I still have boxes of stuff at my parents home in Montana. This past summer, I managed to salvage some crazy memories from the stock of old journals I have stashed in one box. This was my impetus to start this blog. Rereading through these old journals was an amazing retracing of my own footsteps along a winding but pleasuable path. One journal entry made me smirk in particular:
My freshman year at college, I was dating a cowboy who would take me out to the local country bar to teach me how to jitterbug. Since he was a senior, he could sweettalk the bouncer into letting me in without an id. This was half the thrill...and getting tossed around the dance floor, and then getting caught midair was the extra thrill. The cool thing was when we entered the jitterbug contest at the college's spring barn dance and got second prize! We beat out one other couple, clearly better dancers, simply because the girl knocked off her partner's sacred cowboy hat. (Yep, folks, they don't allow that!) Now, I had remembered that, and little else about Cowboy Charles, but what I hadn't remembers was getting dragged out of the dance later by one of my drunk friends to go and catch a chicken from the farm next door. Yes, I was an accomplice in bagging up a poor sleeping chicken and then letting it loose in the middle of the dance floor!
This would be one of those stories my mother would say, "What I didn't know couldn't hurt me." More of these memories to come!
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