Christmas Sermon

This Christmas Eve night was cold. Bitterly cold. An old cowboy was hunkered down in his line cabin on the far back side of the Lightning Ranch in West Texas. The snow had started just a little after lunch and had not let up since forming a white blanket as far as the eye could see. There was a good fire going in the old stove and the little single room cabin was gonna make it through another winter just fine. He was satisfied.

Just before dark there was a knock at the door that startled him. He seldom got visitors so his heart skipped a beat as he opened the door while his mind raced wondering who, or what, it was that would be out at this time of evening, especially in this weather.

As the door slowly opened and the dim light of the cabin flooded the person standing there, he immediately recognized the Preacher. "Evenin', would it be possible for me to warm up a bit before trying to make it to town? It's plenty cold and I'd be very grateful," asked the Preacher.

"By all means Preacher, please come in. Don't just warm up, heck spend the night and go on to town in the mornin'." Offered the cowboy as the Preacher stepped in the cabin shaking off the chill. After a few minutes of pleasantries and idle conversation a quiet fell over the little cabin with nothing but the sound of crackling fire from the stove. A few minutes passed and the Preacher made a proposition.

"Since it is Christmas Eve and we seem to have run out of things to talk about, I was wondering if it would be ok if I gave my Christmas Morning sermon? I have it all worked out and it would do me some good to practice it one more time plus I bet you are working tomorrow morning and won't have to hear it twice..."

"Of course Preacher, I think that's a great idea. I have no doubt it would do me some good to listen." Said the cowboy. With that the Preacher started in.

At about the 45 minute mark he was really rollin'.

After about an hour, he had really hit his stride and was startin' to bring it home.

The cowboy sat and listened intently, never moving. When all the fire a brimstone had been laid down, the Preacher tapered off and finished then slowly closed his Bible and silence once again filled the little cabin for a few minutes. Neither man said a word. After a few more minutes of silence the Preacher turned to the cowboy and asked him what he thought of his Christmas Sermon.

Never one to not tell it like it is, the Cowboy answered.

"Well Preacher, it was really good. There were several parts I really liked and you touched on some things I didn't know so I guess I learned something too...", the cowboy paused hoping to find the right words.

"Well, what did you not like about it son?" quizzed the Preacher.

"Well Preacher, I'll tell you like this. When I call up these cows and go to feed them a sack of feed, if just one cow shows up......I don't pour out the whole sack!"

Merry Belated Christmas,

Walker

(I had the chance to visit the Lightning Ranch, Central Texas Division, this week and I got this story there. I can't take credit for something that ain't mine. The cowboy in this story, or the Preacher, wouldn't approve of that. Thanks guys.)

It's Been Hot

It was early.



It always was. This time it was really early.



Cap's eyes opened wide as the still, dark world around him had yet to begin it's day. He rolled slowly from bed, so as not to wake Martha, and made his way to the dresser. He quickly pulled his britches on, slipped into his shirt, pulled his boots on at the door while at the same time grabbing his hat from the hat rack and eased out the door. He had been thinking about this moment for a couple of days, and now it was time.



His truck slowly pulled up next to the chicken coop on the ranch and as his headlights washed over the wire of the chicken pen, they came to rest on the door of the coop so he could see his way. He entered the chicken coop with a basket he had retrieved from the rear of the truck and went about his work gathering every egg he could find. He could hardly wait.



Daylight came to find Cap already up and at'em. He was sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee, waiting to start the day. He would get to soon enough. Martha walked into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. She quietly wondered to herself what that pot was doing in the sink, but said nothing. Cap sat a minute longer, smiled to himself, then got up and left.



Later that morning Cap was down at the horse barn when Ely came driving up. Ely was a little late this morning as he had been here recently. A couple times a week, he had made it a habit to gather the eggs from the chicken coop and take them to the men working on the drilling rig that had been running on the ranch. Ely had been by there several times and had kind of made a new buddy with the Drilling Superintendent. Most of the time not all of the eggs were eaten by the ranch hands, so there was always some left. Ely had been taking them by to the drilling guys and they sure did like them.



About that time Ely's cell phone rang in his shirt pocket. He answered it,"Hey Mike!" Mike was the Drilling Super who was Ely's new friend, "Uh, huh....uh, huh. I see...Well I don't know what to say about that...I have to say I've never even heard of that....beats the heck outta me....ok...see you later."



Ely was vexed and it was clear he was trying to wrap his mind around the news. Cap decided to help.



"What was that all about?", asked Cap.



"Well, you know I've been taking eggs to those guys and this morning I took them another batch. They just called and said that when they tried to crack'em open, they were all hard boiled!"



"Well, how in the world did that happen?" said Cap turning away to hide his excitement.



"Heck I don't know...I didn't do anything different than normal. I went to the chicken coop this morning and took'em some straight from there...how do you think that could happen?" wondered Ely truely bewildered.



Cap paused for effect, "...well Ely...Heck, it's been hot outside..." Cap could barely contain himself, but figured he'd let Ely stew a few days before telling him...some practical jokes are all about timing.





Stay Cool,

Walker

You Catch More Flies with BBQ

Cap had an uneasy feeling. The same feeling you get when you know that you lost something of value, but have no idea where you lost it. He struggled with the cobwebs in his mind to remember what he had done with it. It was one of his most prized possessions. It was one of his favorites....he had lost his pocket knife.

Ely was not much help. He couldn't remember the last time he saw Cap use it. He was trying to help as much as possible.

"Did you have it Friday?" Ely said.

"Nope. When I got home Friday evening and emptied my pockets it wasn't in there."

"What about Friday morning?"

"You know, I did have it Friday morning because I remember putting it in my pocket....wait a minute. I used it to cut my lunch up on Friday and must have left it there. I'm gonna call Cecil."

The phone rang at Cecil's BBQ Cafe. Cecil answered the phone to hear Cap's voice.

"Cecil, this is Cap out here at the ranch...Say, I was in there Friday eating lunch and I ordered a plate of that ole tough Bar-B-Que you sell...I had to take my pocket knife out to cut it up so I could chew it and I think I left my knife on the table."

"You must have the wrong number. We don't sell tough Bar-B-Que in here.", was Cecil's reply.

Cap laughed. "You know this is me Cecil, I was in your wedding."

"Wait a minute." came Cecil's reply as he fumbled around on his end of the phone.

"You mean the knife with the yellow handle...and the blade that looks like it just broke?" asked Cecil.

