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I’ve been talking about it for awhile, thinking about it for even longer and now I’m ready to walk off the edge! I’ve gotten some great feedback from my Blogger followers and thanks to your support, I’m taking my blog in a new, albeit weird, direction.

I love the paranormal, that goes without saying. I also love anything that is on the edge; occult, mystic, unexplained and especially covert, cover-up’s and conspiracies.

So with that being said, my blog is going to be in addition to my writing. Yes I’m still a writer, and from time to time I’ll be introducing you to new authors and I may even talk about something I’ve read, but for the most part I’m going to be discussing whatever topic that exists in the realm of unexplained, unknown or unbelieveable. I promise to try to stay out of politics and I will mostly try to stay out of religion though it’s hard.

Bear with me while I get stuff linked up, synced up and connected and hopefully I can provide you with at least an amusing respite from your day!

I like to think that good men still come in a variety of packages. Policemen, super-heroes and cowboys all epitomize characteristics that we females seek out above others. The exteriors may be different, but the heart, the grit and the true nature of the man are what draw us like moths to flame. I recently had the distinctive pleasure of meeting an honest-to-goodness, true-to-life, born-a-hundred-years-too-late cowboy. One thing about Texas is that you realize that the cowboys haven’t all disappeared. They may be fewer in numbers, older, a little worse for wear and you may have to look a little harder to find them, but they are still around.

My first breakfast here in Man-World consisted of going to ‘the cafe’. Bill & Rosa’s is a typical small-town restraunt with a wood plank porch, screen door and assorted stuffed heads hanging on the wall. The interior is decorated with old Americana signs, license plates and farm equipment and there isn’t a matching table in the room. Rosa,(god bless her) watches over the entire establishment from a bowling ball on the counter where her ashes are forever immortalized in her favorite past-time. A big screen hanging on the wall bridges the generational gap between post-war small town and technology that isn’t going away any time soon.

Entering the cafe is like entering any other cafe in any other small town. Smells of coffee and food cooking assault the nostrils while the eye and brain rush to process all of the visual overload hanging on the walls. At the center of this whirling mass of color and Americana is ‘the table’. It’s the center, the sun, around which the small town universe revolves. It is the beating heart of any small town eatery; I refer to it as the ‘old guys club’. Here are the over 50’s who sit and bitch about the government, the weather and the aches and pains life has recently dealt them. They are good men who have served their country, worked hard, go to church and love their mommas. They are fathers, grand-fathers, brothers and uncles. They are the guys to go to when when you need your truck fixed or your roof patched. They are every man in every small American town.

As my husband introduces me around the table, it’s a bit intimidating as each one stands in turn, offering a hand and a “nice to meet’cha”. (And yes, they really do stand. Just like in the movies!) 🙂
The last man sits at the head of the table. Worn chambray shirt and dark cowboy hat, his skin is weathered and his eyes are bright and a little flirty. My female radar goes on high alert. Here’s one of those my mother warned me about. He is a picture worth far more than a thousand words. That cowboy hat at an angle tells me he’s ready to show a girl a good time. His smile is confident and genuine, meaning a girl is safe from bank robbers, rattlesnakes and rogue bronco’s with him. He takes my hand and his is warm, firm and rough from honest work. But it isn’t his hand that gets me, it’s his eyes that catch and hold my attention. Narrowed from the sun, but clear and intense, he removes his hat and reverently says, “How do you do ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
I think I melted into a puddle right there.
It was the heady mixture of flirtiness combined with just the right amount of reverance that made me want to sit down next to him, listen to his stories and laugh at his jokes.
My romantic ‘write’-brain was already trying to break down his parts to define the summation that was the man. Which characteristic intrigued me more? The mischieveous challenge daring me to join the fun? Or the alpha male who would take charge, club the female over the head and drag her back to the cave? (Which would be completely unnecessary since apparently more than one female had gone quite willingly from what I would later understand.) Here was my quintessential cowboy! Suddenly, in less than eleven words I had a character bigger than Texas! Flirty? Yes. Handsome? Check. Respectful? Yep. Polite? Absolutely. I had a character that I could write thousands of words about and still never begin to define him!
I think that’s the draw for me as a writer. It’s like finding the Rosetta stone or Tut’s tomb. Discovering one multi-layered individual that is the muse from which all others spring. A diverse palette comprised of the colors of life, where each layer, each color reveals a new depth, a new perspective of the soul. It’s that depth that I seek to create, it’s those layers I strive to show.

