny looking.

My door opened and I heard a voice say “welcome”. I’m not sure if I heard the voice out loud or in my head, but I knew that they were friendly. I got out and I was immediately surrounded by these little guys, all embracing me and welcoming me. Their leader, whom I found out later, was named Zzxlk@#$5-wsxd (which was pronounced Bob), explained that they were from the planet @#%gxdweQQ@ (pronounced Norf-Ulk). He said I had been “invited” to their ship because they had come to Earth to find a cowboy.

You see they had been receiving transmissions from our TV airwaves and had seen cowboys herding large numbers of creatures across the plains and they saw rodeos, and gun fights, and cowboys riding horses. They told me that they came to see this civilization which was so much like theirs. But when they got to earth they were saddened to find that there were no cowboys left. Then they happened upon me, driving an old pickup down a dirt road with my cowboy hat on, just like they had seen on their viewers.

Well I stayed with them for quite a while; we traveled over the western states and I showed them that there were lots of cowboys left. They showed me the creatures that they raised and rode. They showed me their games on the backs of creatures that looked oddly like our rodeo events. We shared ideas about raising food stock, breeding (which I might add is really different for them). We talked about politics and swapped recipes, though I’m not sure where I’m going to get blarkiton flesh to make grilled blarkiton slabs, with sub-soil root blobs.

Most fascinating to me was the time travel. Since they were not susceptible to our laws of time and space, they were able to travel into our future and tell me about it. They couldn’t take me there of course, since I was bound by Earth laws. But I got a glimpse of the near future. I know who wins the upcoming elections. Most of the future they erased from my mind so I wouldn’t mess with the fate, but they let me remember that.

But the best part of the whole experience was realizing that I am not alone. The cowboy life may be dying out in the U.S., and we may be scorned by the elite and trendy people, but in the rest of Universe, the truly advanced and intelligent life forms have learned that the cowboy way is the best way. There may be hope for us yet down here. If not, I have a standing invitation to have my own blarkiton ranch on @#%gxweQQ@!

So, after a long 30 day journey into the great beyond, I am glad to be back. Thanks to all who have been concerned and have written to inquire how I have been.

Horse Training

2007-08-29T08:41:00.000-07:00

I’ve learned a lot about training horses over the years by watching Pinto. I’ve watched him work with some of the wildest creatures on earth. Most Tuesdays you can find old Pinto over at the Eight Bar Ranch, working Mustangs in the corrals. I like to go over there when I can and watch.

When I watch Pinto with a horse, it’s almost a Zen-like experience; hours seem to go by without a word spoken. It’s just Pinto and the horse alone in the round pen, no one else exists. Now I’m not- saying the old man is a “horse whisperer”, but he just doesn’t seem to need to say anything.

My most memorable learning experience was the weekend I spent helping Pinto train One-Eyed Bill. I’m not saying that he did it all in one weekend, but that first weekend I spent with them taught me more that I could ever learn in a week long seminar.

Pinto had just found a new One-Eyed Bill, chosen because he looked and acted just like the last One-Eyed Bill. But he was wilder than the first night in a saloon after a cattle drive. I had gone with Pinto to pick up the horse and the seller had to Ace him up just to get him in the trailer. We took the long way to Eight Bar so the Ace would wear off.

When we got to the ranch, old one-Eye was raring to go, darn near kicked out the panels of the old trailer. I backed the truck up to the loading gate and Pinto opened the trailer. That horse jumped clear over us to get out and ran to the far side of the catch pen.

Pinto calmly walked over to the gate of the round pen, ignoring the horse, and opened the gate. I sat outside the pen, and Pinto sat on the fence. For the first half hour no one moved. Then the old man got down and slowly walked into the catch pen. He walked right up toward the horse’s hind quarters and that horse spun around and took off into the round pen.

After closing the gate, Pinto went to the center of the pen and stood. I had never seen him look so small; his shoulders were down, he wasn’t standing up very straight like he usually does, his arms just hanging at his sides, rope slightly behind his back. He just stood there as quiet as can be, not even looking at the horse. After a few minutes the horse looked over at him. Pinto took a small step to the rear of the horse, his right shoulder toward him slightly. In his right hand the rope opened out ever so little.

Well, that horse started trotting around the ring. Pinto followed the horse with his eyes, but never left his little circle. His left hand gently pointed the direction the horse was going and his rope hand seemed to be pushing the horse forward. After a minute or two, Pinto turned his left shoulder toward the horse and stepped toward One-Eyed Bill’s front legs. Pinto took another step with his left toward the horse’s rear, and the old horse did an outside turn and headed the other direction. Pinto directed him the same way for a minute, then stepped toward him with his right shoulder and almost turned his back to the horse.

The horse made an inside turn and went the other way. This whole dance continued for about a half hour, until One-Eyed Bill was sweating and breathing hard. Finally, Pinto stopped and backed away. The horse turned and took a step toward the old man. Pinto turned his back and walked out of the ring. He came over to me and sat down. “That’ll give him somethin’ ta think on,” he said.

We sat and watched the horse for about 15 minutes and then Pinto got up and went back to work. He did everything the same. Each time he stopped and backed away, the horse would take a few steps closer to him. I watched this for about two hours; the only words spoken were when Pinto came and sat down.

Finally, on the last go around, Pinto stopped and backed away. The horse stopped, turned and walked right up to the old cowboy! Pinto just stood there and put his hand out to rub the horse’s neck. Then he just put the halter and lead-rope right on the horse. He walked him around the pen, took off the rope and opened the gate back into the corral. One-Eyed Bill sort of blinked at the old man, like he couldn’t believe his was free to go, and then he trotted off to the corral, where he found fresh water and hay.

As I drove home that day, I couldn’t get the sight out of my mind, the crusty old cowboy that I knew had turned into the quietest, most gentle man in that pen. His motions were minimal and fluid. It didn’t take long for that horse to realize that obeying Pinto was the best thing in his life. I knew that there was something special about that horse, but there was something more special about this cowboy.

I didn’t get a chance to see One-Eyed Bill and Pinto again for about a month. When I did it was at a roundup for old John Kamp. While we were all saddling up our horses, trying to wipe the sleep out of our eyes, old Pinto came riding up out of nowhere atop One-Eyed Bill like they’d been riding together for years. “Thar’s about 20 mamas and calves up near the drinker on the back pasture, if’n one o’ you greenhorns would wake up and git on your pony and ride with me; we can have ‘em to the fire by sun-up.” The cantankerous old cowboy winked at me, and rode off. One-Eyed Bill and Pinto were back in the saddle again.

Beans and Cornbread

2007-08-28T07:16:00.000-07:00

Here's a silly little poem to make you chuckle. I'll post something more substantial later, when I'm through with chores.

Beans and Cornbread

I like my beans with cornbread
I eat them by the pan;
I like the combination,
But it irritates my friend;
"You need to eat more healthy,
Try a salad or some soup,"
But when I ride the trail all day,
I'd rather fart than poop!

Hole in the Universe?

2007-08-24T07:55:00.000-07:00

It seems scientists have found a mysterious blank spot in the universe, what they are calling a hole. There doesn't seem to be anything there. But we all know what that is, people have been suggesting it for years.

This is the place where all the spare hangers in your closet come from, and to where all the missing socks go.

Its Not What Goes In the Mouth

2007-08-21T07:02:00.000-07:00

It’s not what a man puts in his mouth
That tells you what kind of man he is.
It doesn’t matter what he eats or drinks
Or whether he smokes cigars or chews,
A man is not defined by his dietary habits
Or by his personal tastes and such.
Oh, you might learn a bit about his preferences,
But in the end that don’t tell you much;

It can’t tell you what he thinks about
In the darkness of the midnight sky,
Or what kind of friend he is with his Maker, or others,
For that matter it won’t tell you how, what, or why.

No it ain’t what goes into a man that makes him
It’s what comes out that says who he is.
This mouth of ours is pretty useful for an awful lot of things;
It eats and drinks, it yawns and speaks,
It whistles and it sings

But importantly it reveals
What a man carries in his heart.
That mouth can cuss and curse
And tear a hole in everyone around,
It can spew bitterness like tobacco juice
That smells and stains the ground.

But if a man’s heart is good and kind
He’ll use his mouth to make a person smile
To feel respected, genuinely liked;
A man may not be given to a whole lot of words,
But when he opens his mouth to speak
That’s when you know what is on his mind.

If you listen close, he’ll tell you himself.
You get to know the man inside,
If he’s a good man or a bad one,
And then you can decide

The Road to Town is Paved with Good Intentions

2007-08-20T10:04:00.000-07:00

Going to the city from my ranch is hell. To get to the road, I drive two and a half miles up the winding dirt road through washes and pot holes. Once I’m out on the county road it is another 13 miles of the rockiest, bumpiest road I have ever been on. If you drive it often enough, you will get a flat tire, and you will lose parts of your car. I have lost whole tail lights off my truck, I have cracked welds on the body. There’s just no way to avoid it, not to mention the cost of gas.

Once I get off that road it is another 15 miles on the highway to town. When I go to town, I pretty much better have reason to do more that one thing. It needs to be a full day, or it’s just not worth going. For example, if I’m going to town for mail, I might as well get the truck serviced (it probably needs it after every trip), shop for groceries, and pick up materials at the home improvement store. Then there’s always Wal-Mart, I always seem to need something there.

I make a point of getting gas for the truck, two cans, and a tank of diesel for the generator. I have to buy ice for the ice chest I have to take to keep things cold on the way back. Boy, a trip in for mail gets expensive. So whenever I can, I put off going.

I need to get in and see some friends, I promised them I’d help them out. I need to get some checks in the mail, I promised to send them. I need to get a new tire, I’ve intended to do that for a while; I’m driving on my spare again. There are a lot of things that I’ve intended to do, but just put them off because it requires going to the city.

As I get older, I find that I am less inclined to want to leave the ranch if I don’t have to. I don’t like crowds or traffic. When I was younger, I would put off work for a day in the city. Now, I find that I procrastinate on the “fun” stuff in order to stay at work and avoid the trouble.

But my point is, when I do something, it should be intentional. Like my friendships, I should be more intentional in pursuing my friendships. And promises: if I make one, I need to be intentional about keeping it, even when it is inconvenient to me.

Well, this week I’m going to go to the city. I’m going to go see those friends, I’m going to mail those checks, I’m going to get a tire. As a matter of fact, I’m going to make a point of completing a lot of things that I have put off. It’s not enough to just have good intentions, after all, the road to you know where is paved with them. Now, if we could just get the county to pave the road to town……

Flavored Coffee

2007-08-18T06:40:00.000-07:00

Flavored coffee makes me cranky. There's just something not right about it. Now I like my coffee strong and black. I don't drink decaffeinated coffee because that's just bad tasting water.

Old cowboy lore says that the way to make coffee is to boil the water and dump in enough grounds fill a small pond. Let it boil for a long time. If you toss a horseshoe in and it floats, the coffee is done.

And I have actually seen this trick at cow camp, boil a pot of water on the campfire, when the water is ready, pour your grounds into a gunny sack. Crack an egg into the sack and throw in the shells as well; tie up the sack and toss it into the water for about 15 minutes. You get really strong coffee and no grounds.

Anyways, I got off the subject, sort of. Its just that I'm yearning for a good strong cup of coffee.

Wednesday is usually market day for me. But this last week, I couldn't get to the market. I figured it was OK because I had enough supplies to last for the week. But I forgot that I needed coffee.

There had not been the delicious acrid smell of brewing coffee in my kitchen since Tuesday morning. Now, I'm not an addict by any means, I manage to do without my vices pretty well. But today is Saturday, and I wanted some coffee. I was rummaging around the ol' pantry trying to find something to satisfy me. I have plenty of decaf around, for those who like that sort of thing. But even in my darkest hours I can't bring myself to drink it.

Well, just about the time I was ready to give up, I remembered that someone had given me some flavored kind of coffee, way back when. I was getting desperate, so I made me a pot of this Hazelnut Creme, la-dee-da kind of coffee. I guess I should have toughed it out and gone for the decaf, or gone without. This stuff is terrible. It smells like it should be a dessert, but it tastes like some sort of hazelnut pond scum.

So instead of sitting down with a steaming cup of beautiful dark, rich french roast, watching the sunrise and whipping out some whimsical literary piece for your entertainment, I'm sitting at my computer, with a cup of sweet smelling combination of tree bark and bailing twine, steeped in artificial nut flavored bath water, grousing about how much I don't like the coffee.

I have concluded that flavored coffee makes me cranky. But, I made a whole pot, and I'm gonna drink it anyway. I hope your day starts out better.

That Sinking Feeling

2007-08-14T07:31:00.000-07:00

Sunday, after dinner, it finally happened. I had been picking little pieces out of my kitchen faucet for a while, so I knew it was inevitable that the darn thing would give out someday. Sunday night while rinsing dishes, the handle snapped and I couldn't shut off the water.

I reached under the sink to turn the valve off and it wouldn't shut off either. I managed to get the faucet down to a small drip over night and I figured I'd get a new handle in the morning.

So, yesterday, I did what always seems to happen in these situations. I spent the whole day under the sink. The project started with the usual hunt for tools that had developed legs or had been "borrowed" by my dear friends and loved ones. After finally locating something that resembled a pair of pliers and a wrench, I set out to locate the water shut off.

When I got the broken valve out, I packed up my parts for the first trip to the hardware store. Now I know where everyone in my town is on Monday morning. I found two things at the hardware store. First, I found the washers to fix my valve. Second I found that they no longer make that particular faucet or even replacement parts.

