Behind Every Good Farmer...

Several years ago our little family was holidaying in Maleny. We were enjoying the lovely weather from the verandah of our hotel room, when Miss (then) Four struck up a conversation with the man next door, who was also outside enjoying the weather with his wife.

"How old are you?" Miss Four asked him innocently.
"I'm 35." He replied. "What about you?"
"I'm 4. And how old is your mother?" She continued, to peals of laughter from him and not that much laughter from his wife.

Or the time that Miss Five asked her ninety-something year old great granny if she was 'nearly dead', to which great granny replied 'one foot in the door my dear!', before bursting into a giggle.

I write things like this down all the time. I blog about them and I share these little anecdotes online for my friends and family. I want people to remember them, and I want to look back and laugh at all the funny little things my children said and did, so that I don't look back in years to come and wish that I had.

I also take photos. My middle child once drew all over our new cream bed sheets with a black marker pen. I was furious, but still managed to stay level headed enough to take photos, before dragging her in to our room and hauling her over hot coals for it! I knew that one day I would laugh about it. Definitely not on that day, but one day nonetheless.

"Am I going to be in trouble for this?"

"Well... this one over here is..."

"And this one over here is..."
 

Oh wait... number three has done this before as well...

 

Yes... I mean you...

Because I take the photos, I am rarely in any myself. Unless I beg someone to take a new facebook profile pic for me, I will always be the mysterious photo taker behind the lens. Thankfully I have a group of social networkers around me who ensure I have the occasional photo taken too.

It seems to be (more often than not) the women who are set on making and recording memories of their family. The Farmer could tell you how much rainfall we've had over the last three years, and what the price of wool is doing this year compared to five years ago, but will struggle to remember birthdays, anniversaries and other important family information. He's not being slack, it's just that his brain prioritises things differently to mine.

In rural communities, it is the women who do the lion's share of the fundraising too. The school P and C, the Kindy parent group, the CWA, the show society; whilst all have men who will help out (and who do a fantastic job I might add), it is the women who seem to keep things flowing, and who ensure that the organisation stays on track. The men are more hands on when it comes to getting things done, whereas the women seem to stick to deadlines and offer gentle reminders, and tend to the minor details; the essential details.

I never cease to be amazed by women who manage to keep their house and families running, and then they either go to work or join a bunch of committees to pour any remaining time and energy into! One minute these women are out playing with children and making lunches and washing clothes, and the next they are cooking sausages on a BBQ for a school fete, and baking scones and cakes for the Christmas in the park.

I have been the driving force behind many of The Farmer's ventures, and find that it often ends with me in a crying heap on the floor. I often wonder if it's easier to hide from committees if you live in a city? And then in the next breath I remember that without women like me to offer some community spirit, energy and effort, small communities become a very quiet place indeed. And so it is that we keep going with our baking, catering, quiz nights, tuckshop duties, show committee roles, and stalls. And really, if it means we all get to hang out and bask in the glory of female company with like-minded women, how bad can it really be?

I once read that 'behind every good farmer, is a wife who works in town.'

But I also believe that behind every good farmer is an even better wife, regardless of where she is.

PS. Pop over to my Promotional Offers and Giveaways Page to see if you can score yourself some stocking fillers for Christmas! x

Do You Have A Story You Want To Share?

 

Are you married to a farmer?

Or a man who is on the land?

Do you have a story you'd like to share?

Next year I am going to do a series of guest blogs on my page, where people will be sharing their stories of love!

How did you meet?

And how did you end up getting married?

If you think you'd like to contribute - or you know someone who might - please send an email to:  thefarmerhasawife@hotmail.com

The Lucky One - And A Giveaway!

Having just spent almost three weeks away from my hubby and 2/3 of my children (I took one to Brisbane to have her tonsills and adenoids removed), I had a fair bit of time to think about how much I actually missed my little family, and how lucky I was to have them in my lives. (Being away from all the noise, fighting, tears and tantrums helps with perspective).

