An Early Christmas

Sawed-Off got this Talking Dump Truck from Grandma & Grandpa the other day.

That same night, as I pulled off Sawed-Off's pants and began to change his poopy, leaking diaper, the Dump Truck said enthusiastically from its vantage point on the floor beside me, "Let's get ANOTHER load!"

Actually, Dump Truck, let's not. How 'bout? Let's not.

The Mountain Road

There are two ways to get to town from the ranch. You can drive 20 miles out, then jump on the highway (just a two-lane deal, don't get excited) and drive 14 miles in to town. It's pretty quick, but you have to watch out for cows, deer, sometimes horses and other animals.

Or, you can drive about 10 miles out and head up into the mountains. The mountain road winds around for about 18 miles until you get to town. It is scenic and you usually see all kinds of animals: cows, deer, coyotes, sometimes a bear. If you know the mountain road, it ends up being a bit faster than heading all the way out to the highway. But there is one little problem:

The mountain road isn't maintained in the winter. That means, no snow removal until the spring thaw. A Travel At Your Own Risk kind of deal.

Usually, I take the mountain road when I am driving H-Bomb to preschool. It's been fun all fall, seeing what animals we can see, having the road essentially to ourselves every morning, and playing H-Bomb's favorite made-up game: Are We At Town YET?

Last week, the day after Thanksgiving, we got snow at the ranch. A lot of snow. But just that one day. H-Bomb didn't have school until the following Tuesday, and I'm originally from Michigan (so I'm used to driving in the snow, plowing through drifts in my little Ford Festiva or occasionally my parent's car. Wait. I didn't just admit that, did I?). So I didn't think anything of it.

On Tuesday, we turned onto the mountain road, as usual. And at first, it was fine. There was no snow in sight. Yet the higher we drove, the more snow appeared. (can you imagine?) Of course it hadn't been plowed at all, but there had been traffic on it. We were driving the minivan. It doesn't have any snow tires, but I wasn't worried. The Festiva had wheelbarrow tires and a lawnmower engine, and I took that thing everywhere.

It is a bit different when you have kids. I must clarify that during this drive I was a bit nervous, but not enough to turn around. I did figure we could walk to town if we had to. I had the stroller in the back. We would have been fine. H-Bomb would have been late for school, but we would have been fine.

The road got snowier and snowier. There was ice underneath, I could feel the tires slipping occasionally. A couple times I put the van in low gear, and then I just kept on going until we made it up some hills. If I had stopped, there would have been no going on, and we were beyond the point of no return--too close to town and over some hills that I did not want to attempt again. I am a cautious driver, a good driver. In Michigan, even when they "plow" the roads there is a sheet of ice underneath packed snow from December until April. So I have some experience with this type of driving.

And we made it, of course. There was no point that was so treacherous that I thought we were in trouble. Not in the least. And despite all this H-Bomb was STILL the very first kid at school. Some lady in the grocery store looked at me like I was crazy when I said I came over the mountain. But she looks like a ma-a-a-an, baby, so what does she know?

But I will tell you this:

As far as we are concerned, unless there is a big thaw in early December, that road is Closed for us. We'll be travelling on the highway from now until Spring.

Unless we get a snowmobile.

Thanksgiving on the Ranch

The Menu:

Rosemary-Garlic Infused Turkey

Classic Stuffing

Mashed Potatoes and Gravy

Steamed Green Beans

Rolls

~~~

Fresh Pumpkin Pie

Apple Pie

Maple Pecan Pie

~~~

#1 and I shared our table with H-Bomb, Sawed-Off, C.G. and my parents, who traveled almost 1700 miles to join us. It was a small gathering, but a great meal.

#1 prepared the Maple Pecan Pie, in case you think cowboys can't bake. This one can. He also made the mashed potatoes. H-Bomb helped prepare the turkey.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Cowgirls and Tractors and Four Wheelers, Oh My!

I have told you about things like this before. This is another one of those times. Let me set the scene:

• #1 and his brother are out pushing cattle, miles away.
• RH and Wifey are at their son's wedding in California.
• C.G. is laid up at her house with a broken foot.
• I am at the house, alone with two young boys, one of whom is sleeping.

I notice there are cows out. Everywhere.

Following is a synopsis of the IM conversation I have with C.G.:

Me: there are cows out! I don't know where they got out. if you can come sit in our house, I can put them in--Sawed-Off is still sleeping
Me: lots of cows! they are everywhere!

