It was bound to happen. That moment in time that keeps you humble and well, humble.
Things have gone SO well in the book promotion/selling department. I have been accepted to Western Writers of America — qualified by the articles about the West and people in it and, of course, the book, Cowgirl Sass & Savvy.
The book has been picked up to sell by two prestigious museums –the Hubbard Museum of the American West and the Oklahoma City National Cowboy Hall of Fame.
While my ego was not inflated, it was, let’s say, boosted. It seemed I was on my way to being an internationally known author. I did sell a book in Australia, England, Belgium and Canada. That’s international, right?
Nothing like a goat to take that “inflation” right out of a girl.
First, there WERE 4 goats. After the Eastern New Mexico State Fair last week, they did their thing in the show ring and three of them were sent packing, literally, to wherever it is market (meat) goats go to become whatever it is they make out of goat meat.
But the pretty little girl (nanny, to be more correct) came home to become the momma of future show goats. Catching a ride home with the Ag teacher, she was to arrive late Saturday night, sometime after Lane, the goat herder, and I arrived home from the fair. But she never showed up.
Knowing the Ag instructor had other critters aboard his trailer, I deducted they likely had all been deposited at the FFA Ag farm on the outskirts of town. But I had no way of hauling her home (no trailer) –she will later be transported to the ranch where her “goat family” and future mate awaits.
She was happy to see a familiar face and bleated and jumped and hopped like only a goat can. She jumped right up in the back of the pickup, nibbled on some hay stems she found in the corner by the tool box and obligingly let me tie her lead strap to the tie-down loop in the corner.
Off we went–with no way to get home but right smack through the middle of town. She quickly realized this trip was a little different than the prior ones and there were NO friends of like-goatness to console her. She began bleating in somewhat of a panic and looking out around the cab like a dog will do as the pickup travels down the road.
Ears flying like a Snoopy dog, the little darling’s bleating called considerable attention to us as we motored through town. Any dignity I THOUGHT I had as a writer, author and book promotor fell to the floor of the cab as I tried to make the pickup a stealth vehicle –with a bleating goat tied in the back. I was as common as any other goat herder in the world. Me and the Nanny.
I’m humble again. Never will I get too big in the biz, too good at anything I do, to not find the humor in the sight of such as this. And it was only one humbling moment in time. My life is filled with so many more. I should see the pattern by now and expect nothing more.
