Meagan Quirk and the Extremely Awesome Boots

Today I had to run to Buffalo to mail off a birthday package to my momma.  It is a very good present, and she will like it, but I cannot tell you what it is, peradventure she happen to read this blog and discover it prematurely!!

Well, I will tell you that it is a half hour drive into Buffalo, and I do not like to drive for half an hour to just walk into a place and then  just drive back, mostly because that is extremely lame. So I took a little stroll around Buffalo Wyoming just for kicks. And I happened to stroll into one of the many antique stores that dot that place. I walked around, looking at all the knickknacks and doodads and they were pretty cool. And then I saw the boots. Not just any boots. These were extremely awesome boots!

Most stuff in antique stores does not fit me at all, on account of folks way back when were smaller folks and I’m a average-tall girl of the nowadays.  But I tried them on just to see, and what do you know they fit PERFECT!! Well, I knew it was a sign that God wanted me to have these boots. So I bought them and they were cheap.

They are kind of crazy boots, but I love them!! They remind me of Steven Tyler.

Why? Because Steven Tyler is rockin’ it. And I am rockin’ these boots. Steven Tyler is a pretty ugly dude, let’s be honest. But does that stop him from being one SEXY dude!!?? No it does not! Instead, he takes it and rocks it! How does dude do this!? I do not know, I just know that he does.  So in honor of Steven Tyler, and in honor of being true to yourself, I am rockin’ my 60’s sweetness hippie boots, and gonna go find myself a lover at Woodstock. Hey, wasn’t Steven Tyler at Woodstock?

Brilliant

This blog started as a facebook post, but, as sometimes happens to me, my thoughts began to flood and I knew a facebook post could not contain them.
I have a dakine circle of friends. I have a big circle of cool peeps, then I have my smaller, super tight circle of people who I'd trust with my deepest secrets. In that tight circle, I've seen some of these friends in every kind of light; we've all been thru sicknesses both mental and physical, divorces, suicides, deaths, and fights together. We've been hated together, and together we've pieced each other back together. We've also had our beautiful days in the sun. When you see a person from just about every angle, you see pretty well what they are made of. Here is one category;
0. Below Average - Average
1. Clever
2. Talented
3. Brilliant
With Horses, for example, I am clever. I'm better than most; it's just a fact, not self-glory. But Shannon, my little sister, is Talented. She's got a gift with the animals- a natural knack that God gave her that gives her above and beyond what I can achieve based on desire and cleverness. I can't say I know anyone who is a full blown Brilliant; but that's the fantastic thing about brilliance- I can see it glimmer here and there. Not everyone has it, and those who do rarely know it because brilliance is a hider. The bad thing about being brilliant is that it makes you different than others, and others have been known to tear brilliants to pieces.
To avoid emabarassing some of my friends in whom I have seen brilliance shine, I will call them Bryan and David.
Bryan is brilliant. I have seen his brilliance shine one too many times to think it just a fluke. He's many things, among them a dancer and choreographer. Bryan frustrates me sometimes because he cannot see what I, what everyone else, sees. I've seen him angry at himself for not being good enough, and devastated to his core at his percieved failures. Bryan, you are amazing! Your talent shocks me whether in a performance or just dancing at a club.
David is brilliant also. David is a writer, and a very good one. He doesn't know it, but some of the things he writes astonish me into reading them again and again, in wonder of how he could he known how to so perfectly pair emotions, views, scenes, or ideas with words into flawless paragraphs. Or he'll write something, an idea that I've never concieved before, and it's entrance into my mind is like music so welcome and fresh, I wonder how I survived the stifletry of thoughts before it.
The moral is this:
Average people generally accept that they are average.
Clever people generally know they are clever.
Talented people generally aknowlege that they are talented.
Brilliant people I have seen over and over wish that they were brilliant, but push away the sugggestion that they are with frustration.
Listen here- If I tell you that you are brilliant or talented, I am saying it because I mean it. Few things insult me more than when I give a sincere compliment and it is taken as flattery or consolation.
That's as far as my thoughts take me.

