My Grandpappy always said, “If you see a man surrounded by beautiful women-he’s bound to own a nice jalopy.”

Makes me wonder … if you see a Cowgirl in a cool truck, will she soon be surrounded by Cowboys?

I don’t see why not …

I just GOTTA get me an old truck … one like this would do.

This is even better than Clint Eastwood’s Grand Torino! He can come and surround me anytime.

Happy Trails!

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Deb Trotter ~ Cowboy’s Sweetheart Cowgirl Artist

Introducing Mona Lisa!

Queen of A Cowgirl’s Bathroom.

Don’t you just love her?

I’ve been waiting over 7 months to see this sink in my new Art Studio Bathroom … and she was worth the wait.

When Leonardo da Vinci created her, I’m sure he never envisioned Mona as Queen of the Cowgirls – much less as a guardian to a Cowboy’s Sweetheart Cowgirl bathroom throne.

Yes … Mona does the Wild West justice in my humble opinion.

 And to make things even better – she has a TWIN SISTER … Mona Lisa Sink number 2, on the opposite side.

And because these two Monas are safely encased inside their glass bowls, water cannot harm them and Windex is their best friend. They don’t even need Cowgirl Hats to protect ‘em from the elements.

Stay tuned – in a few weeks I’ll show you how both of these lovely ladies look – lights, mirrors, and all – side by side.

How cool is THAT, Leonardo?

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Deb Trotter ~ Cowboy’s Sweetheart Cowgirl Artist

Wild West Wednesday

Vintage Cowgirl Truck … I’ll Show You Mine If  You’ll Show Me Yours

I’m not sure why, but I think Cowgirls have a thing for old cars & trucks. I’ve been obsessed with them lately.

I’m talkin’ a pure, unadulterated Deb Trotter ~ Cowboy’s Sweetheart kind of car or truck … but most especially, a truck.

The more bullet holes, rust, and signs of a well-lived-life a vehicle suggests – the better. What could be more “Cowgirl” than that?

This baby is waitin’ on me …

Is there an old car or truck you’re dreamin’ of, pardner? Grab your camera and show me!

Happy Trails!

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Deb Trotter ~ Cowboy’s Sweetheart Artist

Oh, I know what you’re thinking … the title of this post – Cowgirl Artist Ages 4 Years In Ambulance Ride – looks like it came straight from the National Enquirer. My story IS sensational. However, I can assure you this is the absolute TRUTH from my perspective.

As you’ll recall from my last post, Cowgirl and Dog: Separated At Birth? – several months ago I fell and suffered a concussion (with “help” from Arwen, our Wire-haired Pointing Griffon). After what seemed an eternity, the police – and finally, the ambulance – showed up. I remember being strapped into a claustrophobic-like collar and hoisted onto a gurney.

At first, I’m looking up at the sky. Then, I’m looking up at the ceiling of the ambulance from the stretcher. Next, I’m looking up at this dreamy paramedic – probably in his mid-twenties – and I’m thinking, “If this is heaven, it’s not so bad … I should’ve painted this guy in a Cowboy Hat before I died.”

But then I hear him calling the hospital …

“This is Dreamy Paramedic Guy. We are transporting a 65-year-old female with a concussion for treatment and …”

WHAAAAT???

The next thing I know, I’m practically screaming …

“I am NOT 65! I’m only 61, for Heaven’s Sakes! Please don’t make me any older than I already am!”

The paramedic, EMT’s, and the driver, are all dying laughing. (Obviously, they aren’t old enough to understand how important a few years are to an almost-senior-citizen – fighting her age all the way to the end.) And then I hear the mirthful, Dreamy Paramedic Guy say …

“Correction. We are transporting a very LUCID 61-year-old woman with a concussion!”

For the sake of those of you who need a visual, I’ve translated this whole experience into images, just for fun …

This is the Cowgirl Artist that went on the ambulance ride

This is the Cowgirl Artist that the Paramedic saw on the ambulance ride

And this is what the Paramedic probably should have looked like to a Cowgirl Artist my age

Happy Trails!

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Deb Trotter ~ Cowboy’s Sweetheart Artist

This Cowgirl Artist is still alive … and I say this with all sincerity.

I’m not just talking about having been absent from my blog for several months – I’m talking about the miracle that I am A L I V E. Period.

I’m alive. Our dog, Arwen, is alive (even more of a miracle.) The fact that both of us are still walking on God’s green (or now brown) earth is one of the reasons I titled this post Cowgirl And Dog … Separated At Birth.

We both had our brush with death. Me, because what she did almost killed me. And Arwen, because I could have almost killed her for what she did. There’s another reason we are separated at birth – but on to that little ditty in a minute. For now, here’s the story …

I was holding my husband’s hunting dog, Arwen, on a leash … trying to prevent her from scaring Mr. Estes – an older gentlemen who had come to our home to measure for our new kitchen cabinets. For some reason, as soon as I opened the front door, she bolted out – dragging me in the process.

