It has been a long weekend and next week is going to be difficult, I don’t understand my thoughts well enough to even consider sharing them tonight. I am in a writing mood so I am going talk about some very random likes, dislikes, and pet peeves. The odds of this one avoiding the recycle bin are slim.
I’m not talking about the obvious likes such as Ice Cream, little kids, spring showers, fall foliage or chicken fried steak and cream gravy. That would be south of Interstate 40 on the cream gravy. It is real hard to find good cream gravy north of I40.
I like farm dogs, you know, the ones that walk around on the back of a flatbed one ton truck as it drives through the pasture or down I40 for that matter, those in the bed of a regular pickup aren’t in the same league, unless of course the pickup has a toolbox and old blue is standing on the toolbox. I am amazed at their sense of balance, and the nonchalant way they walk around. They always look happy and excited to be on the road. I wonder if the excitement is about the trip or the destination, I believe it is the trip because normally when they reach the destination they just stay on the truck until it is time to leave. I wonder about their names; I think a lot of them are named Blue or Possum or Cowboy or maybe Rebel. I wonder if northern dogs are ever named Yankee.
My favorite dog that was not a member of our family was a farm dog, actually he was a Rodeo dog his name was J.D.; he disappeared from the back of my pickup during one of those stops when he couldn’t go in. I hope he found a good home and lived to be a very happy old dog.
I don’t have a dog. I am not responsible enough to give a dog a good home; they are probably better off wearing the title of stray than they would be living with me. I like dogs although I will admit, most of the time I like them better over there than I like them over here.
As with the likes the dislikes are not about Broccoli, taxes, summer droughts, Cancer, winter ice storms, liver and onions or north of I40 cream gravy.
The introduction of the shopping cart several years ago (too much trouble to research exactly how many years ago) forever changed the way America bought groceries and in my opinion they made the discount department store a feasible marketing concept. I only wish the guy that invented them would have known about round wheels. Is it just me or do almost all of them thump because at least one of the wheels isn’t round. A few of them don’t thump but those normally have been run over in the parking lot causing them to veer to the right or left so severely that if you turn them loose before they stop they will hit you or someone else in the butt. I think the most famous of the discount stores has a higher percentage of the real bad ones. I try to give them a little test drive before I embark on my journey, because rarely do I find a real good one but like the days of our lives, some of them are better than others. That sometimes is a mistake because the person behind me will get the real loud one and follow me all over the store.
I am going to save the pet peeves for another time or maybe not at all and explain my cream gravy remarks. It is really one of those “you had to be there” stories but I will try.
About thirty years ago about midnight on the way home from a weekend of rodeo in Kansas I stopped at an all night greasy spoon just barely in Oklahoma on I35 for a little coffee and a quick meal. I was sitting with 2 or 3 young calf ropers from southern Oklahoma; we were eating Chicken Fried Steaks one of the calf ropers said about half to himself “You get north of I40 they don’t know what cream gravy is”. I had never thought of it but he had a point and for some goofy reason the quote stayed with me.
In addition to the skills required to compete in rodeo, those kids learn at an early age how to “go down the road” and they also learn about Chicken Fried Steak, Cream Gravy, KFC, and powdered donuts. My girls sometimes read what I write; I knew if I didn’t mention KFC and the powdered donuts one or both of them would remind me.
The young roper’s name was Charley, I don’t know if I have seen him since that night. Making a living and family obligations forced me to quit chasing the old rodeos shortly afterward. It was kind of like quitting smoking; impossible to taper off I just had to do it cold turkey.
I like to think Charley is driving his flatbed one ton with old Blue or Possum riding on the back and teaching his kids or grandkids about Rodeo, Chicken Fried Steak, Cream Gravy and just going down the road.
Please keep me in your prayers, consider a donation to the cancer research organization of your choice.
Good Night and God Bless.