Ride 'Em, Cowboy!

Mammas, don't let your babies grow up to be Cowboys...
Geek Boy back when he was still a cowboy!

My post today is in honor of my friend, Laura, and her son JB. They ride the rodeo circuit; Laura and her horse do barrel racing while JB rides bulls. Yes, her little boy rides BULLS! Okay, not so little anymore. He's an adult...legally. But still, once a mamma's little boy, always a mamma's little boy. Which doesn't mean they're any less a man, it just means we mammas always think of them as our sweet, rosy cheeked little monsters.

Cowboy from the Rockin' J Ranch buckles his chaps

JB has ridden in, what, four? five events? And twice he's gone the full eight seconds! Which officially makes him a man (so you can stop doing it now, JB, so your poor mamma doesn't go stir crazy each time you plop yourself down on one of those bad boys!)

Some years back, when Geek Boy was in kindergarten, we had an opportunity to volunteer at one of the county parks. It's actually an old homestead, and each summer is full of farm animals. This particular year there was a sow who'd had 19 piglets; one of them was very small and we were able to help with the bottle feeding.

Two piles of piglets...see the ones in the top right corner?

Geek Boy and I loved going out and feeding the animals. We got to do more than feed the piglets. I recall being out there on a sunny afternoon, getting a nice tan as I was happily scooping pig poop and being asked a question, to which I replied, "Oh, I'm just a volunteer." To which all the park guests turned to look and gasp. "You volunteer to clean up after pigs???" said the shocked woman. "That's not all," I assured her, "They also make me clean the chicken coop, and it stinks!"

Anyway, Geek Boy named the runt Oscar, and we'd sometimes bring along a friend of his to help us with the chores. Oscar loved people and visitors; we'd often times let him follow us around the park, much to the delight of visiting children.

Miss Mouse and Oscar

There were more than just little piggies and their mammas at Hovander. There were also three young pigs that you'd probably think of as teens. They were half grown, black and white, and rather friendly. One day while I had Geek Boy and Miss Mouse out there, Geek Boy had an idea. They'd try to ride a pig.

Now, I don't know if you're very familiar with pigs or not, but there's a reason John Wayne didn't ride one. And it's not just because his legs were too long and his feet would have drug the ground. No. It's because pigs don't want to be ridden. Bear in mind that Geek Boy was sired by a City Boy, but from the womb of a Desperate Horsewife. The urge to get on and ride came natural; he just didn't know what he was supposed to be riding.

Geek Boy and Miss Mouse hatch a plan.

Fortunately for Geek Boy, Miss Mouse was easily convinced. Unfortunately for Miss Mouse's mother, Miss Mouse was easily convinced. The two of them scaled the fence and sized up the young pigs. The potential mounts were dozing happily in the morning sun, completely unaware of the momentous occasion that was about to take place. As the children approached, the pigs jumped up. I'm guessing the children had had visions of just stepping onto the sleeping pigs, but this was not the case.

No, instead all h#%l broke loose. The pigs sensed something was up just as the kids were about to straddle them. Jumping to their little cloven hooves with a speed you wouldn't think a pig had, they left Miss Mouse and Geek Boy in the dirt. Not willing to admit defeat, the children began chasing the squealing pigs around the pen. Before long, they had an audience. We all stood along the rail of the fence wondering who was making more noise, the pigs or the kids. It was rather hard to say. The kids would chase the pigs, then the pigs would turn around and chase the kids. Squealing and squallering could be heard across the farmyard.

It was also hard to say who was winning. The children decided to join efforts and go after one pig. Miss Mouse would hold it still while Geek Boy would try to get on board. The other two pigs would roll on their sides laughing at the poor pig who was being mounted. But it wasn't as simple as just cornering him and climbing on. For as soon as Geek Boy had his leg over that pig's back, the pig shot forward, then spun in bucking circles just as though he were rodeo bucking stock.

That's when Miss Mouse decided that girls could ride better than boys. Geek Boy seemed more than willing to allow her to prove herself and cornered another pig. Miss Mouse gingerly attempted to lift herself onto his back, but before she could get her leg over he spun right into her, knocking her into the mud before squealing back to his buddies.

Regardless of their unsuccessful rides, the two of them had a great time pig bustin'. And, like many a cowboy, Geek Boy learned that eight seconds is a very long time when you're riding a bucking animal, even if it is a pig!

