So Loving. Folks from all over the US, and probably beyond, send their valentines to the Loving post office so they can then be postmarked from "Loving". Isn't that sweet? Remember that come mid-February or so if you want brownie points.
I am in Loving to be a supportive and nurturing mother to my eldest daughter who has had a new baby. Yesterday as a matter of fact. Master Sam arrived at 10:02 in the morning which is quite civilized if you discount the getting up at 4:00 a.m. to scurry about bleary eyed to go to the hospital. But I did that very thing, cheerfully, or at least not unpleasantly, and did my due diligence at the hospital all day. My new grandson is particularly attractive and is a credit to his parents to whom he bears some likeness even today. I had the honor of alerting the family in California of the progress of labor, the whining during my exile during the delivery, and the pronouncements of the subsequent weights and measures. Naturally they were ever so pleased to get all the gritty details from my pithy comments to them via texts complete with pictures. I am clever.
It would seem that the new mother expects that I shall avail myself of the domestic duties usually reserved for the "help". In this case, it would seem, I am the help. Somehow you'd think I'd get a new outfit out of this deal. But we are casual here in Loving, so no new duds for moi. I had an inkling of these sad tidings a couple days ago when the then pregnant and tetchy mother to be demanded to know what I wanted to from the store (mercado) so I could cook meals. She also explained to me what her beloved gets in his lunch that is lovingly (that word again) packed each morning at some unholy hour before he scampers off to work. This is in sharp contrast to how I pictured my time here. It went something like this, I would sit around and have my pick of bon bons and offer worthy bits of wisdom concerning the needs and care of a new baby. I would receive and "vet" visitors before allowing them access to my new grandson and I would take lots of naps. We do not communicate effectively in this family.
I got to ride the range and chase some cows around the other day. Not only that, but I got to ride a palomino horse which is a blond horse. And he was little, being how he was something like 14 hands and a bit. My last horse was about 16.2 hands. A hand measure is four inches and a horse is measured from the ground to the topmost point of the wither. If none of that means anything to you it's probably ok. Take my word for it that blondie was short. Happily he was fairly good natured and tolerant of my floundering whilst pretending to take control of a steer. I had a very good time for myself , he not so much. You will be relieved that I did not completely embarrass myself, managed to stay on and even kinda bossed a small calf around. Proof of this:
I will be in New Mexico absorbing the culture for a total of two weeks. I already have an accent and have heard myself say "might could" and "fillin' station" and "innerstate" more than once. I am a cowgirl, howdy,howdy, howdy.