Meagan's Guide to Sunburn Treatment

Being a redhead of Scandinavian decent who grew up in the Nevada desert, I learned about sunburns early in my life. They suck, and they hurt, and they have long-term effects. My mom used to tell me, "If you get burned when you're young, you'll get skin cancer and wrinkles!" But really, what does that mean to an 8 year old? Nothing.
But to a 24 year old, it means quite a freakin' lot.
I have been burned a TON and often even after 2-3 applications of sunscreen. Apparently white-skinned blue-eyed people were meant for places more like Norway and Sweden than Nevada.
You want to know to know how to get rid of that burn ASAP? Here's my recipe; it's a good one and has gone thru a lot of perfecting.
1. As soon as you can, get into a lukewarm bath. In the bathtub seep two tea bags of mint tea and two bags of chamomile tea. If you have Aloe to spare, pour it generously into the tub. Witch hazel is also very good. Soak in that baby for a good hour. It doesn't have to be cold, but if it's too warm your burn will continue to, well, burn.
2. When you get out of the tub, pat your skin dry- DON'T rub. Mix together in you  palm equal parts of Neosporin (DO NOT skip the neosporin, this part is very inportant), Bikini Zone's Aftershave Gel (this is basicly Lidocane, a topical analgesic, which will numb your skin) and Blue Aloe Vera (The Blue kind usually has extra mosturizers, vitamins, and lidocane along with aloe), and gently rub it over your burn. Let it soak in. Occasionally this means standing naked in the bathroom while it soaks in, but your clothes will absorb the nutrients your skin really needs right now.
3. Drink as much Gatorade or Water as you can manage.
4. Now go take 2 ibprofen or 2 naxproxen sodium and go to sleep. You may want to take a sleeping pill also, depending on how badly you are burned.
5. Do this every day, applying the Gooey Poltice from step 2 whenever you need it.
6. When the burn is gone, make a habit of applying lotion that contains aloe for the next week, which will prevent peeling. You can even use aloe shaving creme. I've done that before.
7. Rejoice in the tan you have got now, and don't get burned again.

Tim Gunn's Guide to Polygamist Style

Let's be serious-- This is what we really need to talk about! The REAL problems with polygamy.

Polygamy - What do you think?

Centennial Youth at a Pro-Polygamy Rally

FLDS Women in Texas

The Brown Family

A while ago my cousin Sarah introduced me to the TLC show ‘Sister Wives’. When I first watched it, it was really out of morbid curiosity; There must be some great catfights and jealousy between wives, and a frowning, domineering, Bible-thumping husband, scads of blonde illiterate children, and possibly a girl married off at 15.

I was kind of taken aback at what I saw. The Browns look like a happy, American ‘Mormon’ family. Their children are neither brainwashed nor uneducated, the wives aren’t dominated by their husband, who, to me, looks like he loves his wives sincerely.

It made me start to wonder about polygamy. The word itself is almost like profanity to my ears, and brings with it mental images of the people I saw in Colorado City a few years ago (I lived at a nearby ranch in AZ), the awful dress code and the self-righteous men who herded the women about, and worst, the women themselves, who looked at the ground when they talked to you, and all had the same, monotone, submissive voices. I realized what I hated so much about polygamy; it was always either forced, or the women were totally ignorant and brainwashed. It was a trap.

So I’ve been doing some homework and here’s my stance (so far; I’m up  for discussion and enlightenment). I don’t agree with plural marriage. I think it’s hurtful. But it’s not my place to tell other adults how they should feel.  Relationships are deeply personal, and it’s on the personal level that the rules of a relationship should be defined. The kind of relationship I want might not work for my sisters or somebody else… but if polygamy is what consenting adults want, I think that choice ought to be theirs. I’m talking about polygamy ala The Brown Family, where everyone is educated, healthy, loved and free to make their own decisions, not FLDS-Warren Jeffs crazy talk.

