The Cows

I'm guest blogging again today at Courting Destiny. It's a post many of you have probably already read, as Pia picked her favorite story out of my archives. And it's about eight thousand times better than what I'm posting here today.

I think I started writing lyrics sometime in high school. There is a red folder in a bookshelf at my house which long ago came apart at the seams. It contains hundreds of these handwritten lyrics. And a very large majority of them are, admittedly, crap.

Today, I've decided to share one of these early lyrics with you. It's your basic story of small town love lost. Hopefully, it will be good for a laugh. And hopefully, my writing has shown at least slight improvement since... this.

Now, for your reading pleasure, I present Bone, before he was famous. It's called "The Cows."

One little phone call, and I took the big fall
In love with the girl of my dreams
Her name was Julie, she was a cutie
Sweetest thing I'd ever seen
One night in the pasture, I turned and I asked her
How long her love would go on
She promised she'd stay, until the day
The cows finally come back home

Well the cows will be comin' home tonight
She left me today, just drove out of sight
She never said forever
But I thought her love was gonna last that long
And now that she's gone
I guess the cows will be comin' home

One little mistake, was all she could take
She was gone in the blink of an eye
She didn't cry, gave no reason why
Never even told me goodbye
Thought we'd stay together, forever and ever
But she said I took it all wrong
She said she never, did say forever
Only till the cows come home

And the cows will be comin' home tonight
She left me today, just drove out of sight
She never said forever
But I thought her love was gonna last that long
And now that she's gone
I guess the cows will be comin' home

It'll be good to see 'em
I've kinda missed those bovine since they've been gone
I won't be alone for very long
Cos tonight, the cows are comin' home...

Bruce Willis & Farrah Fawcett

My activities last evening consisted of dinner, playing one half a game of Mattel football (Visitors were leading 17-16 on difficulty level PRO2), playing a few games of Texas Hold 'Em online, watching the episode of The Jeffersons where George donates a kidney, watching parts of Monday Night Football, and writing a couple of poems/lyrics.

Quite the bachelor utopia I've created, no? This is why I usually answer "nothing" anytime someone asks me what I'm doing.

I started thinking, what am I holding onto? What about this single life can I not bear to give up? And from that, I started thinking about what I'm looking for in a girl. And do I even know?

I dated a girl some years ago who had made a list. Of things she wanted in her future husband. She had come up with fourteen things, and I matched all but one of them. We dated for a couple of years, broke up, and she married someone else.

But as I've travelled on, I've come to find that many girls have a similar list. Maybe even most girls? Qualities and characteristics of their ideal man.

Now for the record, let me just state here that my ideal man would be Bruce Willis. He's tough, yet sensitive, did movies and TV successfully, and went bald proudly, all the while remaining popular and attractive. But I digress.

Where does this idea of a list come from? Is it from some movie? Or something your mother tells you? Is it something you start at slumber parties? Or does it come from some teen magazine? Is this what girls do when you go to the restroom together, unfold your pieces of paper and compare lists?

The lists that I've been privy to contain such things as physical characteristics, what kind of job he would have, to even more trivial things like he has to be able to play the guitar, be able to drive a stick shift, and must like football. OK, so the last one isn't trivial at all. Actually, let's make that the last two.

I've never written out a list. (And clearly that's working out well for me.) I think with guys maybe it's more of a mental list. I remember when I was a kid, my ideal woman was Farrah Fawcett. (And kinda still is.) I always thought blondes were prettier than brunettes. I even liked Bo Duke more than Luke because he had blonde hair.

But when I think about it, as I've grown up (physically if not mentally), I've hardly dated any girls with blonde hair. Only a couple come to mind, and they weren't naturally blonde.

My thought is that our lists change over time. Some things we're looking for stay the same. But as we mature, hopefully we realize trivial things aren't important. Some relationships might even open us up to new things and make us realize we were limiting ourselves before.

I won't attempt to make a list here. But there are some things that I look for, and I've always looked for, that I know deep down I couldn't be happy without. Honesty. Trust. Respect. Similar interests and beliefs. Interesting conversation.

I always pictured a relationship where we would stand by each other thru thick and thin. An us against the world mentality. That no matter who or what was against us, as long as we had each other, we would make it. You know, kinda like Luke and Laura.

Do you have a list? Or did you? What was on it? And how has it changed over the years?