More Pretty Pictures

Is it cute? Or is it cute?

Okay, you're right...it's cute!

This is Darling's horse, Quiet Storm! We've made a silhouette from a photograph of her, then had it printed onto t-shirts and buttons and such. And if you'd like to see a few more (and perhaps even order), you can check it out at my new Cafe Press Store!

Here's the original photograph. Its one of Quiet Storm running across the pasture. I've got to tell you, I was pretty excited to get her eye in focus as she was galloping past! If you're ever photographing something that's moving, just follow along with your camera as the subject is moving past. Don't forget to keep moving even after you click the shutter, and your subject will be clear and the background blurred.

This is the original image. Not only did the eye end up in focus (sheer luck, I assure you), but her stride has her looking like the Ford logo, don't you think? I used Photoshop to create a layer, delete the (ugly) background, and then change the color of Quiet Storm to red (and black and pink!)

I'd love to explain how to do this, but to be honest I'm just learning it all myself. The Geek Boy, aka Grammar Nazi, has had to show me how to do this stuff. Several times. Over and over. Again. I believe I've finally gotten to the point of not running from the room crying when I get frustrated with it all.

The most important thing that Geek Boy has taught me is to create a duplicate copy before doing anything else. That way when I screw up (and I will screw up), I've still got the original and it's unharmed. I've been altering my images strictly through clicking the little auto contrast button, and that's made a huge difference...or at least I thought it had been. But the Geek Boy has shown me something new. Something called layers.

Remember the beach photos from last week? Well, I began playing with layers. The above photo was altered slightly to give a bit of a sunset using layers. Between the Geek Boy and Betty Jo (who gave me a tip on a particular technique using my new found layer skill), I re-worked the photo to look like this:

The second photo is really lovely when it takes up the full screen; it's got such a soft, romantic glow to it!

Another feature that I like to use are the filters. You can give your photo the look of a painting, which is what I did with the hay wagon below. Isn't that the coolest wagon, btw? It may appear a bit too small on the screen to truly see the 'paint', but hey, the wagon was so cool I had to post it anyway!

This is a better example of a before and after on the filters. The original is first, followed by the 'dry brush' filter.

Okay, then there's this one. I LOVE this photo! It was taken a my friend Nancy's place (the wagon above is her's, too.) We've had a pretty wet winter, and her little shed here was sitting in water, just crying to have it's picture taken.

I used the same technique on this photo that I used on the second beach photo, but the blurred layer on this one is stronger.

And of course...Geek Boy the Grammar Nazi himself! And what is it he's framing his face with? A very, very old computer hard drive! Aren't you glad they don't make them like that anymore?

And the Winner Is...

I'm so glad y'all have stopped in this past week to read the silly things I've written. I'm wondering how many of you will disappear now that you've realized there's no free beer?

But there is a winner. Darling and I sat here writing down the names of all those who've posted comments, then we folded them and she brought out a hat into which we deposited them. We wanted this to be a family affair, so Darling called the Grammar Nazi in to draw the name. He was just reaching in, when he had a swell idea (or so he said), and he called Tait the Australian Shepherd over.

Tait had nothing better to do, he said, although Tait disagreed. She'd been barking at Rufus, no doubt discussing tomorrow's security plans, as she'd been a bit concerned today about the neighbor dogs. Plus, there'd been several bicycles going up the road these past couple of days and she's been convinced they need herding. Of course you and I know that bicycles don't herd well, and Rufus was just explaining this to her when the Grammar Nazi called her away.

So anyway, the hat was handed to Tait, who promptly stuck in her snout and pulled up a mouth full of paper...lots of paper. Not just one name, but several! No, no, you don't all win, sorry. Darling and GN began pulling the wet, slobbery slips of paper out of Tait's mouth, determined to narrow things down from those she'd selected when they realized she still had one in her mouth.

Obviously, she'd spit out those of you she didn't like. And who did she feel the need to continue savoring inside that wet puppy mouth? Why, it was Laura, aka 2LMZ Farms! So congratulations, Laura, and I promise that we won't let Tait taste the soap!

True Confessions of a Desperate Horsewife...

Or...

How to Use What You've Got To Get What You Want...

I was born with it, really. That thing known to the horsey community as Horse Fever. It's not something that can be shed, like the flu or a cold. There is no 12 step program (not that we want one!) It's more like a disease that eats away at your very soul...