Also- Brown Family; I might not agree with your lifestyle, but I want to tell you that I admire you. You seem to have a happy family in what has to be a sometimes difficult situation. You ‘sisters’ seem like an unbreakable team. And going public had to be scary. But standing up for what you believe to be right is admirable. You are a credit to yours.

Warren Jeffs and his cronies- I hope you and all other rapists and bigots live through enternity in a hell of your own making.

Readers: What is your opinion on this issue? I really would like to hear some other perspectives.



Still lookin'...

Two of my friends from high school got married last week. That in itself is nothing new. My friends from high school were getting married as soon as we were graduated.  The happy couple we shall name Jacob and Annie, just to protect their privacy. They are both great people and I love them both to pieces. So what is this twinge I feel knowing that they are married? Jealousy? Probably, but not the conventional kind.

In high school Jacob and I had a little fling which was headed for a cutesy little high school romance; He had asked me out when I was a freshman and, being a good little Mormon 15 year old, I said ‘no’ although I really wanted to say ‘YES!’  And three years late when we were both Seniors, I offered him a ride home and we ended up cuddling on his couch. So we got a little cutsey and stuff but he went away to Vegas on some kind of school trip where he met miss Annie. And they got to smooching and lovin’… leaving me feeling  a little miffed, a little cheated,  but I got over it pretty quick.

I guess if you gotta lose a man, it’s best to lose him to ‘the one’.

So am I jealous? Not of Annie, but of the two of them. They found love so quickly, so easily it seems. And here I am, traveling all over the country, thinking to myself, “Oh, he’ll be here,” or “Maybe he’ll be there.” But six years later he still hasn’t turned up.

But I haven’t given up just yet.

Good Mourning

We had a tragedy just a few days ago here at Paradise Ranch. It shook us all pretty bad. As a result the rest of us are left to mourn and regret and cry, but mostly to wonder.

Now what?

Some really religious people act like they aren't as affected, or maybe just not as sad. Maybe they're not. But none of us, really and truly, in the end, know what's going to happen now. She's dead now, she's gone just like that. We all have different theories on what happpens next, but most of us agree; one setting sun here means a rising sun over the horizon. Nightfall here means sunrise there. Now it's left to us the living, to wonder and to mourn. For some of us that means black clothes, for a few it means drinking yourself into a stupor, for others it means prayers, and for some of the cowboys in the Bunkhouse, it means songs from your Sioux ancestors. Mourning is good. Go on, mourn your loss, grieve. Cry if you need to. It's frightening, it's uncertain, and it was a sore loss.

It's Mourning for us; but it's Morning for them.

We'll see you tomorrow.

You Changed My Heart from Black to Gold

I looked at him and for a moment I thought I would. 

His black eyes and his hard face matched his black heart and hard hands, and his half smile took the anger in my heart and matched it like a like the king and queen of clubs.  When I’d take his hand I could feel the power of that black beating heart running like a swollen river over rapids, and it gave voice to my own anger.  I knew his kiss would taste like vodka; sharp and startling and intoxicating. I knew the roughness of his skin without having yet touched it; I knew also he would turn my eyes black, like his. He opened his door and held out his hand, and my eyes started to change.

But then on the wind, I heard it. The wind called my name in the way only music can. The music told me about a world away from this one; I’d forgotten. I turned away from the darkness of his room and faced the moonlight. My heart began to beat silver, then gold. As the music played, the moonlight became sunlight, and I heard your voice. Just you voice, and my heart began to beat gold and shine.

My God, how could I have ever doubted? I’m in love with you! It’s like being in love with a star; loving someone you have never met; but when I meet you, I’ll know you. It will be like the day I realized the wind- I saw that really, it had been there all along. I’ll recognize the color of your eyes; and when I see them my eyes will spill gold light to match the color of in my heart.

I love you I love you, and I will never forget you again. I will keep looking for you the way I know you are looking for me, and the love and light will beat the anger and darkness in the end.

