One of my closest friends (Dennis) broke up with his girlfriend (R) for the umpteenth time last night. I sincerely hope it’s the last time.

He’s been seeing her for a couple of years. She’s a very sweet person on the surface, but inside, she’s completely insecure and manipulative.

She’s got problem children; teenage boys who walk all over her. She lets them do it. She does not know how to discipline at all. She’s afraid of them because they’re bigger than her (they’re not that big—she’s tiny.) She doesn’t want to discipline them because they were abused. (I’m beginning to have my doubts about that—I think she may be confusing normal discipline for abuse.) She will set a rule, they will break it, and there are absolutely no consequences.

The 18 year old has graduated from high school, but sits around on his ass all day playing on the computer. She can’t enforce any rules—she gives him money for everything he wants. Why should he get a job?

She herself is the most needy and insecure person I’ve ever met. My friend has a good and busy life. He has a lot of things that he likes to do. He’s learning to rope at our arena. He hunts—he used to be a guide, and still goes with his guide buddies now and then. He has other people that he likes to be around.

She is more than welcome to join him at any of those activities. She did come out with us a few times this summer and was learning to ride a horse. But when she can’t come, usually because of her kids (she doesn’t want to leave the older boys alone because they cause trouble, and she does have a younger daughter,) she gets resentful that Dennis still does things.

She would rather he sit around in the house and keep her company. He’s not a sitting around in the house kind of guy. She gets mad at him for being what he is, and lays the “You don’t love me” guilt trip on him. She’s an attention whore, and an emotional leech.

He tried at first, but being around the house wasn’t working for Dennis. Besides that he has things to do, those boys resent him being there as well. They get in his face, cuss him out, and make all sorts of trouble. She tells them to stop it, but doesn’t enforce it.

Dennis doesn’t feel that he needs this sort of headache, and I don’t blame him. She wants him to come in and help raise boys that don’t have any respect for adults, and then won’t back him up? That’s crazy talk.

He uses the kids as the reason why their relationship isn’t going to work out. I listen, but I’m thinking that it’s not just the kids. Those boys are like that because she has raised them to be so. Even without that complication, she’s a nightmare to deal with. He has to be always there, always paying attention to her. It’s all about her.

Never mind that he’s the kind of guy who would never in a million years cheat on her. Never mind that she has actually cheated on him, and was cheating on a previous boyfriend with him. She says she loves him, but I think she’s really just afraid to go live her own live, and is dependent on him. Now, I do believe that he loves her, but he recognizes that this relationship will ruin him. He’s already a miserable man at this stage, and it doesn’t get any better.

He says he’s done, that there’s no more going back. I hope so. She’s going to try to cling to him though. She text messaged him three times while we were on the phone last night. And she asked a mutual friend for all the pictures he had of the two of them together. I can see that she’s preparing to obsess.

She is certainly a good example of what love is not, and their relationship illustrates how good mine is.

Love is not about making someone bend to your will. If your partner likes to do something, either go do it with them, or let them do it alone. Why on earth would you resent them for having a life? Who wants a partner that’s just a malleable blob anyway? I like my men to have some life to them. Life’s too short to put up with boring.

She makes Dennis feel guilty for doing things that he likes to do. He’s done some of these things for thirty years. Why should he stop doing them because he’s dating someone whiny?

Cowboy was a little afraid when we started seeing each other that I would see the roping as a competitor for attention too. I haven’t, and I think he’s starting to trust that I won’t. Yes, it takes a lot of time, but that’s fun time. I choose to do the parts that I like, and if I want to go do something else, he’s fine with that too. It’s not a boys-only sort of thing. I’m always welcome to be there, but he’s not going to not go because I can’t.

That’s love.

The ropers with successful marriages seem to fall into two categories: those with very involved wives (or husbands, really,) and those whose wives don’t go, but that don’t resent their husbands for going. Cowboy seems very happy that I’m in the former category. His ex was one of those that hated it, and hated the bond that he had with his sons over it.