C.G.: We put a bunch back in when we came home from taking the truck. I don't know how they're getting out. Why don't you come up and get me and we can try to get them back in.

Me: I would but Sawed-Off is sleeping.
Me: I can't leave him alone here

{ME not realizing all of C.G.'s weekend guests have left, and her truck is down here.}

Me: I can try to do it myself with the four wheeler, I just need someone here in case Sawed-Off wakes up
Me: it looks like there is fence down in the orchard

C.G.: I don't have my truck here to come down.

Me: crap! I'll be right there.


I leave H-Bomb in the house with a sleeping Sawed-Off; "just stay in the house until Grammy gets here. I'll be right back."

I drive my jeep up to pick up Laid-Up C.G. She comes to sit with the kids. The cows have, in the meantime, found the hay.

The hay is a bit of an aside. We are running out. We had been feeding some 12 tons per day before shipping, and shipping ended up getting delayed a few days. The cows are used to getting fed hay, instead of scrounging around in the desert. In short, they've become lazy. They are wanting to be fed. Until they get pushed to their respective winter ranges, they will continue busting out all over the place. We can't have random cows eating all the hay when we still have other cows to feed.

C.G. decides the cows that are out have Bear Claw brands, so that means they need to be pushed back into the horse pasture. They have most likely busted out of the bottom of the horse pasture and come up the creek. From there, there is a weak spot in the fence, just a couple strands of smooth wire, between them and Freedom. C.G. suggests starting up the tractor: "maybe they'll think they're going to get fed and follow you."

I zoom out to the tractor and trailer on the four wheeler. I haven't driven the tractor in, oh, years. I try to start it. Can't. I circle around the cows on the four wheeler, trying to get them away from the hay at least, but they are hungry bitches. They don't budge. I race back to the house to ask C.G. how to start the tractor. I had forgotten one crucial step: make sure it's in neutral before you turn the key. Duh.

I race back and jump into the tractor, which thankfully starts right up. By now, the cows and horses in the horse pasture are crowding the gate, which means if I open it up to put the other cows in, they will bust out as well. That would be bad. I'm not even sure I can leave it open long enough to drive the tractor and trailer through there.

Think, cowgirl, think!

I put the tractor in gear, in low, and start it heading toward the gate. Those cattle around the hay don't bat an eyelash. In seconds, I decide what I have to do. I aim the tractor toward the gate, and bail out. That's right, I jump out of the moving tractor and Run As Fast As I Possibly Can in slip-on Keens to the four wheeler.

As I race the four wheeler around behind the cows, trying to push them off the hay and toward the tractor and ultimately the gate to the horse pasture, I realize with horror I have forgotten one little thing about our tractor. Just one, shall we say, minor detail.

And I don't know how to say it like a cowgirl or a rancher, so I'll just say it like a sailor: the tractor has a list. No, not a grocery list or a to-do list, I mean it veers sharply to the left.

Out in the vast fields, it isn't a big deal at all. Not much to run into. In among the buildings, it is a HUGE deal. As I make the first pass on the four wheeler behind the cows, I look up to see this:

The tractor listing sharply left, with the forks about three feet from the front side of ABEG's precious half a million dollar barn.

I say words that would impress both a sailor AND a rancher. I race toward the tractor on the four wheeler, jumping off the moving four wheeler with barely enough time to put it in neutral, climb into the tractor and grab the wheel, the tractor's forks just a foot or two from the $500,000 barn. I realize I said this twice. I need you to understand the severity of the situation. And tractors ain't cheap neither.

The trailer narrowly misses grazing the four wheeler. And I am not even exaggerating there; it passed less than a foot from the four wheeler.

And the cows? Still have not moved an inch from the luscious hay.

I park the tractor and turn it off. I opt for the four wheeler, which is much easier to control. I daren't open the gate, by now all the rest of the horses and cows have heard and seen the tractor coming! They are ALL crowding the gate, anticipating dinner.

There is a small gate that leads into a corral, then empties into the horse pasture. I decide that this, Obi-Wan, is my only hope. I open it, and pray the rest of the animals don't see me doing this. It's like an open invitation to the Hay Buffet.

Then I'm back on the four wheeler. These bitches are stubborn. They do not want to get off the hay, not one bit, thank you. My throat is sore from all the yelling, I kid you not. And there are awesome donuts and skid marks and huge clouds of dust all over the ranch. But by god, I got those cows in. It took me many passes and chasing cows back and forth and back again, but finally some of the cows went in. I wanted to count them through the gate, but it was getting dark and there were still more cows--as soon as I moved the first dozen or so off the hay and toward the little gate, the next bunch discovered the All-You-Can-Eat Buffet.