She Looks Like A Fairytale

"What's her name?"
"Who?"
"That redheaded girl, the one who looks like a fairytale."
"Oh her!" a laugh, "You mean Meagan."
I was just around the corner, but I overhead the dialogue. A fairytale!? I look like a fairytale! I have never been so flattered!

I think it's the Wyoming Moutains, to tell you the truth. The open skies and fresh air have made my eyes bluer and my cheeks rosier. Plus the wild romance of just living in this place.

"Can I saddle up your horse for you, Miss Meagan?" asks Nikona, not knowing that he just quoted directly from my childhood fantasy movie, 'The Man from Snowy River'.

And every evening I stand on the green hillside just above French Creek and watch another scene from that movie play out right before my wondering eyes.

Every evening they drive the horses out of the pens and push them up into the North Pasture, where they free roam and graze until the cowboys return come sunrise. The thunder of a hundred and fifty horses as they race past you, the snorting and stamping, the wind that blows my skirt as they rush by... it's exhilarating.

When the thunder of the horses has died, and the dust is settling, I just stay in my place on the hillside, and watch the blue sky darken and turn to purple. Now it's my favorite time of day; twilight.

It's hard to leave my hillside; the song of the evening is playing and it's haunting melody sings to my child's heart. But another melody is playing; the sound of fiddles from the French Creek Saloon, which serves as our Dance Hall. Every night there's a jam, or a swing dance, or the Square Dance we all dress up for, and the laughter of the fiddle and bright lights of the dance hall's windows flirt me away from the solitude of my hillside cinema. 

Do I look like a fairytale? It must be because I live in one.  

4th of July at Paradise Ranch

I haven't got many pictures yet, which is very frustrating. Mary has got loads of pictures, so does Lizz and so does everyone else, but I haven't yet got a charger for my camera. Well, techichally it's mama's camera, but I accidentally took it and I'm sort of waiting for them to mention it's disappearance. ALEX CURRY never gave me my camera back and I am still mad about that.
Paradise Ranch is sure interesting. One of the many rumors that circulates here is that every foreman they've ever had has gone nuts, and several employers as well. Immediately coming to mind are 'Creeper Steve' who left his truck here and honeatly just disappeared into the night, and the unnamed foreman who would get up at 2am and prowl the ranch with his shotgun, certain that someone was lurking in the forest around us. Mind you, I never knew these two characters, but I've heard their legends repeatedly. There is something about that forest that seems to watch you...
This morning dawned a little drizzly, but cleared up pretty quick. I was so grateful for the overcast, because it is so much kinder on my eyes and skin. We had the morning kid's program as usual, but in the afternoon we got the kids to paint the wagon we were going to use in the 'parade'. (The parade consisted of the wagon, three cowboys, and two dogs. Oh yes, and the gator.) We all ended up at the Mule Parlor (a pasture surrounded with a rail fence and containing a firepit and circle) for lunch out of the chuckwagon, and the we celebrated with gunnysack races, three-legged races and an egg toss. After the egg toss Ethan started throwing eggs at Rachel and me, and a fight ensued. I escaped, but Rachel got pretty eggy. GROSS!!
It was a fun, All-American 4th of July!
There is a little girl in my group that is named Kalie. Little Kalie made me start thinking about how grateful I am for America. You see, Kalie is 7 years old and has had 21 surgeries. She's startling at first glance, and so thin she really looks like a waif. Her back, legs and skull are deformed. If little Kalie had been born in Cameroon, she would have almost certainly died. If she was born in Pakistan (had she survived infancy) she would have been hidden away as a shame and an embarassment. In years before America, she would have been called a monster, and drowned. No matter that little Kalie smiles like an angel and laughs with the other children, or that she's smart and compassionate. But in America, our America, where Capitalism has produced the best doctors, and Freedom and Equality have shown us the light, Kalie is a happy little girl with a future and a hope of achieving any dream she wants to pursue.
Thank you God for America. Please protect us, and teach us to do Thy will.