I also put a call out on my facebook page for 'girly' movies to watch to help pass the time. I ended up watching 'The Lucky One' (starring Zac Efron - *sigh*), from the author of 'The Notebook'. It ticked all the right boxes: sad, romantic, girly.

And it's awesome. But I am biased, because I love Zac Efron. Does that make me a wannabe cradle snatcher? Or is her older than that now? Essentially it's the story of a US Marine who goes in search of the unknown woman whose photo he believes was his good luck charm during his 3 tours of duty in Iraq. Wahhh!

I am, in conjunction with Roadshow Entertainment, giving away copies of 'The Lucky One' DVD to 3 lucky entrants! (One for every week I was away from my loved ones!)

All you need to do is pop over to my facebook page and leave me a comment stating your favourite 'girly movie' - I'll file it away for the next rainy day! It's that easy!

PS. I had this blog post written up a while ago, and coincidentally today is now Melbourne Cup Day (a big horse race in Australia). I put a few bets on and as it turns out, I am not so 'lucky' after all. Blessed maybe, but not lucky, to still have all those special people in my life!!!

Conditions of Entry:

1. Competition closes 5pm 10th November 2012.
2. One entry per person. Winners will be selected randomly.
3. Judges (me) decision is final. No correspondence will be entered in to.
4. Competition only open to residents of Australia and New Zealand.
5. Winners will be announced on the blog on 10th November 2012.

The Facts About Skin Cancer - And My Story

The thing about blogging is that sometimes we need to be brutally honest with ourselves to be true to our writing. This blog is a warts and all account of my experience with sunspots and skin cancers. There will be photos of me looking God-awful like how I look without makeup and all my other paraphernalia. I am a little scared to put them up here, but know that the story isn't true without them.

The message is to be sun safe. Love yourself, protect your skin and be careful with how you look after yourself.

My skin isn't great at the best of times. Genetically speaking, I am destined to be the not-so-proud owner of multiple skin cancers towards this end of my life (actually, I am still really young - I think - but as my skin has already been so damaged, I am already experiencing what others might not experience until much later in their lives, if at all). I am fair and freckly. I have already had 1 sunspot burned off, and another cut out, so when I spotted a new lesion on my face, I was saddened, but not surprised. I have my father's skin. I know what can happen. I hope I have been kinder to my own body, and that it won't be as bad for me.

The facts about cancer in Australia are (and I have taken this information directly from The Cancer Council Australia):

Every year, in Australia:

• skin cancers account for around 80% of all newly diagnosed cancers
• between 95 and 99% of skin cancers are caused by exposure to the sun
• GPs have over 1 million patient consultations per year for skin cancer
• the incidence of skin cancer is one of the highest in the world, two to three times the rates in Canada, the US and the UK.

There are three main types of skin cancer:

• melanoma – the most dangerous form of skin cancer
• basal cell carcinoma*
• squamous cell carcinoma*

*Both basal cell carcinoma and squamous cell carcinoma are known as non-melanoma skin cancer.

Incidence and mortality:

• Two in three Australians will be diagnosed with skin cancer by the time they are 70.
• Over the past decades, the incidence of skin cancer has risen in Australia. From 1982 to 2007 melanoma diagnoses increased by around 50%. From 1998 to 2007, GP consultations to treat non-melanoma skin cancer increased by 14%, to reach 950,000 visits each year.
• Non-melanoma skin cancer is the most common type of skin cancer. This type of skin cancer is more common in men, with almost double the incidence compared to women. Over 434,000 people are treated for one or more non-melanoma skin cancers in Australia each year. In 2007, 448 Australians died of the disease.
• Excluding non-melanoma skin cancer, melanoma is the third most common cancer in both Australian women and men, and the most common cancer in Australians aged 15-44 years. More than 10,000 people are treated for melanoma in Australia each year. The five-year relative survival rate for melanoma is 90% for Australian men and 94% for Australian women. In 2007, melanoma caused 1279 deaths in Australia.