Like many others who deal with this delightful disease, I managed to find myself in a position of bargaining with my parents in order to get what I wanted; a four legged equine. I mention four legs only because up until the time I was eight, they thought I could be appeased with the type of pony that had a cotton stuffed head and stick body. But that was just not going to do any more. And so I developed a plan...

I was in third grade at the time, and I spent my days as a member of Horse Crazy Day Dreaming Girls Annonymous. Unfortunately, we weren't so annonymous what with those little doodles on our papers of ponies instead of math problems. But then, that was all part of the plan. Fearful that their daughter would actually fail the third grade, my parents made me a deal. Pass, and we get you a horse of your own. A real, live, four legged, no cotton for brains horse! I spit in my hand and offered a handshake. They looked at me like I was from another planet and declined, saying their word was good enough. Okay, I'll take it!

And then I passed the third grade. And then I got my pony.

His name was Prince, and he was anything but. He took advantage of me every chance he got. One thing that my parents hadn't promised me was a saddle, so I learned really quick that a sweaty butt on a horse was actually a good thing as it worked like glue to keep you seated when your pony decided to make an unexpected left turn when you'd just asked him to go right. Or a hasty halt when you'd asked him to jump the ditch (trust me, one non-sweaty butt ride into a ditch full of water, and you make sure your butt's sweaty next time!)

But as nasty as that little Prince was, he taught me to ride. And instead of growing out of HCDDGA, I become the president of our local chapter.

Enter City Boy. Not a cowboy. I've never figured out why or how I ended up with City Boy. He just sort of appeared out of nowhere. Well, not no where. He was my mother's best friend's youngest cousin. He came up on vacation one fall and just never went away. He learned to ride a horse so we could go riding together. He mucked out my stall while I was in school. He drove a cool truck. Oh, yeah...that was it...he drove a cool truck! A truck that could hitch up to a horse trailer...I remember it all so clearly now.

City Boy and I, shortly after becoming engaged.

I'm sure it was the truck that snagged me...

And we got married. And we had a cool truck and soon, a red horse trailer that matched the truck. And then City Boy said, "But you'll outgrow it by the time you're 25." And I said, "Um...who told you that, City Boy?" And now my memory has grown a bit hazy again, but I don't think it was the most pleasant conversation we ever had.

When I was 25, I gave birth to a son, and my horsey life was severely crippled. Not that I resented it. Not much, anyway. Geek Boy was marvelous, he really was. But he soon began to grow older, and he went to school, and while I was alone the old fever began to creep back into my body. I began to travel south to visit my dear friend, Linda, where I once again climbed into a saddle and started riding. Oh, it felt so good! Yes, there was a twinge of acheyness to begin with, but my muscle memory was excellent, and it wasn't more than a couple days before I was back in the swing of things.

The adorable little Geek Boy and me (far thinner than today!)

I started daydreaming about buying a new horse. There was a lovely, coppery colored mare there for training; they'd had me riding her and keeping her legged up. She was nice, and I wanted her. I went and rode three or four times a week for about two weeks, and then something strange happened. I was sore while I rode. My breasts hurt while trotting. Now, this may be normal for some women, but it had never happened to me! And then...well...I was late. And pregnant! Again...

Okay, so the emphasis on the again part, when it was only my second child, may seem like overkill. But we'd tried for over a year with no luck at a second pregnancy, so I'd given up. My head and heart had switched gears. If I can't have a baby, I ought to have a horse. And, as experience had taught me, you can sell a horse when you get tired of it. Not so a child. But there it was...no denying it. I was having another baby, and another horse was slipping from my fingers. I think City Boy had something to do with it...

So there I was, raising two children with nearly an 8 year split. Geek Boy wasn't terribly interested in horses, and Darling was still a toddler. I'd been horseless for far too long. City Boy had been happy for far too long. Far, far too long. But then something amazing happened. Darling saw a horsey. Darling liked the horsey. Darling's daddy was wrapped tightly around Darling's little finger...

Darling riding the neighbor's horse, Boon. What daddy could resist?

And on an occasion such as this, all Desperate Horsewives find themselves re-developing the plan. Because the man in their life is no longer wrapped around their little finger, but the finger of their little girl, we find ourselves involving those little darlings in our schemes. And we're successful, too, because no matter if he's a City Boy or Cowboy, he just can't stand to see his little girl cry.

And that, my dear friends, is what happens when you're a clever and Desperate Horsewife!