Love doesn’t mean that you have to do everything together. If you don’t want to, then don’t. But it’s still possible to support the other one in what they’re doing. Cowboy couldn’t go hunting with me this year. His work starts right about the time deer season does. I had a special draw tag, and I wasn’t going to waste it. Most of the time, my hunting partners (Dennis is one of them) went with me, but there was one weekend that neither of them could go. I wasn’t going to blow off the last weekend of the season, so I went by myself. Cowboy was very busy, but he took off Sunday to come up and make sure I was all right.

That’s love.

I don’t see Cowboy very much during the winter. He works 7 days a week when the weather permits. I don’t whine about not seeing him, and I don’t demand that he drop everything and come see me every night. He’s busy, I’m busy, and he has livestock to feed. But yesterday, when I needed him, he drove over to my office in a rainstorm to pick up Angus for me.

That’s love.

He might not say it very much, but I know he loves me. He shows it.

Dennis loves R too, but she doesn’t trust that. I don’t believe she has the first idea of what love is. I don’t think she knows how to do it. How sad.

Cowboy’s coming to get Angus today so he doesn’t hurt Jessie. For now, he’s stinking up my office with Eau du Chien Humide.

It’s so wet out that the puddles in the parking lot have white caps. The contractor decided to make it an office day, and they’re all moving filing cabinets and desks from the office next to mine to down the hall in their main room. I wandered down to see how it was going, after putting Angus on a stay in my office. They all thought it was very funny when I hollered down the hall, “You better get back in your office!” None of them actually moved, but they’ve all thought I was talking to them at some point or another today. Not like I would tell any of them to go lay down.

Angus just can’t control himself—Jessie must really smell like she’s still in heat. I let her out of the laundry room to go potty last night, and he got to her. I got him off before they tied up, but it can’t be good for her. This dog juggling is a little tricky. It’s not like when she has puppies—then she’ll tell him to get the hell out of her face, and he will.

It’s even less fun in a storm, which is why Angus is in my office rather than his usual place in the back of the truck. He got the backyard for lunch while she was locked up in the laundry room. Then I played musical dogs in the rain to get them situated. We’ll be OK after Cowboy comes to my rescue.

For someone who rarely needs rescuing, I sure have needed it an unusual amount this week. Besides the dog thing, which really isn’t that big of a deal, I had to run to my Dad for help. I was working on my taxes, which I’ve done competently for years, and I think I ran into a bug in the program.

I called Dad, who’s volunteering for the IRS to help do taxes for little old ladies who bring him brownies. He’s got an IRS computer and can e-file for free and everything. He couldn’t figure out what was wrong over the phone, so I’m going to go up there on the weekend that Cowboy will be in Oklahoma, and we’re just going to start from scratch with his program. I shall bring him wine; he doesn’t like brownies anyway.

I haven’t had to run to my Dad for years, except for minor investment advice. I’ve always been a little jealous that he’s pretty quick to go fix things around my sister’s house. I should take it as a compliment that he assumes that I know how to fix things. I don’t suppose that I’ve ever asked him to fix anything though. He’d laugh—this is the man who taught me how to run a chainsaw and gives me pointers on splitting firewood. I always said that I was my Father’s son. I guess I’ll take that over a patio roof.

He can’t possibly be surprised that I need help with my taxes though. I’m sure to him, the surprise is that I’ve done it on my own for so long. He seems to have finally accepted that I’m not the math genius that he is. It took a lot of fighting in high school, when I didn’t understand and he couldn’t talk down enough to explain it to me, to get him to grasp that.

Dad, I’m inept at math. Sorry. I make the computer do it all for me. I have to check my nine-year-old’s homework with a calculator. I think I’ve got enough successes in my life to make up for that.