So I went home to fix the valve, so I could turn on my water; that was relatively simple and only required 1/2 hour wedged up under the sink and a limited number of swear words. I then set out to remove the existing faucet so I could see what I needed to get, having resigned myself to a second trip to the store.

This part of my day was a bit more complicated. Whoever put the plumbing in the kitchen must have looked at it and said to themselves, " How can I install this in the most complicated way, to ensure that no one will ever be able to make any repairs?"

Now, I'm not a skinny guy. I have pretty broad shoulders, so crawling up under the sink was like stuffing a buffalo in a shoe box. And of course I didn't have the right size wrenches! To make a long story boring, I finally got the offending faucet out. So off to the store again.

I went all the way down to the "big box" store in order to have a bigger choice of faucets. After 45 minutes of staring at the wall of faucets ranging in price from $200 to $600, I settle for one in the $150 range. Not real stylish, but it would do.

I got it home, and opened the box. Good, all the parts were there, and, it was pre-assembled. This would be easy. I would just put it all together, put in on the sink and connect the hoses, and I'd be done.

Well, the faucet wouldn't fit with the hoses attached, so, under the sink I went for another agonizing 1/2 hour trying to reach the connections. I dropped the wrench and it hit me on the lip. I hit my head on the bottom of the sink and then on the cabinet door on the way out. I took a break for a few choice words, and some ice for my swelling lip.

Finally finished, I turned the valves on. Every hose started to leak. Back to the store for more hoses!

Well, I finally got the whole project done. The faucet works great. Every time I go into the kitchen I turn it on. This morning I got up and my entire upper body has a bruise the shape of the cabinet opening, the swelling on my lip is going away. Now that I have found my tools, maybe I'll replace the toilet today. Not that it needs it, but, what the heck, I'm already bruised, and they know me at the hardware store now. Maybe I can do it in only two trips.

Vote Early, Vote Often!

2007-08-11T07:28:00.000-07:00

I read the other day that some states are moving their primaries up to early January. Apparently this will force those who are already first to move their 2008 primaries to 2007.

This is getting ridiculous, why don't we just start voting for 2012 right now. The country would probably run a lot smoother if we already knew who was going to be president 5 years from now. We could watch that person over the years and see what kind of president he or she would be.

The president to be would have plenty of time to prepare for the job without having to spend all that time campaigning. The president elect could spend that time putting together a staff, preparing an agenda, establishing budgets, that so of thing. Then, when the new president takes office, they would be ready to implement all of their plans.

Hey this could work in other areas too! Why not vote for the Oscars before the movie comes out? If a movie doesn't get an Oscar the year before it's made, why bother to make it? This could save Hollywood billions!

If your child doesn't get elected future high school class president in eighth grade, ship him of to military school.

I say let's wipe out procrastination! Don't put of until tomorrow what you can do today! We can have year 'round voting, every year. At this pace we could vote every day, just like the "blog for a year" competition. Which reminds me, I've got to go vote for my friends. See you later.

The Last Indian

2007-08-09T12:10:00.000-07:00

High in the Chiricahua Mountains was the last Indian. It was 1963, or maybe ’64. The Forest Service was scouting the area for a good site for the fire tower, which exists to this day. One of the rangers spotted the tracks. They had been covered up pretty good, but to the old scout, they were still readable. There was work to be done and no time to follow them; the scout noted the spot and decided to return on his own time.

That winter, the snow up at 9,000 feet made it impossible to ride to the ridge. The tracks were covered and forgotten.

One afternoon the following spring, the old scout was telling tales with his buddies in the saloon. With the help of a few beers, the volume was starting to rise until it reached the ears of a young cowboy sitting in the back with his chair propped against the wall. He was nursing a cold one and taking the scene.

"I’m telling you, there’s Indians up Mormon Trail; I saw the tracks up there last fall.”

“Ah, Cooter, you ain’t seen no injuns, they haven’t been off the reservation for years.”

“I did too. I saw moccasin tracks up there and I marked the spot, I was going to go back up there, but with this broken leg, I’m not going anywhere.”

The group switched subjects, but something had peaked the young cowboy’s interest. He hung around until the group started to leave; the older man with the broken leg took a little longer to get up and was soon alone. The young man came over and asked if he could join the older scout. He bought the man a beer and struck up a conversation.

“Ah overheared ya jawin’ ‘bout an injun up the Chiricahuas.”

The old man told him the whole story, laying out where he’d seen the tracks, just to prove he was telling the truth. When they parted the young cowboy thought about what the scout had told him. He had never seen an Indian and decided he was going to find one.

The next day, he packed his saddle bags and climbed on his horse, One-Eyed Bill, and rode out for the mountains. He rode up the canyon, following the river bed as he climbed. The riding was tough and rocky. He rode past huge rocks that looked like God had stacked them one on top of the other and left them balancing there, about to tumble any minute.

He reached the ridge about sundown and found a place to camp. The next day took him to the area the scout had described. Sure enough, tied to a tree branch was the strip of leather the scout had left there. He started searching, but found no sign of tracks. Disappointed, he rode on, searching for any sign that there had been some there. It was early spring, and the snow had melted, except under some of the big trees and around the rocks where the sun did not hit directly.

On the second night, he made camp in the hollow of an outcropping of rocks that formed a natural wall. The night air was cold and the fire felt good. As he warmed his coffee on the fire, he thought he heard a sound. Drawing his pistol, he placed in his lap and continued stirring his coffee pot. He heard it again. While his back was to the sound, he fingered his pistol. “Friend, if’n you’re looking for coffee and a warm fire, Ah got plenty o’ both, but if not, ya best be movin’ on.” He stated, matter-of-factly.

After a few minutes of silence, an old, weather beaten Indian sat next to him. “You heard me. I am getting old.” The cowboy poured them both some coffee. They sat in silence for a long time, letting the tension dissipate.

“You have been hunting me. Do you plan to kill me?” the Indian asked, without emotion.

“Naw, Ah just never seen an injun before, and thought I should get me a look”, said the cowboy. “But Ah didn’t see no signs, just heard ya coming.”

“So I am not too old to hide”, said the Indian, “although my bones cry for the dust. I did not think you to be a killer, the coffee is good.” These thoughts running together as if one sentence. “I am Broken Arrow.” The cowboy said nothing, he felt that was the way.

Broken Arrow said, “I am tired, may I sleep safely by this fire?” The Cowboy said, “Ah won’t be doin’ ya no harm.”

He slept lightly, wary of the Indian peacefully sleeping before him. The next morning he woke with a start. There was no sign of the Indian. There was no sign he had even been there. He covered over his dying embers, and struck camp, riding out a slow pace, scouring the ground for signs.

That night, he made camp again further into the mountains. As he made a fire, and set out to boil water for beans, the Indian appeared. He had a small deer over his shoulder. “we will have meat tonight”, he said. “You have not told me your name, so I will call you Pinto; I have never seen a white man with painted skin like yours.”

Broken Arrow liked to talk. He told Pinto of his days on the reservation. He told him that he had set out to find his people’s home before he died. “I am an old man, and I do not wish to die on a reservation. I have come to this land to die among my ancestors.”

Pinto stayed in the mountains with the old Indian for many weeks, learning to hunt, and scout, learning the ways of the Chiricahua Apaches. The old man treated him as a son and they grew fond of each other, the quiet cowboy and the talkative Indian.

After a month of traveling through the mountains and valleys, the old man said one day, “I am home now.”

The cowboy looked around the valley and out on the plains before him. He listened as Broken Arrow described the tribal village as he had learned it from his grandfather. They made camp there and stayed for several days, looking for signs of the encampment, picking up pieces of pottery and arrow heads.

On the night of the full moon, Broken Arrow, woke Pinto and said, “It is time. I will go to my fathers’ tonight.” The cowboy was full of sorrow, but did not speak. He nodded his head and waited for the old man to finish. “When I have gone bury me by those rocks; that is where my grandfather’s father lies. Bury all of the pieces we have gathered with me for my journey, and tell no one of this place.”

The next morning Pinto buried the old Indian, as instructed, along with pottery and arrow heads, but he kept one arrow head, which he tied with a strip of leather and put around his neck, a keepsake from a friend, the last Indian.

Pinto rode home, covering his tracks as he went. He never told anyone where the old man was buried, but he kept the name the old man gave him, and still wears an arrow head around his neck.

Slow Leak

2007-08-04T19:25:00.000-07:00

I've written before about my ranch truck and the trouble with tires. I've been driving on the spare for a while now, although I don't go far. I decided that it was time to make a trip to the city and buy a new tire. Now, I hadn't used the truck for a few days, so when I went out to the truck, I noticed another tire was getting low.

I put air in the tire and drove all the way to the tire place, but they didn't have my tires in stock and had to order one. By the time I got home, I noticed that the one I put air was low again. I called up Joe at the tire place and told him, you'd better order two.

That was a few days ago, and I haven't been able to get into the city again. But yesterday, I noticed that another tire was going flat. I put air in that one too. Today it was low again, so now I need three tires.

But what got me thinking was how the tires looked. When they start to lose air, they get a sort of bulge at the bottom, and they look out of shape. I realized that that's what's happening to me. When I was younger, I was full of air and could run all day and all night. I was certainly full of hot air.

As I get older, I've lost some air. I'm not so puffed up anymore, but the trade off is that bulge. I'd say it's worth it. I'm not so full of myself as I was when I was younger, and I'll take out of shape over that any day.

Russians Invade North Pole?

2007-08-03T06:40:00.000-07:00

While we are busy fighting terrorism in the middle east, Russia has committed an act of aggression that will have repercussions around the world. (See Article) In a race for world dominance, Russia has claimed the north pole. Well actually the sea bed beneath the north pole.

They claim that they are simply trying to prove that they are are on the same continental shelf as the north pole, and that gives them rights to the natural resources beneath the sea.

Ha! We all know what those tricky ruskies are up to, they're trying to claim the north pole, so they can own Santa!!! Are we going to stand for that? This means war. Everyone knows that Santa, like Jesus, is 100% American.

Just because the Russians managed to get one of their own into Santa's cabinet (you remember Rudolph the Red), they think they can take over, just like that. Well, it's not going to be so easy. We'll send troops to the ocean floor to protect the American way of life.

They claim that no one has ever gone to the ocean floor under the pole before, but right after they planted their flag and left, several elves in scuba gear were seen removing it. We better keep an eye on this developing story.

Dogrel, The Wonder Mutt

2007-08-02T10:57:00.000-07:00

Pinto used to have a helper. His name was Dogrel. He didn’t look like any dog I’d ever seen. He was a real mongrel, a mutt. He was probably a cross between a border collie, a retriever, a gila monster, and a javelina. He was ugly.

But like most ugly mutts, he was friendly. If you got your face too close to his, you were in for a washing with his slobbery tongue. His breath smelled like he’d eaten something that had been long dead. He didn’t have a tail to wag - I think it’d been chewed off – so when he was excited, his whole rear end would wiggle.

But Dogrel was the best cow dog anyone had ever seen. He’d wait patiently by the sorting pens and when that string of cows would come around the last turn, he’d run out wide around them and start barking. I never got used to the big deep roar that came from such a scrawny mutt. It put the fear of God into those cattle and not one of them would get out of line. Old Dogrel would march them right into the pens and practically sort them himself, heifers to the right, steers to the left, cows on ahead. He was never afraid to take on the bulls, and I think they respected him too.

Now Pinto loved old Dogrel, and so did One-Eyed Bill; what a trio they were. That dog would chase Bill around the corral, and then they’d trade off and Bill would chase Dogrel. Pinto would watch and laugh, he thought that was the funniest thing he’d ever seen.

One day last spring I saw One-Eyed Bill and Pinto at the first gather, but Dogrel wasn’t with them. “Hey Pinto” I asked, “Where’s Dogrel?” The old cowboy looked at me said, “He’s dead.”

The way he told it, the three of them, One-Eyed Bill, Pinto, and Dogrel were riding range last fall, when they stopped to camp. Dogrel and Bill were playing games around the tree, and Pinto went to gather some firewood. As he reached down to pick up a bundle of sticks, he saw Dogrel come flying over him, and then he saw the snake. That old diamond back was striking out at Pinto, and Dogrel just jumped in the way. The snake got Dogrel real good, but that probably saved Pinto’s life. He buried his old friend out on the range, under a scrub oak.

When he was done telling me the story, he looked at me, and I thought I saw his eyes glisten for just a second, then he turned and climbed on Bill and rode off. I’ll never forget that ugly little runt, or the look in Pinto’s eye when he told me the story. And I understood the new snakeskin hat band, with a tassel made of dog hair that crowned Pinto’s dusty old hat.

No Longer "MySpace"

2007-07-30T16:14:00.000-07:00

A few months ago, I wrote about getting a MySpace account (see Comments on Media). At the time I thought it was kind of funny. Today I cancelled my account and sent them my comments, they were not funny.

I think that MySpace, and sites like it are not only a waste of time, but they are detrimental to the moral fiber of our planet. I am no prude, but I am deeply offended by what goes on on that site, from the pornography on the opening page to the "friend requests" and the messages that are posted.

Whenever I would receive an e-mail notifying me that I had a message on my account, I would log on to check. Each time, I was bombarded with naked women in the advertising, sexually explicit commentary, and graphic messages. Each "person" who sent me a message posted a picture of a barely (if at all) legal young girl (or boy) in various stages of undress.

