Fashion Models:
The Cowboy

Today is my Cowboy's Birthday!

Happy Birthday Billy!

We love you very much!

Kellan, Courtney, Chloe, Billy Jr. and Alexis

Hosted by Cecily and Mama Geek

When I was a young girl ...

I dreamt sometimes of beautiful boys.

I dreamt of handsome men.

I dreamt of hats ...

And boots ...

And thick, Texas drawls.

And ... belt buckles and gorgeous smiles as big as the state of Texas.

One day ...

I prayed ...

Dear God ...

Please send me a cowboy of my very own.

And then one night in a crowded Texas dancehall called The Midnight Rodeo ...

Across a smoke-filled room ...

With country music blaring and hundreds of bodies swaying on the sawdust covered dance floor ...

Our eyes met.

You were about as cute as they come - with your tight Wrangler jeans, deceivingly innocent face, suave cowboy hat and a smile so charming, any girl would have followed you anywhere.

And ...

I did.

I have thoroughly enjoyed following behind you and your Wranglers ...

And, I've enjoyed being on the receiving end of your unbelievably generous smile.

I've adored watching you from across the room ...

And gotten a kick out of occasionally picking on you ...

I've appreciated that you've never made me wait for that certain twinkle in your beautiful blue eyes ...

Or hid yourself when I couldn't resist watching you from afar ...

It has been a pleasure ...

To call you my cowboy.

A pleasure ...

For my eyes ...

For my heart ...

For my dreams.

-

Husband walks up behind me, wraps his arms around my waist, nuzzles his face against my neck.

A delighted sigh seeps past my lips. I say, "Man ... I love when you touch me," and melt into his strong embrace.

He kisses the spot just below my ear and chuckles. He moans a little and then whispers, "Good ... because I love touching you."

It's really the most special thing of all ... isn't it? Being touched by someone you truly love.

-

*Pant - Pant - Sigh*

Me: Mmmmm, Yeah.

Husband: *Exaggerated sigh*

Me: So, are you okay with all the noises? (fine time for me to ask, after 25 years - tee hee).

Husband: Oh yeah, baby, I love the noises (he didn't actually call me baby. I'm not a baby. I wish I was a baby. I'm more like a bi*ch).

Me: I could tone it down, you know, if they bother you.

Husband: Oh no, I like the noises - they're cute, sexy. I like 'em.

Me: Is there anything you don't like?

*crickets chirping*

Husband: Okay - the questions. I could do without the questions, you know ... when I'm otherwise preoccupied. *Big smile*


*more crickets, only a lot closer and way louder*

Me: Uh ... Okay.

How was I to know, all this time, I'd been wrecking the man's con-cen-tration?

FINE - no more questions.

-

Not too long ago, I was at Wal-Mart with my four children and we pulled down one the aisles of the parking lot. I stopped to wait for a lady to pull out, so I could get her spot. The parking lot was packed that day and I was determined to get this one space - so I sat there and waited.

There was this guy in the car behind me. I could see in my rear view mirror that he was becoming frustrated. At one point I saw him raise both hands in the air as if to say, "What's up - what's the hold up?" I waved him around (I don't know why he just kept on sitting there anyway). When he finally drove past me, I rolled down my window and screamed, "It's a PARKING LOT! I'M WAITING FOR A PARKING SPACE! IT'S-- A-- PARKING-- LOT!"

My kids said, "Whoa, Mom. Settle down. Why are you so angry?"

I was angry. Men have no concept of this whole shopping thing. I was waiting for a PARKING SPOT!

I don't think men should even be allowed in these stores. They never know where anything is, they never care when they are in everyone's way and they are clueless as to how serious we women are about this shopping RITUAL! They need to stay out of these stores or at least ... enter and leave through the auto repair department - back by the tools - we never go near that section of the store!

I'm not normally an angry driver - but, I am an angry shopper - so get out of my way!

Billy never goes to these stores, unless one of the children persuades him to. He confines his shopping to auto parts stores, tool stores, office supply stores, an occasional grocery store and home improvement stores. He's smart enough to stay out of the stores I am in.

