Monday, March 09, 2009
Country Plowboy and a Texas Woman
Somethin' like that. My bent bein' to look to the past, why, let's go!
"I'm a country plow boy, not an Urban Cowboy," Hank Williams Jr. sang in the song linked below, and it rang true for me.
'Cause it was a real farm I grew up on, 150 or so acres around the house, and another few hundred acres a few miles away in the Arkansas River bottoms.
It wadn't some "acreage" in an exurb.
Somebody around here called this place a "gated community" the other day. If there's a gate here, in my mind it's an aluminum cattle-pen gate hung between two corner posts latched with rusty balin' wire.
Now, I do live in a suburb, goin' on 10 years -- and we moved to it so Bird, my redheaded redneck stepgal, could continue her cello instruction.
If it'd been up to me, we'da landed where I might could have some livestock-type critters. But it didn't happen.
Kills me that I can't get my pickup into my back yard, 'cause there's no alley and not enough room between the dang houses to get back there from the front.
Then, later in life -- and back to the song -- to be specifical, my boot-scootin' dancehall days in Texas, this tune became an anthem. I did "love" me some Texas wimmin.
Then, I caught one fer good in Dr. ER. :-)
Not in a dancehall. On line, when she was finishin' up her pee aytch dee at Oklahoma State.
It all just beat all I'd ever thought up and it still does.
Here's ol Bocephus:
I have set aside all alkyhol for Lent. And I'm feeling particularly confined by life otherwise. I am goona need some post-Easter hell-raisin'! :-)
it's time to chill, read, and burrow into my studies.. enough trying to talk on blogs that don't share my assumptions for now.. maybe later.. but now i need time for me. i'm glad i've found another brother in arms. RAWK!