He's got the look!

Three days ago, my FABULOUS husband walked through the door sporting a short haircut and a cocky grin....my baby's come home.  Finally.

Symbollic hair

I'm sitting here at a lake in central Oklahoma watching the clouds roll by and the wind whip the trees. It's hard to believe just 4 years ago this month I met my husband. And fell wildly in love.

I've debated the wisdom in writing this post but realized anybody that knows me and my husband already know that we had a little hiccup in our matrimonial menu.

This morning started out wonderfully, both of us in a fantastic mood, laughing, smiling and joking around. My husband grabbed a quick shower and for me the mood changed immediately. It changed because of the hair.

Tto me his hair has become a symbol. It's symbollic of the man who could not just walk away from me, our marriage and everything we'd ever meant to each other, but run. As far and fast as he could. A man who could callously tear my heart in pieces and continue to run. A man I found I didn't know. A man with long hair.

His hair wasn't long when we met. He kept it short and well groomed. When he left, he began growing his hair out. To me it is a sign of his rebellion. A symbol. A reminder that he left, turning my world inside out with his leaving. A sign that he could easily do so again.

It's not that I think his hair looks bad long because it doesn't. He's beautiful to me either way. And though it's just hair and I really should let go of these feelings I find it hard to move beyond them. It's as if, in keeping the long hair, he's withholding making that final commitment to be fully back in this relationship. A foot out the door per se.

As I watch him flip his wet hair back from his face, smooth his hands over it and plaster it down with Bed Head styling gel, then spray it with more Bed Head product, I feel something inside me disconnect.

So I wait. And watch. And hope that one day he will walk through the door, his short hair neatly combed and the incredible smile he always wore creasing his face once again.

Life is a Highway

I've heard the expression Life is a Highway and I tend to disagree. It's more like a back country road filled with bumps, potholes and unexpected twists and turns. Much like driving at night with your headlights off and not being able to see what's directly ahead of you. So much more exciting than the highway where everything is clearly marked off in advance and you can see your destination just ahead.

Life is not for the timid. It is to be driven and explored and held in awe under all conditions.

I love my cats!

I have a couple of exotic cats that bring me great joy.  Zeus is my Savannah cat (part African Serval, part domestic cat) who has a temperament like a dog.  Not only does he play fetch, he loves to swim, climb ladders and terrorize dogs.  This is a cat with a ton of attitude.  Sometimes not a good one.  I haven't had a moments peace in the bath or shower since Zeus moved in.  If I close the door to the bathroom he runs and slams his body against it over and over again.  If I leave the door open he believes that's a invitation for him to share my shower.  Somehow that simply doesn't work for me.


Zeus came to us with a diet of raw chicken and Iams Cat Food. We've since changed his diet around finding the raw meats seemed to bring out more of the wild cat attitude in him.

The other cat, Cleopatra (Cleo for short) is a bengal bob.  Part bobcat, part asian leopard.  She's the best mouser I've ever encountered and she keeps the house spider free.  Cleo isn't much of a social cat, she prefers to stay to herself only occasionally gracing us with her presence and only on her time and terms.

Cleo is a petite cat but very agile. Her primary diet is Science Diet. She turns her nose up to "people" food (thank heavens!).

Since both cats are strictly indoor cats unless I take them out on a leash and harness, I'm very finicky about cat odors. Exotic cats seem to be a bit more pungent than domestic cats so I prefer Scoop Away cat litter for odor control in the litter box. I had invested in an electric litter box simply to keep the box continually clean. That didn't last. Zeus decided it was something to be attacked and destroyed. Whatta mess!

Them bones

I'd written this several years back and it amazes me that even after ALL this time, the random phone calls still come in.


Them bones.....yep.....little bones of contention....We've all got them. Bones that become disjointed over day to day things..... I've become a master at avoidance. I don't like those kind of bones. You bend them and twist them enough and they become swollen and painfully arthritic. Inflame them enough and you have serious problems....


Seemed during the course of my divorce everything became a major bone of contention. I was to the point I honestly didn't care. Here, you want it? Take it? My first born? Take him! Neighbor's child....heeeeere ya go. Generous by nature, I was willing to give it all.....here take it! Go away! Be happy!