I got my Jessie back today, and she’s fine. She thinks she’s the shit now because I let her ride in the cab of the truck. I had to put her in the first time, but I had to go back to work, so I let her hang out in my office. She’s a very good office dog, except when she wags my computer cables and drags the mouse all over. She had the truck figured out when it was time to go home, and jumped right in.

Angus was glad to see her, probably because she still smells like she’s in heat. He went absolutely nuts when I dropped her off yesterday. He was yipping and barking like I’ve never heard. It looked like he thought I was going to take his girlfriend in to the gas chambers. He whined and howled all night, and looked all over the yard for her. I haven’t left him alone much recently—he’s either had Jessie or Bailey around for the last couple of years.

He was a real pain when she got home too. I have to keep them separated so he doesn’t try to breed her and cause some serious damage. So now he’s at the office with me and she’s at home tucked in the laundry room.

I guess Cowboy’s getting the tin for the barn roof today. I really hope he doesn’t try to put it up today, as it’s starting to get stormy, and I don’t even want to think about him up there in the wind. Tomorrow we’re getting a bitch of a storm too, so I don’t think he’ll be doing it then either.

I just dropped Jessie off at the vet to get spayed. I don’t know why I’m more unsettled about having my dog spayed than getting myself fixed. I guess I just don’t see myself never having puppies again, although I definitely don’t want any more kids.

It’s not like I can’t get another female dog sometime. She’s not a good working dog anyway. I was initially breeding for temperament, but found out that she does produce very good working dogs.

I flipped back and forth over whether to do it this weekend. She came truly into heat, and Angus did his job very well. I doubt that she was actually ovulating when Dog bred her; I think he just somehow got lucky and tied up with her. But I wouldn’t be able to get rid of half-Dog puppies, and I would have to be caring for this litter during May and June, which is right when roping season gets going really good. I don’t want to be tied to home just to take care of some puppies that I didn’t want, although it is much easier to sell them in the summer.

It will be better for her too. Two litters in a year, one of which was unplanned, took a lot out of her physically. It would be even harder on her body to have another one right now. She’s just now getting back into condition and doesn’t look like a scarecrow dog.

I think I’ve done the right thing. So why does it bother me so much?

I took the kids to the Hilmar Cheese Factory today. They’ve been before, but I hadn’t.

I was a little disappointed. I remember tours like the Hershey Factory from my childhood as being more interesting. I like a tour that shows you more of the process stream.

While we were waiting for the tour to start, we went upstairs and looked at some static displays they had set up. They were fairly interesting, and there was a window where we could look down onto the factory floor and see them packaging cheese into drums.

I was a little surprised that the whole tour consisted of a tour guide walking us through the exhibits, which we had already seen and played with. I didn’t really learn anything. They were out of cheese curds, which I guess they usually hand out to taste.

Their usual downstairs exhibit of small scale cheesemaking was shut down for an upgrade.

We tasted some cheese; nothing that I hadn’t had before. We bought a piece of Pepper Jack for John and a candle, and some chocolate milk for the ride home. Overall, I guess it was a pretty cheap way to spend an hour on a Sunday afternoon, but I had wanted to see more of the plant. I love that stuff.

I don’t care what the calendar says or what the sky looks like; spring has sprung in the Central Valley.

The almonds are blooming. The honey bees aren’t really out because of the overcast weather, but the hives are in the orchards. Soon the peach trees will be going at it as well, and they’re an incredible shade of pink.

With all good intentions, I did actually start my taxes today. I got the program installed, got the state program bought and installed, and entered my W2. Then I got stuck. It seems that I didn’t get either of the 1099s I was supposed to.

I went to the web site of the first one, and the only account I can get to come up belongs to my son. Theoretically I could get my 1099 online, but only if I can get to my account. Which I cannot. OK, next. I got to the web site of the other one. No, I don’t remember my password. Somehow I screw up my password reminder question three times in a row (formatting, I hope,) and that account gets locked down. I have to call them, and that’s not going to happen today, oh no.

