People refuse to look shit up before reposting on Facebook, but will spend several minutes taking a test to see what sort of potato chip they are.
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Dream Rocks
The kids played in the open field beyond my fence line. I could hear them yelling and laughing as they used a stick as a bat and small rocks as balls.
Every once in a while I’d catch the sound of stone cracking against wood and the kids whooping it up. I wanted to go watch, but I had leaves to rake.
As they carried on with shouts of joy, it took me back to my childhood, playing baseball in field below our subdivision. Then a well-hit pebble struck me in the head, knocking me out.
I began to dream.
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A Scene from Ranch Life
“Ah, shit! Jeans or sweats?” he calls out.
Followed by, “Tennis shows or boots?”
“Sweat shirt or jacket?” he asks.
Next, “Cowboy or baseball hat?”
“Bare handed or gloves?” he wants to know.
All questions a good stock man must ask himself each time a cow or three escapes the fence.
“Too hell with it! No effin’ time to get dressed,” he exclaims.
So, if the neighbors be appalled to see him chasing down cattle in his skivvies, while wearing his wife’s rose-pink satin robe, then they’ve not live long in the country. If those neighbors remain unfazed by the sight and even offer to help, then they’ve probably done it themselves and are in no position to judge.
Welcome to the ranch life and don’t expect to see any selfies.
