Reflections

So, I had an interesting experience I want to share, since I think it displays some changes in the way I think now that I live in a "small town." A couple days ago a man I didn't recognize walked into Carter Ag (where I work). Just like I do to every other customer I said, "How's it goin'?", expecting the normal response of "alright" or "Good. You?" Instead, I got a somewhat ornery, "Not so good; I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere without a tire." Now, instead of feeling Christ-like charity for this man (as every good Christian ought), I immediately felt indignant pride swelling within me. A thousand thoughts went through my mind in about a second; let me share: I thought, The middle of nowhere? "Small town" maybe, "the country" maybe, but the middle of nowhere?! Does "the middle of nowhere" have an elementary, middle, and high school? Does the middle of nowhere have a celebration that almost doubles the size of the town every July? Does the middle of nowhere have a gas station complete with a grill that makes just about anything you could ask for? And what about the diversity of people? Does the middle of nowhere have Caucasians, Asians, and Mexicans? People with only a high school degree to boast of and people with their masters degrees? Christians, Catholics, Atheists, and people who aren't sure what they believe? People who have made their millions and live in huge houses on the hill, and people who are content to spend the rest of their life in a single-wide trailer? An auto mechanic, a hardware store, a farm equipment dealership, a hair salon, and a photo studio? I don't think so. We may be small, but "the middle of nowhere" does NOT have that kind of diversity.

Needless to say, I can tell I'm becoming a true blue country girl because a year ago I probably would have thought the same thing as that man without a tire. I probably would have stereotyped the people that lived here, questioned their abilities, and been glad that I didn't live in "the middle of nowhere." Now, my heart swells with pride as I think about all the different people, all the diversity, and the rich tradition that surrounds me here. We have all the same action, all the same diversity, and all the same drama as "the big city"--it's just a little more...concentrated. I'm grateful for that man and the chance he gave me to reflect on my life and the judgments I make. I guess the old adage "you can't judge a book by its cover" is true. You just never know the truth about a place until you experience it first hand.

And in case your wondering, No, I did not say all that was on my mind to our weary traveler. Instead I said a curt, "Ya'll come back now, ya hear?"



*one small note: "hair salon" might be a slight exaggeration, considering that she cuts hair in her kitchen; but, you get the point.

Epic Moments

So, I may be the worst blogger ever. It's been awhile, but I feel the need to blog about a couple of epic moments in my life as a cowgirl. In the last few months, I have done some things I only dreamed of as a child. Ok, I might not have dreamed of this first one, but it was pretty awesome nonetheless. It all began on a rainy night towards the end of October. What seemed like the whole town gathered together under the awnings at the Lund High School for a pot luck dinner. What could possibly induce so many people to stand and eat in the rain on a cold October night, you ask? Homecoming of course! I tell you what, nobody does homecoming like a small town. The only thing celebrated during homecoming week at my high school was the homecoming dance. Our football team never won, most of the alumni had either moved away or didn't care to come back, and quite frankly, we just didn't know how to generate any school spirit. Maybe all that isn't true. Maybe it's just that I wasn't interested. But either way, little Lund, with record graduating classes at 20 students, blew my school of 3000 out of the water. This was perhaps my favorite part of the whole night:

You may be wondering what this lovely automobile is, and I would love to explain. This is an old car painted in our rivals' colors (our colors are blue and gold). The best part about this car, however, is that on the night of the homecoming dinner, you could pay $1 to hit it with a sledgehammer or a baseball bat. I just thought that was hilarious. This is the car after the football team got a hold of it:

Awesome. And even though the cars looked about the same in the end, I'm pretty sure this beats the drunk driving assembly my school had every year before the dance.

But, as if beating up an old car wasn't cool enough, the senior class also put together this gigantic bonfire using pallets they had collected:

Good job senior class! Gotta love the school spirit.

Ok, for my second epic adventure, the one I actually did dream about as a child: Christmas tree hunting! Blaze and I, along with our good friends the Jacksons, drove up into the hills, hiked a ways, and found the perfect Christmas tree!

Here's Blaze and I documenting our first Christmas excursion as a married couple.

Here's the adorable Jackson family with their newest addition, Rex. Isn't he cute?!

Katie and I became quick friends since we moved here around the same time and both had a little adjusting to do, having been raised in the "Big City." She and Chris helped us find our little tree, and then Blaze did all the hard work :)

So It may not look like much here, but with a little razzle, dazzle, and sparkle, we created a masterpiece:

And, of course, no tree is complete without a topper. This homemade one seemed to suit our tree perfectly:

I love how short and chubby it is. Christmas trees, much like little kids, are always cuter when they're short and chubby.

