Being a February
baby, my birthday's usually involve long underwear and searching for
winter ground with decent footing to ride. Spending the day in a tank
top was a first...and definitely not the last.
Another first
involved my youngest son, Blake. Every year Blake calls to wish me
happy birthday in his rushed, competitive tone. “Morning
Momacita..what'chadoinghappybirthday has anybody else called? Am I
the first? Every year I have to tell him that his brother or sister
beat him to it. “DANGIT!” Blake is my trophy boy. If there isn't
the chance of a blue ribbon at the end of it...he's got better things
to do. Only he can turn a birthday wish into a competition. This year
was no different. Blake's “rawhide” ringtone let me know that my
baby boy was calling to wish me a happy birthday. “Good morning
momacita! Happy Birthday! What'cha doing...am I the first? Has Athena
or Dillon called yet?”
It did my heart
good to finally be able to tell him that he was indeed the first
person to wish me happy birthday. “YESSSSS!...ok, well, have a good
one” Click.
The first thing on
my birthday list was to visit Sam the Saguaro – the first cacti I
befriended upon arrival. I took the dogs to see Sam on our morning
walk. Sam isn't much of a talker but he does have a sense of humor.
He wished me happy birthday by photo bombing rabbit ears over my head
during a selfie.
Patty and I drove
to TSC in Wickenburg to measure the fender for my trailer one more
time. This would be my third trip in to measure that damn thing. No
matter which way I measured – the fender was not going to fit. It
wasn't a total waste of a trip – I'd walked out of the store the
day before without paying for my propane. I made right the great
propane heist and headed back to Aguila.
I didn't see the
text from Dave asking me to let him know if the fender wasn't the
right size until we got back. It must have been a rhetorical request.
I found him hammering dents out of the aluminum fender I would have
tossed in the ditch if it were not for an aversion to littering. What
looked like a wadded up piece of tin foil was now straighten over the
tandem wheels looking nearly good as new. A few more taps of the
hammer, a couple of self tapping screws and some calking and you
would have to look pretty hard to tell anything happened. Patty
suggested we add to Dave's business card:
Dave
Crandall
Handy
Man and Auto Body Repair Services
“Specializing
in Damsels In Distress”
Normally
it is my neighbor who has to bail me out of all my misadventures and
fix whatever I've managed to break that week. It appears that job has
fallen to Dave. I'm kind of wondering if my neighbor isn't sending him
money every week to keep me here so he can have a break! If your going to have friends...they might as well be friends
with skills.
Gary
and Stevie from across the road at Silver Bit came over along with
Bob, Jeff and Roger to rope. I helped Stevie run the shoot while the
boys got in some practice heading and healing. Blue eye will run left
on you. White tail is a runner. As much noise as Blackie makes in the
shoot you would think he'd be a runner...but he's more of a
walker/trotter. Panda likes his ears scratched and Little Red makes
the saddest moaning noise you've ever heard. I scratch his nose and
tell him it's going to be ok. He licks my hand. Yes, I have them all
named. What do you expect...I named a cactus.
They
ran the steers through several times before putting them up. Bob
stayed to rope Smarty the roping dummy. I had nothing to do with that
name, he came that way. If it had been up to me, I would have called
him Maxwell. (Maxwell Smart...get it?)
I
volunteered to pull Smarty around the arena. Seems like an easy task.
Drive the side-by-side around in a big circle while somebody ropes
the horns or hind feet. Nope. Just when I think I'm getting the hang
of it – somebody wants you to speed up, slow down...speed up coming
into the corners but slow down going out of them....or the other way
around. I was so confused. I need clarification: SO, you want me to
slow down or speed up at the apex of the corner? Crickets. Team
ropers know the exact weight, dimension and material required for the
perfect swing...but don't bother asking about such things as an apex.
They give you kind of a funny look. I had to admit defeat and pretend
like I'm from Missouri: “Show me.” Dave gave a quick Smarty the
dummy steer demo on where to speed up and slow down to teach a horse
not to overrun a steer...”cuz that can get you killed.”
Dragging
Smarty around is dusty work – but it's kind of fun. Plus – there
is the added benefit of picking up on roping pointers. I started to
learn to rope about 30 years ago. My spouse wasn't the most patient
person and I wasn't the most receptive when it came to him telling me
what to do. I don't take well to being yelled at – intentional or
perceived. My roping career ended in a cloud of dust and a few choice
words.
I had
to get a quick ride in. Who knows what horrors might occur should I
miss my birthday ride. I saddled Jack and towed J'Lo and went for a
quick run up a sandy wash. Jack sailed up that wash like a powerful
jet-ski and every bit as smooth. You would think the deep sand would
bog him down but it doesn't. He loves to run. We probably should
have gotten into endurance.
Spending
my birthday dinner at the Coyote Den was akin to wearing Dollar Store
Underwear. Cindy would not hear of it. Dave rounded up his girls and
drove us to Cowboy Cookin' for dinner. As much as I like the Coyote
–I doubt they had bacon wrapped shrimp on the menu. OMG – so
good. They serve rolls to die for, too. Dave is a roll
connoisseur. “You poke a hole in them like this...then you fill it
with a gob of butter like this...kind of smash it together and let it
set until the butter melts. Then you pick it up like this and EAT
IT!” Dave is very enthusiastic about his Cowboy Cook'in rolls. I
don't blame him – I didn't want to be rude or I would have eaten
the entire basket.
I
don't know if I was having hot flashes (I'm a year older, it's bound
to happen) or if I was suffering the effects of the Hawaiian Cowboy I
ordered to drink. It had Pendleton, coconut, sprite and something
that turns it Smurf blue. I'm in denial with the whole hot flash
thing so going with the Hawaiian Cowboy theory.
The
Cowboy Cookin staff brought out a dish of ice – cream with one
candle in it (fire code and all) and sung Happy Birthday before we
headed for home. A bouquet of candy bars in a cute smiley face vase
waited for me in my trailer from Patty. There were 5 candy bars and a
bag of cookies. There are four of us. You can't easily split 6 items
among 4 people evenly...so I ate two of them. Dave has his OCD...I
have mine.
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