"Now Cecil, you know that blade ain't broke...at least it better not be!"

"It might be broke if you call up here talking about tough Bar-B-Que again!" laughed Cecil.

"I'll be in there tomorrow to pick it up. I appreciate it though...that knife is one of my favorites." said Cap.

"Be sure to come around lunch," said Cecil, "we'll have some ole tough Bar-B-Que for you."

No Lantern is Water Proof

Cap, Ely and Pete had decided that after a good Church Service, lunch and an afternoon of napping, only one other thing could polish off this almost perfect day. Tank fishing. After deciding what time to leave so they could meet down at the tank and all three of them each rummaging around to find their old beat up tackle boxes, their near perfect Sunday was coming to a completion.

Each one of them had taken their turns catching some nice bass and then throwing them back. Everyone was in a good mood and no one wanted to leave even though it was starting to get pretty dark. That's when Cap had an idea.

"Heck boys, we can keep fishing as long as we want to. I've got one of them old-time kerosene lanterns in the tool box. I'll fire that dude up and we'll just stay after it for a little longer."Cap offered.

Everyone agreed that was a great idea. Cap left his fishing pole and walked down the little wooden dock to the truck so he could get the lantern and was back in just a minute. He checked to make sure the lantern had fuel, which it did, and began pumping the primer so it would light. After several attempts, he had not had any luck.

Cap continued attempting to prime the lantern and light it. Everytime he patiently tried again, the lantern refused to work. After about the fourth attempt Cap began cussing the lantern under his breath while he continued to work on it.

The more he struggled the madder he got. Of course this just amused Ely and Pete.

"Cap, all you have to do in order to light a lantern...is be smarter than the lantern," said Ely as Pete fought back the urge to laugh out loud.

Cap continued to pump the primer and light the lantern and now he was not only cussing the lantern, he was roughing it up a bit too. He finally lost it.

"I can't imagine the folks at Coleman putting out a product that ain't no better than this. They've been in business forever not to mention put lots of my money in their bank and now I can't even get a lit lantern outta them no good..." Cap let loose another cussing fit under his breath.

"Cap, I cain't believe you're talking this way in front of Pete's young ears...and the same day we got out of church on top of that."

"Ely, Pete is 47 years old, if he cain't listen to a man cuss a lantern he needs to throw his pole down right now and leave for home." said Cap, now almost shouting.

"Cap I'm right here, so don't talk about me like I'm not...and on top of that I think you're scaring the fish," ribbed Pete. Pete and Ely quickly exchanged glances. They knew they had Cap on the brink.

"I'll scare them fish and show the folks at Coleman a thing or two." Cap said through clenched teeth as he stood up on the little wooden dock. He took the wire handle of the lantern and just like a Champion Discus thrower in a track meet, spun his body around once and flung the lantern out into the middle of the tank.

Pete and Ely immediately erupted in laughter. Pete dropped his pole on the dock and bent over laughing while Ely took his hat off and whipped it on his leg. They both danced around laughing for a couple minutes while Cap just fumed. Once he realized what he had just done though, Cap slowly started smiling and then eventually he was laughing harder than either of the other guys.

Pete and Ely noticed and started to wonder what was so funny. They stopped laughing and Cap laughed harder. Now they were worried. Had they finally sent him over the edge? Was he now destined for the "Nervous Hospital"...all over a lantern?

"Cap, what in the world could be so funny?" asked Ely...and then it hit him before Cap could say it...

"Ely....that was YOUR lantern!"


Hope everyone is having a good Summer,
Walker

Enough Love for Everyone

The piled high papers shuffled,
the desk a total mess,
she'd been sitting there since 5 a.m.,
trying to do her best.

The last year had been rougher,
than any had before,
the bills, they kept on piling up,
but the money didn't anymore.

Last year's drought had hurt,
it was a struggle everyday,
and she woke up today with morning sickness,
wondering if she could find a way.

He knew she had been stressing,
and awake before the birds.
He set her a cup of coffee down,
and hoped for wise, strong, words.

He told her not to worry,
they'd made it times before.
The Good Lord had always made sure,
and He'd do it one time more.

He makes sure the birds,
have more than enough to get by,
and if He could take care of them,
He'll help us if we just try.

"I'll get a second job," he said.
"Ole Jake will help me out,
and with some determination, and sweat,
we'll claw our way back out."

"I'd bet somewhere in history,
you could find another time,
when some great couple was faced with a jam,
not nearly bad as yours and mine.

Our families had it rougher than us,
when they were starting out,
where would we be if they turned tail,
and took the easy route?"


She found some consolation,
and wisdom in his words,
then again she always did, she guessed,
especially the part about the birds.

He found one more thing he wanted to say,
as he turned to leave the room.
One more thought crossed his mind,
to help her battle off the gloom.

"We may be short on clothes or food,
dollars, we may only have one.
But one thing we can say for sure,
there's enough love in this little house for everyone."

Is That What I Think It Is?

Cap and Ely eased up to the gate. It barely hung on the hinges of a rotten post and was held closed by the thinnest of baling wire. It looked like some part of their operation, although it wasn't. This was a neighbor's place and they had a young bull who had somehow managed to get through the mediocre fence. Cap had offered several times to rebuild some of the fence or even split the costs on a new one with the neighbor. You know what they say... and it's true. Neighbors are as good as their fences.



When the report of the trespassing bull came in though, they had to go get him no matter the condition of the fence. Cap and Ely had loaded a couple younger horses in the trailer and headed out. "Ranch Law" states that if something should go smoothly, take only a few minutes and can be done on colts...it will never go smoothly, take longer than you thought, and make you push a colt to the limit.



As they eased through the gate into the neighbor's pasture they were forced to navigate the rusted iron junk piles of what used to be equipment, most of it hidden in tall grass, and pick a place to unload. They chose a spot not far from the neighbor's house since they were gone and awkwardly backed the young horses out of the trailer. After some initial "let's move'em around and make sure they won't buck us off if we ask them to lope" time, they were ready to make a plan. Ely was getting a chew of tobacco as Cap informed him of the plan.

"If you just ease around that side of the house and get that bull started heading toward the corner down there I'll keep him headed straight that direction and make sure he goes to that gate. Once we get him there, I'll open the gate and we'll ease him through. Then we can look for the hole in the fence."