Is this what we consider "social networking"? No wonder there is an increasing problem with pedophiles and such. It is so in your face at every turn on this site! I know that my ranting will do nothing to change the situation, but I just wanted to say that the owners of these waste lands and the investors who make money on this garbage should be tarred and feathered.

If you have kids, teach them to make "friends" another way. And if you are an adult and you use MySpace to "network", shame on you!

Fried Chicken

2007-07-29T19:55:00.000-07:00

Want to make great fried chicken? Here's my recipe:

Fried Chicken
Legs, thighs and breasts.

Coating:
1 part ground potato chips
1 part ground bbq potato chips
2 parts flour
1 part breadcrumbs
Sage
White pepper
Granulated Onion
Granulated garlic
Hickory salt

Grind chips and add remaining ingredients. Season chicken with salt and pepper, toss in mixture and fry in pan 375 degrees with shortening or bacon fat about 10 mintues each side. Let rest in 300 degree oven 5-10 minutes.

Hope you like it.

Poems

2007-07-27T09:29:00.000-07:00

Bush Cattle
"What's that up on the hill?
There, about one o'clock,"
"One o'clock? We don't talk like that!"
"Alright, just to the right of that rock"
"I thinks it's a bush"
"No it's gotta be a cow, I saw it move!"
"Come on, forget it, we got cows to push."
"I'm gonna ride and take a look
I'd hate to miss one, the boss'd have a fit"
"Well if'n you have to, get."
"Well, what'd you find? I see that you're alone"
"Wouldn't you know it, when I got there,
That darn cow had turned to stone!"

Sunset
Sunset
The end of the day
I've punched the last dogie
I've baled the last hay.
It's me and the coyotes
A guitar and a beer;
I love being a cowboy
But I wish you were here.

The Prayer
Not on the church going side,
And being a man of few words
He went for a Sunday ride.
The Old Cowboy climbed off off his horse
And sat down by banks
He look over the land
And up to the sky,
Took off his hat and said:
"Thanks".

Time for a Change

2007-07-26T08:05:00.000-07:00

I felt it was time to change my blog description and my profile to better reflect where I seem to be going lately. Any comments? Is the description more accurate?

I Found A Picture of Me

2007-07-25T23:37:00.000-07:00

I have been asked why I don't have a picture of myself on my blog. Well, I don't have any. At least I didn't think I didn't, until some one gave me this picture. I really think they got my best side too!

"This is where the Cowboy Rides Away" ( George Strait)

Night Sounds

2007-07-25T21:43:00.000-07:00

It’s getting late and the pages of my book are starting to blur. I guess it’s time for bed. I get up and go outside to turn off the generator. Even though I’ve done it so many times, that last gasp of the engine, then the silence, still sends a shiver through me. It emphasizes that I’m alone out here so far away from anyone else. I’m not sure I’ll ever get use to it.

The horses are all up at Half Price Ranch, our horse ranch where there is still plenty of grass from the last rains, so there’s no sound from the corrals or out in the pasture.

I trudge back to the house and shut the door. It’s hot and humid tonight, so I’ll leave the bedroom window open a crack just to keep some air moving. For a while, I lie awake listening to the night sounds. The refrigerator makes a little hiss as it settles in for the night without power.

I hear the sound of absolute silence for a few moments before my ears get accustomed and I start to hear the familiar sounds of night at the ranch. The jack rabbits venture out to search for food near the house, they’ll venture up on the porch soon, rattling the lose boards. There are a few quail calling to each other in the distance. A stray rodent scampers across the roof.

I drift off to sleep listening for any strange or unfamiliar sounds. In the early hours, a breeze picks up and that piece of loose tin over the laundry room starts to rattle softly, I must remember to fix that. I can hear the old oak tree where I’ve hung my shoeing tools. The breeze rustles through the branches, making the horse shoes jingle like an out of tune wind chime. Tonight, I hear the coyotes in the wash, they must have found a rabbit dinner.

I doze again. Somewhere the birds begin, one by one, to make small chirps. Then everything stops. The silence wakes me. Rain is coming. The birds have taken cover. Pat, pat, pat, the drops splatter on the tin roof. It rains lightly, but steadily for a few hours.

I wake again to the choir of birds, the rain has stopped. Its 4:30, time to get up and get ready for the hour long drive up to Half Price, I’ll make some coffee for the drive. These sounds are like old friends, like the quiet breath of a familiar lover lying next to me. Though I’ve woken several times throughout the night, I awake feeling rested and peaceful, the night sounds reassuring me that all is well at the ranch.

One-Eyed Bill and the One-Eyed Jack

2007-07-25T12:58:00.000-07:00

We were sitting around the fire one roundup, and one of the old-timers says, “Hey, Pinto, tell the young fellers about One-Eyed Bill.” Another says, “He sure is a darn good looking horse, but he must be, what, 40 years old by now” The old guys chuckle as if someone told a joke. Pinto just smiled. He thought for moment and then as if gathering up steam, he told us youngsters this story.

“To tell ya the truth, an’ Ah always tell the truth, this here horse is the finest horse west of the Pecos and north of anywhere. Why, he can run like the wind, and never bounce an inch. He knows one hunnert an’ ten commands, and can smell a cow from a thousand yards. But, Ah have to be honest, an’ Ah’m always honest, he’s not the original One-Eyed Bill. He’s Bill number five. Each an’ ev’ry one of them exactly the same.

Ya see Ah liked Ol’ Bill some much that every time Ah had to retire one, Ah found me another just like the last one, so’s Ah’d never have to give him up.”

“Tell us again how you came to own the first One-Eyed Bill” piped up another old timer. Again, laughter.

Pinto took a swig from his bottle and went on. “ Well, when Ah was a young’n, ‘bout 17 or so, Ah was making ma way west from Kentucky. Ah didn’t have no horse, so I was afoot. Doin’ odd jobs along the way for food and lodgin’, I was. Havin’ me a grand old time, and learnin’ a lot of cowboyin’ skills from ranch to ranch.

Ah came upon the Triple T Ranch in Mesquite, Texas. That was one fine spread. I worked there for two weeks chasin’ bushed up dogies and honin’ ma ropin’ skills. One day, Ah was a watchin’ this here bay in the corral just a jumping and a hollerin’ while one cowboy after another tried to get a loop on him. There was this sweet young thang ‘bout 15 or 16 year old, blonde as the desert sand, watchin’ the fellers and laughin’. So’s Ah sidled up next to her and ask’t her what was the skinny. She said ‘that horse is so wild, that no one has ever been able to catch him let alone ride him. My daddy got him for me, but these cowboys can’t seem to handle him.’

Well she sure was a looker an’ Ah wanted to impress her so, Ah says, I’ll do it! She looked at me, a youngster and laughed. That made me turn red as a sunset and all heated up inside. Ah says, you just watch me!

So’s I get ma rope and Ah stomp up to the gate, I climbed on over the fence and the cowboys cleared out to give me a chance to make a fool of maself. But Ah showed them. Ah coiled up ma reata and tossed it true. Wouldn’t ya know it, I hooked that ol’ bay on the first throw!”

“I bet that made an impression on the girl,” I said.
“Sure did, that ol’ bay done dragged me around the corral for ‘bout ten minutes, with everyone laughin’ at me. The girl giggled out loud and went off to tell her daddy that I “caught” the horse. Well, Ah finally let go of the rope, got up an ran out of the pen, cursin’ a blue streak, the other buckaroos laughin’ an slappin’ me on the back. But Ah was maddern’a wet hen. Ah wanted that filly to like me, but she just laughed.

That night, whilst cringin’ at the iodine on ma scratches, Ah decided it was time to move on.”

“Was that how you found One-Eyed Bill? Was that him?” one of the younger guys asked.”

“Oh no,” said Pinto, “Ah won him in a poker game in Abilene. Ya see, it was about a year later, when Ah, older an’ wiser, got maself into a poker game with a couple o’ drifters. Ah was doin’ okay, but Ah just know’d they was a cheatin’ me.

‘Round about midnight we was down to just me an’ another feller, an’ we was getting’ tired. Ah had lost darn near all my money to those skunks, and I needed to win big. Ah got lucky. This here snake dealt out the cards, drew 2 cards and raised me more than Ah had, so Ah pulled out ma watch, one ma granpappy given to me ‘fore Ah left home. ‘This here watch is worth two hunddert dollar,’ Ah said. ‘Ah raise ya against that Sorrel ya got tied up out there.’ Now Ah know’d that horse was probably stolen, seein’ what sidewinders they was, but he sure was a pretty horse.

‘You’re on,’ said that old thievin’ jackalope. He tried to bluff me, but when all was said an’ done, he only had a pair of nines. Ah layed out the cards he dealt me, one 7, one 5, one king, an’ a pair of one-eyed jacks. He looked at me like Ah was the devil hisself, but he didn’t say nothin’. Ah took my winnin’s, walked out the door, jumped on that ol’ Sorrel horse an’ lit out, fast as Ah could. Ah didn’t stop until Ah was half-way to El Paso. And that, my friends is how Ah met One-Eyed Bill.”

As I drifted off to sleep that night, listening to the old-timers laughing and singing drinking songs, I pictured myself in Pinto’s place, facing down the bad guys in a card game. I played my hand, just like old Pinto did, and my last waking thought, wait a minute, there’s only 1 one-eyed jack in the deck! And there’s only 1 One-Eyed Bill and Pinto.

Watching Rodeo

2007-07-23T21:28:00.000-07:00

I love the rodeo. Whenever I take friends to the rodeo who have never been, I am usually asked to explain what they are watching. I decided to pass this along for those of you who wish to gain a better understanding of the sport.

In order to make your Rodeo more enjoyable I have written some pointers on what to look for in each event. These are the events at a typical rodeo.

Bareback Riding

In this event, the rider mounts a horse without a saddle and must ride the animal for eight seconds in order to get a score. He must not touch the horse or assist himself in any way with his free hand.

Watch the rider as he comes out of the gate. To qualify for a marking, the rider must have the rowels of the spurs touching the horse above the break of the shoulders when the horse’s front feet hit the ground. Time starts when the animal’s inside front shoulder crosses the plane of the chute.

You are watching both the animal and the rider. With the rider you are looking for the following:

Length of spurring stroke:
The feet are as far forward as possible and as high in the neck as can be. He then pulls his feet in a straight line to the front of the bare back rigging.

Exposure
Exposure is the willingness to go beyond standard spurring motion, extending oneself beyond secure control

Look for the distance the feet are away from the horse when repositioning at the end of the spurring stroke.

Aggressiveness
Watch the speed of the rider’s feet when repositioning on the forward stroke. You are looking for positive, forward, and forceful movement during the spurring motion.

Timing
Timing refers to the spurring motion in relation to the animals bucking effort. The efforts of animal and rider should be in rhythm with each other on each jump.

Control
The rider should be in balance and not out of control. He should be keeping his body in balance with the bucking efforts of the animal while exhibiting all of the requirements of the ride. He should be sitting squarely in the middle of the animal.

Drag
Look for continuous pressure of the spur rowel against the animal throughout the length of the stroke.

Spur Position
The rowel of the spur should be against the animal with the toes turned out.

While you are watching the rider, you should also be watching the animal. This is a contest between the rider and the horse. Here’s what you’re looking for in a horse:

Front-end Moves and Ducks
Is the horse changing directions and lead from side to side as if dodging imaginary obstacles? The horse will hit the ground one foot at a time, causing a direction change in the shoulder movement. This creates a side-ward rocking action in the rigging and the swells of the saddle.

How High the Horse Gets in the Air
Look at the distance form the ground of the horse front feet. But front end height alone is not enough. How high does the horse kick?

Front-end Drop
Vertical drop which has no, or little forward motion. It seems as though the animal is sucking backwards underneath the rider with a strong effort to throw him over the front. The timing of the delayed kick creates a downward force on the swells and rigging that is seen in the drop of the rigging or swells of the saddle.

Direction Change or Spin
Watch for unexpected changes of direction or tight circles.

Kicks
Hard kicks; side kicks; uneven kicks; full extended even kicks’ both feet together; high, delayed kicks; these create power, drop, rocking, rhythm, timing.

Timing
Timing is regularity of speed, kicking efforts, and patterns of the horses bucking efforts.

Rhythm
Does the horse have good, or steady rhythm (even consistent bucking efforts)? Watch for difficult or uneven rhythm, changing up on jumps, uncoordinated kicks, drop and movements of the horse.

Power
A combination of drop and kick creates stress on the rigging or saddle and jerk on the rider. A horse that drops in front and does not float out of the air throws more power at the rider. How intense is the horses efforts?

These characteristics are the same for the Saddle Bronc horse.

Steer Wrestling

Steer wrestling is tougher that it looks. Besides all of the machinations which occur behind the scenes when cattle are involved, there are many rules regarding the equipment, the gates, the safety of the steer, etc. We will concern ourselves only with what happens after the steer has left the chute.

In all timed events, once the contestant has nodded he is ready, the steer is released. The horse must not cross the barrier line before the steer pulls his neck line and releases the barrier. If he does, a 10 second penalty is accessed.

The rider on the left of the steer is the wrestler and the rider on the other side is the hazer. The hazer’s job is to keep the steer from veering away from the contestant.

The contestant must catch the steer from horseback. After dismounting, he must either bring the steer to a stop or change the direction of the steer’s body before throwing it to the ground. The steer is considered thrown only when it is lying flat on its side, or on its back, with all four feet and head straight.