It all happened so quickly – I knew as I was falling that I was in trouble … or perhaps I should say that I knew as I was twirling – spiraling – that I was in trouble. I was going D O W N.

And D O W N I went … flat as a pancake, down.

Seconds – Minutes – later? My eyes were open, but I felt like a strange ghost … observing that crazy Cowgirl, Deb Trotter, as she lay there – her head surrounded by a pool of blood. (Did I say BLOOD? Yuk. I hate blood.)

I could feel my fingers and toes tingling. It took a minute for my eyes to focus – my brain to register. Above me stood poor Mr. Estes, the cabinet-maker, white as a sheet (or as a ghost).

I thought to myself, “He’ll NEVER do our cabinets after this.” (Don’t ask why that’s the first thing that popped into my head … just chalk it up to a near death experience, coupled with months of remodel insanity).

“Don’t move.” he said. “I’ve called 911, and they’ll be here any minute now.”

Somehow, in spite of my throbbing head – I realized that Arwen was inside the house. How she got in there I’ll never know. She was barking and growling – whining. And I thought to myself, “Good. BE upset, dog. You little witch. I am gonna kill you if I live.”

Elmo, my little Shi Tzu, was outside … running around me. Sniffing. Confused. Worried.

I asked Mr. Estes if anyone had called my husband, John.

“He’s going to meet you at the hospital,” he answered.

Let me stop right here and just say – you have no idea what SCARED is until you find yourself lying in a pool of blood … afraid to close your eyes for even one second for fear of never opening them again. And this whole time, all I kept thinking was …

“John is going to KILL me.”

Me – Deb Trotter – who is always moving too fast. Rushing through tasks. Breaking dishes. Dropping casseroles when removing them from the oven. And tripping over cracks in the sidewalk that never seem to bother anyone else.

Silly Me – Deb Trotter – who thought she was so smart trying to control Arwen – our big Wirehaired Pointing Griffon, who’s obsessed with protecting her household from strangers.

Well, as you surely know, John did not kill me. Otherwise Arwen would be writing this post with her big paws – and I would be cremated. (At my request, my ashes would have been released … partly in Yellowstone with the Buffalo and mostly unpredictable geysers … and partly in the Blue Ridge Mountains – in a meadow filled with Honeysuckle and Queen Ann’s Lace.)

I was still envisioning the chiggers of my childhood on the Queen Ann’s Lace when the police showed up.

You are probably asking yourself, “Why did the police show up?” I have no idea. But they were super nice – especially when they offered to put Elmo back inside the house for fear he’d be run over by the oncoming ambulance.

Ah, yes … the ambulance. The paramedic – and the ride to the hospital – are another story all together. That’s the part I’ll share with you in Part 2 of this post … but for now, I’ll leave you with a post-traumatic experience that occurred after I’d been back home for several weeks.

I had just had my hair colored – with a darker ash blond rinse this time – thinking it would make me look fabulous. (I am, after all, going to celebrate being ALIVE.) But my hair soaked up the ash and decided to turn gray-blond. It actually made me looK – shall we say, more “mature?”

I knew John would notice (unlike most of the time, when he never mentions a new haircut, color, or frosting.) He walked through the door – took one look at Arwen and me sitting on the sofa – and said …

“You look just like Arwen.”

What do you think? Separated at Birth???

Deb Trotter ~ Cowboy’s Sweetheart Artist

I’ve always had a special kinship with animals. I think most artists do.

When it comes to wild animals I’m especially drawn to deer.

As a child I had secret longing to own a deer as a pet. That would not have been wise, I know … but you have to understand, I was only six and had just seen Bambi at the movies. Bambi turned many a little girl into a deer-lover, and I was no exception.

Deer are like horses to me, in that their souls seem trapped in their eyes. There is something both wild and comforting about them – so I love the fact that deer hang out in our yard here in Cody, Wyoming. If I approach them very slowly they don’t seem to mind my taking their pictures.

A dear someone (no pun intended) has the same affinity for deer as I do and suggested I choose a gift from an Etsy artist for my birthday.

A Deer from Etsy for a Cowgirl’s birthday? Now, this is what I call deer-hunting!

Just look what I found …

LOVE! From Tinyowlsmagicattic.

Art Deco Deer Heads are everywhere in home design these days. Wouldn’t this one from hclaire be fun?

CocodeParis sells whimsical paintings of deer created on vintage 1920′s Parisian paper. So so cute.

Best of all – just imagine what a statement this sculpture – One Night In The Desert created by ElizabethFrank – would make in my studio!

Each and every one of these Etsy artists have captured the free spirit of deer in such an expressive way. I think they must all be kindred cowgirls.

I’m off to sit in the backyard and watch the deer.

Happy Trails!

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Deb Trotter ~ Cowboy’s Sweetheart Artist