Look at ‘dem boots. She’s gone country, back to her roots.
Please tell me I’m not the only one singing loudly here.
There’s a bit of country fever running through our house. Even Henry has caught the bug insisting that country music (Waylon Jennings to be specific) is played every time we are in the car.
Which does raise an interesting point. While I wouldn’t consider myself much of a “country” person, I’ve been bitten too. I’ve never ridden a horse or spent any time on a farm for that matter. But I do have an idealistic image of what life on the farm may look like in my head.
On days when I’ve just about had it, I start to dream of dropping everything and moving to Montana. (With my family of course.) Why Montana? I’m not entirely sure, let’s just go with it. We would have our own place out in the country. A big rambling farmhouse (that has been completely gutted and finished to perfection – remember we are dreaming here) that sits in the middle of our “gentleman’s ranch.” Throw in a couple of goats, a dog or two, and some chickens. Because who doesn’t like fresh eggs? I probably home-school my kids (because my patience would be infinite out in the country) before they head out to complete their farm chores. Meanwhile, I would spend the afternoon cooking, sewing, and doing endless craft projects. (Hey, this is my dream.)
Sigh. For now we are firmly settled in our town, living in the ‘burbs. (Which in all reality isn’t too shabby.)
Yet, I think dreams are fun to keep around. And the best part is, this Christmas my sweet hubby Alex gave me two gifts that lend themselves nicely to my wishful thinking.
What a blessing it is to have a husband that knows me so well and supports my dreams. Or at least humors me.
So consider this a “heads-up” if you happen to see me around town sporting a rhinestone belt buckle and boots. Yup, I’m a cowgirl wannabe ya’ll.