Steer wrestling is a timed event, meaning the contestant is vying for the fastest time of the round.

Team Roping

Another timed event is team roping. Two contestants compete as a team. The first, the header is the one who ropes the steer by the horns. The roper must rope, dally (wrap the rope around his saddle horn), and change the direction of the steer. The direction of the steer’s body must have changed and the steer has taken a step forward before the heeler can throw his loop at the steer’s heels.

The clock stops when the steer is roped by the head and the heels, and both horses are facing the steer in line with the ropes dallied and tight.

The following are considered legal catches;

Head:
Around both horns
Half a head (around horn and head)
Around the neck

Heel:
Both hind legs
One hind leg receives a five second penalty

Saddle Bronc Riding
This event is much like the bareback riding, with the exception of the use of a saddle. Saddle Bronc riding is more a contest of timing, control and style. The rider must stay centered and continuously spur his horse. He may not lose a stirrup, touch the horse, saddle, or himself with his free hand. He may not change hand on the rein or drop the rein.

Watch the rider as he comes out of the gate. To qualify for a marking, the rider must have the rowels of the spurs touching the horse above the break of the shoulders when the horse’s front feet hit the ground. Time starts when the animal’s inside front shoulder crosses the plane of the chute.

You are watching both the animal and the rider. With the rider you are looking for the following:

Length of spurring stroke:
Look for the rider to extend his legs as far forward in the neck of the horse as possible, then in a sweeping motion move his legs back toward the cantle.

Exposure
Exposure is the willingness to go beyond standard spurring motion, extending oneself beyond secure control

Look for the distance the feet are away from the horse when repositioning at the end of the spurring stroke.

Aggressiveness
Watch the speed of the rider’s feet when repositioning on the forward stroke. You are looking for positive, forward, and forceful movement during the spurring motion.

Timing
Timing refers to the spurring motion in relation to the animals bucking effort. The efforts of animal and rider should be in rhythm with each other on each jump.

Control
The rider should be in balance and not out of control. He should be keeping his body in balance with the bucking efforts of the animal while exhibiting all of the requirements of the ride. He should be sitting squarely in the middle of the animal.

Drag
Look for continuous pressure of the spur rowel against the animal throughout the length of the stroke

Look for the same characteristics in the horse as you would with the Bareback horse.

Tie-Down roping

In Tie-down Roping, the contestant must rope a calf from horseback, dismount, throw the calf down by hand , and then cross and tie any three legs. To qualify as a legal tie, there has to be at least one wrap around all three legs and a half-hitch. The rider then remounts his horse and takes a step forward on his horse. The calf must remain tied for 6 seconds from that point to qualify.

Barrel Racing

The contestant races her horse around three 55 gallon barrels and returns for the fastest time.

The barrels must be circled from opposite directions, outside in then inside out, or vice-versa. There is a penalty for each barrel knocked down.

I’m not sure that this is an absolute rule, but it appears that the contestant must wear brightly colored outfits with lots of fringe. Probably the only sport in the country that the opposite sex is not trying to break into.

Bull Riding
Everybody loves bull riding, undoubtedly considered the most dangerous sport. Most of us have no idea what we’re watching.

As to the rider you are looking for good body position; movements; use of the free arm or shoulders; and spurring. The rider should be in full control in the middle of the bull. He needs to stay on for 8 second in order to receive a score.

Look for the following when watching the bull:

Spinning
Continuous circling in one spot is called spinning. A spinning bull needs speed or other qualities to make the bull difficult to ride.

Jumping and Kicking with the Spin
The height of the jumps, drops and kicks of the bull create power and make the bull harder to ride than a flat, spinning bull.

Jumping and Kicking in a Straight Line or a Big Circle
Depending on how many combinations are involved (shoulder rolls, height, kick, power); this can make a bull difficult to ride.

Lunges
Sometimes a bull will make an unexpected forward movement with little if any kick, adding a degree of difficulty to the ride.

Shoulder Roll
When a bull kicks with side to side body movement he causes his shoulders to roll. This makes the ride more difficult.

Rearing and Kicking
The front end of the bulls comes up high, usually accompanied by a drop, as if the bull is trying to throw the rider over his head. You will usually see this in a bull with little rhythm and timing.

Rhythm
Rhythm refers to smooth, even, consistent bucking, no matter what his pattern of bucking. Sameness, makes it easier to predict the bull’s moves.

Fades
This refers to movement sideways or backwards, instead of forward. The bull tends to slide out from underneath the rider.

Strength and Power
Front end drop, strong delayed kicking, and overall effort in bucking, along with size, speed and quickness play an important role in the power of the bull.

Drop
Vertical drop of the bull’s front end as he drives his front feet into the ground creates power on the contestant by jerking downward on the bull rope.

Hops or Walks on Front-end
The bulls lands on his front feet and walks a step or two before he kicks, causing a whip to the upper body and uneven rhythm.

Speed
Watch the speed of movement or lack of it.

I hope you enjoy the sport as much as I do, these are some of the toughest athletes in the world.

One-Eyed Bill and Pinto

2007-07-23T09:02:00.000-07:00

Somewhere out in Kansas Settlement, near Dos Cabesas, on the way to Willcox, lives a weathered old cowboy. He’s been a fixture at every round up and branding in Cochise County for the last 50 years. It would be hard to imagine pulling off a round up without him. I don’t know how he knows when to show up; as far as I know, he has no phone and no one will see him for months at a time. But on the first day of every round up, he’s there, with his horse and tack ready at the first light of day, rope coiled tight, piggin’ strings tucked down his back.

He doesn’t say much while he’s working. He just seems to know where the cows are bushed up, like he’d been out there scouting for days. For hours, he’ll drive in a string of calves, and scoot out over the ridge to find more. He’ll do twice the work of the younger ones, without complaint. His horse never tires, never seems to break a sweat.

At branding time, he’ll toss his loop effortlessly around a dogie and drag it to the fire. Dropping to the ground in one hop, he’ll flank that calf, half a loop and a hooey, and the singe of hair, cut and swath, and he’s back on his horse before that bull knows he’s a steer.

All day long the old cowboy works, singing quietly to himself the old cowboy songs, talking to the cattle and joking with the bulls. It is an amazing sight to see. Sometimes, I just sit on my horse and watch in wonder at the fluid movements of this old cowboy. “Hey, son, ya gonna sit there all day, or er ya gonna drag one up?” I’m startled out of my reverie, “Oh, yea, sure” Off I ride, trailing behind and eating his dust.

When the work’s all done, and the beans are stirring on the fire, the old man will take a long pull on his whiskey bottle, clear his throat, and scratch his beard. We all know that means we’re about to hear another amazing tale about this grizzled old man and his horse. That’s how I’ve come to know all about One-Eyed Bill and Pinto.

When I was younger, I had heard about this duo, and their fascinating ways. But it wasn’t until my first roundup that I learned the most interesting thing of all. You see I had heard about the man and his horse together for so long, I didn’t know that One-Eyed Bill was the horse and the cowboy was called Pinto. I still don’t know his real name, or why he named his horse One-Eyed Bill, but they call him Pinto, on account of his freckles, which have long faded to blend into his tanned leather skin and hidden by his scruffy gray beard. I never have seen him without his hat on though.

Around the fire, his tales are legend. And as far as I know every bit the truth, no one has ever seen fit to dispute them. But tonight the fire, and the beans in my belly, a long day of riding, and I’m starting to drift off. I’ll have to tell you Pinto’s tale later. The sun comes up real early here…….

Cheney in Power?

2007-07-21T09:34:00.000-07:00

Today, President Bush transferred the powers of the presidency to Vice President Dick Cheney. The transfer lasted for two hours while the President underwent a medical procedure.

Guess what? Nothing happened. No countries were invaded, no one was executed, the economy didn't crumble. Abortion rights were not repealed, gays were not rounded up and imprisoned. Nothing happened.

I was told that terrible things would happen if Cheney ever got control for one minute! But there must have been some cosmic shift in the universe. Here on the other side of the country, I slept in. I woke up, and had a sense that all was well with the world, and went back to sleep.

If everything I was told about Cheney proved not to be true, I'm wondering about this global warming?!...

Nothing

2007-07-20T20:51:00.000-07:00

I wonder what the country is going to be like 1 year from now. How do you think the elections will really effect your life?

The honest truth for me is that I don't see a lot of difference between the parties any more. No matter who's in office, they still take my dollars, and nothing seems to change at my level. So I guess as long as they leave me alone, I just don't care anymore.

Wouldn't it be nice to have a complete change in Washington? I don't think that will happen in my life time. Maybe it's time to switch to a Monarchy or something. Just kidding. I really don't have anything important to say, and it's been a long day. How about some comments. Maybe our parents had it right, let's talk about the weather or something that really effects us.

How about talking about how we fit into our clothes at our age, I'm tired of buying new shirts.

The Smell of Rain

2007-07-19T10:49:00.000-07:00

I love the smell of rain on the desert on a hot, muggy day. Late July through August is our monsoon season at the ranch. I love to sit in the screened porch and watch the clouds move by, one minute sunny and hot, the next, dark and rainy. I leaves me with a comfortable, melancholy feeling.

It's a lazy time of year, too hot and wet to do much of anything. It's a time when we repair our tack, stitching leather and jawing about the upcoming gathers. It's kind of the cowboy version of a sewing bee, I guess. Grab a cold can from the cooler and it sweats. You'd sweat too, if you move too much.

If the road's not flooded, maybe we'll meander into town and eat supper, somewhere where there's air-conditioning. Maybe I'll take a nap on the porch, if I can catch a breeze. The horses don't move much and the critters are laying low. It's real silent, except for the distant thunder.

I love the smell of rain on the desert, we ought to have some good grass this fall, maybe last through winter......

Getting Ready to Move

2007-07-18T19:50:00.000-07:00

We're getting ready to move our bunk houses over to our other ranch. If they don't fall apart during the move, we might have a place for ya'll to stay if you come to visit. We have some beautiful riding in the Chirichaua Mountains nearby.

Come on down!

Birthday Dinner

2007-07-18T19:18:00.001-07:00

A Friend had a birthday today. I decided to cook dinner. Not because it was his birthday, because I took out some fish out of the freezer yesterday and had to cook it today.

I made fish tacos. As usual, it wasn't ordinary fish tacos. By the time I was finished, it turned into tequila- lime talapia and shrimp with avocado, cabbage, and jalapeno-cilantro-lime sour cream on hand made tortillas. I served them with watermelon salsa.

It turned out great, if you want the recipes e-mail me at Clickoncowboy@gmail.com and send me a picture of you in jeans (just kidding), let me know and I'll send them to you.

My Phone Goes "Moo"

2007-07-16T10:46:00.000-07:00

I recently acquired a new cell phone, which is probably a dumb idea since there's no reception at the ranch. Anyways, I programmed it so when it rings, the phone moos like a cow. It's pretty realistic.

Last night I had a nightmare. I was riding herd, trying to get the calves to mother up so I could get a count. The fog started to roll in, which got the cows to milling around and mooing. My horse got nervous and jumped, causing my phone to fall out of my shirt pocket. Just then the phone rang. I climbed down and was on my knees between the cows searching for my phone. It was mooing, the cattle were mooing....

Just then I woke up; my phone was mooing. who in the world was calling me at 4:30 in the morning? Wouldn't you know it, it was the National Bank of Nigeria. Someone had deposited $10 million in an account for me. If I would give them my account number they would transfer.....

Just then, I woke up; my alarm clock was mooing. What a night! I'm going out today and buying me a rooster.

Its In the Jeans

2007-07-15T18:54:00.000-07:00

I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but lately I've been checking out men's jeans. Whenever I go to a rodeo, or I'm in a crowd of people who are dressed in western attire, I find myself checking out men's jeans. I know it would sound better if I said I was looking at the women, but I have to be honest. I'm looking for a reason.

You see, all of my life, I've been a Wrangler man. I have worn Wrangler cowboy cut "13's". As I get older I have been watching the younger guys and noticing that a lot of them are wearing Cinch jeans, or other styles. I'm trying to decide if I like them. They look comfortable enough, but I like the "classic" look.

I have always wondered how other men get such a neat crease down the leg, with the right number of "stacks" at the bottom. I tried to iron mine once and ended up with burn marks on the jeans, the wall and my stomach. I just can't get it right. No matter how neat they are when I put them on, my jeans end up looking like I slept in them and rolled around in a mud puddle. And that's usually before breakfast.

My shirts start out clean and by lunch, they look like I used them for a pillow. How do these guys get anything done with so much starch holding them up? I was watching some friends perform at a steer wrestling; after the event, they looked like they just got ready for church. When I bring a steer down, I usually look like I just wrestled a steer.

Well, I've never been a fashion plate and I don't have the physique of a string bean. In order to get a shirt around my shoulders, I have to wear a shirt than looks like a night gown. And I'm not tall, so the rest of the shirt has no where to go but bunch up in the middle.

But I've got better things to do than worry about looking good. I've got what God gave me. My legs aren't long, but they can still get me on my horse, and they're strong enough to carry me, my saddle, and anything else I need. My shoulders a broad enough to bear my responsiblities. My back is still strong enough for me to pick up hay bales, though, at my age, my back goes out more often than I do. My face won't scare anyone away, but I won't be on the cover of GQ anytime soon. But I still can't help wondering how these good ol' boys find the time to to pick up their dry-cleaning.

Now, as for looking at women in their Wrangler jeans, I can't help but wonder.........

