So on my way to Austin, I got a wild hair.
I wanted to go shopping, get me some jeans (since I did not pack any) and some boots (ditto) and go find me some cowboys.
After all it's Texas and they have cowboys. And cowboys have country music and usually country manners like holding doors and pulling out chairs and country dancing like the two-step.
I guess sometimes a girl needs those things.
Especially when she married a different kind of man.
You know, like the kind who tucks some money in her bag when she gets a wild hair and tells her she's beautiful, even when she can't see it for herself, and takes care of the kids and house when she travels on business.
Like the kind who knows how she picks up new stuff like knitting and runs with it, with nary a word when she brings home more wool or cotton or the selvages from Pendleton's jacquard looms.
Like the kind who is The Rock that her stormy seas can break against.
So Austin can have its cowboys.
I'll take my man.