About two years ago I noticed a small lesion forming on my inner cheek (next to my nose). I consulted three separate doctors who ALL told me that it was nothing to be worried about, however my gut instinct told me to persevere. The 'lesion' was developing a crusty exterior, which is typical of a skin cancer. So two years later I finally made an appointment to see a Dermatologist, who told me that it was a concern and that it would have to go. It was still an epidermis level carcinoma, which meant that it had not yet grown 'legs'. The good news was that it wasn't a bad one at this stage, and should be fairly easy to remove.

We discussed removal options. I could have it cut out. This is by far the most effective way of removing a skin cancer, with an almost certain guarantee that the entire area of 'bad cell area' will be removed. It also has the greatest chance of leaving a scar. I wasn't keen on leaving a scar - call me vain - but given its prominent location on my face, I was interested in my other options. Most interesting to me was the use of a technique called PDT, or 'Photodynamic Therapy'. Using this technique, permanent scarring is rare, and results are excellent.

The full process (and I should stress that this is only MY experience using PDT, and is not indicative of all patients) went as follows.

Day 1

1. I was taken into a small room where a cream called 'Metvix' is applied to an area covering and slightly larger than the lesion. Before they apply the cream, the specialist will slightly scratch the 'affected area' with an instrument that resembles the thing dentists use to clean plaque off your teeth.

Metvix cream used in PDT

2. Then they put a covering on it (so that you resemble a mini-mummy) and send you on your way for three hours so that the cream does it's job before the next stage. I pay for the entire procedure at this stage so that when I return for the second (and worse/painful) part of the procedure I can fly out of the surgery like a bat out of hell, rather than endure the stares from everyone in the waiting room later.

Covering Stage 2

3. At least three hours later you return to the surgery for Stage 2. I had been told that this was going to be painful, and I won't lie, it was REALLY PAINFUL. I have had three babies without pain killers, and this was still worse. To be fair,  I was given a local anaesthetic below the area that was going to be treated. And yes, a needle in your face isn't fun. Maybe it wouldn't be so painful anywhere else on your body? I'll still take that over doing this without pain killers. Hopefully the next time I have a needle shoved into my face it will be full of Botox, and not anaesthetic... If you ever have to endure this whole process, I'd just about beg for the anaesthetic if they didn't offer it to you first!

Putting my light proof goggles on in anticipation of 'the light'

4. Once the local anaesthetic has worked its magic, the 'light' is switched on. That light is so bright that it even shines through the goggles and through your lids when they are closed. The reaction with the cream is immediate. Over the area where cream has been, you feel an instant needle-like pain. I can only describe it as like a thousand needles being jabbed repeatedly over the area, or as someone holding a flame-thrower over your face and blasting you at close proximity! The first treatment is always the worst because you don't know what to expect. The nurse will ask you to tell her if you want the light switched off at all for a break, and it only took me 30 seconds before I asked her to stop. In my defence, it was really burning on the finer skin of my nose, but once the anaesthetic spread, it seemed to help a little. Whilst it blows a cool breeze onto the area being treated, it also feels like it's blowing a thousand sharp needles. I managed the next 6 minutes and 30 seconds with no interruptions! It is 7 minutes of hell (at least it was for me).

Under the 'light'

Apparently the light doesn't affect skin that hasn't had cream on it. in fact, if anything, it stimulates the collagen in your skin, giving you a healthier glow. (Might have to remember this down the track).

I look all relaxed here - but trust me when I say that I was trying not to bite off my tongue.

5. They then cover the treated area with a cover to protect it from light/exposure, which you need to keep in place for at least 24 hours. Underneath, you feel like your skin is falling off your face. You want to crawl out from underneath your skin. Panadol helps. In fact, it helps so much I'd recommend taking a few before the whole process. The trip home was awful. You have to keep the treated area out of the sun until it heals. Thankfully I had my mum with me the first time to drive me back to her house. I did laugh a lot, if only to stop myself from crying.

