On the front page of our local weekly newspaper, there was a photo of a cute little 4-H girl showing what was obviously a goat at a livestock show. The caption under the photo read, “Here is so and so and her sheep.”

I can tell how old you are just by the horses you know. For example, you are well beyond your expiration date if you know that Rex Allen’s horse was Koko, Hoot Gibson’s was Goldie, Tex Ritter’s was White Flash, William S. Hart’s horse was a pinto named Fritz, and that Tom Mix loved Tony.

A cowboy friend of mine went into an antique store the other day, and the owner tried to buy the hat right off his head because they “fly off the shelf” when offered for sale.

The word “friend” just might be the most overused word in the English language. The word has been diluted like watered wine, a bar drink and the American dollar.

I suppose it’s treasonous for me to say this, but I can think of at least three animals that deserve to be on our national emblem and our money more than the bald eagle. Dogs and cows, for instance. Better still, the horse.

Sunday: I found Studly, the ram, in the bullpen. My horse, Gentleman, was there, too. In fact, every animal I owned, including my dog, was in the bulls’ pasture and they were all trying to do strange things to one another.

I’ve read countless articles on ways to make your feed last when drought has you in a death grip, but not one of them mentions the cheapest, easiest and most prevalent way to stretch your grass.

I was the second of three children – the much dreaded “middle child” – and by the time I was ushered into this cruel world the newness of motherhood had worn off for my mom.

What in the world was a truck hauling plastic shower stalls doing driving up the dirt road to a rich and eccentric neighbor of mine? Was my slovenly neighbor all of a sudden interested in good hygiene? I was curious – so I followed the beautiful rig up the dirt road, where I was promptly asked if I’d help unload a piece of art that my neighbor just purchased. Of course I would. I mean, how heavy could a frame or a bronze be? Very heavy, as it turned out. You see, my crazy neighbor didn’t buy a Russell or a Van Gogh, although he’s certainly rich enough to do so, but rather an art “installation” that looked like what might be the result if a yellow Edsel clobbered a purple Yugo head-on, and then a flock of sea birds with loose bowels bombed it from above.

Many college graduates are now finding that it made no sense to spend $200,000 of their parents’ money or go in debt $100,000 for a degree just to discuss the classics with other college grads in the unemployment line. Some schools now are offering “diseducation” courses to untrain people who are having difficulty getting jobs because they are overqualified. While these overeducated people had their heads buried in books, their high school classmates who didn’t go to college were getting all the jobs.