saddles, cell phones and the futility of ironing

Yesterday the cowboy totalled his truck and horse-trailer in northern Florida. He is okay, except that he has a mini-van rental to bring home saddles, luggage and such in. He called to complain that "cowboys" don't drive mini-vans. He is really going to miss his pretty black pickup. Of course we just got it paid off last month . . . isn't that just the way it goes!?

Several people asked if he was going to continue on to Ocala to compete this weekend. My only response to that is, "Do you KNOW my husband????" Of course he is going on to compete. He is staying in a motel instead of the trailer, and he is having to eat out every meal since all of his groceries, plus the fridge and microwave were destroyed in the rollover. So . . . this is going to turn out to be a much more expensive trip than he planned.

I bought the very un-techy cowboy a Go Phone before he left so he would have a way to keep me updated about the competition. I don't want to say he complained about my purchasing the phone, but he made it known that it was NOT his idea to get the cell phone. He called me SEVEN times yesterday. Not to mention all the calls he made to the insurance company, the car rental agency, the Mustang Makeover coordinators, etc. I think, in retrospect, he might actually appreciate the phone. :o)

Okay, so here's the real kicker in this whole process. Before he left I washed and IRONED his competition shirts. Yes, I said IRONED. There are two of them, and they are white with embroidered insignia all over them. Oh, and did I mention they are COTTON? And that I IRONED them? You have to understand, I don't iron. Ever. That's why God created Downy Wrinkle Release Spray and the "fluff" setting on the dryer. When I bought an iron for Kacey before she went to college, she had to ask me what it was. Oh, the sarcasm. So, anyway . . . those beautiful, crisp, white, wrinkle-free cotton shirts ended up crumpled under shards of broken glass and busted cans of food, thus reinforcing the futility of ironing in the first place.

So . . . it's competition time. "Break a leg"! No, let me rephrase that. "Knock 'em dead!" No, you almost did that too . . . well, anyway, good luck with the horse show. Though I am sure there are infinitely better things to do in Ocala.