We never go shopping together either. Billy hates shopping. Maybe he hasn't realized yet that he could possibly use these outings as opportunities to rack up more points for himself. Surly if people were to see the two of us together at Penny's or Sears, they would say, "Poor Billy. Look how miserable he looks." And, because he walks so much slower than me, it would likely come across as if he was tagging along and people would probably say, "Poor thing - she's always dragging him everywhere."

I don't want him in these stores, as he'd only slow me down and he's completely unhappy to be there. I don't have the time to teach him how to enjoy shopping. Nor do I have the time to stop and correct any of his bad etiquette habits. I have a hard enough time minding my own manners: "Excuse me - Can you help me, please - Sorry - Thanks a lot." There are absolutely too many pleasantries and manners required while shopping. Billy is not equipped to handle this duty on his own and I don't have the patience. I'm already dealing with other women's obnoxious husbands, wandering teenagers, out of control toddlers, crying babies, rude sales clerks and slow moving old people, in the aisles of these stores I frequent - I don't want Billy there too and I certainly don't need anyone to see us together so my husband can rack up anymore "Poor Billy" points.

On the upside ... "Get in - get out," that's how my husband describes the perfect shopping experience. Not me - Nooooo! I need me some serious foreplay and a cigarette after (tee hee)!

I can't even begin to count the number of times, over the years, that I have lied.

Now, don't get me wrong, I do not approve of lying and I do not consider myself to be a liar ... but, I have told my share of lies.

I tell white lies to avoid hurting people's feelings.

I tell tiny lies that might, on occasion, exaggerate the details of a story, so as to make it a bit more interesting.

I lie on occasion to get out of doing things I don't want to do - like when I don't want to go to a particular party or attend a school function or meeting - I might say I have other plans or I am sick *cough cough*.

I've also told lies to my children.

Yes - I have.

I've told them that the Tooth Fairy comes at night and gives them money for their lost teeth.

I've told them that the Easter Bunny hops into our house on Easter morning - magically - and leaves large baskets of candy and eggs.

I've told them that dead armadillo tails are really the lost horns of unicorns.

And ... of course, I've told my children that a jolly fat elf named Santa Claus, will deliver toys and goodies on Christmas morning, if ... they are nice and not naughty children.

Now ...

I know that I am not alone in the telling of these fairy tale lies and I also know that I was lied to when I was a child about the very same tales (okay - maybe not the unicorn one - that one I lied about all on my own).

I also know ... that my husband grew up with these childhood lies - as well.

My husband is not - a liar.

He has never been one comfortable with telling any sort of lie and this is a good thing. I have to help him lie sometimes - tell the lie for him in those cases where he will just not be able to pull off the task himself.

But ... lying about Santa Claus is not something that very many parents - people - have any difficulty doing.

People - BILLIONS - have been telling this lie for HUNDREDS of years.

We - those people capable of telling this lie - those people that get the goodness of this lie - those people that care about keeping the magic that this lie provides GOING - do not have a problem telling this lie to our own children and even to other people's children. We tell it to EVERYONE and GLADLY.

But ...

Not my husband.

We are 16 years of telling this one lie - year after year - to our 4 children - and yet ...

At least 5 times during every Christmas season, I find myself running frantically into rooms to quickly cover something I over-hear my husband say to one of the children that, if divulged and understood by the child, would - give away - this wonderful Santa tradition in the On The Upside household.

At least 5 times during every Christmas season, I find myself running frantically towards a car trunk or garage door or a closet --- to quickly hide or disguise a present that my husband has mindlessly left un-disguised or un-hidden from gift-receiving-children in the On The Upside household.

I don't get it. I think it must be a man thing.

He will go out, buy something large that I have sent him out to buy (like a set of drums for his boy child that was on the boy's Christmas list to Santa), bring it home, carry the thing to the front door and stand right there and ask me - in front of the children - "Where should I put this?"

I swear!

On the upside ... It's good not to lie. It's good that my husband finds it difficult to lie. But ... he needs to start understanding this ... Christmas-is-an-ongoing-lie philosophy or ... I am going to beat him over the head with a unicorn horn until he is out cold ... put him under a pillow and leave a note for the Tooth Fairy to PICK HIM UP!!

Dear Tooth Fairy:

I know - he's not a tooth.

I know - he's really way too large to fit into your tooth bag or throw over your shoulder and carry out of my house.