Bringing the Troops Back

2007-07-14T11:10:00.000-07:00

It seems that there is a growing movement among those up for reelection to bring the troops home from Iraq.

There is no way to address this without sounding too political, but maybe we should do that. Let's bring all of our troops back from all over the world. We should stop trying to protect other nations, and helping others. Let's deploy all of our soldiers along the borders, put the military in charge of the ports, the airports and the border crossings.

Let's circle the wagons and keep everyone else out. Let the rest of the world fiight it out among themselves. We can be there to pick up the pieces. I don't know, maybe I'm just in a bad mood today, but why do we bother to fight for anyone, and then let them all come here to live off our money?

I can't imagine how our soldiers feel, overseas protecting us, while we argue about whether what they're doing is "moral". It must be disheartening to hear what our "leaders" are saying back home.

So let's bring them home and wait for another attack. It will come for sure.

I Paint an Old Ride

2007-07-11T12:44:00.000-07:00

I want to tell you about a good friend of mine, Pete. Whenever I'm in California, I take the opportunity to ride with him. He tends to ride the same trail every time, but it's nice to spend time with him.

Pete has a great hobbie. Whenever we ride, he points out the graffiti along the trail. The kids and gangs are very busy in his neck of the woods. About a month ago he asked me to go out with him and help paint over the graffiti. That's his hobby, covering up graffiti along the trails in his town. We drove his SUV out along the trail with buckets of paint that he buys and we covered over the "artwork".

Pete's tireless effort to keep the trails beautiful and graffiti free at his own expense does not get enough attention from the other riders, so I wanted to say, Pete, my hat's off to you!

Lone Ranger And Tonto

2007-07-10T14:23:00.000-07:00

I was reading some funny cowboy jokes today and it reminded me of a story about the Lone Ranger and Tonto..

The daring duo were out on the trail one night, sleeping out in the wild when the Lone Ranger suddenly woke his sidekick. "Tonto, look up at the stars! What do they tell you?"

Tonto looked up and said, "No clouds tonight, skies clear."

"No Tonto, think, what do they tell you?"

Tonto thought for a moment, "Great Spirit give us many lights at night to show our way."

The Lone Ranger said, "No Tonto, they tell us someone stole our tent!"

Belching Bossie

2007-07-10T08:38:00.000-07:00

I didn't realize that burping cows had become such a problem to the planet! It is apparently all their fault that the planet's climate is heating up. (Don't get me started on the "science" of global warming!)

First it was my deodorant can that was the culprit. So I switched to a solid. Then it was my truck, can't help that. Now they say that the object of my paycheck is a leading cause of global warming! They say that we need to change their diet and cause them to burp less.

Well, I have news for you "scientists", those cows have been eating the same grass on my range for over a hundred years. If God wants to change the grass, he can do it himself. Now, not only will I have to contend with the conservationists who want me to stop grazing our land, so the itty-bitty spotted left footed tree toad can live in peace, they want me to keep my cows from burping! How about the government just ration out doses of Gas-x to all of the ranchers.

Folks, I'm sure that most of the scientists and "save the world from ourselves" types are very sincere people. But there's got to be other things that are more important for us to deal with right now. Like, how do we feed the world. How do we regain some sanity and teach the next generation about honesty and integrity, and self-control?

I'll agree to a dialogue about controlling my cattle's "emission" problems, lets do it at a steak house near you. Hey, I'm doing my part to stop global warming, cows cause the problem, so I'm eating all the cows I can, burp!

Smoke and Mirrors

2007-07-09T16:46:00.000-07:00

You’d think I would learn my lesson, but I keep doing it over and over. Maybe I’m too nice of a guy; or maybe I’m just a sucker. It happens every time, but this time was the worst.

I let someone else drive my truck. When I got it back and got in it, it reeked of smoke. The seat was adjusted funny, and the mirrors were out of whack. I grumbled to myself, fixed the mirrors and the seat, took the air freshener out of the glove box and sprayed it around. I left the windows down a bit to air out and climbed out.

I noticed that someone had left some trash in the back seat, so I reached in to get it out and saw the jack. It was out of place. I thought to myself, “What’s this?” I looked in the bed and saw a tire. Walking around the truck, I saw it; the spare was on the back passenger side. I wonder when someone was going to tell me they had a flat tire in my truck.

Were they going to ignore it and hope that I didn’t notice it? I guess they thought I would look at it and think, “Hmm, I must have had a flat tire and changed when I wasn’t looking”.

How can people do that? I mean, if I had a flat in someone else’s truck, the least I would do is tell them about it. Wouldn’t you? Well, it’s my own fault. We’re a little loose with our possessions around here, so when someone needs something we give it to them. At least they didn’t ask to borrow my horse.

Although I did loan a saddle out once and it came back without the stirrups, or the breast collar, or the back cinch. Took me two weeks to track the feller down and get my stuff back. I finally found the little thief, at the marshal’s office. After all, he worked there, as a deputy. I got it all back and everything was fine, but I’ll try to be a little more careful next time, you know, get a deposit or something. But, what are friends for, if not for keeping you on your toes.

The Song

2007-07-08T20:23:00.000-07:00

Tonight, I was sitting on my front porch with a glass of wine. Dinner was good and the sun was going down. I was listening to a CD on the stereo, relaxing after a long day.

I heard the song. Did I put on that CD on purpose? Did I plan to hear the song? I don't know; maybe it was subconscious. But there was the song. I stopped and listened to every word, again. I've heard it a hundred times, maybe a thousand. But every time, it still takes me to that place, that time.

I was swept up in the memory, the sight, the smells, that dance. Will I ever get over that moment when I first heard the song? I got up and played it again, why? Bitter sweet. When the song was over, I sat in silence. Silence so profound, so, so silent. Another place, another time. The song, longing, another life. The song. It was "our" song. No, it was just my song. Is it right for cowboys to feel this way?

Well, that was then, this is now. I have lots to do. I have to get ready to ride tomorrow. I finish my chores and climb in bed. But the song stays with me as I drift off to sleep. The song, I hope I don't wake up tomorrow with it still in my head.

Fresh Cut Hay

2007-07-07T20:10:00.000-07:00

I can't decide which I like better: the smell of fresh cut hay in the morning, or fresh cut hay at sundown. I can't decide if I like the silence just after sundown, or the silence just before sunrise. But I am convinced that most folks miss the opportunity to decide for themselves.

Goodnight folks.

COC

Old Cowboys Never Die

2007-07-06T21:59:00.000-07:00

I posted this today on Cowboy.com, which is a great site if you have never been there. I thought you might enjoy it here too.

I am getting older, I can feel it in my bones.
The younger cowpokes call me old man now,
And they laugh at my grunts and my groans.
The truth is, its getter harder to do the things I enjoyed in my youth.
The long days in the saddle are taking their toll,
And its getting harder to put on my boots.
I’ve had a good run for many a year and maybe its time to slow down,
I watch longingly out to the corral, at the buckaroos riding the broncs,
They laugh and joke when they fall to the ground;
But unlike me, they get right back up.
They say that old cowboys never die,
They never cry or complain,
They simply ride off of the pastures

And are never herd from again.

Do Women Talk More than Men?

2007-07-06T10:07:00.000-07:00

I was reading about a recent study that purported to prove that women did not significantly talk more than men. I found two dramatic errors in their study. First they studied college students, whom I assume talk more that older people. I believe this because I have been to the mall, to the movies, and in bars. I have heard the chatter of the young. I have seen the older men sitting quietly. They obviously did not study married couples. If they had, they would have come to a completely different conclusion, women talk more and husbands no longer even try to get a word in edge-wise.

Second, they merely counted words. Apparently this study did not concern itself with content. That makes perfect sense, because they studied college students. If you think about the protests and public comments of college students, you will see that they tend to be well educated, but uninformed, and naïve. Based on the television shows that are aimed at college age people (kids), one would have to come to the conclusion that there is very little content in their conversation.

Based on my own, semi-unscientific study of men and women, derived from many years of observation and nothing else, I have my own findings in this matter. Some men do indeed use as many words as some women, but on the average it boils down to what words are used and how. I find that women tend to use more words to say the same thing. Women tend to describe things like feelings and experiences more completely, while men tend to hit the highlights.

Women tend to talk to other women more often, connecting more at an emotional level than men, which often takes more words to paint the picture. Men struggle to express themselves at the emotional level. We often are hesitant to express ourselves to women, fearing the wrong choice of words. Men often just don’t know what to say.

But give a man a subject he enjoys, often sports, and he can wax poetic. I think that we have romanticized the “strong, silent type” in men to the point where we often have not had communication modeled for us, and therefore don’t have the skills to communicate. Most women I know, on the other hand, could learn to be a little more succinct, and get to the point quicker, before they lose the man’s attention.

All in all, I think that we all talk too much and don’t listen enough. Perhaps there should be a study about that. I think though that once again they would find that women hear more than men.

Well I’ve used enough words today, so if you see me in town today, don’t be surprised if I don’t stop and talk to you.

Mary Had a Little Lamb

2007-07-05T11:27:00.001-07:00

I posted this in response to a comment, but I thought you might enjoy it here in case you don't read the comments on old posts.

This is a poem I learned in middle school.

Mary had a little lamb
And now that lamb is dead
So Mary takes her lamb to school
Between two hunks of bread

Hope you enjoyed the lamb recipe.

Grilled Lamb Chops in Tortilla Sauce

2007-07-05T11:10:00.000-07:00

Here's a recipe that has been requested.

Grilled Lamb Chops in a Tortilla Sauce

Sauce:
2 cups of Chicken stock
1 clove minced garlic
1 teaspoon of cumin
2 teaspoons of ground chile pepper (what kind depends on how spicy you like it) I use pasillas
1/2 cup chopped cilantro
1 can diced tomatoes
1/2 half diced onion or onion powder
3 corn tortillas
Salt and pepper to taste

Bring the stock to a boil, add all ingredients except tortillas. Simmer for about 20 minutes. Tear up the tortillas and add to the liquid, stir until they soften. Remove from heat and allow to cool for about 20 minutes, then puree the mixture in a blender. The sauce will keep for about 2 weeks in the fridge. Serve hot.

Lamb chops

I use lamb "t-bones" cut about 1 inch thick, but rib chops are fine.
Season with a mixture of:

Salt
Pepper
Cumin
Thyme
Chile powder
Sugar
Mix seasoning to taste and rub on the meat. Let sit for about 30 minutes before grilling. Oil your grill lightly. Grilled the chops to medium rare (that's the way I like it). I grill them on a medium high heat for about 7-10 minutes per side. I like a crust on the outside and pink-red inside.

Allow the chops to rest for about 5 minutes then serve with the tortilla sauce poured over them.

Hope you enjoy it. If anyone has a suggestion to improve this recipe, I would love to hear it.

Fish Stories

2007-07-04T15:03:00.000-07:00

Well, I said goodbye to Montana and I'm on my way to California, then back to the ranch. I hear its 106 there today, think I'll visit the beach first.

I had a lot of fun cooking and playing around in the mountains, but I think I prefer the desert. Tracy asked in a comment if I had ever heard of fish stories, so I thought I'd repeat one I heard.

Two fishermen were discussing the day's fishing in a local bar. The first one told his story like this, "I was fishing on the lake and snagged a fish. I had to fight all day with it. When I finally pulled it in, it was a 42 inch trout."

The second one said, " I was deep sea fishing and we came upon a sunken ship. I cast my line, and immediately caught something. When I brought up the fish, we cut it open, and to my surprise, it had swallowed a lantern. It was amazing, the lantern was still lit!"

The first man thought for a moment and then said, "I'll take off 22 inches, if you'll blow out the lantern."

The moral is: the first liar doesn't stand a chance.

Now for my one true fishing story. I went fishing in the north east. Probably one of the only times I have ever fished. After about an hour, I finally caught a carp. As I was leaning over to bring the fish to the boat, my wallet fell out.

The fish immediately grabbed it and tossed it to another carp on the other side of the boat. They began to play a game of keep away with me. I got to thinking about it later and realized that this was the first time I had ever seen carp-to-carp walleting.

That's all for now, if you want some recipes, send me an e-mail at Clickoncowboy@gmail.com and leave me a return e-mail so I can send it to you. Everything I make is actually so simple, even I can do it.

No News is Good News

2007-07-01T16:01:00.000-07:00

I am up in the hills of Montana, about two miles up and away from the highway. The nearest town is 29 miles away. There is no television, no radio, no newspapers, and no cell phones.

I’d like to write about current events, but I haven’t a clue what’s going on in the world. I have to go into town to the library to get on the internet and service is spotty. I barely get the change to post my thoughts before I get kicked off, and I can’t access the comments on the blog. So I haven’t been able to see the news.

That’s probably a good thing. I have stepped into a strange world. I asked someone in town what the latest news was. He answered, “They’re biting nymphs down by the bridge; Tom caught a 22 inch Brown today.” This is a fly-fishing community. That’s what they do here. It’s what they talk about. It wouldn’t matter if President were coming to town, as long as he doesn’t come during the hatch.

I’ve decided its ok not to hear the news. It’s kind of restful. But I do miss being at the ranch and hearing the news, like who’s calving, who’s selling, the price of alfalfa, how the horses are behaving. You know, real news. Nobody’s sent the FBI to find me so everything must be ok. I guess no news is good news.