I could get them going toward the gate, but then they would bunch up in a little corner. Of course there are some fence posts and equipment or some crap piled up there, just close enough to the fence that I couldn't fit the four wheeler through there. And my dog, Mia, the guard dog, isn't quite fluent in the cowdog way. She helped me some, don't get me wrong, but a lot of the time she was in the wrong place, or just in the way. Luckily I didn't run over her with the four wheeler.

So, on it went, me racing around the cows, this way and that and and backwards and around in circles, chasing them away from the hay bales time and again, because those bitches just kept circling back. Whatever you say about cows, they know where the food is. Then chasing them around and around the buildings and the machinery and the trucks and the trailers and the equipment and the motor home and the boat and the what-have-you and getting off the four wheeler and running and then back on and finally through the little gate. I must have chased at least 30 cattle in this way, all by myself, before #1 and his brother came home.

I said, hoarsely, "I hope these bitches are supposed to be in the horse pasture, because that's where I put them."

#1 opened up the wood gate, and proceeded to let all the damn horses out. Just to make some extra work as the sky was darkening. He and his brother got the horses in, pushed in more cows. I raced around ranch headquarters, making sure there were no more stragglers, all the way up to C.G.'s house.

I don't know if you know this, but it is damn hard work driving a four wheeler around the way I did. I'm not kidding. And my throat hurts. But it was a hell of a lot of fun! And if you tell C.G. what I almost did to her barn and her tractor, I think I will have to hurt you.

What Else? New House Pictures

I just can't resist. The builders aren't here on the weekends, so it's been all quiet and still out there, but for the occasional dog or cat rustling through the addition.

Here's what it looks like from the back:


Below, from left, you can probably recite this with me from over-exposure to the progress:
Two sets of dining room windows, nearly floor-to-ceiling; French doors (behind the bell-pole in this pic); kitchen window; master bath window; three master bedroom windows.

We are so excited about all the space out the back--it will be more accessible, and we are going to be putting rocks and patio and plants and planters and benches back there. Possibly even a pergola. We'll see how much "spare time" Husband #1 decides he can dedicate to these projects. At least he doesn't have to do any construction work. He should be thankful for that...

You Know You Live On A Ranch When...

Getting out of bed at 6:45AM is considered "sleeping in."

Shipping Day, Part Two

At long last. It has been quite a few days since shipping day, and I realized I didn't tell you what happened! Here goes...

Before sunrise, #1 and his brother started gathering the cattle from the fields. They were pushed into the corral system to be sorted off. There were at least seven of us working in the corrals, then another four or so around the scale. Not including truck drivers. It takes a lot of people to sort this many cattle.

You know it's going to be a good day when you encounter Old "Eyebrows" in the corral. She is gettin' some age on her, and she is pretty wild, but what she lacks in compliance she makes up for in looks. She has two matching eyebrows, one over each eye. That is the best shot I could get with my little digital--can't take my good camera when I'm working in the corrals.
And here is Broker J., surveying the herd. J., #1 and I herded cows from this corral into the alley, where they were sorted off. First heifers (girls) and steers (boys) were separated into separate pens and the mother cows were let back out. Some of the calves didn't get branded this year, which means there were also some young bulls in there. Those got separated off first with the steers (castrated), and then each group of calves were sorted again.
Here comes #1 to help us out.
After we got the alley filled, I helped close the gate, then I climbed up on the fence. It was my job to make sure the cows didn't pack too tight against the gate and bust back through. So basically I got to yell and make noises at them, and poke at and/or hit them if they didn't listen. In addition to this, I got to climb up and over fences all day long, relaying messages and whatnot to the folks at the scales. Whew.
There were so many cows here I have no idea what the final numbers were. And even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you. It's a kind of ranchers code: you would no more ask how many cattle an outfit runs, than you would ask how much money a person has in the bank.

I can tell you this:

it was fence-to-fence cows, as far as you could see.

Once the heifers and steers were separated, we sorted through each group to get the ones the Buyer wanted. Those cows went down the alley, onto the scales, and then into a holding pen until they were ready to load the trucks.