But ... he's free - you can have him!

He makes a good helper for about 6 years and then it goes down hill after that. Take him and just pawn him off on someone else when the six years is up -- maybe the Easter Bunny or maybe Mother Nature could use him. Don't try to give him to Santa, though - he's a terrible elf.

Oh, and ... keep the unicorn horn - it might come in handy. I use it to wap him over the head.

And, while you're here ... please leave $10.00 for those last 10 teeth of Alexis' that you ... forgot to come by and get.

Thanks ever so much.

-

I love my husband.

I think he's sweet. I think he's patient. I think he's a good father. I think he's very handsome. I think he's sexy. I love him to death. But ...

Sometimes ... when he talks --- when he gets to talking about crap that I don't really understand or crap I could care less about --- like car engines ... or hunting details ... or, God forbid, he should start talking about electrical crap (he's an Electrical Contractor) ... when he starts talking about stuff that I can't wrap my brain around ... in my head I hear ... WAH --- WAH --- WAH. You know ... like in Charlie Brown, when the teacher is talking and Charlie Brown hears, WAH --- WAH --- WAH. Just like that.

I used to listen intently to everything my husband said - hung on every word. I still do ... mostly. But, sometimes ...... WAH --- WAH --- WAH.

And during these times ... these mind numbing conversations ... as my mind starts to melt away from his voice ... I might start hallucinating - stuff.

I don't mean to do this. I don't do it on purpose. My mind just clicks off and suddenly I'm spacing out. He's just talking ... and then ... WAH --- WAH --- WAH.

And then, suddenly ...

I. Am. In ... Ja-maica! Just lying on a beach ... soaking up the sun ... drinking Pina Coladas.

And ... before I know it ...

Matthew Mac Cauhanehey might just come along. H-E-L-L-O ... Matthew!

And then I might think ... "Hmm ... If I were to meet Matthew Mac Cauhanehey ... I would definitely want to get some new clothes." And so then ... I might start to think of ...

For swimsuits. For suntan lotion. For really cool sunglasses.

And while I'm out shopping, I might wander by a newsstand where there are lots of magazines on display and I might glance over and see ...

George Clooney.

H.E.L.L.O George! Welcome to my daydream.

And while I am (drooling over) admiring George Clooney ... my mind might just wander to other George's I (fantasize about) know and ...

H.E.L.L.O --- George Strait!

Then ... my mind might stray for a moment ... from the beach, from Matthew, from my imaginary shopping spree and from the Georges I know ... to ...

Something completely RIDICULOUS, like the meat in the freezer I need to take out for dinner.

But ... I will not allow such a ridiculous thought to invade this stolen opportunity to escape into a perfectly pleasant day dream - I will quickly push this stupid thought out of my head for ...

Uh ... NO.

Push that noise and thought out for ...

Uh ... NO!!!!

Can eat later - push the thought of food out for ...

Uh ... No!!!!

But, now I've lost it (*sigh*).

The day dream comes to a screeching halt when through the fog enveloping my muffled brain ... I hear ...

"Are you listening to me? Kellan ... did you hear what I said?

"Yes, Hon ... I heard you. You were saying .........WAH --- WAH --- WAH!

On the upside ... I often wonder what he is truly thinking when I am talking about crap (and I can talk a lot of crap!) - Do ya think he's thinking about ...

Or ... Do you think he might just be thinking about ....

I'd bet on Heather!

That's okay ... What's good for the goose is good for the gander (whatever a gander is).

The first time my husband, Billy, said, "I love you," after returning from a trip to San Angelo, Texas, in January, 1984, one month after we first met ... is the exact same way he says, "I love you," to me now. And ... this is not necessarily a good thing.

The Cowboy, is not a sentimental person. He never says, "I love you," unless I say it first, and when he says it, it sounds like he's reading it off of a scripted page. I swear. He might as well just say, "Ditto."

For the longest time I worried about this. I wondered if it sounded this way because he didn't really mean it. But, twenty-five years later, he still says it this same scripted way, so I pretty much know by now that he is just confused as to how to do this any other way.

