Posts Tagged ‘cowgirl hall of fame’

  A man begins cutting his wisdom teeth the first time be bites off more than he can chew.” – Herb Caen

While I may never know who has perfect teeth, since imperfect is in, I can tell you that this is a perfectly awesome bed of purple pansies that I saw at the St. Louis Botanical Gardens. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Travels With Maggie

Imperfect Teeth: What the Heck?

That was my thought when I caught a news headline this morning announcing that crooked teeth were a growing fad in Japan.

The story went on to note that Japanese women were even paying dentists to give them more pronounced cuspids. I was dumbfounded until I read the explanation. “A crowded mouth implies youth.”

Imperfection is suddenly seen as perfection. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

We humans are a funny race.

But I guess everything has its quirks.

And in my book, these yellow pansies I saw at the Cowgirl Hall of Fame in Fort Worth, Texas, are just as perfectly beautiful as can be. -- Photo by Pat Bean

 A female blue-footed booby wants a mate with the brightest blue feet – and the male booby shows of his webbed ones by dancing in front of her.

My dog, Maggie, prefers human companions over her own kind. I truly think she believes she’s human.

Female black widow spiders are known to eat their mates after the sex is over.

Some people believe mosquitoes have teeth, 47 to be exact. Well they do, but not teeth as we know them, and perhaps not 47. I wonder if mosquitoes think imperfect teeth are perfect, too.

This wandering/wondering old broad is just glad she still has her own teeth. What do you think?

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“Life loves to be taken by the lapel and told ‘I’m with you kid. Let’s go’” —  Maya Angelou

Collage of cowgirls hanging in the Cowgirl Hall of Fame Museum in Fort Worth, Texas.

I was looking through my photos for a picture to illustrate texture and came across this. Certainly the textures found in the lives of these strong women qualify. I find it awesome to just think about the softness of their hearts, the hardness of the steel  fueling their gumption, the kindness of their hands on a child’s feverish face, the hot rash of passion in their lives and the rough calluses of their ranch worn hands. And it’s all beautiful.


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