No New Address

(Updated—Click on the thumbnail for the bigger, better version)

Someone new to my blog might deduce that I live either in a horse barn or somewhere on Highway 58. Nope. I haven't moved. No pun intended there. Calling what I feel "restless" would be a disservice to the English language. At least, I can find a small silver lining. Whenever I can sit at the computer, I do spend time combing through old folders for those files that I passed over for one reason, or another. I am clinging to that old wisdom (or is it wishful thinking): "When one door closes, another opens." Heck, I am up for testing the windows at this point!

Looking forward to the next small show in the teeming community of the Tehachapi Valley, I have purchased some metal easels through Amazon. they are sufficient for my needs, but gee, could they only find beginner welders? Not ready for prime time. Another two easels that The Husband picked for me when he was in LA will have to be returned. They are too heavy for me to handle. It is difficult for him—or anyone else—to imagine how little weight I can muscle around.

Since the latest two purchases are a bust, I am reluctantly returning to the Internet solution. The easels are to help me be more independent with my little art show obsession, and I am still a couple short. I have a little time to research, but burn out pretty quickly shopping online. Let's face it. I burn out quickly with any sort of shopping. It is a nasty chore.

On The Run

(Click on the thumbnail for the bigger, better version)

To some degree, the title is a literal reference to my recent life—on the run back and forth to Los Angeles and Bakersfield. There was a trip to have stitches removed and more than one trip for physical therapy.

However, the reference is mostly to my state of mind. Having had it up to here with recoveries from surgeries, I have been spending most of my time either curled in a fetal position deep in the caverns of my mind, or struggling—in vain—to outrun reality.

None of these activities is a particularly productive or enjoyable use of one's short time on this planet. Not surprisingly, I coincidentally discovered that I have absolutely zero aptitude for photography. Phhhht! Forget talent. It dawned on me that I am not even a decent craftsman.

Not only have I been wasting my time snapping away, while I drool on a perfectly good piece of equipment and roll my eyes like some deranged creature, I have actually printed some of this garbage and used valuable resources that surely could have been put to better use.

To compound matters, I have recognized that I am hopelessly old and feeble and will probably never again be able to do much of anything worthwhile. I have more aches and pains than Methuselah ever knew and it isn't going to get better any time soon.

Other than these few distractions, I have been fine. How about you?

Okay, if you aren't laughing by now, I am disappointed in both of us.

I wish I could have reappeared with a cheery post bubbling with stories about a wondrous holiday vacation trip and giddy about all the things I saw. In the end, I decided to 'fess up and admit where I have been.

No sympathy comments, please, unless you are willing to swear you have been there—and be sure to include a laugh line. All jokes, cheerful jibes, and ridicule will be welcomed with gratitude.

Kern County Cowboys

Apparently, when Waylon and Willie were singing "Mama, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys", they didn't get through to some mamas in Kern County. There are quite a few cattle ranchers up here. On our way to the DMV, earlier this week, we passed a bunch of cowboys branding calves and just had to steal a couple of minutes to take in the sights. The scene we saw was a rare treat for us. We see lots of cattle roaming the hills up here, but we have never run across a work day like the one we encountered that morning. There were half a dozen horse trailers parked off to the side and quite a good collection of riders along with those working on the ground.

It was fascinating to watch everyone work. No hotdogging, no drama, just getting the job done—roping, branding, castrating, vaccinating, all the jobs that have to be taken care of with each batch of new calves. The calves were squalling and their mamas were bawling—afraid for their babies. But, in the midst of the smoke, the dust, and the bawling the cowboys and cowgirls seemed to be in good spirits.

We parked across the road and watched the folks work for a bit before we had to scoot. We were hoping they might still be there when we came their way again. But, the crew was too efficient. By the time we got back the place was cleaned up, and you would never know that all those people and all those cattle had been there a couple of hours earlier.