It's that time

I always wanted to be a modern cowboy. Well, not the kind that rides horses and drives an F-350 to the bar on Saturday night. The rugged, can do, dependable man. The one that would get the job done no matter what it took or what the risk was. Not a pretty boy, rugged, rough and perhaps scarred a time or two.

When I was young, I often saw a Cutty Sark add in Men's Magazines. Man in a stuffed chair, fireplace, crystal cradled in his hand. I never desired the scotch, but I desired the mans domain feeling that ad provoked. It's probably one of the biggest influencing ads I've ever seen. I don't know if it sold Cutty Sark or not, but it sold me on a lifestyle I wanted and still want.

Simple times. End of day sitting down to enjoy a moments peace. A respite from the rigors of our daily lives. We get so wrapped up in the minutia of living and getting things done, we often forget to just be. The idea that we must always be in motion. Doing, accomplishing, acquiring. What about taking time to enjoy what you have? Surely the race to be successful doesn't mean you can't slow down.

Back to being a cowboy, At night, after cookie made dinner and the fire crept low, the cowboy might pull out a harmonica and gaze into the fire as cowboy music wafted over the herd with the smell of smoke. I'm betting at those times, the cowboy felt most at ease. Feet stretched out. The rustle of the herd in the distance. Snap, crackle of the fire.