I Should Just Wear A Sign...

... that says, "Hello. My name is Stacy, and I am an airhead." Either that or just carry around a sheet of instructions to pass out to the people I encounter. There are many times in my day when I don't catch on to jokes right away, or when I do or say things that make no sense to anyone but me. That's the way I've always been. Some say it's part of my charm, but sometimes it's nothing less than an annoyance to those around me, myself included. I laugh as I try to recall moments when I've been the most airheaded. I have a never-ending list of stories to prove my point on this. Those of you who know me best probably have many stories to prove this point as well. With that in mind, here's my story from yesterday. I was sitting at lunch with Sister, minding my own business, when I saw a really good-looking guy come walking in. I could barely take my eyes off of him, and he could barely keep his off me either. Doesn't that sound familiar? The game of stealing glances across the restaurant continued for the duration of the lunch hour. He was wearing a simple t-shirt and jeans, cowboy boots, and still had on his spurs. The two things that I noticed about him the most were his eyes... ooo those eyes, and his back was quite muscular. He was tall and slim-built, but with a muscular frame. Most of the time I would be writing about his teeth and smile, but his eyes stopped me in my tracks and I was so taken by them that I forgot to check on his teeth. From the side though, I noticed that when he smiled, his eyes smiled too. Brother has a friend who has eyes like that and I've always thought it was so cute. As sister and I were leaving, he and his people were leaving as well. He was about to get in his truck as I was backing out of my parking space and he motioned something to me. He pointed at me and then to him, then mimicked dialing a phone number, then mimicked putting a phone to his ear. This is where the airheaded part comes in. I thought he was trying to tell me that he got my number from Depot Friend or that he left his number with her for me, so I left. ARGH!!! He wanted me to stop and give him my number, and I just left him standing there!!! And wouldn't you know it, I didn't see him today. What was I thinking? I pondered it all day and a few things came to mind. First of all, since I'm still talking to Mr. Big, a new guy would make the Big-break much easier for me to handle. Secondly, this guy was super-cute. Thirdly, he's very obviously a cowboy of some sort (there are all different kinds of cowboys in case you didn't know), and that may or may not be a good thing. One of the guys that he was with is a bull-rider. That's one type of cowboy; a type I think we all know well. Another type of cowboy is like Ex, who has horses, takes care of them on a daily basis (versus paying someone else to do it or just not doing it at all), rides them at least once a week, and enters the occasional roping or team-pinning event, but never expects to make his living with the livestock. There are several more types of cowboys, but they all have a few things in common. The most crucial characteristic that they share though, is not a good one. I think Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson said it best, Mommas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys... Cowboys ain't easy to love, and they're harder to hold... Mommas don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys 'cause they'll never stay home, and they're always alone, even with someone they love. Anyhow, I may or may not ever see him again. If I do, I have a speech planned in which I explain to him that I didn't diss him, I was just having a Stacy-moment, and that if he's not turned off by how big of an airhead I am and still wants my number, then here it is. If he doesn't want it anymore, I can't blame him; no harm, no foul. If I never see him again, then, oh well. Just another story about how screwy my life can be sometimes. I've gotten a good laugh out of it though.