I read that expression in a Western novel (one of the Joe Pickett series by C.J. Box [I love the scenery in them]) and it tickles me. It refers to a man, usually in late middle-age, who dresses up cowboy and talks all folksy-Western (shucks, ma'am), but hasn't got a steer to his name and probably lives in town and always has. I used it today because I finished the Purple & Red beanie last night after supper (hey, I was busy at work yesterday and with real paying customers too, also Mrs. Boss left a couple of boxes for me to check in, price, and put away) but we didn't see the cat. (har! got that "cat" part in there, pretty sneaky don't you think?)
It's so cold this morning, -3 right now, that I just leaned out the patio door to snap a quick sunup photo. I love the color changes in the sky but unfortunately the color's washed out when it hits the camera. I don't know why but imagine this a slightly (very slightly) more intense yellow-peachy color at the treeline.
The vertigo whirlies are still with me every so often. Getting out of bed is a treat and anytime I move fast, stand up fast, or turn a corner I need something solid to touch to catch my balance. It's like having one drink, without the music, dancing, and fun. Good thing for the pills and I think I'll see if I can't visit the chiro on my way home from work today. Tomorrow I can couch it most of the day, that feels the best.
February 26--Earl Ripling, ER114. There's no writing implement as satisfying as a No. 2 pencil with a rapier-sharp point. The wood shaft warms in your fingers and the graphite glides on the page. These days it's difficult to find a pencil that can stand up to the rigors of the sharpener. Too often a chunk of the wood breaks off and then the graphite breaks out of the center too. There's an art to sharpening. You don't just cram the pencil in and start cranking. You need to hold the shaft with the right amount of pressure so that you don't grind off too much at a time. Good notebooks are hard to find too. My preference is unlined paper so my thoughts can flow freely onto the page but my innerHitler cries foul when my lines aren't straight. Being a free spirit takes a lot of discipline.
Yesterday my friend Lala and I booked a one-night, meet-in-the-middle escape in just 3 weeks. We both need the breather. We'll take walks and talk talk talk, maybe we'll even write a page or two. Can't wait. Then the week after that Durwood and I are going up to Door County for a 3 night escape. We'll snuggle in with bowls of soup, a fireplace, and a Jacuzzi tub. March is going to be good. It has to be since February sucks. Off to work.