Sounded easy enough. As Ely rode around the other side of the uninhabited house, making sure to pick his way around and through the camouflaged junk iron, he started to notice something you just don't see everyday. A chain link pen. Now, lots of people have chain link pens to keep dogs in and some people even have fancy chain link chicken pens...for whatever reason. This pen was different though and it wasn't until Ely got a little closer that he actually found out why. As he rode a little closer to the pen he noticed a shelter inside of it and out of that shelter walked...a lion.

Ely had seen lions before. His earliest remembrance of them was a school field trip to the Zoo and most recently he had seen just a glimpse of a mountain lion out in Marathon helping some friends pen some cattle. He didn't like them then...and the colt he was riding sure didn't like them now. This was no mountain lion though...this was an African Lion with full mane and all. He stopped breathing, riding and spitting tobacco.

As Cap rounded the other side of the house, he wondered where Ely was. Could he take any longer to do something? He had to be the slowest human alive. As Cap came into Ely's view not only did he see Ely...he also saw the Lion. Cap's colt reacted about the same way... and he couldn't tell if Ely was green from fear or from not spitting that tobacco juice out, but he could tell Ely was not well. They both finally got control of the horses they were riding and moved past the pen to move the bull. Neither one of them ever took their eye off of the pen...and the tenant of the pen kept a pretty sharp eye on them as well.

If you have ever seen two guys move a bull from one pasture to another....you have never seen it done that fast. You have also never seen anyone drive like that out of someone's place without stealing something...

Once they hit the blacktop, Cap and Ely confirmed that they had both seen the same thing. They had. One full grown African Lion complete with mane, caged up right there next to one of their places. They rode home in stunned silence...and wondered if their guns where loaded.


this is a true story from a couple of the Lightning Ranch (Central Texas Division) hands and only the names have been changed to protect the innocent...thanks guys...

A Draining Day

Today I went to the funeral of Sam Kelley. Sam was 66 when he passed away from cancer. He was a horseshoer....and an good one. He was old school. "Shoe'em like they stand and they won't limp."

Sam was not an old guy, and although I haven't seen him in quite a few years, I went with my Dad to pay my respects. It's just what you do in the western community I like to think I live in.

Sam had been sick for quite a while. He had gone to M.D. Anderson and let them do what they do in the effort of making someone well. I know they have a pretty good success rate...but not so with Sam. After many, many treatments he had decided he had enough...as one of his son-in-laws told my Dad today, he was going on the "Sam plan". He wanted to go home.

Before he left the hospital he told his family that when he got home, he wanted to put on a clean shirt and set up the video camera. He wanted to give his own Eulogy...no one else knew what he wanted said better than he did and he wanted to say it. Wow.

At the service today the video was played and it was very touching as you would imagine. Sam cried and told the story of how he had made it to the point he was in his life. He loved his friends and since he was running out of time, he wanted them to know how much. The only way he could relay his message to all was the tape.

Sam also spoke of salvation and how lots of people might die tomorrow....and not know the Lord. Sam was emotional throughout the whole tape and it was beautiful. What a great idea.

On the way home I thought about the whole tape and the emotions that you feel when faced with something like that. Sam was crying while he spoke on tape....but not crying because he was scared to die....he was crying because he loved his family and friends. Wow again.

When faced with his own mortality what did he do? He wanted to send a message to all who knew him and it was important to him that he do so. So important he had to try it several times in order to get through it....what a man.

I was just a little kid when I was around Sam Kelley for the most part. But today I witnessed (again) what it takes to be a good christian man. Faith, Love for family and friends, and the ability to do what most people cannot... when faced with their imminent demise....

I know Sam is where he always wanted to be....


Walker

Rescue Race

A ranch rodeo by nature is a wild event. If you have never been to one (www.strrf.com) you should check one out. Cap and Ely had entered a team in the local ranch rodeo since they were old enough to sign the release forms. Their careers had started out as a couple of young guys who ended up hurrying through every event and lost more time than anything having to do things twice. Then they progressed into the older phase where their skills had improved and they were pretty good competitors who the younger guys watched. Now they were just novelty entries....and they knew it!

A ranch rodeo can have all types of events and every kind is entertaining. Some have a Ranch Bronc Riding or a Stampede Race to make things interesting. This particular event had what was called a Rescue Race.

The Rescue Race can be done several ways and this one was pretty unique. One cowboy stands on the top of a 55 gallon drum at the end of the arena. Another cowboy is horseback at the opposite end of the arena and when the flag drops, they ride at full gallop down the pen toward the man on the barrel, then ride around the barrel while the man standing on it jumps on the horse behind the rider and they have to race back to the other end riding double. No problem right? Right.

Cap and Ely discussed their strategy out back. "It makes sense that since I have the fastest horse I should ride and you should stand on the barrel", reasoned Cap. Ely wasn't so sure.

"I like the idea that my horse is gentler and would be easier to jump on. Fast ain't always good if someone is busted up when the dust settles." said Ely. Cap wouldn't hear it.

"This is a speed event and we have to be fast." said Cap," If you're scared we can get Jaime to stand on the barrel and I'll ride to him. He'll try anything once. We really need the points in this event to have a chance at winning."

"I ain't scared...I just think it would be easier with a gentler horse."

They both stood looking at each other and Ely had seen that look on Cap's face before. Ely turned and walked toward the other end of the arena. The event was about to start.

When it came their turn Ely was standing on the barrel at the other end of the arena. Cap tightened up his cinch and was ready to go. He had tied a short piece of rope on the saddle horn so Ely would have something to grab ahold of if he needed it. That rope would become more pivotal than either one of them realized.

The flag dropped and Cap gouged hide. Now the normal person would get going good and then start to slow down in preparation for the turn around the barrel...Cap wasn't normal. About 10 yards before he got to the barrel he started hollering "JUMP! JUMP! JUMP!". He just wanted to motivate Ely to help them win.

Ole bay came towards that barrel at a high rate of speed and Cap was hollerin' at the top of his lungs. Naturally all of this commotion spooked Ely a little...and ole bay alot. Now horses are amazing creatures, but there's several things that their nature won't tolerate. Some of these things are loud noises they aren't used to and humans standing on barrels who then try to jump towards them. I guess it brings flashbacks for them of predators trying to kill and eat them. Whatever the case may be...they don't like it.

As Cap came around the barrel, still hollerin', Ely made a desperate grab for the saddle horn and Cap's waist. His leaping attempt was a little mis-measured and he grabbed the back of the saddle with one hand and managed to grab ahold of the rope tied to the saddle horn with the other. At that point, it was unclear who was rescuing who.

