I've never been the toughest or strongest chick around, a fact that never bothered me much and one I never really thought would change. I was just, you know, me - more analytical than athletic. More tender than tough. More weenie than winner - you get my point.
|Storm coming in over fields near Coyote Creek|
|Pretty old Lady|
|What remains of a town square|
|View towards Austin|
6 months ago, it's unlikely I could/would have chucked 450lbs of anything from the bed of a truck through an open door. There's a damn fine view from the inside of the barn now. Pretty enough to make me want to kiss my arm muscles, put my hands on my hips, and try to call the animals in with a two-fingered whistle. Turns out I still stink at the whistling thing, but I'm pretty sure there's a legitimate cowgirl/farmer in here who's finally making her way out.