The reason I look like such a sad and cranky mole here, is because a) I am a sad and cranky mole. b) I am taking my photo without makeup on, and with a bandage on my face, with all intents on putting it on the Internet. This is a scary thing.

And then the 'healing' takes place. I am going to show every warts and all photo, so that you can see the process. Before I had this done, I found loads of before/after photos, but not a lot about the process. This will hopefully fill that gap!

I slept really poorly the first night. I was constantly changing the ice packs for my face, hoping for any relief at all. I was also trying to stop any swelling from occurring, but this also proved futile, as you can see below!

Day 2

I look like I have just done 3 rounds with Mike Tyson - which is also how I felt!

I removed the bandage 24 hours later and this was what I saw. I was horrified. This officially meant that I was on 'inside only' duties until the swelling went down. Having never been in a real fight before, I wasn't sure how long the swelling would take to go down. Incidentally, it takes about 3 days... just in case you ever need to know! The swollen eyelid was the worst! I could even feel it in my sleep. The good news is that by this stage, the stinging has stopped. So you can just focus on the visible side effects.

Day 3

One of the possible side effects listed on the take home pamphlet is 'the development of small pustules that look like pimples filled with pus'. Nice huh?

Small pustules developing around my nose - so gross I can't even begin to explain

The pamphlet says that if these develop you need to contact your Doctor. So I did. And he said "Oh, so how many would you say have developed?" And I answered, "I have no idea! A few..." And he asked, "Would you say 6? 12? 24?" And I said "It's hard to tell, as they're kind of joining together.(I know, gross hey?) But maybe like, 12? But they don't look too bad, really..." So his advice was, "See if you can bust them carefully, and put an antiseptic cream like Betadine on them, and see what happens. Call me if it gets worse." So off I went, and did as the doctor ordered. And things looked better!

See?! I don't look like a complete freak of nature! Just a little red...

And a close up... you can see it's still a bit weepy. The Betadine helped dry it out, but what I didn't know is that the Betadine also sticks to the peeling skin, giving you a Frankenstein look about you on Day 4...

Day 4

On Day 4 I had to take my eldest daughter to the hospital to have her tonsils out. I was afraid that I would arrive at the hospital looking like my husband bashes me (which, incidentally, he doesn't!), but thankfully the swelling had gone, and I tried (mostly in vain) to cover the redness with some makeup. Over sized glasses also helped hide my face, and if anyone stared, I quickly jumped in to tell them that I had just had skin treatment for a cancer thing done on my face! (FYI - when you are in a hospital, no one really bothers to ask what's wrong with you anyway. They already figure that if you're there, it must be something...). At this stage I started applying Cetaphil moisturising lotion (it's a really gentle moisturiser). It helps with the drying out of your skin. I continued this every day from this point onward.

IT'S ALIVE!!!! Bits of skin actually do continue to peel and fall from your face. So when it all dries out, you are left without as much redness, but loads of skin that starts flaking off.

 



Day 5-10

Over the next 5 days, the peeling continues. Several layers will come off, but it is a slow and gradual process. I was fine to go out and about (making sure I didn't go into direct sunlight) without feeling uncomfortable. There is some redness that remains at the treatment site, but the skin continues to heal nicely. Towards day 10 I started to feel some very slight tenderness around the actual lesion site, but nothing that caused me any discomfort.

Almost nothing left. Some slight redness at treatment site. But otherwise fine

Day 10

We decided to go to Dreamworld for the day. I lathered myself in sunscreen, moisturiser, and slip, slop, slapped! As we were readying ourselves to head out, I couldn't help but marvel at how nice my skin was looking. As a regular wearer of makeup (concealer, foundation, etc.. etc. to cover bags under eyes and whatever other crazies I have lurking on my face), even I was surprised at how healthy my skin was looking and feeling. So maybe there really is something to the whole 'stimulated collagen' thing. I'm going to do more investigating! Here is my evidence anyway... I was wearing only sunscreen on my face on this day - and mascara... but I would never dream of leaving home without mascara.