So anyway, these adventures have only confirmed my previous convictions that there are just some opportunities you don't get in the city, at least not without a longer car ride. So, although I still love my hometown and do get a little homesick for a shopping center once in awhile, I'd still trade all that for the community spirit there is here. I love it!

Fall

Well, it's officially fall. I love fall--especially here. Lund just resonates with fall-ish ambiance. Picture wood-sided farm houses surrounded by big,country trees, family gardens full of round orange pumpkins, and well-attended high school football games. If that's not the meaning of fall, I don't know what is. But, I think what makes it feel most like fall is the crisp, clean air. It sweeps across our little town and wraps us snugly in a pumpkin-scented, rosy-cheeked atmosphere. There is nothing like bundling up in a polar fleece jacket and eating pumpkin chocolate chip cookies in air like that.

Yes, these are all reasons why I love fall in Lund. But, there's another more sinister reason for my merry-making at this time of year: the demise of a much-loathed hoard of bugs that seems to follow me wherever I go in the summer. Unfortunately, during the hotter months here in Lund, our lovely wood-sided farm houses are ambushed by masses of rather large, almost Amazon-like bugs. OK, truth be told, most of the ambushes are carried out by regular sized insects; but, it would not be an exaggeration to say I have seen moths with a six-inch wingspan, butterflies the size of my hand, and wasps two and a half inches in length! Seriously? Seriously. I've asked myself many a time what the purpose of such bugs could be. But, whenever I reach that point I try to remind myself that someone much wiser than I created them and hence must have had a purpose for doing so. Then, as a good country woman ought, I grit my teeth and resign myself to their unsightly exteriors and unwitting provocations. And, as a good city girl ought, I spray lots and lots of bug repellent. All in all, though, I suppose I'm grateful for the six-legged creatures of the world. I mean, without them, how would I know to appreciate fall so much?

The Busy Life

Some of you may be wondering how we manage to stay busy in a town of 402 people. Well, I am here to tell you that staying busy is the least of my worries here. Lund is chock full of opportunities for learning, just a few of which I thought I would highlight here.

For starters, I went to a cow branding my first week here and vaccinated baby cows. Though I didn't particularly like poking them with a 6-inch hypodermic needle, my other option was castrating. Needless to say, I chose the better. I'll admit it was pretty fun watching all the real cowboys and cowgirls roping and riding, but I couldn't eat beef for weeks after that experience.

I have also been learning the art of gardening. I mentioned the small farm before, I but I didn't mention that it's a family project. We all sow and we and we all reap the benefits. My back and arms were sore from hoeing for the whole first month I was here, and I'm pretty sure my aches and pains caused more grief than relief for that poor garden. But, we've all got to learn somewhere! So, I carry on in the hopes that someday my furrows will be as deep and straight as Blaze's.

Lastly, I have at long last entered the dark world of baking. This has by far been my greatest challenge. Hitherto, my utmost baking accomplishment was Chex muddy buddies. I'm the first to admit that's not saying much. Jeanne, my mother-in-law, has been kind enough to have me over a couple times while she baked so I could learn. However, it's a whole different world when you're trying it by yourself. One of these days I will grace you all with a summary of my (many) baking failures and (few) baking successes. But, for now, let it suffice to say that Blaze is either a very patient or very hungry soul.

The Beginning

Due to popular demand (kind of), I have decided that it might be worthwhile to enter the blogosphere. And, if I am going to deem my blog Becoming a Cowgirl, I think it would be best to start with when the road to my becoming a cowgirl first began construction. May 15, 2010 to be exact--the day my true love and I were married for time and all eternity. Sigh.

For those of you who don't know, it just so happens that my true love is a cowboy . . . if by cowboy you mean he wears Wranglers, knows a lot about tractors, and has big muscles from handling a hoe. He even has a bull whip. And he knows how to use it. Anyway, my true love the cowboy swept me off my feet and didn't put me down again until we had reached a tiny town of 400 people (402 now that we're here), and for the last 3 months Lund, Nevada USA has been our home sweet home. Don't bother trying to find Lund on GoogleEarth, because it just shows up as dirt. It's about 3 hours from every major city an

d 40 minutes from the closest grocery store. Luckily, I don't have much need for a grocery store, considering the fact that my in-laws have a gard

en the size of a small farm, some 20 chickens, and they butcher their own cows. I hate grocery shopping anyway.

So that's the end of the beginning. And here I am. Livin' the country life. I even have my own pair of pink cowgirl boots and my very own cowgirl shirt.

All in all, I think I'm rather suited to small town living, and I wouldn't trade my new life for any other in the world.