Ole bay left the vicinity of that barrel at a HIGH rate of speed. Cap was still hollerin', but now he was hollerin' "WHOA! WHOA!" while trying to break the bridle reins by pulling back in an attempt to stop the horse. Ely was hollerin now too, only it was "AHHHHHH!". The bay horse was still freaking out...horses can't holler or he would've too.

The race back to the other end of the arena was pretty short. Ely's legs were dragging as he was holding on for dear life to a runaway horse that Cap couldn't stop. The good news is that they set the new arena record in the Rescue Race. Everyone agreed it was brilliant strategy on Cap's part to not have Ely even mount the horse. Ole bay was much faster dragging 150 lbs of screaming for dear life cowboy than he was carrying it.

The bad news is that next year Jaime is the new rescue race barrel man...and Ely is riding!

Hold on Jaime!


Walker

My Punishment-Scars

I have been reminded by 2 different people over the last couple of weeks that I have been languishing in my updates. So as my punishment I am going to tell a story on myself and how we can still be young at heart, that a little blood never hurt anyone...and sometimes scars are funny.

It was a nice night in Giddings, Texas. The weather was what you would expect from a Central Texas spring evening and I was glad to be out and about in it. I was entered at the last performance of the CPRA rodeo in Giddings and since I was in the area, I drove to Conly and Lori Donnell's house in Caldwell the day before to hang out. Conly and Lori decided to ride along with me to the rodeo and Walter (Conly's brother) and his wife Karly came along too. They had already roped at the rodeo, but since it was a Saturday night and there was a dance after the rodeo we all decided we would stick around afterward and check out the band.

I didn't win anything at the rodeo and in an effort to drown my sorrows, I unsaddled my horse and we went to the dance which was right across the parking lot. Fast forward about 3 hours....3 hours of telling stories with Conly and Walter while drinking beer and listening to music...maybe drinking a little too much beer. When the band finished playing we stood right at the edge of the pavilion and surveyed the scene before us. I can remember it like it was yesterday because the whole area in front of us was drowned in that orange glow of the old fashioned sodium security lights. As I squinted my eyes I could see something at the far edge of the light that caught my attention. I turned to Conly and Walter and said,"You see that bucking machine over there? Our destiny has just been revealed to us." They agreed.

The walk across the lot towards the bucking machine was not very far, but it was far enough for us to talk each other into how awesome our bull riding skills were. I don't know about anyone else, but when I walked up to the padded area around that bull I was sure no one had ever seen someone put a ride on a mechanical bull like I was about to. This from a guy who didn't win anything in the team roping that night....and hadn't won much in a while...I was determined to win at something. Too determined.

We approached the man who owned the machine and told him we were some of the finest and most highly trained mechanical bull riders that ever wore a nickel pair of socks. We told him that his bull would lay defeated in ruins before us and that the crowd was in for a treat. We clearly had consumed too much beer. By this time there was a pretty good crowd gathered around since the dance was over. Evidently we weren't the only ones who had the same idea. The owner decided to make an example.

We decided between the 3 of us to ride for bragging rights. Conly went first. The bucking machine operator made it fairly hard and Conly made a pretty good ride. He made it for the 8 seconds anyway and jumped off victorious. Walker was next.

I am not a Bull Rider. I am not a bucking horse rider and my record will clearly reflect that. Just ask my Dad. I mounted up on the mechanical bull and wedged my riding glove (a glove you would use to fix fence) into the handhold. I set my feet and waved my hand. We began our dance.

The first few jumps I remember being in pretty good shape. I think he was going to give me the same pattern he gave Conly, as a gesture of mercy. I was a better rider than that....the beer told me so. About the third jump I opened up with my right leg and spurred the machine making a loud thump. The rest is blurry. All I know for sure is that the setting I WAS on must have been "newly born milk calf", or "baby deer ride" and the setting I received after my spurring job was more along the lines of "Red Rock, the devil's own bucking bull, destroys team roper with too much beer for the delight of the crowd". I was horrible. I got whipped down, which means that my feet ended up behind me and my face somehow collided with the plastic head of the mechanical bull. From there I fell off to the side and the bull continued to buck while my hand was still hung up in the rigging. It happened instantly and without notice.

When the dust settled, and I regained vision, I was standing on my feet alongside the bull with my hand still in the rigging. Conly had come out of the crowd and was down in front of the fake bull waving his hat in the bull's face trying to save me from the impending hooking I should have taken. The crowd was enjoying themselves immensely and after I saw Conly I started laughing too. I got my hand out of the rigging and we gathered up outside the padded area laughing so hard we were almost in tears. I can admit now that I was a little loopy, either from the beer or from being whipped down by "Red Rock, the devil's own bucking bull", which one I'm not sure, but it took me a few minutes to get my bearings back.

Walter rode next and he made a pretty good ride. I think he and Conly tied for bragging rights over me which we didn't need a judge to figure out. My slump of not winning continued. After the bull riding competition we made our way over to the hot dog vendor who was still open after the rodeo and ordered up some hot dogs. While I was ordering I noticed the lady who was taking my order kept looking at me funny. I didn't think anything of it because people look at me funny all the time either from something I've said, or something I've done. It wasn't until I turned around that I realized why. Lori and Karly pointed out to me that I was bleeding. "Aw, heck it can't be that bad." No....like really bleeding. I felt my face right under my jawbone and sure enough...huh, blood. Then I looked down and found that it had been running down my neck a little and my shirt had been soaking it up. No wonder hot dog lady gave me that look.

The next morning I woke up at Conly and Lori's to find something a little more serious. After closer inspection I found that there was a hole in my neck about the size of a #2 pencil eraser. Great....I had a Monday morning bank meeting to attend. That would be fun. All in all, I guess it wasn't that bad. I should probably have gone to get a stitch or two because I now have a scar on my neck where whiskers don't grow anymore, but that's where the good stories come from. :)

Max Stalling says that "life's mostly scars and souvenirs". Somehow, I happen to have a few of both.


Walker

Catching Up/Trip to Amarillo

Earlier this month I posted about a new job I have taken selling Crop Insurance/Pasture Insurance. Well as part of my training I was sent to Amarillo so I could meet the company we write the Insurance with. No problem right? ...Right.