Looking all glowing and happy not to have skin peeling on my face!

Day 11 (up to 3 weeks later)

I had my return appointment booked for 11 days later. Most people return within 2 weeks for a follow up treatment (if required), but no later than 3 weeks later. I was feeling physically ill at the thought of having to go through it all again. I returned to the clinic with much trepidation. This time nothing hurt as much. The needle, the scratching of the lesion surface, the PDT. It all seemed milder. The nurse explained that as the cells in the area had already been damaged, there would naturally be less pain this time around. I was instantly relieved!

And so the process begins all over again; the cream, the light (PDT), the bandage, the burning feeling, the flaking skin. The good news is that second time around isn't anywhere near as bad - or as painful. And the healing seems to be much faster. I didn't swell up as much either.

Ten days after my second treatment, my face is back to 'normal'.

Now I have to wait three months to go back and make sure it's all gone. Fingers crossed! x

Exercise... And Me

I've never been good at a fan of exercise. I know, I know, before you all go jumping up and down and telling me how I need to get on top of that, and how it's good for me etc etc... just keep reading.

As a teenager, I only ever played sport if it meant that I could hang around the guy I had a crush on at the time. I forced myself to endure the sweat, the uncoordinated jumble of limbs, and inevitable headache that I would get at the end of the day.

For most of my life (I said MOST - not all - cue photos of me in Belgium and travelling Europe - and thank goodness I had to ride a bike everywhere I went in Belgium, or goodness knows what could have happened!) I have been genetically blessed enough to not need to do REAL exercise to stay relatively in shape. And I know, this will come back to haunt me!

As a teenager I once joined a gym briefly. I had delusions about wanting to stay fit and get healthy, but ultimately spent more time in the sauna than actually doing cardio. My brother and I started playing tennis as children, and Jackson ultimately became much better at it than I did. I got sick of losing pretty quickly, and the novelty soon wore off.

In my early 20s I was a regular in clubs around Brisbane. The constant dancing and lack of sensible eating did wonders for my waistline. This, however, was unsustainable. One can only live this way until they have children.

When I eventually had my own children, I was so sick during all of the pregnancies, that I came out of hospital each time weighing less than I had weighed when I first discovered I was pregnant. Of course the weight sat differently on me, but I was still not unhappy with how I looked. I had had children, and my body reflected that in many ways, but I was still comfortable with my body. (Perhaps that comes with age).

Over the next few years, I felt that I needed to do something to start 'getting fit'. This wasn't about losing weight. It was about looking and feeling good, and taking control of my lifestyle again. I couldn't bring myself to walk though. Because of where we live, I felt that it was either too hot, or too cold, or that maybe there would be a brown snake on the road, or a bull, who would possibly try to run me down! In any event, I never really did go walking. You could count on one hand the number of times I did. And then I used my kids as an excuse.
"Oh, I can't go walking. Who will look after my kids? I can't leave them at home...etc etc."

I conned my next door neighbour into driving over so that we could walk together, but again, the children got in the way, slowed us down or just made it plain unbearable. It was fun, exercising with another adult, but short lived. My neighbour and I often talked about starting bike riding. The roads out here are rough, but we had theorised that a brisk cycle on a bike, where we would rendezvous half way between her place and mine, would be great. But alas, that never happened either.

More recently, I did start riding a bike. I decided to talk hubby into buying me a good mountain bike so that it could handle the roads. He decided that I should borrow his mother's old reliable one, and see if I would use that as a means to gauge how much use it would actually get, before he went and spent money on a new one. His lack of faith in me was unsettling, but legitimate. I did that a few times before I gave up that idea too. I had decided that I was more of an 'inside exercise' sort of person.

