by Juliana Lightle
When people ask me who I am, I tell this true tale of one dazzling day:
The rancher next door called one Saturday morning begging for help. Three truckloads of yearling cattle had arrived; several of his cowboys had committed a no-show.
I pulled on jeans and boots, brushed my hair, and headed for the pens and chutes. I held their legs while they were “cut”, shot them full of meds, and branded. In four hours we worked over 300 head.
Lunchtime arrived. In one hour my volunteer job at the state park gift shop began.
No time for a bath; I smelled of smoke, blood, and poop. In one-half hour I applied make-up, mascara, blush, sprayed perfume all over me, changed clothes, and headed for work.
At five, I closed shop, went to the restroom, changed into the third outfit of the day and headed for a health care volunteer gala.
Two hours later I attended the opera, silently singing along.
Juliana Lightle writes on the canyon rim. Her new blog, Writing on the Rim, will appear in the next week. She raises horses, teaches high school, sings with a master chorale, and wanders.