Big, huge RSS button. Push it. It will keep me from having to whore myself on Facebook. You’ll get the blog without even thinking about it. Or googling “bitches fuck shit”…. which is actually what led someone to my blog yesterday.

Blogging can be stressful, especially blogging in the style that I do. Without really meaning to, I’ve set a standard for at least trying to be entertaining. Trying. When it’s not, I hear about it. (Like tonight, when the hubs told me that yesterday’s blog post was terrible. Thanks, dearie.)

But today, blogging wasn’t stressful at all. Why, you ask? Because at 11:47 PM a blog post fell out of the sky and landed in my lap. Let’s start at the beginning…

As you know, we divide the task of decorating into rooms. I thought it was my turn to be decorating the bedroom, but I was wrong. We’re in the midst of decorating the “sitting room” to be a little bit more guest friendly. (Apparently it’s a sign of growth and maturation that your abode be guest friendly. We even have extra linens and towels.) Since the hubs is an architect he’s all into mid-century furniture from far away lands. He recently scored a designer chair on ebay for a steal of a price because it needed some new screws or something. It was also decided upon delivery that it needed to be reupholstered. In cowhide.

As it turns out, cowhide is not free. Nor is it very cheap. According to the hubs, who I assume researched it on Google, it was going to cost around $300 for the little bit we needed. I’m from Texas. No way I’m paying that much money for anything cow.

So I called my mom to inquire.

Me: Mother, I’m looking for a cowhide to cover a chair.
Mother: Does it need to be cow?
Me: I guess it could be pony.
Mother: What about deer?
Me: No, no deer. Deer isn’t the right color. And the hair is too short.
Mother: Hmm. One second. Let me ask Kenneth.

(Kenneth is my step dad. He’s a farmer/rancher. They live on a farm.)

After some muffled chit chat my mom returns to the phone.

Mother: Kenneth says there is a dead cow in the pasture.
Me: Hmm. And it’s not rotten?
Mother: Kenneth? I’m asking Kenneth. Kenneth, do you think the buzzards have gotten it? No, he thinks it will be fine. Hold on. Kenneth, she’s in Boston. It’s going to cost her hundreds of dollars. What will it cost us to get the hide off that cow?
Me: I don’t want y’all to peel the hide off some cow and send it to me. Can you have it tanned? I mean, I was actually just thinking there was some fair or rodeo that would sell these things.
Mother: No no. We’re going to have Jeff do it. Do you know Jeff? You know Jeff. He just loves you. He’s the best taxidermist in Caldwell. We’ll have him do it. Kenneth, we need to make sure the buzzards don’t get it. Don’t worry, Bunny, Kenneth is going to take care of it tomorrow.
Me: All right. But don’t go crazy. I can always look online.

And that is the true story of how a Texas girl living in Boston gets some cowhide to recover her chair.