Flashbacks

You take what you can get when you're out in the middle of nowhere. Since

I didn't know the "Wedding March", I played "Amazing Grace" at Dick and Jay's 1986

cowcamp wedding. My kids were in the "nursery". (Folded down club cab seat)

Moving means going through everything. I'd do better if I'd just pitch boxes that haven't been opened since 3 or 4 moves ago! But they might contain treasures, or maybe my mat cutting board that seemed to have disappeared the last move. For sure they contain distracting... Flashbacks.

1986. Manager, Marion Cross, our Preacher, Steve Sturgeon, the bride and

groom, Julia and Dick Slater, Dean Deide, and...oops, senior moment...

I have found pictures I forgot I had. Priceless treasures. Funny, cute, horrible, crazy.  The other day the girls were looking at old photos with 2-yr old Braxton. I only caught a small snippet of the conversation, but it went something like this: Kristy, "Who's that?" Braxton's reply: "Anna".

 I didn't realize it, but he was looking at a picture of ME, Grandma. I'm flattered. At least Anna didn't freak out! It must have been an OLD one!

I used to sew. I came down to headquarters one night when Ray was

gone, and sewed these shirts at the kitchen table. Until 5 a.m. Guess it's
a good thing I was there. I emptied the same mousetrap 5 times that night.

Ray's been building fence, and getting ready to build an arena. Today I was going through some 1986 photos and found the ground-breaking pictures of our cowcamp arena. He's built an arena every place we've ever lived. Sometimes with help, but usually by himself.

Don Reese, Dean Deide, Clyde Kenyon, Dick Slater, and Ray
building arena at cowcamp, 1986.

At Sage Creek he turned the old lambing pen into an arena and built a roping chute.I gut bucked off there when Ray's hat flew off in front of my high strung mare. Clayton was about 3 months old, and our irrigators, Jose' and his two sons, were watching him while they watched us rope. I'll never forget as I lay there trying to pry my lungs open, how concerned they were:  "Esposa! Esposa! they yelled at Ray as he thundered on down the arena. They got to me before he did.

 At headquarters we picked rocks--and rocks--and more rocks,  in the rockiest corner pen of the feedlot. He built roping boxes and another chute. It seemed to hatch rocks everytime we used it, so mostly the kids practiced gymkhana events there where we could just clear paths instead of the whole arena.

At summer cowcamp he and the crew fenced a pen behind the barn, plowed up the sod, built roping boxes--and another roping chute. Ray and I leased a few longhorns for practice, but they had way too much to eat and ran like racehorses. Ray's heading horse was about the only one that could catch them, so we ended up putting the neck ropes on in the chute so at least the horses would figure out how to handle a rope, and that the object of the game was not just to thunder down the arena.

The very first time we used it I was ready with my camera. First I had secured my children, 1, 3, and 4. Or at least I thought I had. I had given 3-yr old Kristy a peanut butter & jelly sandwich and set her up on her old faithful horse, Old Yeller. I parked them in a corner out of the way, then went out to the middle of the arena to take photos.

I was focused on the header and heeler, but before I even realized what had happened, Old Yeller blew by me. Kristy was laying flat on her back, her PBJ still in her hand, trying to get the wind back that had been knocked out of her.

I didn't know Yeller had been a rope horse in his day! I guess even horses have flashbacks.