Saturday afternoon we eased to Gabriel Mills to spend the night with the mom-law at her beautifully appointed new house on County Road 207 (the Big "R" done good on this one!).
An unexpected treat included the bride's baby sister whuppin' up her best ole family recipe (HEB frozen lasagna) and hosting the evening at their mountain-top forest estate and cow-pie pasture heaven.
Course the nephew was in fine form as he RAN (that young 'un don't walk no-where, no-how) and jabbered, laughed, played, and generally provided priceless entertainment for the small price of an audience.
Saturday night blissfully dissolved into a cushioned wicker couch on Nana's new sun room with a glass of merlot and the soft cooing (foghorn) of Nana expressing her opinion on everthing from her new toilets (that don't flush tha' paper to her obvious high standards) to the number one problem facing America (her need for curtain rod hangers and a sucker son-law to put them on the new walls?)
Sunday morning dawned with the ole gray haired ranch hand on the East facing sun room watching a (University of Texas) burnt orange magnificent globe slowly rising into the clear, crisp morning sky as the master and ruler of all surveyed.
The morning progressed with the old fat boy easing to the West front porch to sip a cup of mud in the cool air and wonder if cars ever drove by on the road. As my soul became attuned with the peaceful solitude, I listened to the mournful plaint of doves, the breeze in the trees, and the silent sound of stress fleeing my feeble soul. (The praying mantis and "walking stick" insects patrolling the porch were oblivious)
Lord, I pray that you will allow your humble servant to remain earthly bound for sufficient days to enjoy the bounty of your masterpiece of nature and calm in Gabriel Mills, Texas after the completion of our casa on the Tin Star.
Oh yeah, we moved the location of the house six feet South on Sunday; the ninth damn time we have relocated that sucka. I'm starting to think we need to build the house foundation on wheels?
Plain and simple ramblin' from an ole country boy concerning personal history, current family events, the Tin Star Ranch, and philosophical BS with no redeeming social value implied or intended.
Tin Star Ranch Hand
The Ole Fat Boy
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About Me
- TSRH
- I take country pride in being my parent's son, a grandpa, dad, husband, brother, uncle, nephew, christian, professor, patriot, special texas ranger, tractor jockey, woodworker, welder,shootist, bird house architect, low relief wood carver, counted cross stitcher, UT fan, meat burner, humorist, video poker devotee, raconteur, 8mm film star and all around BS artist.
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