I’ve never kept a diary or journaled or facebooked or twittered or tweeted or you-tubed. I do not scoff at those who do. I just don’t have that kind of temperament. Detailing my activities each day for others to eyeball astounds me. Why would anybody be interested? Should I succumb to an urge to blab in such fashion, I fear I’d be tempted to brag or lie, or both.
However, I’m about to learn how to “Facebook.” I’ll tell you why. But first, here’s a pile of inane information about not much of anything — just for Facebook practice.
This morning, I drove the four-wheeler to the corral to let the horses out to pasture land. Cinnamon, one of the mini’s, is sore-footed. I believe she has a touch of founder. The pasture grass is so burnt, it shouldn’t cause her more problems, but to be cautious, after three or four hours I herd all six horses into the corral and supplement with hay. It might be better to shut Cinnamon up entirely and dry-lot her, but she cries when I do that. Tomorrow, I’ll consult with the Veterinarian.
Back in June I cut every stick-tight weed I could find. The darned things sprout in the corrals, by the water tank and next to outbuildings. Clipping them before they bloom means their pesky burrs can’t attach themselves to the horses’ manes or the dog’s fur.
This morning, I attacked a second growth of the wicked weeds. The heat felt as if my brains were boiling. Bailout, the Cowdog, doesn’t mind the heat. She goes swimming two or three times a day in the horsetank. I felt like joining her. She dries off by rolling in the dry grass. I was pretty sure I couldn’t have done that as — first, getting down on the ground would have been a challenge and second — getting up a near impossibility. There. I just “facebooked” some of my enthralling daily activities.
Now, here I sit at my computer. Due to the heat, I’m wearing my best Lady Godiva costume which, sadly, seems to need ironing. Here’s the reason I’m entering the 21st century and jumping in to Social Networking via Facebook.
Society’s mores, which is to say, civilization, changes its customs no matter what. Can’t go back; can’t keep the human condition static to please me. Darn. And just as I was starting to get a handle on the mysteries of life.
“Social networking” is a tool. We know it’s going to be a long time riding the trail to completion of the Montana Hall of Fame and Western Heritage Center. Where tradition will reign. Where the speed of forward motion of life — for a moment — will allow visitors to step back in time; to allow them to savor and cherish the past — and to make a difference in the present.
Thus, my bit of support to the on-going effort is to create a Git Along Little Doggies Whoop Up Facebook. Whoop Up will attempt to keep “Facebook Friends” informed on Hall of Fame progress along with anecdotes, a bit of poetry, a tad of humor and a dash of nostalgia. ❖