Everything was ok until I started getting closer to Amarillo. I changed planes in Dallas and got on a prop engine plane. I had never been on one of those before, but I wasn't concerned since I was flying with American. I had never heard anything bad about them. Then, about 30 minutes out of Amarillo I heard this noise. I was sitting right behind the wing, reading my book, and I looked out the window to find the engine right outside my window was shooting flames from the rear of it. I quickly decided that this was not normal. It was doing it in short bursts, like when a lawnmower backfires. I have since come to decide that a lawnmower would have been safer to fly to Amarillo on...and lawnmowers don't fly good in case you didn't know.

This popping noise and flame show continued for a few minutes when all of a sudden the plane noticeably lowered altitude and slowed down in speed. "Well I had a good run" was the first thing that popped into my head. I made it 31 years and got to do lots of fun stuff. One thing I am most proud of is that you can order a "Justin Walker" in most bars and they will bring you a Crown and Water...really you can order it by name now.

But it was at that time, I figured, after all the dumb stuff I've done in my life that a plane crash is gonna be the way I go. I was ready. Luckily we made it into Amarillo. As we descended down on the runway, I noticed the fire trucks waiting for us at the end of the runway. They weren't parked at the terminal just in case something bad happened, they were down at the end of the runway where we touched down. I guess in case the landing gear also gave out and we slid to a stop down the pavement causing a prairie fire that could burn all the way to El Paso or Oklahoma City depending on which way the wind was blowing. Once we touched down they proceeded to follow us all the way to the terminal with their lights blazing. Just in case you don't believe me the photo is above.

The captain came on and told us that,"As some of you may have noticed we had some engine trouble on the way in, but we reduced altitude and slowed our speed down. After that the engine seemed to respond well." In other words, "The engine that was responsible for 50% of the power on the plane was trying to catch on fire, so we slowed her down and luckily we didn't all crash in a ball of fire. I was basically trying to fly us into Amarillo on a pack of gum with wings, and we managed to get it done this time." Thanks American Airlines.

Upon my return flight to Corpus Christi I am proud to report nothing caught on fire. As I was standing at the baggage claim carousel waiting for my bag to come around I noticed something else. My bag never came. Huh...I can distinctly remember paying an extra $20 for my bag to be checked when I left Amarillo. This $20 matched the amount I paid when leaving Corpus on my way to Amarillo making the tidy sum of $40 extra just for my luggage to arrive in both destinations with me.

About the time I noticed that my bag didn't show up, a nice man informed me that if it wasn't there already it wasn't coming. Perfect. I made my way to the claims counter and informed them of my dilemma. My dilemma was that I had paid $40 for my bag to have it's own little airline ticket so it could ride in the belly of the plane, yet my bag didn't get to make it's destination. I explained that if I had bought a ticket to...say Amarillo, and I didn't get there because of the flaming engine outside my window, I would be looking for a refund. So on my bag's behalf I stood ready to collect for it's ticket that was not honored. She did not agree. I again asked for my $40 back and she would not pay. I left a very dissatisfied customer. Thanks again American Airlines.

All in all I would say that when faced with the choice to fly American Airlines... or wrap my lips around the muffler of a Grayhound Bus and be dragged naked through a field of cactus all the way to Amarillo, I would choose the latter. At least the bus/cactus dragging wouldn't cost me an extra $40.

Flying Southwest from now on,

Walker

Odds, Ends, and Good People

This past weekend Celeste had a jewelry booth at the George West Storyfest. (http://www.georgeweststoryfest.org/) I headed over with Mom and we decided to check it out. It was a nice day outside and it was pretty cool to sit around and do some people watching, which is one of my favorite things. I even considered getting up and telling a story or two myself, since I enjoy telling a good story and I just happen to have a few. The open mic part of the day was later in the evening and by the time it rolled around, all we wanted to do was eat and go home, so alas I did not get to regale the audience with a semi-true story from my memory bank. Maybe next year.



As I was sitting behind the booth watching people I looked down the sidewalk behind me and noticed a man coming my way. He was carrying a guitar and wearing a cowboy hat. These two things alone let me know that when he made it to where I was sitting, we would visit for a while...and we did. He was a Brick Mason by trade, but a songwriter and musician at heart. He just hadn't found a way to make the songwriting pay. We laughed about that. He told me that last year he had written over 200 songs and sent them to Nashville. "No one likes my songs though." He liked to write mostly cowboy type songs and throw some gospel in there as well. We both agreed that was not "Mainstream Country". No one nowadays wants to go to Wal-Mart and buy that. He played a few for us and they were pretty darn good. The last one he played was a song he wrote about a train on the tracks, and how he thought it would be cool if a train was going down the tracks with Jesus as the conductor. Then when the train whistle blew every time, it wouldn't whistle, but spread God's glory. Sounds like a train we could all ride on. He told me that he enjoyed writing songs so much because in a song you could be anything or anyone you wanted to be. After a few songs, he went on his way and I hope he had a good day. He was a pretty cool fellow.



I got to thinking about him though. Can you imagine doing something for fun, but doing it over 200 times and not being successful? I know lots of people who are "good" at something, but have not had "success" as most people would define it. That leads me to my point.



We all have our own definition of what being "successful" is. People measure it in different ways. Money, clothes, cars, having the latest coolest thing, a fancy title or job, etc....we all have seen it. But does that make us a good man or woman? At the end of the day, when we take all those things away, have we been a "good" person that day? Did we act like we should, or treat people like we should? That's what matters. Although we might try to be a good person and fail 200 times, do we keep trying? We should. These things we should all do....



I hope that little fella with the bad hips, guitar, and cowboy hat writes the best song anyone's ever heard. I hope he writes it on his next try, George Strait records it and it goes all the way to #1! He made me keep things in perspective by visiting for a while....I'd call him a "good" man.





Walker

Hard on the Housekeeper

It was quiet and still just like all mornings before daylight. The first cool weather of fall had crept in the evening before, and Cap always liked that first "light jacket morning". He woke up every morning before daylight, no alarm needed. He kept one set though, just for the rare occurrence that he might oversleep. He never seemed to need it though.

He opened his eyes and laid still for a minute just listening. This was his custom. He stirred just a bit and noticed something he had never before. Grit. Surely not. He and Martha had been married for 37 years and she had always kept the house clean, almost to a fault. He had been scolded many times for coming in with clothes or boots that left their marks on whatever they touched. He was trained to do better after those first few years he thought. Martha might view him as a work still in progress. But this was different.

He rolled over and Martha was still asleep. When he rolled he felt it even more. Grit. He tried not to overreact. Everyone slips a little now and then. He should cut her some slack. The more he thought about it in those few moments, the madder he got. He couldn't let it go.

