On my way to Oklahoma last month, my plane blew a tire on take-off from Dulles and we had to turn right around and land with a flat. It was a pretty bumpy ride. There were fire trucks waiting for us and they sent a "mobile lounge" to get us from where we stopped at the end of the runway. Nothing like the Jet Blue flight, though (thanks so much, Ted, for calling to tell me about that before my flight home).
We stayed at the Coyote Hills Guest Ranch. This was the bunkhouse. Those are horseshoe pits in the foreground.
Instead of horseshoes, though, we had meetings about new exhibits for Wahita Battlefield. We met in the dining hall of the guest ranch. There was a full-size "chuck wagon" behind me. WABA's superintendent is on the left and the other three are from the exhibit design firm.
Our anniversary fell during the week I was in Oklahoma. Joe was in Spain. I had dinner with one of the designers at the Rocking S Steakhouse in Cheyenne. It was pleasant company, but it really sucked not to be able to talk to Joe for the whole week.
The folks from the design firm came out a day early to ride horses. Brenda fell in love with the horse she rode, Mesa, and when she caught Mesa doing his thing on the porch, she got him away before the owners found out. 'Course, the evidence was still there, but none of us squealed. The horses just roamed the property all the time, coming back to the stables for treats.
Lots of little kitties were running around, too, looking really cute until you saw them ripping small birds or rodents to shreds.
I rode a horse for the first time, not counting pony rides where they lead you around. This is Deuce, who figured out pretty quickly that if he wanted to stop for a snack along the side of the trail, there wasn't a thing I could do about it.
Kass and Rita own the ranch, looking after 20-some horses, cooking, leading trail rides, organizing family and corporate events. Kass talked about disciplining his horses: "They don't like it when I give them a time out, and they really hate my lectures."
I don't know whether or not to believe the story I heard about these boots: the road sign is new, and until they were put in, people gave directions by saying, "turn right at the boots." Hmm.
After I left the ranch, I discovered the kitties had autographed the rental car.
There was a whole field of these along the interstate. They seem to move so slowly, but they're so big that it's probably an illusion.
Before catching my flight out of Oklahoma City, I visited the memorial to victims of the federal building bombing.
On my way to Oklahoma last month, my plane blew a tire on take-off from Dulles and we had to turn right around and land with a flat. It was a pretty bumpy ride. There were fire trucks waiting for us and they sent a "mobile lounge" to get us from where we stopped at the end of the runway. Nothing like the Jet Blue flight, though (thanks so much, Ted, for calling to tell me about that before my flight home).
We stayed at the Coyote Hills Guest Ranch. This was the bunkhouse. Those are horseshoe pits in the foreground.
Instead of horseshoes, though, we had meetings about new exhibits for Wahita Battlefield. We met in the dining hall of the guest ranch. There was a full-size "chuck wagon" behind me. WABA's superintendent is on the left and the other three are from the exhibit design firm.
Our anniversary fell during the week I was in Oklahoma. Joe was in Spain. I had dinner with one of the designers at the Rocking S Steakhouse in Cheyenne. It was pleasant company, but it really sucked not to be able to talk to Joe for the whole week.
The folks from the design firm came out a day early to ride horses. Brenda fell in love with the horse she rode, Mesa, and when she caught Mesa doing his thing on the porch, she got him away before the owners found out. 'Course, the evidence was still there, but none of us squealed. The horses just roamed the property all the time, coming back to the stables for treats.
Lots of little kitties were running around, too, looking really cute until you saw them ripping small birds or rodents to shreds.
I rode a horse for the first time, not counting pony rides where they lead you around. This is Deuce, who figured out pretty quickly that if he wanted to stop for a snack along the side of the trail, there wasn't a thing I could do about it.
Kass and Rita own the ranch, looking after 20-some horses, cooking, leading trail rides, organizing family and corporate events. Kass talked about disciplining his horses: "They don't like it when I give them a time out, and they really hate my lectures."
I don't know whether or not to believe the story I heard about these boots: the road sign is new, and until they were put in, people gave directions by saying, "turn right at the boots." Hmm.
After I left the ranch, I discovered the kitties had autographed the rental car.
There was a whole field of these along the interstate. They seem to move so slowly, but they're so big that it's probably an illusion.
Before catching my flight out of Oklahoma City, I visited the memorial to victims of the federal building bombing.
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