My friend ‘Larry’ says that ‘all men are simple’, and to a point, he’s right. But all men are also complex in their simplicity (or maybe we females just make it that way?) but how can any one male epitomize so much of what we love about cowboy culture? Dedication, bravery, integrity, grit, determination, tenderness, protectiveness: These are not random qualities tossed about higgeldy-piggeldy, they are precisely measured elements that give us things we love and long for. Some of us females just happen to prefer them packaged in a cowboy hat.

For those of you who may not know, my husband lives with me on a part time basis. Not because I’m difficult (it couldn’t possibly be that) but because his job requires him to travel frequently throughout the summer months. (He flies helicopters and yes, before you ask, it’s VERY glamorous, very exciting, thrilling, yadda, yadda, yadda..>cough< but I digress..

Recent events have required us to make some interesting changes, one of these being that I will be living with said spousal unit in a 32 ft. travel trailer for the next two weeks. Joining myself and my lovely husband will be our 3 four-legged children (of the canine variety)one of which is apparently a nervous pee-er but that’s a story for another day.

As if that weren’t enough, we have yet to discuss things like travel trailer bathrooms, storage (or the lack of it) and my personal favorite, views of south Texas cornfields. Ugh!  However, the REALLY interesting part of all this was my introduction my new life.
 
You see, I was advised by said husband that I will be entering ‘Man-World’ and therefore my behaviour, actions and reactions will need to be adjusted accordingly.
For example, recently my husband gave me my ‘briefing’ on how our day would proceed:

 We will rise promptly at 6:00 am to have breakfast at the ‘cafe’. The cafe is where ‘all the guys’ go. “The guys” all sit at the same table every morning, probably all graduated from the same high school, are definitely  all from the same generation, are all retired and all watch Fox News (really, it’s on a big screen in the restraunt). Here they discuss (and solve) all problems known to mankind. (Apparently the Pentagon has not been made aware of this South Texas think tank.) Since I am neither an early riser nor a fan of the fanatical Right, I’m not sure how my presence at a meeting of the He Man-Woman Hater’s Club will benefit me, but, hey, all in the name of education and broadening my horizons, right??
 
After finishing breakfast, said husband will go to ‘work, (a term I apply loosely here) as it consists of him spending long hours in the presence of additional ‘man world’ inhabitants discussing things like ‘rotor head balance’, ‘landing gear assembly’ and of course, the all important ‘what do you want for lunch’? I often wonder if the Y-chromosome factor is in direct correlation to the amount of work actually completed and if said correlation raises exponentially based on the number of said Y-chromosomes in the room. However, since he has graciously allowed me this free time to spend as I wish, I’ll forgo the algebra equations for a rainy day.

Upon completing his ‘work’ day, the spouse will arrive at home where he will then proceed to “Larry’s” camper (names have been changed to protect the innocent, former as well as current undercover operatives and/or those who may be wanted in certain states.) We are to arrive at “Larry’s” RV  with a contribution for dinner (typically wine and vegetables) where we will then relax in our testosterone induced fog (i.e. watch tv) until 9pm at which point we are allowed to retire to our own humble abode-on-wheels so that we may go to bed only to start the entire process over again.

As you may have deduced, these said ‘pilots’ are a curious lot: appearing dashing and noble with their flight suits, headsets and industry specific vocabulary but in reality they tend to resemble a band of gypsy’s roaming the countryside (except instead of stealing babies they spray corn with interesting compounds with names that end in -cide.)

So now that you are in the loop, I encourage you to join me as I post about my experiences of living in ‘Man-World’. Tomorrow I will be sharing with you my ‘breakfast experience’ of meeting a real-honest-to-goodness-Texas-cowboy. I assure you ladies, you will not want to miss this little bit of excitement in an otherwise dull day…it was quite a ‘hubba-hubba’ moment. 😉