So I got number 1 son’s taxes done and printed so that I don’t feel like such a knucklehead. Mine are partly done, and will have to be dealt with on Monday.

I’m going to go back to cooking. It’s much simpler, and we’re having corned beef and cabbage. I can smell the corned beef. I’m going to try a new thing by roasting the cabbage and potatoes in the oven. Corned beef is good, but it’s so damned bland. I forgot to get a dark beer to cook it in too.

Cowboy’s coming over for dinner, but for now I think he’s on the barn roof again. He’s furiously measuring things. He says he expects the barn to be covered by next week when I see it again. That will be a huge change, after looking at a skeleton for a year and a half. After the roof and wall go on, he’s going to start working on the apartment, shop, and office. Looks like the dogs are going to have to move outside.

Based on the theory that if I write it down, I may actually do it, I resolve to get my taxes done this weekend. I shall bribe the kids with a new DVD so I don’t rip their little heads off, as doing the taxes (or even balancing the checkbook if it’s not coming out even) turns me into the Mom from hell. Sorry in advance kids. I’ll make you some popcorn and lock my office door.

Other than that, I think we’ll have a quiet weekend.

Seamus’ birthday is coming up. He desperately wants a baby goat. Last year he won one at a barnyard scramble at a county fair. Cowboy’s roping group put it on, so we were pretty well connected as far as caring for whatever he caught. He had strict instructions not to catch a kitten. He was very surprised to catch anything, much less a whole goat. He was afraid to pick it up, and a little cowgirl with a bunny in her arms gave him her bunny to hold, then picked up the goat for him, and helped him hold it. It was horribly cute.

That goat (who we named Oscar) turned into a really cute pet. He was only a couple of days old at the scramble; a male Alpine dairy goat who otherwise would have been sold for meat. One of our friends had brought the goats, so she took him home that night so we could get a place ready for him. She gave us some bottles a goat milk replacer. We bottle-fed him for a good month.

He was really cute. He wasn’t fazed by the dogs at all, and followed Seamus around the yard, bouncing. Seamus liked to feed him. I was weaning him to a bucket and mash. I came home at lunch every day to feed him. One day I came home at lunch, fed him, and went back to work. When I got home that night, he was deader than a doornail. We never knew what happened to him. He didn’t have any symptoms, besides being dead.

Fortunately, I didn’t have the kids with me that week, so I took care of it. Seamus was devastated though. He still brings it up, and I promised him we’d get another one someday.

A neighbor down the street from Cowboy works for a vet and has a real menagerie. I helped a friend feed for her when she was on vacation one day, so I got to see her crew. She’s crazy for the animals—she has a small mobile home filled with reptiles and birds. I think she’s a little bit of a collector, but she takes extremely good care of them all. She’s got goats, lots of them.

I stopped and introduced myself last night. Over the gate, of course, because she’s got some serious guard dogs. She has a beautiful Doberman who was more aggressive than most Dobies I’ve met, and a Great Dane who would probably be a marshmallow if I met him.

She does have pygmy goats, and Boers, and both kinds are kidding in March. She said she would put me on the list, and I could pick out what I wanted. She neuters and dehorns them, and gives them all their shots. It will be nice to have one that’s already weaned, but still young enough to make a good pet. I think we’ll go for a pygmy goat wether. I have a place for him in the yard, and he’ll fit in the dog crate to move him. Cowboy says they do leash train, so that will be fun for Seamus. I’ll have to block off the woodpile so he doesn’t go over the fence, but that’s no big deal. He’ll keep the yard trimmed a little too.

The goat won’t be ready by Seamus’ birthday, so I need to find another present. I’m thinking about a nice remote control truck. I’d like to get the boys four wheelers, or at least bikes that they can ride at Cowboy’s, but I can’t really afford either just yet. Seamus is a little young for a four wheeler anyway.