He got out of bed and pulled the sheets back on his side. The room was still dark, and with loud and over-exaggerated strokes he brushed whatever grit was in the bed out. He was making a commotion and trying to make a point. Martha woke up.

"What are you doing?" she asked eyes still not completely focused.

"There's something in this bed woman." he answered. "You must not've washed these bed clothes this week. Here I am sleepin' and tryin' to rest so I can go make you a livin' and you got me sleepin' in a dirty bed."

By this time Martha was wide awake. She was not about to sit still and let her house cleaning be criticized this early in the morning. "It's not my fault" she said almost too calmly. This should have been a red flag for Cap. He plowed on anyway.

"Heck it ain't. I woke up this morning and felt like I was sleepin' on the floor of the tack room. There's some kind of grit in here with me." He was still brushing the bed with his hand.

"Turn on the lamp and you'll see the problem" said Martha.

Cap turned on the bedside lamp and noticed that this grit was somewhat familiar. As he studied it trying to make a determination as to its genesis, Martha cut the slack out of the problem for him. She was good at that.

"YOU woke up in your sleep last night and went to the kitchen. I felt you get up. I also felt you return with a handful of those cookies I made for Ely's birthday two days ago. Then YOU fell back asleep before you ate them all and crushed the rest of them while you tossed and turned like you always do. So the problem is not with my clean house, it's with the night-time-cookie-eater who lives here and then doesn't eat all the cookies during his sleep walking, rather chooses to roll on them all night."

Cap stood there next to the bed and looked at her. She was mad. He didn't seem to be mad anymore. He pulled the covers back over the bed and headed to the bathroom to run some bath water. Martha laid back down. As the water ran in the bathroom, Cap returned to the bedroom and leaned down over her as she was trying to go back to sleep.

"I'm sorry honey, but you know I like those cookies." He paused, then added," I'm just sayin' I like'em to be a little chewy and if they hadn't been so dry maybe they wouldn't have got crushed up so bad."

She groaned. He ran.


have a good weekend,
Walker

Conversation with a Legend

Last weekend I went to a roping in Salado. I had always seen him around, but never had the chance to talk to him before. I knew he could rope and always had the good partners. He never did anything fast or fancy, but when they called out the teams for the Short Round, he was in there somewhere with a chance to win something.

When Walter Arnold rode up beside me at the roping on Saturday, I took the opportunity. I congratulated him on his introduction this year to the ProRodeo Hall of Fame and told him how cool I thought that was. In case you don't know who I'm talking about, here is the video they show when they induct you to the Hall.

Walter Arnold - HOF 2009 - Rodeo UP Video - Official Video Site of the PRCA
Shared via AddThis

He thanked me and seemed nice, so I stayed after him. I mentioned how after I watched the video, that things are sure different. The guys back then were cowboys and not just "Team Ropers"....myself included. He told me how when he was rodeoing most of the guys he competed with were cowboys for a living. They worked on ranches and then rodeoed when they could, so it was more of a cowboy sport. Nowadays there's folks who work in town during the week and then rope on the weekends. He told me that he won fourth in the Average at the NFR one year and won $400. I was amazed. Heck it takes that much to enter a roping a couple times now. He agreed. In those days he told me you could buy the nicest trailer out there for $600 dollars, and a new truck cost $2,000. We've all heard those stories from someone or another and I'm sure I'll tell my share of them in the future because things are sure to change more.

$400 though? That sure didn't seem like much. Mr. Arnold told me that back then you could buy a chicken fried steak for $1.25. That average check would buy you 320 chicken fried steaks so I guess it's all relative. We sat there for a minute and I tried to think of something interesting to say. I couldn't. I guess I had him thinking though. He looked at me and smiled. "Course there's lots more money in it now." I had seen him get his share of it over the last few years that's for sure!(I also noticed later that he was driving a double cab dually truck that he had won. You bet there's more money in it!)

After our short talk, we parted ways. I enjoyed the visit and it's nice to see these type of guys still out there doing what they love....and doing it so well.

Thanks Mr. Arnold for taking the time to talk to a "team roper".....it was nice.

Walker

Hookin' Buford

For the non-ropers out there a Buford is a roping dummy that is attached to a pivot in the center and with the help of electricity it travels in a circle around the pivot. It has speeds that you can set from slow to pretty fast and they are excellent tools. They look like this.

Cap sat on the porch of the old barn in the corral and watched with amusement. Ely had been showing him how well he had his green broke colt handling. Ely loped him one way, stopped and then turned him around and loped the other. This was only his 3rd week of riding and he was showing some good promise. Ely was sure proud.

"I got him to where you can swing a rope on him yesterday!" Ely announced to Cap from the lot. As he said it he untied his rope from the saddle horn and slowly built a loop. He swung it slowly and the colt, unsure at first, relaxed and accepted it.

"I'll be tracking around on him in no time!" Said Ely.

"Heck it ain't too soon to start right now!" Cap hollered back, smiling as he baited the trap for poor ole Ely. He got up off of the porch and walked out into the corral to get a closer look.

Ely eased his colt over to the Buford which just happened to be located in the same corral he was riding in. The colt, more unsure about the situation by the minute, snorted and shyed away. Ely rode him back up to it and reassured the youngster by petting him on the neck. Ely thought to himself, 'There ain't nothin' this colt cain't handle.'

"Let me turn it on for you. Might help some." offered Cap. He eased over to the machine and flipped the switch. It was set on a pretty slow pace. Ely started off pretty good and the colt followed the Buford around fairly well after some work. He was doing so good Cap decided to increase the speed a little.

Things were still ok. Maybe more speed....Not as good as before but the colt was still hangin' in there. Every time Cap sped the machine up, Ely had to do more riding to keep his colt pointed in the right direction. Finally Ely couldn't do anymore to keep his mount going in a circle and he asked Cap to stop.

"That's about fast enough!" Ely hollered at Cap. They made a few more circles and the colt settled down again finding a pretty nice pace behind the Buford. Then Ely made a fatal mistake. He let the team roper come out in him....and decided to swing his rope. The colt had forgotten about the rope by now with all the new jobs he had. HE DID NOT LIKE IT.

About the second swing, Ely let the rope brush the tips of his horses' ears. Mistake. The very gentle, well minded colt that Ely was so proud of swallowed his head and started bucking. From jump number 2 Ely was out of shape. Jumps 4 and 4.5 he blew both stirrups, was whipped down hitting his head on the colt's head and hit the ground. Hard.

