you don't secede....try, try again

I'm one of them.

Sometimes it's the teeny tiniest, most fleeting things in life that make me happy. :)

on a trail at Dinosaur Valley. Reference was one of the photos I tookof him there. It was a beautiful, magical day.

Dean Kelsey Wylie

April 1, 1912 - August 14, 2007

I attended the funeral of my Great Uncle Dean last week, who passed away at the age of 95. He was one of the last remaining true cowboys. He worked and managed a ranch until he retired. Anybody that had any kind of ranching question for miles around would call on Uncle Dean, he always had the answer.

It was a “graveside only” service in a very small, very old cemetery - the kind that if you happen to pass by on a dirt road way out in the country, you might think it were a forgotten place, with the old, tiny deserted white church at the top of the hill and the randomly scattered tombstones below, some of which are merely natural rocks with no inscription on them. Most of the people buried there are my family.

When I was choosing what to wear for the funeral, I picked out a pair of black pants, a black shirt, pearls and conservative black heels… I haven’t ever worn pants to a funeral, but I somehow felt it was the right thing to wear this time. When I arrived, the lane and the area by the old church at the top of the hill was lined with almost nothing but dusty trucks, and when I looked down into the cemetery, I saw a group of people, almost all of whom I am related to…. Many cowboy hats, all of the men in their jeans and boots, and most of the women were wearing black pants, with the exception of a few very elderly women in dresses. There were a number of little girls, my nieces included, wearing pretty pastel dresses and running and playing under the oak trees. One of my Uncle Dean’s great granddaughters was wearing a pretty yellow dress and was squatting on the ground, looking at something, her sun -streaked brown hair glistened while her skirt fanned out perfectly around her, and from where I stood I thought how she looked like a big sunflower, and with my nieces flitting around her in pink and blue, they looked like little butterflies.

When I reached the bottom of the hill, my little brother turned around and grinned, and said “Hi, Big Sister”, we hugged, and then after being squeezed around the legs by my nieces and hugging my nephew, I endured the dragging around by my mother and being re-introduced to all of my cousins, old and young, for the umpteenth jillionth time… and the “You remember when you were three and you two did this and that….” and of course we smiled, nodded, and pretended to remember.

This was my Mammy’s older brother, he was exactly ten years her senior, and she thought he hung the moon. I made my way to her, and we held each other for a while, and she told me a story about them feeding the horses when he was 15 and she was 5 and she got mad at him and hit him with the feed bucket and he good -naturedly said, “Now, Olie, stop being ugly and mean, and come ride my horse with me”, and he put her on the horse and took her riding. She tells many stories of how good natured and what a good brother he was. I only knew him as an older man, but I never saw him when he wasn’t laughing, joking, or telling a funny cowboy story.

The service began with everyone removing their hats, and it was short and sweet. Some storm clouds rolled over and threatened rain, it was dark for a short time, but they rolled right along, gave way to the sun and not a drop spilled from the sky. Some of the older women opened their colorful umbrellas and used them as parasols to block the sun. The preacher told about how Dean and his wife, Beth, were in the same nursing home for a short time (they were in the same room), shortly before Beth passed away she said to Dean “I’m getting really tired, I don’t think I can do this much longer.” He said, “You go right along, honey, I’ll be right behind you.“ She "went right along" not much after that, and he passed away exactly five months later.

The preacher read some of Dean's favorite passages from the Bible, told how he enjoyed leading the singing at church, and then we sang his two favorite songs, "Trust and Obey", and "Just Over in the Glory Land". He then read what Beth had written about her husband before she died. She wrote “Dean loved his children and his grandchildren, he loved playing dominoes with them. He loved his horses and his dogs, and he loved coconut banana cake, and he really loved his chewing tobacco."

The preacher then closed his Bible, looked up from it at us, grinned and said “So, the moral of this story is, if you chew tobacco, you might live to be 95, too. Let us pray.” We all laughed and bowed our heads, and after “Amen”, all the hats went up in perfect timing and found their respective places as if it were choreographed that way, the children immediately broke free and began to play again. The casket was opened and I was happy to see he was going with his hat in his hand.

As we made our way back up the hill and to our trucks to go to the church to see who would be first to get to the fried chicken…. I looked back down the hill at the straggling children who were being called to come along by their mothers, and the little girl in the yellow dress was spinning around happily and laughing, her skirt flying out around her…and I thought…. All great cowboys should be sent to heaven with laughing, twirling sunflowers.

It was the first funeral I ever attended where I didn’t shed a tear. And then I laughed because at the church my Daddy was serving as one of the “tea ladies”, and after I asked which was the sweet tea and he just grinned and pointed, I said “Daddy, you make a good “tea lady”.

Until we meet again, Uncle Dean. :)

This is from a beautiful photograph Dave took. (as most of his photographs are... exceptionally beautiful) I'm happy that he gave me permission to paint it, I enjoyed it so.

Thank you for sharing it with me, Dave. :)

I took an intermission between revisions and went to Surfside Beach for a week. :D

Inspired by the man with the hands


Well I don't know where they come from
But they sure do come
I hope they're comin' for me
And I don't know how they do it
But they sure do it good
I hope they're doin' it for free

They give me cat scratch fever
Cat scratch fever

Well the first time that I got it
I was just 10 years old
I got it from some kitty next door
Well I went and seen the doctor
And he gave me the cure
I think I got it some more

They give me cat scratch fever
Cat scratch fever
I got it bad scratch fever
Cat scratch fever

It's nothin' dangerous
I feel no pain
I got to cha-cha change
You know you got it
When your'e goin' insane
It makes a grown man cry,cry
Oh won't you make my bed

Well I make a pussy purr
With the stroke of my hand
They know they're gettin' it from me
And they know just where to go
When they need their lovin' man
They know I'm doin' it for free

I give 'em cat scratch fever
Cat scratch fever
They got it bad scratch fever

Cat scratch fever
Cat scratch fever
Cat scratch fever
Cat scratch fever
Cat scratch fever

Ted Nugent

We were born to mothers who smoked and drank
Our cribs were covered in lead-based paint
No childproof lids
No seatbelts in cars
Rode bikes with no helmets
and still here we are
Still here we are

We got daddy's belt when we misbehaved
Had three TV channels you got up to change
No video games and no satellite
All we had were friends and they were outside
Playing outside

It was a different life
When we were boys and girls
Not just a different time
It was a different world

School always started the same everyday
the pledge of allegiance, then someone would pray
not every kid made the team when they tried
We got disappointed but that was all right
We turned out all right

It was a different life
When we were boys and girls
Not just a different time
It was a different world

No bottled water
We drank from a garden hose
And every Sunday,
All the stores were closed.

It was a different life
When we were boys and girls
Not just a different time
It was a different world

It was a different life
When we were boys and girls
Not just a different time
It was a different world

Bucky Covington

I tried to paint my baby brother's highway patrol car (some of you were unfortunate enough to get a glimpse of my attempt) I gave up on it, I just couldn't get the wheels right. This http://new.photos.yahoo.com/deadlyblondearcher/album/576460762310485368/photo/294928803036212293/0 was the car I was painting. He came over day before yesterday to have lunch with me, I took a picture of him with his current car... it's thishttp://new.photos.yahoo.com/deadlyblondearcher/album/576460762310485368/photo/294928804383901133/7 ugly Ford with ugly rims, :O ANYWAY.... so I'm painting his badge, instead.

I know it seems relatively boring and rather "sterile" for a piece of art, but I really wanted to do it, so I AM. :)

is soooooooooo sexy. :)