It’s too muddy for dirt work today, so Cowboy’s up working on the barn roof. I’m quite glad not to be there where I can see it. Heights give me the willies anyway, and the slats on this roof are all rotten. I just don’t want to see it. I’ll admire it when they’re done. I do wish he would come down for a minute so I can order him his plane tickets and hotel room for his Timed Event Championship trip next month.

Well, I’m a little embarrassed. Yesterday I got an email asking me to write some bullets for my annual review. I hate doing those, and I was truly busy, so I put it off. I just got a phone call, thankfully from the one NOT doing the review, asking me to get on it, since merit increases are tied to my review.

So I did it, but it was hard. I can do the techno-babble, but writing that shit about myself is hard. Last year wasn’t really too bad, since I actually had a pretty big accomplishment in taking over my superior’s job. Without the associated pay increase, of course. But this year has been really boring. I’m still doing both jobs, but the work here has slowed down so much that both of them don’t honestly add up to a full time job. I’m trying to keep myself valuable, or at least to look like it, but I wouldn’t keep me full time. Appearance is everything.

I have a couple of things going for me though. It’s a satellite office. I’ve only been to my home office once, and that was for the interview. Luckily, I met my supervisor, who wasn’t that at the time, and we hit it off real well.

The nice thing about working on my own is actually working on my own. But the part that sucks is that they really have no idea what I do all day. Which is a plus most of the time, but come evaluation time, they expect me to write my own review. For a raise. And I have no idea what other people do there to measure myself against.

One thing nice is that I do work here with a guy who subcontracts to my company, and they’re calling him too. He’s really great to work with; one of those rare extremely intelligent people who is also successfully human. He’ll probably back me up.

I do need to be here even if I am bored most of the time because in September there won’t be any one else at that level. I get to hold the whole local bag. That should justify my existence.

I tried to word that into my self-review. Yeah, I’d really like a raise for not doing much of anything. The company does get to bill me full time—not everyone in it is billable. Companies like billability. And I went over the basic stuff again, but with more flowery language than last year.

Hope it works. Hope they don’t see right through me and fire me on the spot.

Dog Karma bit me on the ass on Friday.

I was feeding the livestock, and I had my dogs with me. I just got them back together last week, when Jessie finally came out of heat. Louie was there, with his Dog, who’s an ugly, misshapen mongrel if I ever did see one. Louie’s always teasing me about breeding Dog to Jessie. I always tell him I’d have to shoot Jessie if that happened.

So Angus and Dog were getting into it a little. Angus doesn’t like Dog to be near either of his women. We looked over, and Angus had mounted Dog! And Dog was standing for it! It was hilarious, and I laughed and laughed. Even Louie thought it was very funny.

So I went back to watering the horses, talking to Louie. Next thing I know, where’s Jessie? Louise said, “Oh, they’re tied up.” I thought he was yanking my chain, but no, she was tied up with Dog. Great.

There’s no way Jessie needs another litter right now. She’s not back in good enough shape for one. And there’s really no way I’m raising mongrel puppies. That is the world’s ugliest dog—he’s some sort of Airedale/Catahoula mix. His back legs don’t work quite right, and he’s dumber than a post.

So Jessie’s getting spayed next Monday. I can’t deal with her coming into heat every three weeks, and keeping her pregnant isn’t the answer. I am getting out of the puppy business. Lucky Angus, he gets to keep his equipment.

It was a nice weekend, barring unforeseen dog pregnancies. God! I was supposed to get myself fixed on Friday, and I was discussing the irony of getting pregnant in the interim with Marci. I’d have to sue the damn insurance company. I’m lucky it was just my dog.

We don’t typically make a big deal of Valentine’s Day. I bought the kiddos some candy, but that’s it. Cowboy’s working, and we didn’t do anything last year. So of course, this year, he comes home with a big ol’ gift with a balloon and everything. Made me feel a little stupid for not getting him anything, but he really doesn’t care.

