Here’s Seamus enjoying his new bike:

We went out to Cowboy’s yesterday to try out the new bike and play. The boys farted around, played with the dogs, and dug in the dirt.

Cowboy and Dennis and I were inside a little later, while I was cooking dinner. John came to the back door, and said, “Seamus is stuck in the white thing.”

Oh? What white thing?

I went out to look for him, and the boys had apparently climbed up into the 20-yard dump trailer. John could get out, but once Seamus got in, there was no getting out. All I could see was a little face peeking over the edge at about nose height. I really wish I’d grabbed my camera.

I climbed up to take a look at him, and there really was no way he could have gotten out. I’m actually surprised that he got in, but there are ladder holds on the outside of it.

I had to go get the Cowboy to lift him down to me, since I couldn’t balance myself and pick him up.

Good thing it wasn’t summer, and the boys got a huge lesson about not climbing on equipment. It would get really hot in there in the summer, and cook my Seamus if I couldn’t find him.

This was after I caught John standing on top of the half concrete wall in the barn and told him not to climb on things, by the way. Turkey.

Living in such a small town, you’d expect to run into people pretty often. I’ve only run into Chief, who I work with, once or twice, despite both of us living in this same small town.

On one memorable occasion, I ran into Chief and his wife at the hospital, which isn’t even in this town.

“Hi Chief,” I said. “I’m going to go have a baby today!”

And I did, and that was Seamus, and he’s six today.

Happy Birthday Seamus!

Last night, we went up to the big town north of here to go to John’s Incredible Pizza Factory. I’d never been there, but Seamus requested it. I figured it couldn’t possibly be worse than Chuck E. Cheese.

I was right. It wasn’t quite worse.

The food was actually decent. The dining rooms weren’t too loud, and ours had a big screen TV with snowboarding and skateboarding on it, which kept a couple of boys occupied until their friends showed up.

My friend Marci came with her husband and two boys, who are about John’s age.

After we forced food down them, they went out to play.

Now the game area is a different story. Like Vegas, only shorter. As soon as I got some chips handed out, the boys all squirted off in different directions. I kept Seamus with me, but it was pretty quickly clear that I wasn’t going to be able to keep track of four boys in that place.

I called for backup. Marci’s husband had finished eating, so he came and rescued me. Two parents were better, and I think the boys all had a pretty good time.

I can’t believe that my Mom and Dad came to that place. They had called wanting to get together for Seamus’ birthday, and since we were already going there, I invited them. Poor Dad! If that’s not my kind of place, it’s not his ten times over! But he was a good sport about it.

Marci hadn?t seen my parents for at least 12 years. She hugged my Dad! Dude! I don’t even hug my Dad, unless someone dies or something. He was a good sport about that too.

Seamus’ present was a bike. I didn’t tell him what he was getting until we pulled into the bike shop. Then, of course, he figured it out.

The salesman was really nice, and fitted Seamus with a really good bike, and had the brake handles adjusted to fit him. He’s going to get a few years out of this one.

Cowboy got him a good helmet. He’ll be mostly using the bike out at Cowboy’s, and it won’t be long until he discovers that it’s OK to move dirt around and make jumps. His brother’s going to want one for his birthday too, I hope. They haven’t ever had bikes at my house, since my neighborhood is not so nice.

We’re going over this afternoon to have dinner and to try out the bike.

But first, I must go make the Dulce de Leche cheesecake that Chief commissioned from me. I have my doubts as to him actually sharing it; I can see him sitting in his car and eating the whole thing. Yes, he likes cheesecake that much.

When I was married the first time, I don’t think I was ready for it. Even a year into it, when I was still in love on the surface, if I had dreams, it was always about other men. Never once did I dream about that man.

But with Cowboy, he’s the only one I dream of. My subconscious knows this is right. We’re very much a family, more so than the first time, even without the paper trail.