"If my break never came like I thought it would, Honey would you stand by me?"

pour down

rain sliding off the rooftops
hardly anybody on the street today
anybody who is is running for cover
except for me, but i'm not exactly sane

i ain't worried about getting wet
that's the least of the thoughts in my head
i'm just thinking about what we had
what we did and what we said

pour down on me
wash these blues away
cleanse my soul and my memory
make me forget
on my knees i pray

thought of stopping at a payphone
then i realized who i would call
gave my change to a homeless man instead
then emptied my pockets and gave him all

pour down on me
wash these blues away
cleanse my soul and my memory
make me forget
on my knees i pray

and i stare at the lights in the windows
and i wonder what secrets they hold
and i know i've done bad bad things
all i'm asking for is one more chance now

"I've loved like I should, but lived like I shouldn't. I had to lose everything to find out..."

Fair weather

I went to a county fair last night. Actually, had to work there. No, not operating the Zipper. There's a lot to like about a fair. Many-colored lights, spinning rides, games, and of course, the food. Cotton candy, corn dogs, funnel cakes, and my item of choice last eve. The candy apple.

I also enjoyed a live performance by 1980's country superstar Earl Thomas Conley. Go ahead, google it, I'll wait...

Fairs signal the arrival of fall. Or something. People always ask your favorite season. And I can't remember what I usually say. I like winter because of Christmas, and the ever-dwindling hope of seeing a snowflake. And summer for the beach. But if I really think about it, there's more I like about fall that probably any other season.

There's football, of course. And long sleeves. And the changing colors. And did I mention football?

The only problem with fall is that it doesn't really last three months here. More like three weeks, maybe. The first part is usually still hot. And the last part is cold. There are only a few weeks of that perfect crisp coolnees in the air.

If the year was compared to a day, to me, fall would be the sunset. The most beautiful part. But far too short.

I'm getting out of town this weekend. I've been a bit melancholy at times this week. Still missing something. Still recovering. Driving helps. Somehow.

I like the thought of putting miles behind me. Even with no destination in mind.

"I could have been anyone you see. She's nothing but porcelain underneath her skin. American girls, all weather and noise..."

Three Word Wednesday #3

(Ms. Sizzle wrote an amazing post yesterday. I'm not often moved to tears when I'm reading, but... Read it if you have a minute.)

Each week, I will post three (or more) random words. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something using all of those words. It can be a few lines, a story, a poem, anything. Don't spend too much time on it. It doesn't have to be perfect. The idea is to let your mind wander and write what it will. I'll also write something using the same three words.

Be sure to leave a comment if you participate.

This week's words are:
initiate
holiday
snow

I picture a December 23rd. There's a fireplace. A slowly dying fire crackling. And a big picture window. With snow falling from heaven. And a girl. Lying on the sofa. Sleeping.

We've been out shopping all day. Getting last minute gifts. Then had dinner with friends. Friends we won't see again until after the holidays. When we get home, we decide to watch Miracle On 34th Street, my most favorite of all Christmas movies. She is asleep before the parade is done. Poor thing. She must be exhausted.

The movie is over and I get up to turn off the television, careful not to disturb her. I decide not to wake her. Just let her sleep. One last night of peaceful rest before I initiate her into the production that is my family's holiday routine tomorrow.

I put out the fire and take one long last look outside. Living in the South, it's only the second white Christmas I ever recall. The snow is so peaceful. Cleansing. Silencing God's creation.

I get a throw from the chair and steal a pillow from behind her on the sofa. Then I sit down on the floor. My back against the sofa. And put the pillow behind me. I'll sleep here tonight. Wanting to be there whenever she wakes up. Not wanting to be away from her even for a moment.

I turn and watch her for awhile. And wonder what she's dreaming. And wonder how I got so lucky. Then I turn back toward the window. And pull the cover tighter around me. Wanting to stay awake as long as I can to watch the snow. I remember thinking just before I doze off that miracles do still occur.

"Thru the window I can see snow begin to fall. Knowing you're in love with me is the greatest gift of all..."

Tales from the South

What's the deal with brunch? I mean, if it's a combination of breakfast and lunch, how come there's no lupper? Or linner?

Had dinner Sunday with the family. Or lunch, as the case may be. One time I said I was going to explain the whole lunch/dinner/supper thing and proper uses of each in the South.

It's not that difficult really. Lunch is always the meal in the middle of the day. Supper is always the last meal of the day. Dinner can refer to either, depending on day and circumstance.

Since we did eat at a sit-down restaurant Sunday, it may be called dinner. But can also still be called lunch. Had we just gone thru the drive-thru at McDonald's, that could only have been called lunch. You can't have dinner at McDonald's at 12 Noon. Make sense?

Likewise, if you're going out to a nice restaurant in the evening, you may say "I'm going out to dinner." Rather than "I'm going out to supper."

However, if your mother is cooking for the last meal of the day, it is more common to say, "Momma is cooking supper." If she's cooking lunch on Saturday or Sunday, it is more common to say, "Momma is cooking dinner." Got it? If you have further questions, you may ask them in the comments. Or, we could just call it linner.

