May As Well Burn the Stilettos...

Random event of the day:



I'm driving home from dropping Haley, my BF Kel's oldest, off at her house after an exciting playdate at our house. I'm talking to my girlfriend Amy on the phone, trying to decipher conversation between Laney's ear-piercing shrieks of frustration because her $#&*(#@)* musical animal thingy is not performing up to her expectations and Ethan's softer-but-still-highly-aggravating whimpers about not having a toy.



(Let me interject here that Ethan has a gazillion toys -- of which he prefers anything from McDonald's, the Dollar Store, and/or the Power Rangers collection to any of the really cool, cute stuff that I find for him... but whatever -- but the problem at this moment is that he doesn't have Laney's toy.)



I am about two seconds from parking the van safely on the side of the road (because we are still paying for it), double-checking the kids' safety belts (because I do love my kids, even though I could make millions if the government could ever figure out a way to harness whine power to make nuclear weapons or weapons of mass destruction), and going to play in traffic (although this would be pointless, as we live close to the middle of Nowhere and I was, in fact, traveling through Nowhere on my way home, so there would be no traffic, and I would be more likely to die of starvation than be hit by an automobile moving fast enough to do any damage.)



While contemplating all of this and simulatneously carrying on an adult conversation with my friend Amy, the MV tops the crest of a small hill and...



OH MY LORD! THERE IS A COW LOOSE!



(That would be the end of my adult conversation with Amy, whose moment of stunned silence indeed made me realize that I am no longer a hip, chic, urban woman... but then, I may never have been...)



BACKGROUND: I grew up in the country where it was not uncommon to see livestock roaming free... like in our backyard. WE didn't have livestock because my dad, although fabulous, is not so much the farmer type. (He discovered new potatoes long before the culinary world... except he was trying to grow full size potatoes... but ended up instead with a crop of raw tater tots...) A lot of our neighbors did have farms or farmed on the side, so for the first eighteen years of my life, I walked outside most mornings inhaling the smell of cows or chicken coops (depending on which way the wind was blowing). My friends from The Ville -- although always up-to-date on cultural trends and fashion -- could also identify a soy bean, assist in birthing goats, and kept baby cows for pets.



(K. was very disturbed the first time I mentioned that my friend Karen and I used to walk her baby cow down the road. He thought I meant we loaded her up in a cattle carrier... I meant that we put a rope lead around her neck and took the cow to walk. Didn't seem strange at the time...)



For fun, we got together to hang out. Since The Ville is really small, we'd sometimes venture out to near-by, more densely populated towns for typical fun at restaurants, malls, etc.... but my favorite memories from growing up include camping out in cow pastures, cow tipping, snipe hunting, and midnight sign collecting walks. (I won't elaborate on any of those as my mom may some day join the rest of the free world, get a computer, and read my blog... and I don't want to have to explain any of that.)



Anyway, once I went to college and eventually moved away, I lost a lot of my accent and learned that I didn't have to wear overalls to prove I could drive a tractor. As time went by, more and more new acquaintances seemed to be shocked to learn that I grew up in a town with no red lights, a speed limit under 50 mph, a gas station that still has family charge accounts (on receipt paper... not programmed in a computer), and other rarities such as sunshine, green grass, and fresh air (well... at least, air not contaminated by chemical pollutants... the cows and chickens took care of that...).



I learned that going barefoot is not always the best option, that "town" is not a 30-minute drive from everywhere, and that expressions like "Well... if he don't look like Who Done It!" are not so common outside of my hometown.



(And no... I don't know Who Done It. This saying, in addition to "Put on the brakes." and "hose pipe" top K's list of most annoying expressions ever.)



Moving back here was a little bit of a shock, even though we didn't move all the way back to The Ville. We settled about 20-25 minutes outside of my hometown... a little closer to the bustle of A-Little-Bigger-Than-A-Small-Town town life.... and although I can drive to one of the main highways in this area in less than a minute, I can also be in the middle of the cow pasture in about the same time.



K. loves the idea of what he calls "country living"... even though I think that, to him, it really just means having a "tractor"... which is really a large lawnmower and not really a tractor like what I think of... I, on the other hand, find this to be a lot more urban than where I grew up... but there are elements of home...



Like the cow. (Back to the story.)



So, there's a cow standing on the side of the road, outside the fence. A cluster of still-imprisoned cows are standing behind the rebel cow; the rebel cow is standing, butt to the crowd, facing the horizon like it's a new day for beef providers everywhere.



After the momentary shock, I immediately start freaking out... because everybody knows that cows can cause serious car wrecks. (Think Tommy Boy, except with a cow outside instead of a deer inside.)



I hang up with Amy and start calling my family because they still live in the country and would know what to do.



No one, of course, is at home.



So I call Keith... I guess just so I can tell him there's a cow out less than a mile from our house, as he'd have no idea what to do with a cow.



He doesn't answer.



I turn around because I know that whoever owns this cow needs to be told before 1) there's a wreck, 2) some city folk calls animal control or the police, and 3) the cow ends up in the Publix meat case years ahead of schedule. (That was a joke. A farmer isn't supposed to sell a cow's remains if the cow dies in a situation like this.)



As I'm heading back to a local grocery/meat store/restaurant, I decide to call my friend Mrs. Leverette. She and her husband, Henry, live just across the way, and they have much more experience dealing with out-of-control wild life than do I.



(Mrs. L. and I teach together, and she is one of the main reasons I look forward to going to school. Not only is she absolutely hilarious, but Henry is also a riot -- although I'm not sure he means to be. He just makes me laugh; I think I scare him.)



As long-time residents of The Springs, they have encountered wild turkeys, deer, a llama (I think... but I could be making that up), and a various assortment of other critters.



Henry, as the self-proclaimed mayor of The Springs, is also -- as best as I can figure -- the closest to law enforcement (with his fellow Michelin men that drive big trucks) that we have out this way.



I explain the situation, and Henry passes down his verdict: Go get your gun and shoot it.



If it were in my yard... maybe... but I'm thinking that since the cow is still on its own turf, that might cause some sort of war between the other cows and my posse... and K, the kids, the dogs, and I are nowhere near as tough as these big honkin' cows.



So, I opt to drive to the closest driveway (because the house is so far off the road I can't see it) and see if the cow belongs to them.



Turns out, I'm too late. Another fellow ruralite has informed the farm staff that a cow is out and, although it doesn't belong to them, they're going to contact the owners before anything happens.... like someone calling the police or trying to snatch the beef.



Relieved, I relay the message to Mrs. L. (who overheard the entire conversation anyway because I wouldn't get off the phone until I was sure the people at the end of the long driveway were not of Deliverance calibur).



My good deed for the day done, I turn the MV toward home with my two now-sleeping kiddies in the back.



Life in the country is good. This is the most excitement we've had since Laney's birthday party, when the six-foot-plus black snake slithered out of the dog pen and into terrain previously occupied only moments before by my girlfriend, her twin daughters, and her husband....



But that's a story for another day.... I've got to go finish my chores before we have to snuff out the candles and get some shut eye so we'll be ready to get up with the chickens tomorrow...