Bull by Bull

• Part of my annual check-up this year included an abbreviated memory test: Remember three words for half an hour. Failed. Draw a clock and set the time at 11:10 ... channeled Vernon and passed. After all was said and done, the PA asked me if I had any questions, to which I replied, "Yes. You said I passed the memory test and yet I couldn't remember all three words." "Yes, but your clock was out of this world!" she replied. 

• It's not as quiet out here in Cloverdale as it once was, of course. But then it's probably not as quiet as it once was in Imnaha, Denio or Jiggs, either. The good news is I can still hear the familiar sound of the wheel line on the next place over, the bugling and sparring of bull elk close by, diesel pickup trucks heading out to work in the early morning, and the other day, while riding my bike on Cloverdale Road, I even heard a neighbor telling an old bull out in pasture that he was sorry but his days were numbered.

• A person new to a group of my friends asked me, "Who are you?" I certainly understood that she was simply gathering information to figure out the fabric of our group, however her question prompted me to ask myself that same question - over and over - off and on for days after.

• There's always a lot written about getting "your life in order," and I'm a firm believer in that. Besides the POLST form, one of the best things I've done in that regard is put a warning to OPB in Vernon's old shoein' truck: DANGER: SPLIT RIMS. I'd feel terrible if someone got hurt taking the tires off those old rims.

• The music on my iPod is a far better reflection of my life than all my photos put together. There's just nothing like remembering through music and imagination. Talking photos, since I don't have kids, I put a note with my instructions from the grave: There is not a living soul who would want any of my photo albums or loose photos. TOSS 'EM ALL.

• Recently I heard there is a plan where a person can now exchange a new car every few weeks. The fall of 1969 I ordered a 1970 Camaro, assuming it would look just like the '69 model. The style change was beyond belief. The doors took up half the length of the car and the rest of it was all hood. I got rid of it in less than a month.

• I take great comfort in knowing that if I were to leave this old world any day soon, the evening would look, feel and smell much as it does at this moment in time. The sun would be setting, the horses would be cleaning up their dinner, the goats would be bedded down on their dinner, and Toesy would be safe in the tack room. A barnyard in the evening is such a peaceful place to be.

• Though dusting is one of my favorite things to do, housework-wise, I never ever dust the Kiger mustang in the little herd of horses above my dryer. Kigers don't need dusting.