My sister's husband got pulled over and given a warning for having the tint too dark on his truck. Is that just an Alabama thing? I'm not really sure. I don't do it, but a lot of people do.

Every small town and county around here seems to have a tint guy. He does it in his garage or under the shed out behind his house. And he usually has a nickname like Rock, or Peanut, or Bear. No one knows what his other job is, or if he even has one. And no one asks.

Driving to lunch, I passed a house with a hand-painted sign in the front yard that read: "Chickens 5 for $5." Is that a good price? I wonder if I could haggle and get a better price.

I miss haggling. We went to a high school football game a couple of weeks ago, and I talked the lady selling programs down from $3 to $2. That's something. I guess.

In other news, since marriage is so obviously imminent, I have been thinking about baby names lately. For my children, whenever I may have them. I've always liked my Dad's father's first name, Taylor, for a girl. However, my Dad's mother's name is Myrtle. And that just doesn't work.

But I found out at linner Sunday that her middle name was Sarina. I really like that and I thought it a cool name for someone born in the early 1900's. (Teddy Roosevelt. Mount Rushmore. Trustbusters. Represent!)

So I'm thinking if and when I have kids, I'll name the girl Taylor Sarina. And of course the boy will be named Seven. Pending approval of their mother.

"Smiling in the bright lights. Coming thru in stereo. When everybody loves you, you can never be lonely..."

Kissing OCD

I'm guest blogging over at Pia's this weekend. She's taking a blogging break to write her first book. Once she gets her book deal, I believe she is taking me out to Caridad's for some delcious flan to show her appreciation. It's my first time to guest blog anywhere, so check it out when you have a chance.

So I was kissing a girl the other day...

I pull back, thinking we're done. She moves in for two more small pecks. I pause, then curiously ask, "Did you just count to ten?"
"Yes," she admits, sounding as if she's wondering where I'm going with this.
"You were counting kisses! And you couldn't stop at eight."
"I had to get to ten... and how would you know unless you were counting, too!"

She was right. Yes, my friends, I'm afraid it's true. My name is Bone. And I count kisses.

It's all part of my OCD. Perhaps you remember. The volume on my TV can't be left on 13 or any multiple thereof. My bedroom and closet doors have to be closed before I go to sleep at night. And on and on.

Let me tell you a little about our organization. Numbers are very important to us. I can give one kiss. Or three kisses. Or five kisses. Or ten kisses. But not six kisses or seven kisses. Why? Well, I'm not sure. Research is still being done in these areas.

And the acceptable numbers are different for different people. Although ten is usually a safe bet with most any OCD'er. In our example above, I was OK with stopping at eight kisses. I felt it was a nice even number. But my partner was not. Therefore, she moved in to push the kiss count up to ten. And in turn, give balance to her universe.

So think about that the next time you're kissing someone and they move in for an extra peck or two. It could mean they really like you and can't get enough. Or, they could just be counting to ten. Or five.

That's all for now. I'm off to bed. Right after I turn off the computer speakers, make sure both doors are locked, check to make sure the iron is unplugged even though I haven't ironed in days, make sure the bedroom and closet doors are closed, make sure the volume on the TV is not set on 26, and triple check the alarm clock to make sure it's on and set to AM and not PM.

"There's something about her. And you don't know why, but you're dying to try. You wanna kiss the girl..."

Three Word Wednesday #2

Each week, I will post three (or more) random words. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something using all of those words. It can be a few lines, a story, a poem, anything. Don't spend too much time on it. It doesn't have to be perfect. The idea is to let your mind wander and write what it will. I'll also write something using the same three words. Be sure to leave a comment if you participate.

This week's words are:
drop
slow
arms

Her movements were slow. Almost painfully so. It broke my heart to see her like this. I remembered so many days before when she was active. Vibrant. But not now. Now she walked in small steps. Careful. Measured. Her hands tightly gripping the silver metallic walker.

We began up the sidewalk. A determined look on her face. Tears behind both our eyes, I was sure. Then she tripped. The walker caught on a raised place on the sidewalk. She began to fall. Following closely beside her, I reached out and caught her.

I saw her countenance begin to drop. I wrapped my arms tightly around her and kicked the walker to the side. "Let's just go inside. That's enough for today."
"No," she said weakly, tears in her voice. "I have to do this. I have to get better. Will you please pick it up for me?"

I leaned over and brought the walker back to an upright position. And she began again. More determined than ever. One foot in front of the other. I thought how easily we take that for granted. Or at least how easily I had. But not now. And not ever again.

"If you're lost, you can look and you will find me, time after time. If you fall, I will catch you..."