That'll do little Donkey, that'll do.

We bank left. I look down to observe shades of brown as far as the eye can see. Tulsa. I’ve heard songs about Tulsa. They didn’t sound like Tulsa looks. I never considered the fact that this part of the country could be the home base for my career. But it is. And now I’m going home. Home to two little girls and a woman. All three I happen to love dearly. Deeply. Desperately. The Seven year old lost one of her front teeth. Her left central incisor, the number nine tooth. (Thanks to Tulsa Dental for educating me on incisors and such) The four year old asked me why I always ask if they’re getting ready for bed when I already know they are because I’m on the phone to sing them a lullaby. And the woman. Well, the woman may have missed me as much as I missed her.

I’ve gained a few pounds. I can just feel the weight. Three square meals a day will do that. And I played quite a bit of racquetball. And I’ve become aware of my age. Accompanying my graying hair is a swollen knee from too much running and jumping and running again on a hard wood floor. I may have pushed it a little too hard.

I made new friends. Paul from Albany and Chris from San Francisco and Tom from Tennessee. They made me laugh when I was homesick. We joked and spoke about kids and significant others. I feel like a grown up. I’m not sure why that even applies here, but it does.

I’m on my way; I’m on my way… Home sweet home.

Yes, I just quoted Motley Cruë.
Yes I did.

Get along little doggie

Okay. So it did feel butt ass frigid. Even to those from Wisconsin. And New York. But maybe butt ass was a bit dramatic. I understand there is always someplace colder if you talk to enough people. Aside from the cold, I will say this, I walked from the hotel to a restaurant in the newly falling snow and hardly noticed the chill. It was beautiful.

It was mentioned to me I may happen to see a real live cowboy during my ever so pleasant stay here in Tulsa. Boy am I lucky. When I arrived, I was quickly informed the "Farm Show" was in town. Shortly after, I found it difficult to swim through the belt buckles, cowboy boots and ten gallon hats crowding the lobby. (I don't really even know what a ten gallon hat is, nor do I care to... It just sounded good) And I learned something new about myself. I'm prejudice. I'll premise this by saying I understand generalizing any group of people is wrong. Divide anyone into any group you like. After they're segregated, good, honest and loving folk will be included in the group as well as a few real pricks. That said, whenever a real live cowboy makes his way into my line of sight, especially when he's decked out, I've even seen some wearing spurs, (seriously... Fucking spurs) I think to myself, "Now there's a real asshole." I know, I know, I'm wrong in assuming Quick Draw McGraw is an asshole, but really. The hat. The boots. Oh yeah, and that big shiny belt buckle that's roughly the size of a football. Did I mention the spurs? Yes. Yes I do believe I did.

Forgive me. And help me. Am I completely off base? I'm trying to remain open-minded.

Besides the real live cowboys, the first week of training has been productive. I've learned more than I would have ever imagined about performing a root canal. I'm so homesick it hurts, but I'm standing behind the fact that I happened along a fantastic job. It'll be spectacular when I'm home actually working my territory.

And lastly, today would have been Mom's 65th Birthday. She used to make a really big deal about her Birthday. Today is a really big deal.

So Cal is a little warmer

Yes. It's mother-fuckin' butt ass frigid. (Butt ass... What does that even mean?) I'm in Tulsa. I'm training. There's cowboys. And guys that look like real men should look. And they smell. You know, like men.

And it's a great fuckin' job.

I miss my girls. I miss my love.