I snapped this shot from my fence-top perch. #1 and J. would be at the front of the herd, shouting out what cow went where. Essentially, they were at the front of the herd, unintentionally pushing them back toward the gate and my post. And I would try to keep the herd from pushing too hard against the gate. The cattle get pretty jam-packed in the alley, so it can be stressful, not to mention dangerous, if a cow is too wild or decides to try to bust through somewhere. Thankfully, no one got hurt today.




This little muddy calf was one who was constantly playing in the sprinkler--one of the risers that supply water to the cows was broken, and sprayed out. Some of the little ones enjoyed playing in the spray!
And here come the trucks!

It gets kinda dusty. We haven't had rain in a while. And occasionally the guys on the gates miss a cow or put it in the wrong pen. RanchHand was working a gate, and was getting a bit testy with the Buyer at one point, which is a definite no-no.
Luckily, RH asked me "who is that man" and I explained.

I told him, "RH, you can't yell at the Buyer."

RH said, "But...but he yelled at me too. And sometimes they won't say what it is until it's too late."

I said, "RH, you just have to be nice, and pay attention. And move faster."

There's the Buyer and Broker, looking for one of the calves who got into the wrong pen.

See the black one? Trying to escape.


You can't tell by looking, but those trucks are full of cows. Three semis, all headed to the Colorado/Kansas border to feed lots. From there, to your table as BEEF.
You're welcome.

The Final Batches...

The last of the tomatoes have ripened. My kitchen counter is clearing off! Today I made the final three batches of salsa. It is extra spicy because I used extra jalapenos, and they were bright red. #1 is going to be excited. (and I realize many of you have seen this all before, but think of it like this: this is the last salsa of the season. No more salsa blogs until next year!!)

I roasted the garlic and jalapenos:

I roasted the tomatoes:

Chopped the onion:

Squeezed in the secret ingredient: (oops, I wasn't supposed to tell you that part)

And processed lightly.

Voila! I am finished with salsa for the season. Now let's just hope we don't run out!

Shipping Day, Part One

Some of you might be aware how difficult it can be with two little boys running around. I have the perfect solution to behavioral challenges. First let me tell you, it's shipping day.

Shipping Day means that #1 et al have spent weeks gathering ALL the hundreds of cattle all over the ranch. We run cattle on almost 200,000 acres, so it's a huge job. Now, all the mama cows and their calves are down here, and we've been feeding them, waiting for shipping day.

On Shipping Day, we sort off all the calves (that means separate them from their mothers) and then the buyer comes and picks out the ones he wants. In this case, roughly three semi-truck loads that we will weigh and load up so he can haul them off.

Now, C.G. went and broke her foot yesterday, so we were in a bit of a panic. C.G., obviously, has a huge job on shipping day. And Wifey is not on the ranch. The lovely Miss Jenny is coming down to stay with my boys so I can help out in the corral today.

So, H-Bomb and Sawed Off have been mostly well-behaved this morning, excited about Miss Jenny's imminent arrival. To the point that H-Bomb went and got clothes for Sawed Off to wear today, and while I've been typing this, has been in the process of removing Sawed Off's jammies and has just succeeded in putting Sawed Off's sweatpants on. They have also done some cleaning up, and helped me make Pioneer Woman's Best Chocolate Sheet Cake. Ever. to feed all the hungry ranch hands after a hard day's work.

The answer to fixin' behavior troubles then?

Call in Miss Jenny. The boys just love her.

It's Starting To Look Like A House!

Due to this little problem, I haven't been able to post frequent pictures of the progress on our addition. Well, feast your eyes on these:


This picture shows the end of the house that will be our Master Suite. Notice the large window on the end. The existing window (in the log part) will become a patio door.


Above, from left, you can see two of our three bedroom windows. They will be high because although there is no view (gas tanks, neighbors, etc.) we wanted lots of air and light. The third window you see (same size) will be in our Master Bath, above the tub. The fourth, larger, window will be in our kitchen. More on that in a moment.

I am so excited to see these plans, that I drew from my own mind, coming to life! It's really going to work! It's going to be awesome! We can't wait.


Here, at left, you see our bathroom window again, and a better view of the kitchen window opening. We've just decided to put one single-hung window in the kitchen, so it will be nice and big and open.


And finally, from left, you see the opening for our French doors, leading out from the kitchen/dining room area to the back yard. Near the middle, our large picture windows in the dining room. These will be more impressive with the actual windows in there--it will be a nice configuration. On the end, more picture windows in the dining room/family room, configured to match the other windows. Oh, we are so excited!