And ... when he gives me a Birthday or Anniversary card - they are always the most thoughtful, beautiful - exact, perfect cards. But ... he signs these sentimental cards to me with, Billy. Sometimes he will write a note, but not love notes or sappy poems. No ... apology notes. They will read something like, "I'm sorry I never do the things I'm supposed to do," or "I'm sorry I make you mad all the time."

I informed him, after receiving one too many cards with these sad apology notes, "Enough already with the apologies. Can't you just sign the thing, 'I'll Always Love You, Billy,' or 'You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Love, Billy.'" Noooo ... when I die and my children run across all of these special cards I have kept over the years that my husband gave to me, they will read these sad apologies and surely say, "Poor Dad. He must have been just miserable."

These cards ... those with the apologies ... say more about me, than they do him. I have kept them to remind myself of not only the special occasion ... but also ... of the burdens he carried.

On the upside ... He still gives me the most beautiful cards and he has stopped apologizing ... and he may never say the words, "I love you," easily ... but I know he does. I don't need the words ... I know.

My husband and I are complete opposites.

One of my older daughters, had to do a Biology project last year where she was observing hand gestures people make when they talk, in connection to whether the person is an introvert or an extrovert. Part of the project questionnaire asked the participant which they believed they were - an introvert or an extrovert. When my daughter came to perform this test on me, she announced that her daddy had said that he believed himself to be an extrovert. I said, "He is not an extrovert. You know that - right?" She said, "Yeah, I know," and we both laughed. We liked the idea that he thought of himself as an extrovert - because he is soooo an introvert.

That's okay. All four of our children are extroverts and I consider myself to be an extrovert - that's just about enough extroverts in one house.

My husband is everything I am not. He is calm and collected. He never sweats over anything. It takes a whole lot to rile him up and even when he becomes angry it is nothing compared to my explosions. He is not like me, in so many positive ways. However, there are times I think he needs to move a little faster.

He loves to tell people, "Yeah, when I was a kid, people would say, 'You move a s slow as molasses.'" He will tell this with pride, as if he misunderstands the true meaning of this insult. He prides himself on his slow deliberate demeanor. Sometimes I joke that he's like that big dog in the cartoons that moves real slow, Do de do ... Do de do ... Do de do - you know the one with the slumped over shoulders, arms dragging on the ground and big head. He laughs at this description and continues to express great pride in this unique ability of his to move so slow.

It's not natural - these slow strides. Over the years, I actually believe that he has become even slower than he already was - on purpose. I'd never have believed that he could have slowed down any more than he already was, but he has. One day he is going to be walking along and he is just going to fall over and people are going to ask, "What happened to him?" to which I will happily reply, "Oh ... He was just walking so slow ... he fell over." Maybe an embarrassing moment like this would finally make him realize how really weird this is. He could speed up - he could. But, nobody could ever slow down as slow as he is. He's not really moving at all - it seems - it's more like the scenery behind him moves.

I run circles around my husband.

One day, standing at my kitchen window washing dishes, I looked out in the back yard to see my husband, moving very slowly, across the yard towards the storage shed. I called one of the twins over and said, "Look how slow he walks. Have you ever seen anyone that can walk that slowly?" My daughter scolded me for making fun of her father and I explained that I was not making fun - that I was simply amazed.

I tell people I should have a video camera on the eave of my house, pointing out towards the back yard. There on the video you would see my husband, moving slowly across the yard (Do de do ... Do de do ...) and then suddenly, as you watch the video, you would see this tiny speck of bright light flash back and forth across the screen and you would ask, "What is that?" and I would say, "Oh ... that's me. I'm just moving so fast compared to him ... that you can't actually see me." And then, by the end of the video he finally reaches the storage shed and the flash of light disappears.

On the upside ... He may be slow and he may be quiet ... that's okay. At least I seldom lose sight of him and ... when he says something mean about me like, "Maybe you just need to slow down ... you loud mouth, nagging, complaining, fire-spitting b****," it works in my favor that no one can hear him. No ... he never talks mean about me - at least not out loud - I love him for that!

I love my husband - I love him, I love him, I love him!!

But ... what is the matter with him?

