I have to admit that I don’t get out much anymore. In my younger days I used to run my buddies until they had to fall down and rest. I haven’t run for years, but I sometimes think about it when I walk around my dad’s ranch just to keep in shape. Well, actually I don’t much care about my shape . . . and I don’t really care about the ranch that much anymore. That’s what I hire dependable people for. However, every once in a while, I do walk around my place in Ellensburg. I’d rather live in Lakewood, where I am warm and cozy in the winter and generally cool and comfortable from May through September.
The cattle on my farm have brought me quite a pretty penny, but I have no desire to ride them or eat them. What I do in private, however, is search for Ellensburg Blue Rocks and Fossils as well as Blue Rock Agates. They are well sought after. The cattle live in well maintained areas as well as our private housing which I call “Barns & No Bulls”. My cows bring in the big bucks, but my secret stash of Ellensburg Blues is what I live for. I love their beauty . . . and value.
I found the pot of gold . . . or rather my pot of Blues, as a teenager with nothing to do. I wandered and wondered and found ways to disguise and hide my hordes. I have hidden cameras that warn me of snoopers and thieves. Most people interested in the jewels see me elsewhere and try to meet me but generally I’m not interested in meeting them.
However, as I grow older, I am leaning more to the side allowing friendship, love or sex into my life. At a Halloween party last year, I was dancing with a cute, chubby and relentlessly funny grandma woman around my own age from England. She boldly shoved a great looking woman aside and just smiled at me. She laughingly said after our eighth dance, “You remind me of my sixth husband.” I had to know so I asked, “How many times have you been married?” She replied “Five.” We laughed at the old joke, but after the dance she said, “I’m serious. I never joke about love. My only husband died last year. He was a good dancer and was always full of fun and caring . . . pretty much like you I guess. I miss him. I know I’m not beautiful and I don’t see you as taking his place, but I do see you and I sharing our worlds.
Within a year we did get married and after the preacher recited the final vow, he capped it with a famous British rhyme, “Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, and a sixpence in your shoe.” It’s a famous rhyme that superstitious brides and grooms follow in the name of luck on their wedding days.
I don’t believe in magic or luck, but just to