I spent the night dreaming that I was falling in love with Cowboy. It was a great dream, but within the dream, I thought I woke up and it turned out that I hadn’t met him yet. Then within the dream still, I met him and began falling in love with him all over again.

If I get to go through all the new feelings like that every once in a while, life will be pretty good. New is always exciting, and new again with this same man is icing on the cake.

I feel like a productive member of society. For once, I don’t think I’m behind on anything.

Cowboy had a Stampede meeting, so I stayed home and finished my taxes. Every time I ran the program, it would find a new error though. Fix that one, run it again, find another one. Lather, rinse, repeat. But eventually, it all sorted out, and I got Federal and State filed and away.

And I balanced my checkbook and invoiced for my second job too. And filed the giant pile that I brought home from my desk at work. I should make myself stay home alone more often.

It was 7 before I noticed the time, and headed home. The other home. The only thing I didn’t get done was to scan in my photos from this weekend, but that’s more of a weekend job anyway. I’ll post some pictures next week.

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.

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.

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.

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!

In the spirit of sundry’s Remember When Day, I’ll tell our story.

It starts with a friend of a friend. Dennis had been telling our whole group that we really needed to meet Lori; we’d hit it off with her. And we did. We all bonded, and she and I quickly became friends.

Not a month after Lori and I had met, she took a road trip with me to go buy Jessie, my red dog. Deep in conversation, I jokingly asked her if she had any brothers. “No,” she said, “but you should meet my cousin.”

After finding out that the cousin in question was in his mid-forties and out of my self-designated age range, I blew that idea off.

A couple of months after that, she asked me to come watch her cousin rope. This was Chris, the son of the brother-cousin, and he was in high school rodeo at the time. She was a big supporter of Chris, and talked about him all the time. This trip was a little too far for me, and I passed.

Later that summer, Chris was again roping, this time at a county fair that Lori and I were going to anyway. I took off early from work and went to watch. He was roping in the slack, which is before the main performance, but I love rodeo and sure didn’t mind leaving work early.

When I got up into the stands and sat with Lori, I did notice some older guys sitting up behind us. I didn’t think anything of it. After Chris roped, Lori and I decided to go get a beer, and she turned around and asked these guys if they wanted to go with us. That was a little startling, but it turned out that one was her cousin, and another was the father of Chris’ team roping partner. So the four of us went and got beer, and sat in the beer garden for a while. We all seemed to hit it off, although the other dad was hitting on me a little too much. I sat next to the good looking cowboy, who wasn’t as old as I’d thought when I glanced up there.

Lori got a phone call from her parents while we were there. Apparently her Dad’s stud horse, Butch, had got kicked in the leg, breaking it, and had to be put down. This horse had been in their family for over 20 years, and Lori was in tears. It turned out that the mare he had been breeding was this cowboy’s mare, and he was going to go over later and bury Butch.

Lori wandered off to talk on the phone, and the cowboy and I started talking. The other guy was getting too forward, and I was trying to hear the cowboy anyway, so I kept sitting closer to him. He didn’t seem to mind—he kept sitting closer to me too.

When she came back, we all walked out behind the roping chutes to watch the next round of the team roping. Cowboy and I were playing a little bit. Nothing odd, just walking in front of each other and the like. I didn’t think anything of it.

After we’d watched a little of the roping, Lori pulled me aside, and told me that her cousin really liked me. I didn’t really believe her, since he wasn’t hitting on me as far as I could see, but she insisted that he just doesn’t act like that around women. Apparently, he didn’t really even talk to women much.

Now that just flustered me, and I realized that I liked him too, and that I didn’t want to screw anything up. I didn’t want to hit on him and scare him away, so I was careful to not spend too much more time next to him than anyone else. We left without exchanging phone numbers or doing anything obvious.