I have amassed quite a collection of free Yoga and Zumba DVDs (mostly taken from Courier Mail Newspaper Giveaways). Maybe these were the exercises I needed to start considering? But after a month or so of mostly looking at their covers, I put them back in a safe place as well. Perhaps time was the problem with me? Or lack thereof... I have even tried Wii Fit and Wii Dance - both of which I love. The kids can also join in on this too, and we have had quite a bit of fun with this on and off over the years (Admittedly more off than on though). Our Wii now sits mostly unused in a container under the television now too. See a pattern here?

Exercise bikes, treadmills and whatever else you can buy off morning television shows were not for me. Our house isn't particularly huge, and storage is a problem. I learned this after buying an Ab King Pro (which I thought was the answer to all my problems), which now sits unused out in our shed.

We even put in a pool to give me an excuse to exercise. It has totally paid for itself, in that all three of my children have learned to swim in it, but my pool use is mostly limited to kicking back on an inflatable with a cool beverage in hand.

Yes, I look at pictures of Sonia Kruger and have leg and arm envy.In fact, I blame Sonia Kruger for my new found obsession with wanting to like, nay LOVE, exercise. I want to be almost 50 and looking hot to trot. I mean, look at those arms and legs?!

Actually, I know this will never be me, but she has still inspired me... almost 50 and HOT!

My mother and sister are both exercise fanatics. They sacrifice sleep for exercise, and that is how I know I am still not ready to fully commit to a new regime of exercise in my life.

Mum even has a special app on her phone that plots her track, times her and helps her challenge herself to improve on times etc with every future run/walk. I also downloaded a Nike Training app for my phone. It's AMAZING. I thought I would start with the beginners half hour cardio session. 10 minutes in I had to stop for a break. Don't worry, I feel bad enough about it myself. I'm not going to give up entirely. This whole 'me exercising' thing will happen. I just need to stop making excuses, and start making time. The benefits will speak for themselves. I am not unhappy with how I look. I have just reached an age where I need to start getting serious about how I treat my body. Things aren't springing back the way they used to, and I'm not getting any younger. And I will never achieve results like those above, by just sitting here and writing about it...

Stay tuned.

The Bad 'Farmer's Wife'

I love my husband. We have (finally) struck a happy balance in our life. It's only taken ten years.

I actually don't know how he puts up with me. I am a bad 'farmer's wife'. A good wife, but a bad farmer's wife!

I still wear synthetic clothing, all these years later. As a sheep farmer's wife, I should wear more wool. Ironically, as a sheep farmer's wife, I probably can't afford to wear more wool. I should wear more cotton then. And I certainly wear more cotton now than I ever have before... but I am still only warming up to collars and buttons. And everything I wear is far tighter than a good farmer's wife would normally wear. And I'm not a fan of linen. It looks awesome on some people - but it's an ironing nightmare! I don't like ironing. Period. And ironing linen is the pits.

I struggle to cook meals every night and am not any better than average in the kitchen. I do try hard though! I'm still mastering the art of making a perfect gravy, suitable enough to go with a roast dinner. I forget to double all my baking ingredients to leave some to freeze as reserves. I've never attempted to make jam. I can count on one hand the number of times I've made fresh bread. I think scones taste bland, and will only eat them if they are slathered in jam and cream. I burn things. I am, however, excellent on the barbeque! I am an excellent hostess - and thoroughly enjoy socialising. CP thinks I am too social at times!

I don't keep an immaculate house. I have 5 piles of washing and folding that are taking over our spare bedroom. I leave my washing on the line for over a 24 hour period occassionally; in spite of warnings about what will happen to my 'stuff' if I keep doing that. I am a compulsive binge cleaner. Most of our cleaning gets done in the hours leading up to a social event.

I don't own boots or an Akubra. All my boots have heels. I do, however, own a pair of RM Williams 'boots', but they hardly ever get worn as I struggle to deal with my calves in ankle high boots.

