Ruled by nutz

I haven't had many deep thoughts lately, so I thought I might wade over to the shallow waters and discuss everyday life. Kirk and I took the bulls to the doc yesterday to make sure their man skills are up to par. The skills are summed up as a recent e-mail joke goes, "The geography of a man: Between 1 and 70 a man is like Iran, ruled by nuts." I guess what we did yesterday could be called the Laura's Lean Beef test.

I accidentally loaded a bull that we weren't planning on using, but I guess God looks out for those who aren't thinking. For lack of a theological description, we'll just call it the Forrest Gump clause. Turns out that bull had an infection and was only shooting straight half the time. The Forrest Gump clause can make those of us who invoke it look perty darn sharp. That is if we weren't dumb enough to be honest about it. (Of course I won't mention that I poured him on so we can't sell him for 45 days. Oops, did I say that out loud?)

Considering only one bull got rowdy after he was on the trailer I'd say things went well. Well, of course that now we are down 3 bulls maybe not, but I can always find something to be thankful for. One, I didn't get run over. Two, I work for the ranch and don't own the ranch, hence I don't have to buy 3 new bulls. Now if that isn't a congressional way of looking at life I don't know what is.

Get along little dawgies

This July of 09 will mark my fifth year at Tailgate Ranch. Upon my entrance into the cowboy culture I was very excited, but also very much a dude. The first time I was working horseback I was in the north turnpike. This is a pasture that I-70 runs right through. I remember watching all the cars drive by and thinking, "Suckers stuck in the rat race that have to work for a living."

Not me though. I got to be John Wayne. However, as the green has worn off I have learned a very important lesson for all of us daydream believers: Whatever you do in life eventually becomes work. Now, don't get me wrong. I am happy to punch a few cows on a sunny 60 degree day.

At 3.am. when it's 2 degrees out with a windchill of minus 20 and I've got my arm shoved up a cranky heifer...

well, you get the point.