Also, in keeping with my promise to give you the food update, last night was the best food of the week, I think. We had steak and beans with salad. Good old cowboy food. I was going to make cornbread, but I forgot the baking powder. The beans were basis ranch beans, and I made a Whiskey River Sauce (see my previous post for the recipe). It was pretty basic, except for the appetizer of Southwestern egg rolls.

Tonight is the last night. Were having lamb T-bones in a tortilla sauce, Arizona Pommes Anna (that’s a potato dish), pardon my French, and grilled asparagus.

I’ll be glad when this week is done. I haven’t been getting much sleep. I miss the ranch. Montana’s just like the desert, except for the grass, the trees, and the rivers. I’ll be back in the news on Wednesday.

Flies

2007-06-29T14:41:00.000-07:00

I have never been with a more obsessed group of people in my life. Every night these fisherman I am cooking for come in late and sit down to dinner. Do you know what they talk about? Flies, they are obsessed with flies, they talk about the swarms they saw, the many and varied types of flies, the hatchings.

I don’t get it. Back home when we talk about flies it’s usually in reference to the flies pestering the horses. But they talk about them like there a good thing. Apparently, fish eat flies. Yuck. No wonder I don’t like fish.

If these guys want flies, maybe they should come down to the ranch and fish in the barn.

Anyways, I didn’t have time to write yesterday, so you get a two for one special today. Here’s what’s cooking:

Thursday was Spaghetti Western night. I served appetizers of anchovy and roasted red peeper stuffed deviled eggs, and marinated cherry tomatoes. The main course was grilled chicken with an Italian barbeque sauce, smoked cheddar cheese polenta, and roasted green beans and tomatoes with garlic. For dessert I made chocolate raviolis with a raspberry-vanilla cream sauce.

This morning we had venison and dried cherry sausages with eggs and grilled biscuits. I made the sausages myself and served them with a cherry-merlot ketchup.

Tonight we are having grilled pheasant with a blackberry mole over garlic mashed potatoes and green beans. (Cheese cake for dessert.)

Whew, I’m full just from writing all that. Do you remember the song “Houston Means I’m One Day Closer to You”? As I looked over the remaining menu, I was singing “Chicken Means I’m One Day Closer to Home”.

Have a pheasant day!

Wednesday's Menu

2007-06-27T15:05:00.000-07:00

Tonight I’m making what I call rich man’s steak and beans. It is a flamed grilled filet mignon topped with a basalmic and merlot reduction. It is served on a ragout of cannelini beans, caramelized onions, shitake mushrooms and bacon, along with wilted wild greens.

I hope that makes you hungry. As I am writing this, I am still trying to digest the cowboy breakfast we had this morning. I didn’t need that last biscuit, but there was extra gravy on my plate.

Last night, I heard the most beautiful sound echoing through the valley. It was the sound of cattle bawling. When I went down to the bottom of the hill, I saw the cowboys loading the cattle into trailers. I wanted to stop and help them, it made me anxious to get back to Arizona.

I have a confession to make: I don’t fish, can’t stand it. And here I am cooking for a group of avid fishermen. They left after breakfast and won’t be back until 9:00 tonight. How can anyone spend that much time chasing a creature, just to let it go again? Anyways, dinner is at 9:30, which creates a slight logistical problem, how to cook dinner in my sleep. You see that’s past my bedtime. Being an early riser, bedtime comes early for me.

Nothing useful happens after dark. All the time you spend awake after the sun goes down is wasted time, in my opinion. If God had wanted us to stay up late, he would have given us lights in our forehead.

But my schedule is so off kilter that I am going to commit what I consider the ultimate sin. I’m going to take a nap in broad daylight. So goodnight, uh, day, for now.

Tuesday's Menu

2007-06-26T09:56:00.000-07:00

Well tonight is the first night of cooking, and I promised to share my menu. Tonight they’re getting apple cider-glazed baby back ribs with red cabbage and beet coleslaw, waffle cut fries and fresh baked chocolate chip cookies for dessert.

The guests are just arriving today and so I’m keeping the meal simple. I like to use the apple cider glaze as a change from barbeque sauce. It’s sweet and slightly spicy (and not quite a messy to eat). The coleslaw has red cabbage, red onion and slivered beets with a mustard sauce. Tomorrow morning is a good cowboy breakfast of sausage, eggs, buttermilk biscuits and coffee.

Well there you have it, the start of a long week of cooking, fishing, and otherwise occupying myself as best as I can without a horse.

Made it to Montana

2007-06-26T09:51:00.001-07:00

Well I made it to Montana. I got here early and had a day to kill. And kill it I did. I had to drive 30 miles to town to find a place to get online and check my e-mail. Thirty miles back, killed time for sure.

Ok, enough of the diary stuff. I’ve got a whole day to think about important things. That’s about like putting a kid with ADD in a room full of toys and telling him to sit still, or asking a teenager to clean his room. There’s too much clutter and distraction in there. Fifteen hours of driving didn’t clear my head, I doubt a few hours of mountain air will do any better. Maybe a few days will.

I spent the night in Pocatello, Idaho. I can say this about Pocatello: of all the places I’ve been, that’s one of them. I thought this was interesting: There is almost nothing but trout fishing here in Montana where I am, but you can’t buy any fresh fish in the stores.

Why is it that, no matter how fast you are going on a highway, there’s always someone trying to pass you? I haven’t been on a horse on two weeks; I think my legs are starting to grow together.

I was driving along a highway in Montana this morning and saw a calf running loose on the road. I stop and reach behind me for my rope and realized I didn’t have it with me. Boy do I feel naked, no saddle, no rope. But I did remember my clothes. Well that’s some of the clutter in my head, more tomorrow.

Birthdays

2007-06-23T13:39:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning and had a terrible thought. Today’s my birthday, and even I forgot it. I’ll get a call from my sister and a card from my mom, with a check in it. God bless her.

I’m not much for celebrating the fact that I have managed to out live my life expectancy (according to my father’s predictions when I was a teen) by another year. Birthdays have always seemed to me to be a morbid facination with the passage of time: “Yep, I’m one year closer to death; have some cake!”

Anyways, if any of you share my birthdate, happy birthday! As for me, maybe if I ignore my birthdays I won’t age.

Clickoncowboy

Teenagers and Horses

2007-06-23T07:29:00.000-07:00

I have had the opportunity to be around a lot of teenagers in the past, and watched most of my friends raise their kids. I was thinking the other day about the similarities between teens and horses.

Try to follow my thinking here; I’m not talking about their long hair, or their grooming habits. And I’m not talking about your dead broke pet horse. The only thing dead broke about teenagers are the parents.

No I talking about that wild one, the one you’re still trying to train. Like teens, a horse by nature is a herd animal. Given the opportunity, they just want to go run wild with their friends in the big pasture, kind of like going to the mall. It’s hard to get them to come in when you want them, although, they’ll usually come in when there’s food.

Trying to get them to look you in the eye is tough. But when you turn your back and try to ignore them, they are often hanging right over your shoulder, invading your space. If you don’t make them work, all a horse does is eat, sleep, poop, and generally hang around together. Trying to get them to do what you want requires patience and training.

So I got to thinking, that maybe there should be a Cox, Parrelli, Anderson, or Cameron type system for raising teens. It would go something like this.

Make them work, get behind them and give them a little push in the right direction and keep their feet moving. Be gentle and not intimidating, but be firm, establish who’s in control. Back off in the right direction and they will turn to face you, waiting for instructions.

Change the pace and change their direction, keep it interesting and keep them engaged. Move their feet. When you control their feet, you control their mind. Keep them working, but don’t let them make you do all the moving, stand your ground.

When you are trying to establish a relationship and trust, remember to use pressure and release. Apply pressure to gain compliance, but when you get it, release. Work to the point where you release in time before they react negatively to the pressure. Show them love and affection, but don’t try to be equals. They need to know you’re in charge, even though you love them and reward them.

Well, you get the idea. Maybe I’m not an expert on teenagers, but it works with horses. If only you can get your kid in the round pen.

Packing For a Trip

2007-06-22T09:53:00.001-07:00

Well, I'm heading to Montana on Sunday, so today I am starting to pack. I'm going to be gone for about 10 days. I've been invited to do some gourmet cowboy cooking for 10 guests at a friend's ranch, and a little fishing.

I've done my shopping, and I'm packing my pots and pans, and my dutch ovens in my truck. I woke up last night in a panic. I was sure I had forgotten something important. I had not even thought about packing clothes! That would have been imbarassing.

I'll be posting while I'm gone, making your mouth water with each day's menu. If you want a recipe, you'll have to e-mail me or post a comment. Hope I find some humor along the way. If I do I'll pass it along.

Horses

2007-06-21T16:49:00.000-07:00

At our ranch we have lots of horses. They are working horses; when they're not working cattle, they're giving people rides through the beautiful mountains of Southern Arizona. I have been away from the ranch for two weeks and I miss the critters.

I have two horses that I like the best, Chump Change and Spot. Spot is a flea-bitten grey with an eating disorder; if you don't pay attention, he will stop and eat every chance he gets. It's not so bad unless you're at a full trot and he stops dead. Best to ride him with a seatbelt.

Chump Change is part mustang, part quarter horse, part half-draft, and all dumb. He's a great cow horse and a good roper, but he's just plain dumb. He's a big tri-color paint and he's dumb! Don't get me wrong, he follows direction really well. It's just that he has a knack for picking on the wrong horses and getting into situations. I should have named him Baby Huey.

We have a horse named Hollywood, but last time I rode him he spooked and tossed me into a bush, so we're not speaking to each other right now. At least until the bruises on my legs and my ego fade away.

Anyways, I miss the fellas and I won't be back for another two weeks, so I justed wanted to write and say hi guys. See ya soon!

The Price is Right for Rosie

2007-06-20T10:33:00.001-07:00

Looks like Rosie might host The Price is Right. I guess I can't complain; I've never seen the show and I don't care to. So good luck Rosie! I hope you find your place in the sun. And if you promise to keep politics out of the show, I'll promise to never give away prizes on my blog.

I've never been one for celebrities of any kind. We place way too much focus on certain people because they act or sing. That should not give them more importance in our lives than the peson who bags our groceries. We all have jobs to do, but not all of us get to be so important. Maybe that's why Karaoke is getting so popular.

Today, I'm going to make an effort to pay attention to the people who are important in my life. They are the stars of my world, even if they aren't famous.

The Ranch Truck

2007-06-18T10:29:00.000-07:00

I drive a ranch truck. Now, a ranch truck, everyone knows, is different from a regular truck. A regular truck travels on regular highways over regular distances, on regular tires. It uses regular gas and gets regular service. They are mostly driven by regular people. They are most often clean and in good repair.

A ranch truck on the other hand is used on the ranch, gets driven over rocks, dirt, mud, and manure. One day it might get driven 1 mile. Another day it might travel 100 miles, back and forth on that same road, having travelled no further than the day before, just 100 times.

I don't even remember what the original color was, or when I got the first dent. Ranch trucks get serviced when they break down, usually out in the field or by the barn. Tires get patched until there's no place to put another patch. The radio has no knobs, they're not necessary, because we never change the station or the volume. There only one station within 50 miles anyways.

The other day I went out to the truck and saw that I had a flat tire, so I took the tire off and took it into town to get it patched. When I got back and put the tire on, I found out that I had a dead battery. After I jump-started the truck, I drove it back to town to get supplies. On the way back I got another flat. I guess it's time to fork out for some new tires.

But a ranch truck has some very important features that aren't common to most regular trucks. We choose these features very specifically. For example, the ball hitch in the truck bed must be removable. This is so we can haul a trailer and load hay. If the hitch is in when you load the hay, you'll probably get the bale stuck and have to unload by hand.

Which leads to another feature, no tail-gate. I have three tail gates around the back of the barn, because we take them off. That's for two reasons, also related to trailers and hay. You can't haul a goose neck trailer with the gate on, and you can't unload hay. The way to unload hay is to put the truck in reverse and gas it. Then you slam on the brakes and the hay just slides right out, unless you have a tail-gate, or you forgot to take the ball-hitch out.

The most important two features are on the inside. First, the head rests have to be low enough that you can keep your hat on. Second, you gotta have a bench seat, so your honey can sit right next to you. Ain't no ranch girl I know gonna get in your truck if she has to sit by the door! Oh, and just to complete the stereotype, there's the gun rack. (I don't have one).

Ranch trucks are a symbol of why we do what we do, our needs are simple and our lives are purposeful. We don't drive SUV's around the city to look good. Everything about our truck has a purpose. When I took over a ranch once, the seller sold me his ranch truck. He said, "I'm not going to need it now, and it knows the terrain better'n any of us. It'd be a shame to take it off the range."

If the ads are true and you are what you drive, then I'm proud to say, "I drive a ranch truck."

A Thoughtful Response to the Immigration Issue

2007-06-14T12:28:00.000-07:00

Several readers have e-mailed me and asked me to write a thoughtful response to the effort to reintroduce the immigration/amnesty bill. So here it is:

Go Suck an Egg!

If this country's leaders are not required to think through this issue, why should I? Nobody's paying me to run this country. Why don't we get a panel of judges to decide what to do. I can think of two right off the bat: the judge who sentenced Paris Hilton and the judge in the Scooter Libby case.

Better yet, let's get together a sort of "Hands Across America". We'll put all of the illegal aliens and those who support amnesty on one side of the border, and all of those opposed on the U.S. side. We'll all hold hands like one big family. (Hey, you on the end of the U.S. side, when I say now, let go).

