I doubt your bumper sticker, sir.

Last evening, while out running errands, I found myself at a stoplight behind a shiny new black Cadillac Escalade EXT (the one that’s sorta kinda a pickup, but not really).

It was a nice ride, tricked out with big fat shiny chrome custom wheels, all the expensive add ons, and a sticker on the back window that said “Cowboy Up.”

Oh really? Cowboy up? Is that your philosophy on life? Are you sure, Mr. Driving a Luxury Vehicle in the Suburbs, that you are, in fact, ready to cowboy up?

Are you prepared to lose a thumb as you throw a loop around the head of a recalcitrant steer, dally up around the saddle horn and whoops, get a digit caught in the turn?

Are you ready to try to throw a calf while you currently nurse a broken rib, courtesy of the back forty of the calf that came down the chute just before?

Are you all set to trim a budding horn from a young cow only to hit the artery, thus shooting blood straight into your eye with force and velocity? And are you further ready to then take a hot branding iron and sear that bloody mess, leaving the smell and taste of burning flesh and blood lingering in the air?

Are you man enough to sink your arm up to the shoulder inside the back of a birthing cow to assist that mama with a backwards facing baby, and when that same mama cow prolapses her uterus out onto the ground, are you ready to shove that bloody mess back inside and stitch her up? (if you don’t know what I mean, I suggest you do a search on Confessions of a Pioneer Woman, she even posted photos of this horrifying event)

And are you ready to be bitten, kicked and thrown off a horse all in one day? Are you ready the haul hay? Are you ready to pray for rain and curse the wind? Are you ready to turn your hands to hamburger from stringing barbwire? Are you ready to face birth and death and life and manure and blood and saliva and the unpredictability of the life of a cowboy?

Are ya?

Cause you know what? I betcha you aren’t, actually, ready to Cowboy Up.

I might know a thing or two about it, and even I’m not really ready to Cowboy Up.

Not even in the suburbs.

Did you know…

…that today is National Health and Fitness Day?

I didn’t either, but it is.

So my own company decided to celebrate by hosting a lunchtime walk along a really pretty bayside trail near our offices.

When I told my favorite coworker about the planned event, he reminded me that employees of our company get *plenty* of exercise jumping to conclusions, walking away from responsibility, and running to line up first for the buffets.

While I couldn’t argue his point, I decided to take a walk anyway. Feeling cranky and amped up, a walk seemed like a nice idea.

It was walker’s choice, a one mile or two mile jaunt. I went ahead and chose two miles, strapped on my trainers and got to it.

Can’t say it was the nicest day for a walk. After being hotter than the hinges of hell for the past several days, the Bay Area Inversion (description here) has kicked in and today we get windy and cold.

Whatever.

Look, while most of my coworkers sat at their desks and ate hearty lunches in the cafeteria, I actually *did* something useful today.

I feel *so* smug too. I even took the company provided shuttle over to the start point in an effort to conserve fuel.

And I recycled the bottle from the water they gave me.

When the walk was done, I ate a salad.

If I keep this up, I’m going to be driving a Prius soon.

What?

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Ok, to offset all this goodness I’ll have red meat and whiskey for dinner.

That ought to restore balance to the universe.

Oh Dear!

I believe we have a rogue deer in my part of the world.

How, might you ask, would I know that?

Because, I am a woman of New Mexico, daughter of a hunter and champion poo identifier.

That, my friends, is a healthy, well-fed ruminant.

So normally this wouldn’t bother me, but this little deposit, made Saturday evening, is located less than a foot from my home.

True, I live pretty much in the suburbs, but it’s not THAT suburban. We do have some open land a couple miles away from us, but it’s pretty tight housing and people where I’m at.

Here in California, we are SO anti the mountain lion, one gets spotted at a fair distance and the *freak* out happens. Quickly it’s captured and relocated or killed.

See, if we hadn’t killed all the mountain lions, those stick-legged animals wouldn’t be leaving their leavings in my front yard!

That’s the circle of life, people!

I’d be more than happy to help Bambi the Yard Visitor make his or her way onto my dinner plate, but noooo, California can’t have *that*.

Bambi is cute and doesn’t have sharp paws, so he gets to stick around, ruining fences, gardens and causing havoc but the feline meat eaters get ostracized.

*sigh*

(Note to my readers: oh yes I DID just post a poo photo on my blog! If the award winning Pioneer Woman can do it, well, so can I!)

: twitch, twitch :

You know what it’s like, careening down a country road.

Driving faster than your headlights, as your driving instructor (Mr. McGinnis if you are an Albuquerque kid) might say.

And you see those two little glistening black eyes under two long ears, nose twitching by the side of the road.