They are almost finished putting on the boards for the roof, then sometime soon our actual roof will go on!

The Limitations of Satellite Internet...

Before I came down to the ranch, #1 and C.G. just bought movies to watch all the time. There was no television. For those of you who don't know, we live 35 miles away from the nearest town. We generate our own electricity (because we have to) and there is no telephone service. To get a decent cell phone signal, you have to drive 10 miles, one way, and pray for a cloudless sky.

When #1 and I started dating, I would record my favorite television shows and bring them down to watch at the ranch. I described the wonders of satellite television, and HBO. Before we knew it, C.G. had a dish on her roof. #1 and I would go up to her house at night to snuggle in and watch Sex & The City (gave C.G. an education to boot!), Friends, The Sopranos, whatever else happened to be on that we liked.

Before H-Bomb was born, we got our own dish so I didn't have to suffer through the million-degree temperatures upstairs at C.G.'s house.

A few years later, we started talking about Satellite Internet. You see, here on the ranch, being so far from everywhere, you really have to plan ahead. You have to be prepared. You never know what is going to break next and need immediate attention (read: parts). C.G. was forever driving off to the Big City (five hours away) to get something. It took a LOT of talking and convincing and we had to get several supporters (C.G.'s brother, a doctor friend, etc.) to make C.G. realize she couldn't live without this Internet business.

So now we have Satellite Internet. Have had it for almost two years now, and it is great. Has saved everyone a lot of driving, although I honestly can't say it has saved ANYONE any money--Internet shopping is too convenient--helps us keep in touch with The Outside World, that kind of thing.

Recently, we've been having troubles with download speed, even accessing web pages was interminably slow. Couldn't figure it out, but suspected it had something to do with RanchHand and Wifey--they have been downloading movies, entire movies, from Netflix--but we couldn't be sure they were the cause. And yesterday, RH said, "I've discovered YouTube!"

We had a satellite guy down here last week, to move the dish from the roof to the wall of the house, because we are getting a new roof any day now. While he was working, both C.G. and Wifey came up to him separately to ask questions. He walked in and asked me how many computers are on the system, and recommended that we upgrade to handle the traffic. Which I plan to do, as soon as I can drive up and make a stupid phone call, because you can't upgrade online. Ridiculous.

By default, I am the Network Administrator of this place, because I know the most about computers. And I was the loudest "let's get the Internet" advocate on the ranch. So, I now have a job.

And today, my job was to get down to the bottom of: Why The Hell It Takes For-Freakin-Ever To Get To A Damn Website, If You Get There At All.

I discovered that our provider has a policy that they call: Fair Access. In essence, this seems to exist to ensure that people don't monopolize the satellite system. I thought, well, that's a good idea. Now I just have to figure out who's monopolizing OUR system. But I kept reading. The Fair Access Policy ensures that individual satellite systems don't monopolize the entire system. In other words, there were restrictions placed on OUR system because of excessive downloading that had the power to impact OTHER USERS. That is some serious business. Who does that much downloading?? This is an explanation of the policy rational, in part:

"service usage data indicates that a small percentage of subscribers are responsible for a disproportionate amount of the total service traffic."

It does make sense. I asked #1 to talk to RH this morning. I said that I needed to take a look at his computer (Wifey is out of town) to make sure he didn't have programs running that he wasn't aware of, didn't have a virus, things like that. RH came over and said, "Yeah, Wifey does all that. No need to see the computer." And then he left.

Now, Wifey does NOT do all that. I have had to coach her through everything from attaching a document to an email, to actually getting online ever since she brought home their first computer. Yes, I said first computer. As a matter of fact, last I knew Wifey hadn't even forwarded the recipe exchange email I sent her because she didn't know how to cut and paste.

So, nothing against Wifey at all, she's part of the older generation that didn't have computers in school. That being said, Wifey don't know much. Especially if there is a problem. That could be affecting the system.

I told #1 what RH said, about him not wanting me to see the computer.

#1 simply said, "Porn."

Aha. Wifey's been gone for days. Who knows, anything could happen. I'm not judging. I'm just saying, as the Network Administrator, I need to see what's up. NastyHighSchoolCheerleaders.com or no.

I did some more looking at things that could be causing our restrictions. Could be causing us to download almost 200MB per hour--that is a LOT of MB. I'm not sure what our download threshold is, but I sure as hell know 200MB exceeds it.

