Saturday, March 6, 2010

The Lone Ranger

There is a cowboy, he lives on the range. His horse and his cattle are his only companions. The tune rolls through my mind. Pervades my thoughts. Random moments deep into the black night. Up with the dawn. Ever since my posting the other day about tripping at the feet of sweet baby James in the spring of my youth.

A part of me has always wanted a cowboy. The essence of one really. One of those stronger than iron menfolk who could wrangle calves (or deals) during the day then two step across the bar room floor as gracefully as Nureyev. Oh so smart. And funny. And refined. And sensitive. Okay. Okay. None of those coexist in a cowboy. Or, most men for that matter.

So THAT is where I have screwed up. Attributes at odds. Taming a bucking bronco is easier. Essentially I'm fucked. Have been on the proverbial lookout for one of those bad boys for the past couple of decades. But hey ... I can't settle down. So why should he? Too many adventures. Too many trail rides into the sunset. Too many distractions. So I am riding solo. The worn leather reins tightly held in my fist, the smell of wildflowers in my hair. My tan suede cowgirl boots swinging. Independent. Vibrant. Sensual. But not (and I repeat not) needy.

Lookin' For Love In All The Wrong Places

That's it. Johnny Lee crooned about my plight. I have been looking for love in all the wrong places. Or, I am too strong to be attractive to a ranch hand. Relax, L'il Lady. Whoa! Slow down. But hey. This Kentucky girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. First I headed to the big apple. Then bean town. Then back to the big apple. Lord knows there are manly men up here. Kind of. Next stop Oklahoma. The edge of the prairie. But my damn brains keep getting in the way. Tripping over them. Several times. A girl has to make a living. And the business world was where I prospered. No one believed I am ambidextrous. Can bring home the bacon, cook it and serve it with a flourish!

Now it is nearly a decade later and I reside along the sea. Quietly. Too quietly. There is an energy buzz urging me to get back out there before it is too late. I bide my time, planning. As responsibilities lessen, I will continue distant travel ... exotic discoveries.

In the meantime I still have four states to visit. Three of which I might do this summer. A quick train ride across North Dakota and Montana then drop down to Oregon. Fly back. Photograph and write along the way. Hawaii can wait until I head east to Asia again. Or (or maybe that is 'and') I can pop over to Nova Scotia in my trusty Volvo exploring. Wanderlust propels me. That and the ubiquitous search for the lone cowboy who is man enough for this gal. And who will ride by my side into eternity. Or not. Like him I love the solitude and the pink-red sky right before it turns purple black glittering with a zillion tiny lights across the horizon. Oh baby!

Mama, Don't Let Your Sons Grow Up To Be Cowboys

Cheers ... to my cowboy! Or maybe Waylon and Willie set his mama straight and she didn't let her baby grow up to be a cowboy after all.


  1. Yeah, cowboys look all attractive on the outside . . . and they do lead a life that's kind of romantic . . . but I think, for the most part, they're too traditional for the likes of us independent women. We who don't NEED men as much as we WANT men in our lives.

    First time to your blog, and I love your writing.

  2. Welcome! Delighted that you visited. Make yourself at home. Pour a little something something and kick back. More to come at the beginning of the week.