Cowboy Problems

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On our way to a nearby county fair a few weekends ago, Mr. B and I had the following conversation. (I mention our destination so you understand why he was wearing a big rodeo belt buckle. Actually…nevermind…I suppose the destination doesn’t matter, as it is not the only place my country boy rocks his bling.)

Mr. B: (Shifts in his seat, and suddenly gets a pained expression on his face. Immediately reaches for his stomach.)

Me: Are you ok?? 

Mr. B: (Adjusts his pants and sits back more comfortably.) Yeah, I’m fine. My belt buckle just hit my stomach and it was really cold.

Me: Oh. Ok. You looked like you were hurt.

Mr. B: No, I’m good, it was just really, really cold.

Me: Ha. Cowboy problems.

Mr. B: Yeah.

Me: That’s actually a really good idea for the blog. “Cowboy problems.”

Mr. B: Actually, that just sounds like you making fun of me on your blog.

Me: No, I have cowboy problems too.

Mr. B: Oh, really? What cowboy problems do you have?

Me: Umm…(digging around my brain for an example) Oh! That time I accidentally locked myself in the barn!

Mr. B: I’m still not sure how you managed to do that. But still, that wasn’t a cowboy problem, that was a blonde problem. 


So, yeah, sorry Mr. B, maybe it will mostly be about you. Not to worry, I’ll sprinkle in some “blonde problems”. I have those in spades.