Are Y'all Pickin' Up What I'm Layin' Down?

My, my, my, my, my!

Last week was crazy busy.
Bet y'all thought I got lost on the campaign trail and couldn't find my way home.

Monday, I hosted 5 mini-photo sessions right chear on the back forty of the Casita De Trash. Melissa of Foto Fabulous provided the camera and lens...Jenn of Give Me Props, the styling.  Betwixt their talent and the cutest kids ever, they made this ol' hill...including my raggedy canned ham...look fantastic!  It had to be a 110 in the shade, but you'd never know it to look at these kiddos.  Starting at 9am and ending at noon, they never lost their cool...or their smiles.  If anything...it just kept getting cooler and cooler watching them work it!

Wednesday found the First Cat Daddy and I hittin' the road for a...ahem...political junk-it of our own doing.  Seeing as how Friday was our gazillionth anniversary, we thought a little high-way for a get-a-way to a hide-a-way was in order and IF we happened on some treasures along the way...yippee for us!

Disclosure:  No campaign monies nor public funds were used to finance this trip. All hard earned cash came straight outta the Man's back pocket!

We just lit out, let the road take us where it would and landed right smack dab in Louisiana's Cajun country.

I love this part of our great country.  It's where boudin is sold in every little mom & pop grocery store/gas station...zydeco rocks...and roadside stands beckon with promises of sweet potatoes, shelled peas and butterbeans aplenty.  It's where the folks know how to "work hard...and play harder".  The land of shrimp Ay-2-FAY, hot sauce, rice fields waving hidy in the breeze...and a certain little someone who holds a special place in my heart.  (More on that later y'all...and it's a doozy!) 

If y'all are wonderin' if we had us a good ol' time or not?

W-e-l-l-l...

you can't hardly expect a lady to fess up...and still remain a lady...can ya?

Let's just say we "Laissez les bons temps rouler"...'kay?

Nuff said!

Rollin' along a farm to market road lined with fields of sugar cane, feeling the sense of Acadiana culture ooze from the bayous, that colorful Cajun accented language (that ought to be taught as a second language...it's so romantic soundin'!) makin' everything sound exotic...including us.  It all gave me a hankerin' to stay forever.  Ya know...just sell everything, pack up what's left, find me a shotgun house...and just.stay.put.

But y'all know me...and my dad-burn roots.  They go deep...pert near the center of the earth.

Plain and simple put...I love Louisiana...but I love my Texas more.

I love gas station tamales, Texas drawls, two steppin' to a little Ray Price, bluebonnets...and Cat Daddy.

Crawdaddys may run a close second, but folks...close only counts in horse-shoes.  Nothing can take the place of my Cat Daddy...not after all the time I've put in house-breakin' him. Besides...everybody knows...you can take the bull outta Texas, but you can't take the Texan outta the cowboy.  Cat Daddy is and always will be my cowboy in dusty boots and rusty armor.

When I'm perched in my poodle seat...I never worry about gettin' lost on any trail.  I always ask him at the end of one of our treks...Take me home, Country Road...and you know what?

He always does.

He's the designated driver as we criss-cross life's highway.

Me?

I'm the official map folder...

'cause sometimes the best remembered adventures don't always follow a map.

Sometimes the sweetest memories are best found by the seat of our britches...followin' the light in our eyes.