I thought about him a lot for the next few weeks. The next time Chris roped, I told Lori that I wanted to go. We ran into the Cowboy standing with her mom. At first, I wasn’t sure if that was him, or Lori’s Dad. They do look alike, and I hadn’t met her Dad yet. I didn’t want to embarrass myself, so I just said hello, and sat down to watch the rodeo. When Lori’s Dad did show up, it was clear (duh!) that that had been the Cowboy, and I should have talked to him.

By then, he was down at the fence talking to some other women, who I didn’t know. I thought I had blown it. Lori had suggested going out to dance after the rodeo, and that sounded fine with me. As we walked by the Cowboy and the other dad, I got up the nerve to ask if they wanted to go too. I was completely surprised when they did, since they hadn’t talked to us all day.

So we all crammed in my truck and went off dancing. The other dad did keep hitting on me, but I just stood with the Cowboy in between us, and it was pretty clear after a little bit that I was his choice too. We danced, and I’m not going to say more about that, except that I did get him to his son’s rodeo on time the next morning.

And now, here I am, about a year and a half later, wondering how I ever lived without him. We fit together like no one I’ve ever known. We suit each other very well. We like each other’s jokes and hobbies and flaws. I have no doubt that I’m looking at the rest of my life, and for once, I’m not afraid of that. I can’t wait to get started on it.

I love you, Cowboy!

Cowboy’s taking this togetherness thing a little far.

We don’t really have to share a bad week, but he seems to have taken over where I left off on Tuesday. Besides the labor problems on Wednesday, he had a little accident with his truck yesterday.

It seems that someone (and since he’s very carefully not naming names, I can guess who) parked his truck on the opposite site of a drainage canal from some trees. Trees that he had to push down because they were coming out. One of the eucalyptus trees started to go down when he pushed it with the grader, then got hung up and kind of sproinged over the other way. Across the drainage ditch. Right onto his truck.

He was actually pretty lucky in that only the tip of the tree caught the truck. He’s got a dent in the roof and in the door, but somehow it didn’t break any glass. He’s mad, and he can’t even fire anyone over it because it was his own fault. I’ll take a picture this weekend.

John got his palate expander yesterday. He was all excited about the newness, but after a night of it, he wasn’t so happy. His teeth hurt, and that’s going to be a real bitch to keep clean. Poor kid.

Oh. Yeah, I left that last one kind of hanging, didn’t I?

I adjusted my attitude about the whole rescheduling thing. It was just an inconvenience, after all. I just had a hard time dealing with it on top of the rest of the week’s detritus. I blew off steam at Cowboy, and now I feel better.

John’s getting a palate expander installed today. We’re supposed to turn a little screw a full turn every day to spread the roof of his mouth apart. That should be fun. He’s more interested than anything though. I’ll take a picture of it tonight.

Cowboy had hired some temps to help with the concrete pouring. Tuesday went really smoothly, and the crew poured 30 loads in ten hours. That’s near record breaking, especially since these three temps were dumb as posts and had to be shown what a Fresno was and how to use it. It’s hard work, and you can’t just stop for a break when there are three concrete trucks backed up behind you.

So yesterday, these three guys walked off the job. They said they’d put in their eight hours, and weren’t going to work any more. What the hell?! Cowboy had seven more trucks waiting right there on the site. That was about $9000 worth of concrete, and these guys are whining because it’s hard? Well, no shit, manual labor is hard. He called the temp agency, and the woman was a bitch to him, claiming that since the guys hadn’t got lunch or breaks the day before, she wasn’t going to say anything to them.

That’s not right. The only way to get this job done is to just do it and take your breaks when you can. Had they brought their lunches with them, they could have eaten when they had a chance, which they should have realized after the first day. These temp agencies get the very bottom end of the labor pool anyway. Next time, he’s going to find a concrete finisher’s union hall. It’ll be more expensive, but at least the work will get done. He’s already got all of our regular guys plus some of the boys’ friends working for him on pour days. They had to stay late to get it finished yesterday, so he took them out to dinner to thank them for busting their asses.