That goddamn jackrabbit is making a decision. Here comes two tons of steel traveling just north of 90 mph.

Do I leap or do I stay still?

Stay still and stay safe. You know this side of the road, you don’t get to see anything new, no challenges.

Leap fast enough and you make it to the other side, a whole new world awaits. Fresh experiences, more room to grow.

Leap not quite fast enough and you are a hood ornament.

What do you do?

Don’t ask me, I’m just another conejo by the side of the road blinking into the approaching highbeams.

This morning I met a man outside of my manager’s office. He’s from the company that just bought my employer. He’s the counterpart to my boss. Odds are good he’ll be my next boss.

Later I walked down to the area where all the high level managers sit. My boss and four other directors are jam packed into a senior director’s office. A sudden impromptu meeting.

What the *hell* is going on?

Do I still have a job?

: twitch, twitch :

Lyrical Philsophy

Several years ago, I used to date a musician. We’ll call those “the dark years.” He was the real deal, taught himself to play, had the “gift,” was making a living (such that it was) playing music.

We would often have debates. He was a true music guy. I, on the other hand, am a fan of words.

He often told me that it was the music that mattered. The words were just something that floated on top. It didn’t matter if they were there.

Obviously, this ticked me off.

Over time, I learned to appreciate more of the nuances to music. How a driving drumbeat could make an otherwise dull song into a moving tune. How one hamfisted musician could ruin a whole piece. How the sounds tell a story that the musician weaves together.

He never, however, learned to appreciate the words.

I used to say that even the cheesiest song in the world could offer up some value, some deeply meaningful bit of emotion or philosophy or declaration. I even gave examples. He would reluctantly agree that the words I’d quoted had meaning, but not in the context of a song.

I got to thinking about this again today while listening to my iPod. Thinking about how seemingly throwaway songs can actually yield something meaningful tucked away in the lyrics.

The song that got me going was The Spinners classic “Working My Way Back to You” (originally a Frankie Valli song).

The lyric that “gets me” is this:

“I used to love to make you cry/It made me feel like a man inside/
But if I’d been a man in reality/You’d still be here, baby, lovin me”

No doubt The Spinners knew how to lay down an amazing groove, but this pop-y hit song speaks of redemption. The guy had a great girl, he “ran around like I was free”, then was *shocked* when she got self-respect and left him. He realized he’d blown it BIG time.

Those words, that lyric I quoted, is a really great turn of phrase. It shows a depth of self-awareness rarely seen in top 40 hits.

Those words, to me, make the song. I listen to the funky beat line, but I *wait* for those lyrics. They make me feel something.

I’ve got plenty more examples. Watch me work!

Here we go, the most bubblegum of pop tunes, Britney Spears’, “Baby One More Time.” Not the most musically interesting song, but well produced.

Don’t think about the song, the bouncy music, just read:

“My loneliness is killing me/And I must confess/I still believe/
When I’m not with you lose my mind”

Once again, a song of “didn’t know what I got until it was gone.” Earlier the song talks about “I shouldn’t have let you go” and now the narrator is alone and missing the one they took for granted.

In reading the words, I can feel the regret. Who among us hasn’t left someone behind only to find themselves all alone and losing their mind a little bit about “what might have been?”

See what I’m saying? The words have meaning!

Ok, I went to Billboard’s Top 100. Number one song right now is “Boom Boom Pow” by the Black Eyed Peas.

Pfew…this one might be tough. Not all songs have a redeeming lyric, but most do. Let me think on this….

To be fair, this song IS a lot about the sounds. About the tones that Will.i.am can put together so well.

But there is a message there…go with me on this.

“I like that boom boom pow/Them chickens jackin’ my style/They try copy my swagger/I’m on that next shit now”

Sure, it’s a brag, but it’s also true. Since the success of the Black Eyed Peas, there are a TON of imposters trying to work Will.i.am’s style. He’s reminding us that while people are mimicking the last thing he did, he’s onto the next thing. He’s a trendsetter, not a follower. He’s ahead of the curve and a not so subtle reminder to people to remember the original.

It makes me feel like he’s frustrated trying to be an original while everyone falls in behind trying to take what he made. As an artist, I completely get that.

Whew, ok, that one was tough. But I got there.

I could go on with examples all day. I guess that music matters to me so much, but everyone enjoys music for different reasons. I think that anyone who can write lyrics is, in their own way, a poet and a philosopher. The meaning shouldn’t be discounted just because a song is viewed as too pop or too cheesy or too whatever.

I think both the words and the music matter, but as a writer, I can zoom in on a well-turned bit of phrase and feel like I’m in the flow.

When an artist can make someone feel, feel something, anything, whatever emotion, then I believe they have succeeded.

The very heart of creating.

I rest my case.