In the top position on the list? Full-length movie download. The third item on the list? Continuous downloading or viewing streaming media content such as audio or video programming. In other words, NetFlix and YouTube are in the top three.

I started a virus scan on our computer, just to be safe. I went up and got C.G.'s computer to make sure her virus protection is up-to-date. Then I walked right out to RH and I said: "I need to get a virus scan started on your computer." He walked right in with me and got the computer out. He said, "I've been watching YouTube instead of watching TV." Huh, think that could affect our system??

Now, all I have to do is figure out how to change the darn password to get online, just in case. You never know when you're going to have to block someone from accessing the Internet. Climbers? Tourists? Who knows. In almost two years, many people know our password by now. It could have gotten around. I also am looking for a way to see if there are other computers accessing our system, besides the ones on the ranch. Tourists beware if I find a way and I find you stealing our internet.

Checking our usage statistics, we have been restricted eight of the last eleven days. That is inconceivable to me. And maddening.

I just hope our service doesn't get terminated, which is an honest-to-god possible consequence of excessive downloading and frequently exceeding the download threshold.

Because if that happened, The Shit Would Hit The Fan.

This is My Lifeline To Civilization we're talking about.

You don't mess with it. Or I Will Mess With You.

A Big New Coffee Mug.

Thank you, thank you, Jenny.

;-)

Fall Feedin'

We're getting ready to sort off the calves and ship them out, which means the majority of the cattle are right around the ranch, and they need to be fed. Together they eat about 12 tons of hay per day. Right now, we are feeding them morning, noon and night.

All those cows kick up a bunch of dust.H-Bomb and Sawed-Off LOVE feeding the cows, and the horses. They simply MUST be out there, on the trailer or in the tractor. If #1 goes out there without them, there is a huge scene. It's not pretty. We got home from school yesterday, and saw Daddy was out feeding. I had to run the boys out there on the four-wheeler so they could "help," even though the feeding was done and all they did was ride back in the tractor with Daddy.

Once we're finished with the cows, who get one-ton bales of hay, it's time to feed the horses. Honestly, if we load the small bales on the trailer and cut the strings, the boys can pretty much feed the horses themselves.

My sweet little cowboys...

The Call of The...Wait. What?

Hubcap? Seriously?

Apparently so. I’ll just come right out and admit it. I am drawn, somewhat secretly and inexplicably, to the hubcaps I see, lost and deserted and shiny along the road to our ranch.

For some reason, they are plentiful here. There is a lot of traffic, after all, headed down to GBNP, and maybe the road is just bumpy enough and just curvy enough to loosen the holds that last little bit so they just fly right off. And land right where I can see them.

I don’t know why they catch my eye so. They appear so…sculptural. So…intricate. So…shiny. I realize this will sound completely, um, redneck of me, but I have visions. Visions of a collection of artistically arranged hubcaps, filling one side of a building perhaps. Lining the rails of a fence. The possibilities are limitless.

But something keeps holding me back. It could possibly be #1, saying, “No. I’m not stopping. That is trashy.” Or perhaps it is the thoughts swirling around in the back of my mind, “That IS kinda trashy. I guess...”

Until Today.

Today, I picked up a hubcap. I had seen it, lying on the side of the road on my way to town this morning. If that is still there when I get back, I thought to myself, I am going to pick it up. I am. I will. If there is no traffic coming.

As luck would have it, it was still there. And there was no traffic. I pulled off to the side, hurried across the road, ironically in my red high heels. Honestly. I picked it up, put it in the van. “What’s that?” H-Bomb asked curiously from the backseat.

“It’s a hubcap, honey,” I replied.

“What’s it for?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

As I said those words, I considered what I had just done, what #1 would say when he discovered it in the garage. I had just picked up a hubcap. A slightly broken, not very intricate, hardly shiny at all hubcap. In fact, the more I looked at it, the more I was convinced that it wasn’t even metal—it looked plastic. I drove on, the hubcap beside me. Not shiny. Not very artistic. Certainly not sculptural. Kind of, shall we say, trashy.

After this short internal debate, and after a truck passed by, I rolled down my window and tossed the hubcap back out. I drove on, not watching to see where it would land. Let someone else pick it up and treasure it for its simplistic, lackluster brokenness. I’ll wait for another one. A better one. A hubcap that is blindingly shiny and unbelievably intricate, possibly from a Porshe or a Benz. Or perhaps I’ll find a hobby that is less, well, trashy.