It all happened so fast that Cap couldn't react. He was standing by the center of the Buford pivot and couldn't do a thing while Ely tried to make a ride on a colt that started out pretty gentle, but ended up having the talent of Kesler Rodeo Company's Painted Smile. He rushed over to Ely.

Ely was face down and making noises, which meant he was alive. Cap got to him and asked him if he was alright. He was, or he reported to be anyway. Cap knelt down beside him and put his hand on his back. Ely still groaned. Then he cussed some. He would be alright. About that time Cap heard a noise that sounded familiar. From the kneeling position, he looked over his shoulder only to see the Buford coming around again and it was coming in at pretty hot speed. At the pace Cap had set for the green broke colt, no less.

It nearly hooked Cap right in the rear as he made his retreat. Cap found out he can't run as fast as he used to. That was only half the problem. Ely was in no shape to move. Yep,.. the Buford ran right over the top of the immobile Ely. Talk about insult to injury...bucked off and hooked(more like run over)by a plastic cow. Cap did manage to get it turned off before it got him again.

Ely's ribs are taped down and healing nicely. Cap is banned from operating the Buford.

Don't push your young horses to much boys....they push back,

Walker

I Have Not Forgotten

I'm sorry. I haven't posted anything in a while, but in the interest of quality control, I just haven't had anything good to post. Occasionally I will have an idea, but just can't seem to get it strung out long enough to get it to story form. I will try to do better. I need to find some inspiration....usually it finds me. I would like to take a little vacation, but that's not gonna happen, so in the meantime I'll just keep working and looking for something to write about.

I heard the great college football coach Lou Holtz on a radio show I listen to this morning. He was discussing several different opinions he had and I found them to be very interesting. His four keys to life are this:

1. Have something to do.

2. Have someone to love.

3. Have something to hope for.

4. Have someone to believe in.

The more I thought about these things, the more I realized...I have them all. How lucky I am. Perhaps how lucky we all are. Some of these things are not hard to find in everyday life. We all have lots to do. It seems the list gets longer everyday. Most of us love someone and we are lucky if that person loves us right back. We also all hope for one thing or another because that is part of our human nature.

The last one though, is a tougher one. I can say from experience that it's not all that easy to have faith in others. We have all at one time or another uttered the words, "If you want something done right, you just have to do it yourself." Well that may be true when ordering fast food, or getting your dry cleaning done right. But in order to have genuine, real hope in someone....it's difficult.

Find someone to believe in and more importantly....tell them you do. It could make the difference to them. Who knows, it might even affect you too. None of us would be where we are now if at least one person didn't believe in us somehow or another.

I'll try to do better about my writing in the future.

Believing in others,

Walker

The Bright Side

Cap and Ely had seen it all. They had even seen snow in South Texas a few years back. Not just a little ice here and there, but real, full fledged snow. It was unheard of until then. They had seen flooding, although that seemed like ages ago, but it had happened. Now they were seeing something else they thought they never would. Wild cows.

The old ranch truck and cube trailer squeaked to a stop right next to the windmill by the Salt Well pens. Cap had been blowing the horn some, but it didn't matter. The cattle weren't far away from water, and since he had been feeding them everyday they just stood around that set of pens waiting on him to show up. They had grown accustomed to not looking for anything to eat since there was nothing.

Cap blew the horn and the cows abandoned their shade tree positions, striking a pretty good trot across the opening in front of the pens. They were sure hungry. Cap and Ely started their feeding process and while doing so had been surveying the herd to see if any of them needed attention in some way or another.

"Might bring that spray trailer back in a few days and try to get them flies off'em," offered Cap. "That's all we need next is the flies tryin' to carry'em off."

"Some of them older cows are so thin the flies might could," said Ely.

They sat a few more minutes and watched them eat the cubes that they had dumped from their trailer. Cap had said more than once that was the best thing ever bought on the whole ranch. Ely tended to agree since in the past he had done most of the feeding while Cap drove the truck.

About that time, in the distant brush line something moved. It caught Ely and Cap's eye at the same time and they looked in the same direction. A big bald faced brindle cow, with a VERY large bull calf came walking very slowly across the opening toward them. Actually, toward the cubes they had fed.

"Well....I'll be." whispered Cap. "We ain't seen her in a pretty good while. I was almost sure she was on the neighbors and she's definitely been too wild for us to catch."

"She looks pretty good considerin'. That old big calf....bad drought, guess she's too crazy to notice either one," offered Ely in the same hushed tone.

They both sat in the pickup still as could be. You'd have thought they were watching a TV show quality buck. They just sat in awe as she sashayed across the opening with her head up looking like she might want to run off at any second. She didn't though, as the smell of those cubes was more than she could stand. She walked up and started eating.

Cap started the truck, and eased out the gate of the pens and drove on down the road toward the headquarters. They both let what they had just seen soak in for a few minutes on the drive.

"You know it's dry when cows you haven't seen in over 2 years are comin' to feed." said Cap as they eased home to fill the trailer up with more cubes and make another feeding round.

"I guess if you want to find the bright side of a bad drought, gettin' your cattle gentler would be one," admitted Cap as he looked out the window at nothing.


Pray for rain boys,
Walker

Rain Dances

I went home for the first time in about a month last weekend. When you go there after being in East Texas for as long as I have, it's a welcome sight....but it's dry. When I say dry, that is an understatement. The oldtimers are saying it's just as bad as in the '50's. I only know a few people who were around then to remember, and I take their word for it. I helped Arlen feed cows for 2 days and I got a first hand look at it.

This is basically what the cows have to eat. Nothing. Not even dry grass, just dirt.

You don't have to call'em for very long because they are standing around waiting on you to get there with something to eat.

They vacuum up every morsel.

Most of the time, it would be a stretch to feed cows Alfalfa hay in South Texas. In this case, it's good feed, and it has alot less waste than round bales of Coastal.

This picture says it all. What can you do you ask? Pray for rain. If you find a feather on the ground, tie it in your hair, don't be afraid to look silly and do your best rain dance. Who knows...between the prayers and dances, maybe we'll get some soon. This did make me think of a story and I'm going to put it up tomorrow.

Walker

Suburban Life and Freiheit Store

I spent last weekend in New Braunfels. On the way I stopped at a jackpot and was close to winning something, but my partner missed. The story of all team ropers who do not win.

This is what happens when you dally and the header does not stop kicking his horse...I count 6 blisters...can you find anymore?