I don't really like country and western music. I have warmed up to some country and western artists (read my post about Big and Rich here). But the songs I DO enjoy are few and far between. I am more of a 'top 40', or retro kind of girl.

I don't help with mustering and sheep work. I always remind hubby that when the kids are all at school and I have more 'time' up my sleeve, I am actually excited about getting more involved. As it stands, I don't get hubby to help me in the classroom, and so I leave him to do his stuff without me getting in the way.

I can't drive a tractor (at least I don't think I can - I've never even tried), or a motorbike (all the ones on our farm are too big for me to ride on my own) and I can only barely tell the difference between a Merino sheep, and a cross bred sheep.

I don't have a green finger in my body. I love our garden, and owe all of it to CP. I struggle to remember names of plants and types of grass. CP just 'gets it'. I love fresh fruit and veges, and would love our own little home grown plot at home (which we have had on occassion), but until I can ensure the survival of anything we plant, I have to be content with having our neighbour supply us with an abundance of home grown veges.

But I love him. I make our home a happy and healthy environment filled with love. I am interested in our farm, and in what hubby does to fill in his day. I try hard. One day I aspire to be the better version of myself. But for now, I'm happy just being a bad farmer's wife, but a happy spouse, home maker and mother.

Rodeo Queen

Ten years ago I didn't even know how to pronounce the word 'rodeo'. (I mean, was it like Rodeo Drive, in Hollywood, which is more 'Roh-day-oh'; or was it more 'Roh-dee-oh.') In any event, I didn't really care. Mostly because I had never been to one - nor had any intention of going - and they didn't interest me in the slightest. And yet rodeos have been growing on me; slowly. I didn't even notice at first.

I remember visiting my sister (who lived in the Queensland city of Rockhampton at the time) who took me to 'The Great Western' pub/bar in the middle of town.

The bar happened to have a rodeo ring built into the middle of it. You could have floored me. I had never felt more uncomfortable and out of place in my life!

In my first year of teaching in St George, I helped co-ordinate an end of year dance presentation. The girls involved all desperately wanted to do the dance from '8 Seconds'. I didn't know then that '8 Seconds' is a movie about champion bull rider, Laine Frost. My eyes glazed over at the mention of dancing to a country and western song. And so it was decided that the main dance presentation would be to the song 'I Like It, I Love It' by Tim McGraw. Several weeks in I realised that this song would be forever and ever eteched in to my brain. Amen. It's still there! Even more tragic, whenever I hear that song I STILL remember many of the dance moves the girls did all those moons ago.

Flash forward seven or so years. SOMEHOW (and actually I know how, but let's just say that CP can be too nice sometimes), CP got roped into the local Show Society, as the Rodeo Section organiser. This meant that I was also roped into organising the rodeo. I was mortified. There was no way I could possibly organise an event that I couldn't even pronounce!

I had a crash course in 'rodeos' with the outgoing rodeo organiser. It didn't look too difficult, but I still found it disconcerting keeping up with phrases like 'bucking stock', 'saddle bronc' and '2nd division bull ride'. Not to mention the phrases 'poddy ride' and 'mutton busters', which I have blogged about previously here.

It didn't take long for me to really start enjoying myself! Bull Riding, Saddle Bronc Riding and the kid sections are ALL very interesting. Yes, they can be dangerous, and yes, it's not for everyone, but over the last few years I've become quite fond of the old Rodeo Circuit. There is a certain excitement level at a rodeo. The anticipation, the noise, the crowd.

At Mingenew Rodeo, WA - pic by Roz Bryce - Rozbys Gear.

If someone had told me ten years ago that I would have even been capable of doing this, I would have openly laughed in their face. But now I consider myself something of a Rodeo Queen (not to be confused with a Buckle Bunny)!

Who would have guessed?

And I really need to stop saying 'never'...