Mad Cow Running, and Other Tales of the South

Last night I asked my sister what I should blog about today. She said, "Blog about me. I'm always an interesting blog topic."

And she's modest too.

But enough about her.

And on to me. I'm in Arkansas, making my annual trip to visit to my friend Julie Linker. As of this moment, I have not 

• shot anything;
• seen a scorpion;
• gone night fishing;
• eaten catfish and hush puppies;
• or shared moonshine with a redneck.

But give me time—I still have a couple weeks here. 

Julie and I have babysat a mad cow though. Yesterday, Gary (Julie's husband) was at a friend's house helping him move some cows into a different pasture. Julie, her daughter, and I decided to join them, not to herd but to sit by the pool and read. We have our priorities straight.

Except we got put on mad cow duty. One of the steers was supremely pissed to be penned away and was doing its best to get out. Gary and his friend went out to buy fence reinforcing materials, instructing us to keep an eye on the cow. 

After the men left, I turned to Julie. "So we're supposed to watch to make sure the cow doesn't escape?"

"Yes." She calmly flipped the page of her book.

I listened to the cow furiously kicking the barn door. "And what are we supposed to do if it does?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm going to run."

Fortunately, it didn't escape until after our watch.

Next...

Julie and I are headed to Orlando this week for the RWA National conference, which means we've been plotting our wardrobe over the past few days. Somehow, she decided I'm going to wear a silver sequined dress to the Rita Awards (the romance industry's equivalent to the Oscar Awards). Picture the shortest, most blinding dress you can and you'll have an accurate image of the dress. If you're going, you won't be able to miss me. I'll be the walking disco ball—walking because the dress is too tight to sit in.

In other news...

Those of you who follow me on Twitter know I've been painting. If you aren't following me on TWITTER, shame on you.

Anyway, yeah—watercolors. I'm not sure what possessed me. I haven't painted in a coon's age, since I was knee high to a tick. (I'm in the South and have to say things like that or I'll have my Visa revoked.) I love it. Today I should be writing, but I'm tempted to take my paints to the café instead of my laptop.

Don't worry. I'm not giving up the day job. McLovin and I are headed to work right now. A girl cannot live by paint alone. At least not this girl.