Strangely, now that we've gone our own separate ways, some of the things that were major bones are still in my possession. You wouldn't think it would be any big deal, but it is. It's a direct connection. It's two tractors in my front yard. That and a baler, swather, drill, etc., etc. Not little ticket items either.

The direct connection I speak of is the repeated phone calls. "How's my tractor".....geeeeez. :The tires still full on the baler?" Any little thing to make a phone call. "How's my dog"....well, your dog is waiting for you...come pick him up. And while you're at it, take your tractor, baler, swather, drill, plow, yada yada yada. But there's always an excuse why not.

Today, I'm placing a notice in the newspaper. He will have a limited time to remove his possessions or I'm having a farm equipment sale. The proceeds will then go to a needy organization....ME. It's time for life to move forward. It's been long enough.

Pet names

Isn't it crazy how we find ourselves tagging the people closest to us with little pet names? I find myself doing that more and more with Andy. One in particular that pops into mind is "Nubby" which is a combination of new and hubby. Upon further reflection, I just don't see Andy finding this pet name adorable at all. Think on this. "Nubby" sounds more like a severed appendage than anything adorable. Given Andy's 6'6" of long, lean Texas hot body...I just don't think he fits the tag. I could call him "Babe" or "Honey" or "Stud Muffin" but those are all so cliche! Half the time, just looking at him still has a way of leaving me speechless, so this is probably something I really don't even need to think about.


However, speaking of pets and names, I'm usually quite creative in giving my pets unique little names. I once had a four foot iguana that I artistically named "Iggy". He had a little leather vest and a cool black leather hat. He looked really sharp at the end of a leash going for a walk. Then, there was my one eyed shark that I called "Sharky". Sharky was harder to dress than Iggy and the vest just didn't look right on him

Living with Sharky was a huge Oscar that I named "Oscar". Oscar was viciously surrounded and killed by a school of goldfish who later ganged up on Sharky and threw him out of the tank. I swear this is the truth. My little one eyed dog that's very small is named "Dot". Two of her puppies, even smaller than she, were named "Micro" and "Macro" and a third one was "Speck". The largest of the four puppies was "Spot". As you can see, I put alot of thought into these names.

Of course, I have my cat, Smokin' Joe, who's totally cool! We've recently adopted a kitten for my step-daughter. I call him "Evil Kitty" while the rest of the family calls him Cotton. "Evil Kitty" has multiple personalities. The cute, cuddly personality he shows to everybody else and then the wicked personality he reserves just for me. He doesn't realize I'm onto him. He still owes me for one destroyed top!

The two horses, Knucklehead (this name was accidental, I swear!) and Sega. Sega was so named because when I first came across him it didn't look like he would live through the night. Not having any money to buy another horse, I traded a used Sega game for him and took my chances. He's turned out to be quite a robust young horse as well as a beer hound and cleptomaniac. You cannot leave beer unattended around him (this happens sometimes at a roping) he tries to guzzle it up. Nor can you leave anything else lying around unsecured. This horse is an absolute THIEF. Knucklehead on the other hand is pure athlete. He won't eat or drink anything that isn't strictly healthy. One of his favorite treats is ice cubes. This makes the children crack up. Like Sega, however, Knucklehead is a irrascible thief. I swear the two are in cahoots!

What wonderful little pet names do you use? Come on, there's got to be some creativity out there! Some of the answers should be exciting! Won't you share???

Wonder Woman vs. Menopause

I talked to my doctor who advises me that:

1) I am not wonder woman and I should stop overpowering people because frankly, it's a bit
    frightening...and


2) I am  not enjoying magical power surges that make me invincible,  rather......

• a) I am a hormonal, moody, frightening woman and... 
• b) those power surges are truly just hot flashes that can be easily controlled through   hormone replacement therapy (HRT).

It's a little deflating because as wonder woman I felt like an invincible one man show. As a hormonal woman with hot flashes, night sweats and uncontrollable mood swings, I feel like a helpless little freak show.


Before I visit the doctor  to begin treatments, I intend to slip into my Wonder Woman gear and don my bullet deflecting bracelets, just in case he might be wrong.