Time Out

2007-06-11T11:04:00.000-07:00

Boy, I stepped out to make a sandwhich; I come back and it's already Monday! Where does the time go? Time must go somewhere, nobody has any time any more, so where is it? No one seems to know. Just yesterday a lady stopped me at the store, she was looking for it too. She stopped me and asked, "Excuse me sir, do you have the time?" I said, "No, I thought you had it." She looked at me kinda funny like, and then she said the darndest thing, she accused me of stealing; she said,"Thank you for taking the time."

Well, yesterday I thought I had figured out where the time goes. I was driving along in my truck and it hit me. Time was in the trunk of the car ahead of me. The little old man in the car ahead of me was driving like he had all the time in the world. No wonder his car was so slow, his trunk must have been full of time!

But apparently I was wrong. No one has that much time. I finally realized that time was murdered. I saw some kids at the park and asked them what they were doing. You know what they told me? They told me that they were just killing time! And I believed it. They must have just done it, they had so much time on their hands.

If I could invent a time machine, I wouldn't invent one that takes me back in time. I'd make me one the produces more time. Then maybe I could get everything done. Better yet, I'd make it so it could stop time altogether. Then I could get everything done, turn the machine off and no time would have passed. My chores really would take no time at all.

Well, I have to get back to work now, after all, time is money. I gotta go, I'm out of time. Come to think of it, I'm out of money too. Where does it all go?

I Guess it Wasn't Exactly a Hilton

2007-06-07T12:51:00.000-07:00

Paris out already? Okay, that's not even funny! What a mockery we have made of our legal system! Does anyone out there really believe that if you were convicted of the same things, you wouldn't spend the full 45 days? Maybe you'd get out for good behavior, after you had served time, but certainly not before.

Sentence me to 40 days in a mansion with servants and I'll drink and drive every night!!! I'm not even laughing, I'm disqusted. If that little girl ever set foot on my ranch, I'd give her a switchin' she would never forget. Spoiled brat!

Allright, I'll calm down. I just can't believe that she was let out after 3 days of special treatment. Why do we even have laws? Every law should say "This does not apply to rich people and celebrities."

Would You have Invaded?

2007-06-07T07:10:00.000-07:00

Mr. President, yesterday was D-Day. 63 years ago, our troops invaded the beaches of Normandie. Given what you know now, would you have authorized that invasion?

If you knew how the French would turn out, how bad English food would be, if you knew about the Beatles, and Austin Powers would you have saved Europe?

Many soldiers lost their lives in that war, lives lost protecting other countries, many of whom would later grow to resent us. We claimed at the time that fighting overseas would keep us safe at home. We now know that we are still vulnerable on our own shores. Some of the countries we fought to save have turned to communism, socialism, radicalism. Much of Europe is decidely anti-America.

Given all that, with the benifit of hind sight, Mr. President, Ms. Candidate, would you still have continued to fight the war to the end? Wouldn't you have just given up and recalled the troops?

If you had, would I be free to write this drivel everyday? Would your opponents be free to criticize your every breath? I for one am glad we can't go back and do it again. In these times, we probably would have talked ourselves out of it. We would be watching German movies with French subtitles, eating English food, gaurded by Muslim terrorists.

TB Patient Exposes Holes in Border Security

2007-06-06T09:54:00.000-07:00

Even though we aren’t allowed to profile, we should be on the look out for suspicious looking people crossing our borders with the flu, measles, and pink-eye. Forget the Hispanics and the Middle Easterners, let’s be wary of the guy with the sniffles.

It wasn't the TB patient that exposed the holes in our borders, it is the hundreds of "guest workers" who cross in daily from Mexico. It was the kooks who flew planes into our buildings.

Suddenly, the liberals are bemoaning border security. Just another day in Washington, let's have more hearings. If we gave all of the illegals TB, maybe they would finally do something serious about our borders. It's not to late to start building the wall.

Election Ideas

2007-06-05T12:28:00.000-07:00

I have an idea about how to make the upcoming elections better. In fact, I think that my idea would help politics a lot all the way around.

Each candidate would write a resume. They would then be interviewed on national TV for the job. Then they would write a 1500 word essay on why they should be elected. They would be required to state their positions and qualifications. They must write it on their own with no help. Each essay would be published in the papers and on the internet for the voters to read. This would be all the campaigning they would be allowed to do. No sound bites, no debates, no million dollar ads.

The only problem I see is that we have illiterate voters and illiterate candidates. My idea would require that voters actually think and the candidates actually communicate substance.

I know that my idea isn’t really a good one. We don’t want to think that hard or work that hard. We like to be told what to believe and frankly we prefer to be lied to. Kind of like a wife who says to her husband, “do these jeans make my butt look big?” Any man who can answer that question correctly, should be elected. He has all of the qualifications of a good politician.

Personally, I would never get elected because my answer would be, “No honey, it not the jeans…” But I digress. Does any one else sense the futility of our electoral process? How can we trust the largest economy in the free world to someone who will spend $50 million to get a $250,000 job? Why would we entrust that much responsibility to someone who gets others to do their homework?

Maybe, instead of staging debates, we should just put each candidate on “Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader?” We’d probably end up with a lot of 9 year old senators!

Hangover

2007-05-31T07:26:00.000-07:00

I didn't write anything yesterday because it was a hangover day. I had a terrible problems with a hangover.

I put on my only clean pair of jeans and they were a little tight, so my belly would just hangover all day. I was really uncomfortable. So I decided to do my laundry and while it was drying on the line, a big gust of wind came up and blew my clothes off the line. I had to put my clothes back on the line to hangover again.

I was waiting for a call to finish a project, so I could leave for California. I finally got the call I was waiting for and they said they couldn't come out to the ranch until Saturday, so now I've got to hangover here for a few more days.

Well, I woke up this morning and I'm glad to say I'm over my hangover. Today is a tankful day. I filled my water tankful. I'm going to town to get a tankful of gas in my truck and a tankful of diesel for my generator.

Tomorrow will be packed. My bags will be packed, my cooler will be packed, and my truck will be packed. As soon as my Saturday meeting's over I'll hit the packed freeways for California.

What I had for Dinner

2007-05-29T08:10:00.000-07:00

Okay, Okay. I didn't realize that you were so interested in what I eat. After several e-mails asking me to talk more about ranch food, I will take this time to share a recipe with you. Nothing funny here, just good cookin'.

Dry Creek Pork Tenderloin

Use a small pork tenderloin about 2 inches around

Rub the meat with the dry rub and let stand for 20 minutes

Dry Rub:

1/4 tsp seasoning salt

1/4 tsp celery salt

pinchof garlic powder

pinch of onion powder

paprika, pepper

Basting Sauce:

1/4 cup each of BBQ Sauce, stone ground mustard, blue cheese dressing

1 good shot of Whiskey

1 shot of cola

Use a low to medium grill. Grill meat for about 2 minutes on each side all the way around. Start basting the meat and turning as the baste cooks on, keeping the meat moist. Turning about every 2-3 minutes for about 20 minutes or until the meat is medium firm to the touch. Let rest for 5-10 minutes. That's it. Try it and let me know how it turns out.

MySpace Update

2007-05-28T14:28:00.000-07:00

I haven't logged on to my MySpace account lately, so I thought I'd check it for messages. Boy, I didn't realize aging cowboys were so popular. I must have twenty beautiful, partially clad women wanting to be my friend. Why aren't they in the saloon on Saturday nights. That's were they'd be if they really wanted to be my friend; that's where I am, not on MySpace.

Anyways, thank you ladies, for your attractive pictures. I've printed them all out and put them in my wallet so I can show the guys that I've still got it and women still want me!

And I thought MySpace was going to be a waste of time. Shows me!

Illegal Aliens Redux

2007-05-28T14:14:00.000-07:00

Wow, sorry I missed your comments, I was out back talking to Jose my gardener and Consuela my maid. Now about all those pesky illegal aliens….

I appreciate your thoughtful comments. Let me summarize my opinion by telling this story:

I was thirsty, but the water from the tap smells bad, it’s probably not good for me. So I stole a bottle of water. The man down the street from me is a crooked lawyer, he cheated his clients to get that new Mercedes, so I slashed his tires and put sugar in his gas tank.

A man’s sense of net worth is in no small measure tied to the house he lives in, so I forged my name on a deed and took over a real nice house in the suburbs. After all, no man should be without a place to live.

No matter what horrible conditions may exist, they never justify the breaking of the law. Illegal aliens are just that, illegal. We can discuss later all of the indignities that people suffer or the immorality of our laws, etc. But as long as the laws governing citizenship remain, they should be enforced. If we are going to have a meaningful discussion about immigration, then perhaps we should be debating changing the requirements for citizenship.

I do not agree that we should make allowances just because they are here. You wouldn’t say to a burglar, “Well, since you’re already here, you might a well become a member of the family. Why don’t you take the bedroom on the left?”

How we got our borders is irrelevant to me, they are the borders and they should be defended. Or, we could just merge America with Mexico and Canada to become AMEXICAN.

Illegal Immigrants and Amnesty?

2007-05-26T07:07:00.000-07:00

I didn't weigh in on the discussion of illegal immigration last week, because frankly, I couldn't spell immigrant and I was too lazy to look it up. Then I realized I had spell check so I decided to put my two cents worth in.

I would think that the answer would be fairly simple, but of course as with all things political, the Richard Craniums in Washington have to make it so complicated, nothing will be done about it at all.

Anyone who is here illegally, and that means without asking permission first, should be identified. The government already spends a lot of time and money tracking its citizens, why can't we find several million people and check their ID's. Yes, we must have employers ask for ID, we must have police ask for ID. If they do not have a criminal record in their country of origin or here, and they have had the same job for over 24 months, I would give them a temporary work visa and give them the appropriate amount of time to apply for citizenship.

Everyone else, I would put to work building a wall across the border. It would be 12 feet high and 8 feet thick. It would have one gate. When it is finished, I would have all of the workers go check for cracks on the outside of the wall. While they are doing that, I would close and lock the gate.

Seriously, anyone who is here illegally, is not working, or is a criminal, should be sent home. We should not give anyone instant citizenship, it has always been something earned in this country. I don't care who thinks they need more voters.

Bad Luck

2007-05-23T07:07:00.000-07:00

Talk about bad luck, yesterday was full of it. I got up early to go to town on business, it didn’t go well. On my way home, I stopped for gas, and the pump managed to leak about a quart onto my shoe. I thought that if I bought a lottery ticket maybe my luck would change. I hoped to win big, but knowing my luck, I would lose. I didn’t expect this.

I bought a two dollar lottery ticket. It was a pirate themed ticket with treasure chests and all. I was supposed to match my numbers to the winning numbers, but when I scratched off the winning numbers, they weren’t there.

There in the palm of my hand was a black smudge. I had a black mark. I’ve seen enough pirate movies to know, I’m doomed. Davy Jones is looking for me. I went home and hid the rest of the day.

And that, my friends, is why I didn’t write anything yesterday. If I had a dog, he’d have eaten my homework. Honest!

Birds' Nests and Bunnies

2007-05-18T08:17:00.000-07:00

I lost my cats. I keep several barn cats around the ranch, they aren’t pets, they are working cats. Their job is to keep the mice away. If there are no mice, there are no snakes, and I hate snakes. One day, my cats disappeared, all of them. I have meant to get some more cats but I haven’t done it yet.

I had a goat, but she belonged to my friends and when they moved she went with them. She wasn’t a pet either, she was a garbage disposal, weed-eater, and varmint control.

I had some dogs, but they went to homes with children. They weren’t pets, they kept the critters away and were my burglar alarm. But they wanted to be pets, so I gave them away. You see, on a ranch, everyone works, even the animals. When you make them pets, they stop working.

It’s been awfully quiet around here without all of the “workers”. I miss them. But I’ve noticed something interesting; without all of the cats, dogs, and goats around, I’ve inherited a new menagerie. We’ve had a bumper crop of rabbits this year and they have gotten so bold as to invade my front porch. There are cardinals nesting in my tree, and other birds have built a nest on my porch, right outside my bedroom door.

It is a very peaceful thing to wake up to bunnies on your lawn and birds nesting in your rafters, I don’t feel so alone. Of course, I have acquired a collection of mice living under my shed, so I should get another cat. But if I get another cat, it will get the birds and scare off the bunnies. If I get a cat, I’ll need to get a dog to keep the coyotes from getting the cat. I’ll need another goat to keep the snakes away from the dog.

I haven’t decided which I’d rather have, birds’ nests and bunnies, or a varmint free zone. If I could just teach the rabbits to chase mice.

Paris Hilton, George Bush, Naked Girls, Jerry Falwell, and Video Games

2007-05-16T10:28:00.000-07:00

Paris Hilton, George Bush, naked girls, video games, and Jerry Falwell. Now that I've got your attention.....

As I have hopped around the internet, I see that we have harnessed technology to allow us to instantly gossip, share pornography, jokes, myths, and such. With lightening speed we can be connected to everyone's opinions. Start your own blog, and you can talk about anything. Your authority is determined by how many people click on your blog. You don't even have to have anything important to say. Like this post. It's about nothing, really, but I used the popular tags of today and presto!

I hope this brings a lot of traffic so I can move to the top of someone's list and become an authority. Then I can use my power to write about the most popular issue: bloggers blogging about bloggers blogging. Oh, and more Paris Hilton.

Abortion, When Rights Collide

2007-05-16T08:31:00.000-07:00

Recently in a comment on a Townhall.com blog I started to make these comments and realized that in order to do justice to such a weighty subject I needed to use my own blog. Here are my comments, which have been expanded to do better justice to such a difficult subject.