We had some friends over for a Bar-B-Q last weekend. My friend and I were sitting out on the back porch talking. We could see, through the sliding door, my husband and her husband standing just inside in the kitchen. In their midst were children running wild, children climbing on furniture, a child with a bow and arrow, a child with a really long walking-stick ... just-a-swingin'-it round and round and round above his head (like a Samurai warrior). There in the midst of all this misbehavin' and out-of-control hellions - was my husband. He was gazing upon these antics and smiling. He'd look over at my friend's husband and they'd laugh. He watched all this chaos as if these were not HIS children ... but like he was watching it from outside of his sane mind. Like he was watching a bad cartoon.

I pushed the sliding door open and said, "Hon," and he turned and looked at me (with that look that indicated that he was already aware of what I was going to say). "W-h-a-t is going on?" I asked, controlling my tone while my mind was screaming "What is the matter with your brain?" He did not answer. I said, "Do you not see all this (I used an exaggerated sweeping hand gesture)? " He looked at his buddy and they chuckled. I then said (loudly), "You kids - OUTTA HERE!" and they all scattered, like the good little roaches that they are. I closed the door and went back to talk with my friend.

What is the matter with him?

Why does he not care about this stuff? How can he just stand there and watch this CRAZINESS and never once say, "Hey, you guys, you shouldn't be playing with that stuff in the house," or "Your mom is gonna' skin you if you break something." No ... he just stands there and watches (I swear) like ... I don't know what. Like he enjoys all of it. Like he wishes he could join in ("Here - give me a sword...").

The other day, I went outside to find my son throwing razor blades (Yep!) at a piece of sheet rock that my husband had propped up for him beside the garage (so my son could practice being a Ninja - I guess). Fortunately one of my girls came and said, "Do you know The Boy is throwing razor blades at a piece of sheet rock?" I went outside, confiscated the razor blades, threw the sheet-rock target into the trash and looked at my husband and said, "What is the matter with your brain?"

One time, I went outside to find my tiny little boy (7 years old) 60 or so feet up in the air, in the bucket of my husband's bucket truck - up above the trees, over the electrical lines - up in the SKY. On the ground, near the truck, was my husband with his hand firmly gripping the joy-stick that was raising this 7 year old boy (his son) up and down, up and down, up and down. I said, "Bring him down please," and pulled my son from the bucket. I grabbed my little boy's hand and began walking to the house, my son whining, "Aw Mom - Dad was watchin' me." I looked down at him and said, "I SAW him watchin' you," and then turned to my husband and said, "What is the matter with your brain?"

I know I am the tough one, the mean one, the not-fun one ... but, is it too much to ask for this husband of mine to join me in the RAISING OF THESE CHILDREN?

On the upside ... I love him, I love him, I love him!!!!!!

The sun is rising in the eastern Texas sky.

The birds are waking from a night of rest.

My husband is standing beside my bed on an early Saturday morning ...

"Kellan --- you'd better get up if you are going to take the girls," he speaks softly.

I stir.

I stretch.

I yawn.

I grab my cozy comforter, pull it up to my neck, roll over away from my husband and try to sneak back into sleep.

"KELLAN," he pushes my shoulder. "ARE YOU GOING TO TAKE THE GIRLS?"

I stir.

I stretch.

I yawn.

It is SATURDAY morning!

I love sleeping in on SATURDAY mornings!

I beg ...

"I don't know why you can't just take them," I mumble sweetly. "You're going out anyway - can't you drop them off first?" I am now flashing my most persuasive smile (*all the while realizing my hair is sleep-smashed, make-up is sleep-smeared, breath is sleep-stinky and I am likely the most unattractive beggar on the face of the earth*) and speaking in my *sexy* voice and ... I reach up and touch my husband's hand lovingly.

*silence*

Then ...

I see hope ...

I see a twinkle in his blue eyes.

I see the wheels beginning to turn in his head.

He finally says ...

In his sexiest Saturday morning voice ...

"Okay ... I'll take them. If ......." he leans down and whispers seductively - like the sly, blackmailing cowboy that he is ...

You pay me back later with ...

sex."

On the upside ...What are we on ... Deal or No Deal?

I sat straight up in bed and ... hit that red buzzer, "DEAL!"

I half expected Howey Mandell to step out from behind my deal-making-sex-craving-husband to shake my hand.

It's pretty obvious ... who the smarter of the two of us is. Without a doubt - I am! Only --- not smart enough to realize I should be using that little bargaining chip ... way more often!