DANG SPURS

I'm still trying to get used to the Western way of life. So I've started wearing spurs.

Don't laugh. I've spent a lot of money getting them fastened to sandals. No wonder the cowboys were all bowlegged. I mean, you don't want to spike, or spur yourself.

Plus, I haven't figured out how to get in or out of my car without shredding the upholstery. But it's worth it, you know, to be a cowboy.

Not being a great equine rider, I never even liked to hit the sides of my feet hard against the horse. "That won't hurt him, big old guy," I was told. But hang nails and paper cuts hurt me, so I didn't like urging him to go. And I sure didn't want him to go faster and get me bouncing in that saddle.

I know. You think I'm silly. You think I've forgotten to take them off when I crawl into bed. Only once.