This morning, I saw my first armadillo since my sister picked me up at Houston's Hobby airport and drove us 3 hours deeper into Texas. The prehistoric looking critter was ambling around out by the burn pile this morning. He finally waddled off into the woods and that was the end of that

A bobcat crossed the road on my way to town Friday. Before that, I saw an animal that I didn't even know existed. It was like seeing a unicorn. I almost couldn't believe it. It was a solid white deer. Others in town said they were rare but real.

I take that deer sighting as a good omen. It's been quite a ride since I arrived in the deep, deep South. One man was trying to tell me he wanted to sell a 'fakir' so many times I finally had to ask him to spell it. Turns out, he was trying to say 'half acre' but had condensed it to five letters.

It is nothing short of code talking here at times. "The devil's whipping his wife," one man announced. After a moments thought, I remembered that to mean that it is raining while the sun is shining. We dress funny. We talk funny. I love us.

It's not enough to wear a belt buckle. It doesn't even count if it doesn't look like the door off a Corvette. Hats are de riguer and it's only gonna be a Resistol or Bailey-only tourists were Stetsons. And if it wasn't for those same tourists, I don't think there would be a single sale of Lone Star Beer. It's Coors, Coors, Coors with an occasional Bud as these folks are the most brand loyal I have ever known.

One time, some jean company, Levi Strauss I think, tried to lure the cowboys away from their Wranglers by offering a $100 bonus if the winning rider in the rodeo was wearing its brand when he won. Someone got a huge pair of that brand and hung it on a hook in the area behind the announcer called the 'bucking shoots." Each cowboy pulled them on over his Wranglers and rode out wearing them tied up with a rope. That meant someone was gonna win the Benjamin and he was obligated to use it to buy beer at the bar later, Coors of course.

The horse shown below is a former champion, now retired. He lives on the property where I am staying and I was told he brought home many of those shiny buckles that cowpeople wear as trophies of rodeo wins. His name is Lynx and he's over 20 years old but that doesn't stop him from bucking around in the pasture before a storm.

Let the ride go on. I am Cowgirling Up in the Lone Star State, SherryD



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