My primary reaction was "Girl Power! Go, Missy! You show those good-for-nothin' cowboys how it's really done! Woohoo! Yeehaw! Yahoo yippety!"
The other thing I'm thinking is that while I could maybe ride a horse to save my life, and under the right conditions, I might be able to throw a rope and actually have it land around a calf's head or heels, but only if the gods are in my favor...
...I could never---EVER---do both things at once. Just look at Missy in action; she's an absolute studette. And what am I doing here anyway? Just what am I trying to prove? I'm a ridiculous city girl stuck in the country, trying desperately to act the part. Then I look at Missy, the real cowgirl around here, and realize I'm not fooling anyone. And then I start thinking I should just pack it up and head back to L.A., where the women wear black pumps and aren't expected to rope calves. I'll just let Missy take care of this place---she obviously knows what she's doing. Plus, her boobs are much bigger than mine. And I'm sorry to come out with it like that, but I'm just keepin' it real this morning. And she can cook too, the wench. (New recipe of hers on the food blog this morning!)
But at times like these, right about the time I feel as though I'm about to drown in self-doubt, just as I start calling airlines to check the flight schedules to L.A., the words of my Marlboro Man come flooding into my consciousness---words he's repeated to me many times but that I tend to forget whenever I see Missy in all her loveliness and grace atop one of our handsome steeds: "Honey, if I'd wanted a girl who knew how to rope calves, I would have married one."
Okay. I feel better now. I'm someone, too, dangit! Sure, I'm a bit of a city girl, and maybe I don't get quite as dirty as Missy does, and maybe when I ride a horse I always look for the seatbelt, and maybe I don't exactly know how to throw a rope.
But I have other valuable skills. For instance, I can sure crack Missy up. Like right here---I belted out Ethel Merman as she was riding by. That's gotta count for something, right?
Well, gotta run, folks! After this, I'm spending the rest of the day working on my roping skills:
Lotsa Love, Pioneer Woman