I haven't yet discussed the abortion issue on my blog. I try to keep my discussions of politics humorous and there's nothing humorous about abortion. But I think that too often we discuss this issue on both sides from an emotional standpoint. An intelligent discussion of the abortion issue should flow along 4 lines:

1. When does life begin?
2. Who has the right to make decisions for the fetus? Does that include the right to decide to terminate it?
3. Should the government make any regulations encouraging or prohibiting abortion?
4. Should the government spend taxpayers dollars to make rules, enforce rules, or assist anyone to exercise their rights in this matter?

While I am decidedly pro-life, I believe that it should be out of the federal government's realm to become involved, other than to regulate the medical standards that apply. To me it is a state's rights issue.

Let’s look at the four questions:

When does life begin? This is both a scientific and philosophical question. It borders on the religious or metaphysical. At what point in the process of conception and birth does that “thing” become a life, its own life. Is it a part of the women, like an appendix? A separate “non-living” thing? Is it a being but not a life? Your view as to the beginning of life should frame your position on abortion, not the other way around.

Who has the right to make decisions for the fetus? This is an ethical or legal question. Should the person carrying the fetus have the right to make decisions on behalf of it? If that “thing” is not a life, ergo not a child, should the person in whom it is situated be considered a mother, or simply a carrier? What if the mother is a surrogate carrier? Is it her right to decide? We now need to determine what constitutes “ownership”, possession or chromosomes. What about the father or should I say, “male component donor”; if the right to decide lies not with the carrier but the egg donor, is the sperm donor equally responsible? This is one of the most complicated parts of the debate and we often hold conflicting positions when we discuss maternity vs. paternity, or surrogates and other fertility issues.

Does the right to make decisions for someone give them the right to decide to terminate? If I am legally responsible for my children until they are adults, I do not have the right to take their lives, although I sometimes wished that was the case. What about the elderly, or those on life support? This drives us back to the discussion of the definition of “life”.

Should the government make any regulations encouraging or prohibiting abortion? Now we come to the political components of this discussion. What is the role of government? Where does the power to regulate personal, moral or medical decisions rest? Is it with the community, the state, or should it be a federal issue. Can we separate the issues of standards of medical practice from personal behavior on the national level?

The discussion about the role of the federal government vs. the role of the states has been going on since the founding fathers. If you are to have a thoughtful position on the abortion debate however, you will need to come to terms with your view of government, better break out your civics books.

Should the government spend taxpayers’ dollars to make rules, enforce rules, or assist anyone to exercise their rights in this matter? This brings us to the discussion of taxes. What is the purpose for the government collecting and spending tax revenue? Is it to fund the operations of government, to reallocate wealth, to modify fiscal behavior? Should taxpayer dollars be spent on advocacy issues? Where do you stand on what the government spends its money on? Is there a difference between spending money to get people to stop smoking, or allowing, providing, or prohibiting abortions? Is it any different than the government subsidizing corn growers, or milk producers?

As you can see this is a complex issue, if you really take the time to examine it. Perhaps that is why most people don’t examine it. They let the bumper stickers, sound bites, and talking points memos do their thinking. People adopt the views of the liberal or conservative talking heads without question.

Many deeply religious people make this a strictly moral issue, on both sides, but do not try to reconcile their position on the moral issue with their views of politics. For example, in their fight to ban abortion the “right” often become the biggest liberals I know, trying to get the federal government to involve itself and pour money into what is essentially to them a moral or social issue. But when the “left” wants the government to intervene in ecological matters, the right decries the involvement of “Big Government” in our lives. The left wants the government to regulate our behavior, but not in the abortion debate. All of this is inconsistent. I don’t like inconsistency for the sake of expedience any more than I like “knee-jerk” reactions that are not thought out.

If you are going to have an opinion on the national abortion debate, at least think through all of the ramifications. It may be difficult to use your brain so much, so if you don’t want to think about it, just keep your mouth shut. We already have enough idiots reading from cue cards who control the airwaves on this issue, they’re called politicians and entertainers, but I think they’re one and the same.

What's So Great About Paris Hilton?

2007-05-14T08:48:00.000-07:00

There seems to be a lot of attention being paid to Paris Hilton lately. What's the big deal? I mean I've stayed in a few Hiltons and they're nice and all, but so what? I confess I've never stayed at the Paris Hilton. I hear its kinda pretty on the outside but the entire upstairs is vacant.

There once was a young lady named Paris
Who spent most of her life being careless
Now I'm kinda curious
Would she ever get serious
If she spent 45 days fighting terrorists?

Michael Moore in Hot Water Over Trip to Cuba

2007-05-12T13:22:00.000-07:00

So Mr. Moore went to Cuba apparently without permission. (See Article) Unfortunately for him, that's still illegal, movie publicity or not. I hope he brought back enough cigars to sell to pay the fine.

Maybe the movie thing was just a smoke screen. What if he really went to Cuba on a honeymoon with Rosie O'? That would make Moore sense.

Space Junk

2007-05-12T10:27:00.000-07:00

First, scientists find a planet that might be habitable, then we discover space junk. Is it possible that our nearest cosmic neighbors are polluters? What if we find out that they are responsible for Global Warming (and not the Republicans, as previously believed).

Wait..... a planet full of polluting, intelligent beings who obviously don't care about our planet..... Why, we've discovered a planet full of..........

Republicans!

Just kidding, nobody believes that junk came from another planet. Just some astronaut throwing his trash out the window again.

Flat Tax Comments

2007-05-12T08:52:00.000-07:00

I have received several e-mails regarding my flat tax proposal, but only 1 person was willing to post a comment. It is my hope that after you read my proposal you will post a comment, so there can be a dialog, even if you disagree. Sending me an e-mail that can not be posted doesn't let your voice be heard. By the way, whoever freeamericafromaliens.org is, thanks for the e-mail, I didn't even know that what you suggested was physically possible.

Keep in mind, I am trying to keep it light hearted and friendly in everything I talk about. But it is an important issue. So please, post a comment. Thanks.

Steak and Beans

2007-05-11T07:14:00.000-07:00

Cowboys sittin' around the campfire eating mesquite grilled steaks and ranch beans with biscuits on tin plates and drinking cold beer on ice. The harmonica wailing plaintively in the background, the stars and the fire our only light. The coyotes and the jackrabbits our only entertainment. This is the life! This is what people imagine our lives are like, and they're right, some of the time.

Mostly its like that when we have company, that's what they expect a cowboy's life to be. But if you were to spy on us cowboys in our own homes, you might question our gender orientation a bit. Like take last night.....

I was watching TV, switching my satellite receiver between the Food Network, a home remodeling show and Everybody Loves Raymond. I had just e-mailed a friend a recipe he requested for BBQ ribs and had done my laundry.

I cooked myself a nice juicy steak on the gas grill and baked a potato in the microwave. I steamed some fresh vegetables and made a salad. The Cabernet-Merlot blend wine that accompanied my meal was inexpensive, but very palatable. I baked some chocolate chip caramel cookies for dessert. My buddy called and said he was baby sitting while his wife went to a PTA meeting. We talked about the weather and set a date to ride our horses.

Now don't get me wrong, there's hard, dusty work to be done, like roping and branding, mending fences. And we do often have to take our meals out on the range. I like to go to the saloon with my buddies and drink a few long necks every once in a while, and I doubt they wonder which way I lean, if you catch my drift. I do like to cook, and some would say I make the best ranch beans around. But sometimes a real man has a hankering for.....quiche! Or souffle, or linguine with clams!

Yep, it's a rough life out here on the range, it's not for the faint of heart. Tonight I think I'll mosey on into town, I hear Target's got a sale on bed linens. Giddyup!

Flat Tax and a Balanced Budget

2007-05-10T10:58:00.000-07:00

As promised, the following is my proposal for a new federal flat income tax system. I won’t cloud it with a lot of prose, so I am presenting it in outline form, we can discuss the merits later if you wish to comment. It would be my preference that all taxes be paid at the state level and the states pay based on their revenue collections, but I realize that brings in a whole discussion of states rights and such, so for the purpose of this discussion We will stick to the federal system.

Personal Income Tax:

I propose a flat tax of 10% of personal income up to $500,000, and a flat tax of 15% of income over $500,000.

Exclusions from the definition of taxable income would be limited to profits from the sale of a personal primary residence, tax free municipal and state bonds, and interest earned on US savings bonds held to maturity ( minimum 5 years).

Medical expenses paid out of pocket and not reimbursed would be deductible 100%.

Ira contributions up to $5,000 per year would be deductible and interest earned would not be taxable unless withdrawn before age 65. After age 65, amounts withdrawn in excess of $24,000 per year would be taxable.

Capital gains would be taxed only on the amount which exceeds the annualized rate of inflation for the period an asset was held. All other income, dividends, interest, gains on sales- short or long term- would be taxable at the flat rate. There would be no “phantom income” tax. Taxes would be levied only upon the actual realization of income.

Voluntary contributions to the Federal Government above the amount owed would be deductible in the following year 125% of the amount contributed. There would be no carry forward or back.

Charitable contributions to non –profit organizations would be deductible 50%. Contributions to certain qualifying organizations would be deductible 100%. To qualify, a non-profit must have audited financial statements which show that a minimum of 80% of all funds received directly provided food, shelter, clothing, or other direct aid to needy individuals.

Gambling losses would not be deductible, but gambling wins above $2,500 would be taxable as ordinary income.

There would be one rate, regardless of filing status, there would be a deduction of $1,000 per dependant.

The cost of licensed child care would be deductible for working parents. If married, both parents must work to receive the deduction.

Corporate and Business Income Tax

All organizations, partnerships, LLCs, S-Corporations, C-Corporations and all non-passive income would be taxed at the corporate rate.

I propose a flat tax of 10% of net income up to $2.5 Million, and a tax of 15% on income over $2,500,000.

The accounting rules for taxe returns would be FASB rules for financial presentation purposes.

I propose an alternative minimum tax of 1% of gross revenues. If an entity has a net loss for the year, the alternative minimum tax would be calculated at 1% of the gross revenue, less 50% of any operating loss before interest, taxes, depreciation and amortization. For example: Gross revenues of $1 million, with a net loss before ITDA of $10,000, the tax would be $5,000. ($1,000,000 times 1% less 50% of the loss).

There would be no employer contribution to payroll taxes, only withholding of employee income.

Employee medical insurance and medical expenses paid by the employer would be deductible 100%.

Non-passive income from property rentals and sales would be taxed as a business.

All compensation to business owners, whether income or loans, would be taxed at the individual rate.

Gift and Estate Taxes

A person may give a gift to anyone, up to $10,000 per year without tax to the receiver. Anything above $10,000 would be taxed at the personal income rate. There would be no unified gift and estate tax.

Upon death, a taxpayer’s estate would be subject to a tax of 5% of the value over $2.5 million, regardless of how it is divided. Estates left to charity would not be subject to tax.

Life insurance proceeds would be considered to be part of the estate for tax purposes.

Balanced Budget Amendment

In addition, I propose a balanced budget amendment.

The federal budget must be balanced every four years, concurrent with the presidential elections.

Each presidential term must begin with a balanced budget and end with a balanced budget.

All taxes, fees, penalties, and other costs to the public must pass both houses of congress by a 2/3 majority.

All tax rate increases or changes to the tax code which would affect the amount paid by the taxpayers must be approved by the voters.

I know that this is dry stuff, but I wanted to throw it out there. I have lots more ideas, but time and space prohibit. I don’t know about you, but I ‘m not against paying taxes. I am against all of the time and expense it takes to prepare my taxes. I am against all of the loopholes. I am tired mostly of all of the sniping by politicians about the rich, and the poor. If we all pay the same rate, maybe we can actually focus on how we spend the tax dollars.

Two other things: The IRS should be streamlined and reigned in. It’s not their fault, they are just as overwhelmed by the complexity of the tax code as we are. Also, taxation should be about funding the operations of our government for our benefit, not the redistribution of wealth or the modification of behavior through taxation. A smaller government, which is less involved in so many aspects of our lives can run more efficiently with less money.

The federal government should stick to the things it was chartered for: the common defense, interstate commerce, and the public welfare. We need to redefine those responsibilities to eliminate the “pork”.

Have a great day!

Tale of the Whale

2007-05-06T20:10:00.000-07:00

Well, I have to eat my words!

I was in Las Vegas this past week for an event and I found that the Whale Tail is alive and kicking. Some women have not gotten the fashion memo. I still think that you should have to have a license to sport one though.

Attorneys are Taxing

2007-05-01T19:50:00.000-07:00

Sorry I didn't get a chance to post my flat tax proposal today as promised. I had to deal with an attorney who is hell bent to take everything I have. And that's just my attorney! You can imagine what the other side wants.

Actually, it's just a simple dispute over a house design at my ranch, but it reminds me how much I hate attorneys in principle. Don't get me wrong, I like my attorney, I picked him. But the whole system seems so screwed up, so geared towards the attorneys playing against each other that the clients are left out of the game. And the truth, let alone justice, don't even think about it. No wonder there are so many lawyer jokes. We have to vent somehow.

If any attorneys are reading this, I hope you are offended.

So the serious stuff will have to wait. I'm taking my attorney's fees to Vegas to see if I can double them. See you next week.

Flat Tax Is Coming!

2007-04-30T08:41:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow, I will be unveiling my flat tax proposal. So look here for details.