Celeste is housesitting for some friends of hers and so we hung out in the suburbs. It was weird...really weird. The people she is housesitting for are nice and cool, but it was like we just stepped into someone else's life for a few days. If you have never experienced this phenomenon, you won't understand what I'm talking about.

Picture some family that you know. The picture yourself living in their house, with their pets, their furnishings, their everything. It was pretty different.

Saturday we decided along with some other friends to float the river. After getting to the tube rental place and seeing the line that would have made us wait for over an hour just to get the tubes, we were unsure. So we walked around the side of the tube rental building and had decided to just swim and hang out for a while. Well, the guy who owned the rental place was on the second story of the building bar-b-queing and he looked down and hollered, "Nunez!!". Ryan is a good friend of mine and this guy had met Ryan before. They exchanged a couple sentences and Ryan explained that we wanted to float, but the tube rental line was too long. It wasn't too long for this fella since he owned the place. In about 15 minutes, we had tubes and were on the river. Nice...thanks Ryan for getting us hooked up. Also thanks for running all those windsprints in football....the tube shop owner was a UT fan....

After floating we went over to a friend of a friend's house. The friend of a friend just happened to be Rodney Hayden. If you haven't checked out his music you should. http://www.rodneyhayden.com/. He is all honky tonk country and a really cool guy. He was cooking fajitas and we visited with him for a couple hours before he went to play his gig at Freiheit that night. It seemed like the place to be, so we decided to check that out.

Here's some of the crew from the float and Freiheit: me, Walker Strait, Bubba Strait and, Trey Strait.

The concert was great and Rodney put on a good show. It's not many people nowadays that will just rip into a good old Hank Jr. song and sing it like they mean it. He can and will. Not to mention his originals...it's pretty good stuff.

Me and Ryan.

All in all it was a great trip. I am headed back this weekend to get another dose of it. I think we might go to the lake this weekend. More pics on the way!

Your humble correspondent and Celeste showing the pearly whites.

We are having fun this summer.....

Walker

The Road and The River

I have been pretty lucky lots of ways in my life. I have been really lucky to come across some real "characters" in my life. They have taught me alot about perspective and how to see things from several different angles.

Sometimes though, I find wisdom in people I don't even know. That's when it's the most fun. Last week I was meeting with an older couple about some landman stuff and in the process of getting a lease signed the old man and I struck up a conversation. We visited for a while about East Texas and all the changes that have been happening out here. That was pretty interesting. Then he asked where I was from.

I told him a little town about 50 miles North of Corpus Christi called Refuree-o. He looked at me funny. He obviously had no idea what or where that was. I went on to tell him that it was a small town with a big road running through it. Most folks just passed on through and only stopped for gas and a Subway sandwich.

He sat and listened to me talk while his wife read some documents I had asked them to sign.

I went on to tell him that the little town is getting smaller all the time and that if someone could figure out how to make a little money off of the people traveling down the road, they could do alright. He agreed. We sat there for a minute while I looked out the window and stared at nothing. It was nice and hot outside and I was glad that I wasn't out in it at that moment.

He looked at me and said,"Son....the road is like a river....you gotta know how to fish it."

My jaw dropped. In a few minutes, they had signed the paperwork and I told them how much I appreciated it, then they were on their way. After they left, I spent quite a bit of time thinking about that. How cool.

There's always another way to see every situation friends. You can choose the view of life you like...it's up to you. I'm just out here learnin' to fish.

Walker

p.s.- If that line shows up in one of my songs pretty soon....don't blame me....he's the cool guy that came up with it....I'm just gonna use it....

What I have in Common with Competitive Eaters

Not all funny stories are about other people. Sometimes I provide enough material on my own.

I felt kinda queasy yesterday when I left work. I stopped by the Dollar Store and bought some Tums (TUM, TUM, TUM, TUM, TUUUMS...I hear the commercial in my head everytime) and grazed a couple of them down. I had a supper to attend in Nacogdoches at 6:45 and needed to leave the hotel at 6. I went to the room, set the alarm on my phone, and took an hour nap hoping to feel better when I woke up. Wrong.

As I started the 40 minute drive to Nacogdoches, I questioned whether I should even be going at all. I really needed to, so I pushed on. When I reached the restaurant and made it inside, I was full bore sick to my stomach. I ordered a glass of water and sipped it, hoping that it would stay down. I made it about 15 minutes and slipped out. I couldn't take it anymore.

As I strolled through the parking lot toward my truck, I silently hoped I would make it back to the hotel before I lost my cookies. Allow me to digress.

On some roads in East Texas, it's just a four lane road, with no "Shoulder". The road from Center to Nacogdoches is just such a road. Now I was trying my best to make it like I said. About 10 miles from Center I jerked my truck into the ditch and stepped out.

When Competitive Eaters, and there is an actual sport for this, are in the heat of battle....sometimes their bodies just can't take what they are doing to it. As a defense mechanism the body does what it is trained to do. In the Competitive Eating world, this is called "having a reversal". I am not a Competitive Eater, but I do have this one bodily function in common with them.

When I stepped out of the truck, I didn't even make it to the rear of the vehicle before Reversal Number One. After that, my number one concern was for my own safety. We are animals and when we experience something like I was, I think instinct makes us do things and think things to protect ourselves. My first thought was that I was going to pass out and fall into the road afterwards being run over. I closed my truck door and tried to make it around to the other side of the vehicle. When I reached the rear of the truck was when Reversal Numbers 2 and 3 took place. At this point instinct knew I was safe from being run over, but shame stepped in. I thought to myself,"These people driving by on the road don't want to see this. I should move." So I did. This time I made it to the other side of the vehicle and with one hand on the truck bed, the other on my hip and my eyes bugging out, I experienced Reversals Number 4 and 5.

"Where is this coming from?" "What did I do?" "How can it be this much?", are all things I remember thinking during the process, closely followed by,"Please make it stop....I'll never eat Pizza again...I promise". It was violent and was my bodies natural instinctive reaction. Like when the female Preying Mantis kills and eats the male after mating. I thought the Pizza I ate was killing me.

The good news is that I made it to the hotel and immediately assumed the fetal position on the bed. I did live to type this blog, although I'm still not 100%. I don't want to mention any names, but let's just say that there's a hut that sells pizza and they have lost my business for a lifetime. Now I have to go drink a bottle of water and tell myself it's gonna be ok again.


Believe me...it's a tough way to make your pants fit better,
Walker