He gave me some rose scented smelly stuff. Roses make my head hurt at the very least, so I’ll not be actually opening any of it. I need to leave the Cabela’s catalog lying around next time gifts are appropriate. With stickys on the good pages. Or else a very subtle picture of a Le Creuset cast iron dutch oven. He likes good hints.

I did cook a ham on Sunday, and Lonnie and Judy came over and had dinner with us, and then we all went to the show. We finally saw Cold Mountain, which Judy and I liked very much. Lonnie didn’t think much of it. I tend to really like any movie I see in the theater, since I only get to see adult movies once or twice a year. Hidalgo is coming out soon, and the whole family wants to go see that.

Since it rained on Monday, I actually got to see Cowboy this weekend. He took off on Sunday, and we did about a month’s worth of shopping. Monday, we just schlepped around the house. I made split pea soup, and we watched a marathon of the American Pie movies. I’m not so good at the sitting still, so the house got pretty clean.

Cowboy’s got a housekeeper coming in one day a week starting this week, so of course, I had to clean for her. Can’t have us looking like complete slobs, you know. I just can’t keep up with two houses, especially during the winter. My house is OK, since my road is paved, and it’s pretty vacant every other week. Cowboy’s house is surrounded by mud, and this time of year it gets really bad. He’s working daylight to dark seven days a week, so I’m the only one who has time to clean. Two weeks is a long time for two men plus assorted working men to be tracking dirt into a house.

This Cowboy knows me much too well. To the best of my knowledge, I have never approached him with something live in my pocket. But yesterday, when I said, “Guess what’s in my pocket?” he automatically assumed it was something crawly. No, it wasn’t a snake. No, not a rat either, but that was close enough that I showed him. I was out back feeding the cattle, and when I turned over the bottom bale of hay, I exposed what must have been a mouse condo. They were flying everywhere! I caught one, and put it in my pocket. I let it go after I showed him. He thinks I’m nuts to be so pleased with that. Well, I don’t like them in the house, but they’re fine outside.

Something tells me he’s not going to make good on my request to bring home any snakes he uncovers at work. What?? We have gophers!

Well, talk about a little serendipity!

Friday I was at the butchers picking up some pork chops. A guy who works behind the counter also happens to work at the driving range up the road. Last time one of my favorite crew of drillers was onsite (a couple of years ago) they got to be friends with this guy through the golfing thing. Every once in a while, I would go out with all of them for a beer.

Friday, this guy mentioned that one of the crew had come in to say Hi, and that another one of them had changed companies. It was really nice to hear about them; I’ve always kind of kept track of them, and they of me. It’s a small industry, so we mostly do that through the grapevine.

So these guys were on my mind this weekend, just wondering how they were doing. I had dated another driller that worked with them. He and I parted on good terms (distance was a problem.)

Sitting here at my desk working on email this morning, someone popped his head through my door. It took me half a beat to recognize him, but it was the lead driller from the crew that spent the most time here. I was so glad to see him—it seems he was on his way to LA, and just wanted to say Hi to me.

I’m very glad he did. We spent a good hour catching up on all the things that have changed. This guy is working for another company, starting a mud rig program. One of my other contractors happens to use that driller, so maybe I’ll see more of him.

This is the guy that took me by the hand when I was absolutely brand new at my job and taught me all he could about drilling. Thanks to him, I’m one of the more knowledgeable oversight people in my company, when it comes to drilling.

He didn’t have to do it; technically I was supposed to be watching him. But he’s one of those people who will help you if you ask and honestly want to know. He has the philosophy that all of us may work for different contractors or agencies here, but we’re all on the same team with the same goals. That’s a philosophy that I’ve kept to as well, and I think it’s one of my main strengths in this job.

This guy, who some other people around here look down on because he does manual labor, taught me so much about how to do my job with honor. This is a job that could easily slide down the corruption path, but I haven’t let it. He’s rough around the edges, yes, but if you look at the person inside, you see what counts. My Cowboy is much like that himself. Most of my favorite people are.

I wonder who else will show up if I think about them?