Billy's Bandera Bandanna

Billy was a charming lad.  He had hair of gentle golden waves and a smile that warmed the hearts of even the coldest of the cold.  Everyone who knew Billy loved him.  Everyone who loved him called him a "good ol' boy".  Most significantly, Billy was my boyfriend.

How I got from Italy to Spain to Russia to China to Mexico to Texas is a story that must be saved for another day for when this story begins, I am already at Twin Elm Dude Ranch in the Hill Country of Bandera, Texas.  Perhaps it is needless to point out that as the darling of the fashion world, I was used to big cities, big buildings and big attention.  Twin Elm Dude Ranch provided none of these comforts.  Texas was not my chosen destination, exactly, so I was desperately trying to figure out the quickest way to get off the ranch and back to civilization.  Since I wanted to leave as soon as possible, I decided it would be best to avoid the male species.  A boy would simply be a distraction.

During my third day at the ranch, I met Billy.  I had kept a low profile for the first couple of days as I knew that the puparazzi had been hot on my tail.  By the third day I figured the vultures had found another story to feed on and I explored the ranch in all my glory.  While investigating the barn, Billy approached me.  Though I was giving off clear signals that I was not at all interested in him, he was instantly smitten.  Unexpectedly, I recognized an incredible kindness in his warm brown eyes, but reminded myself, "easy Sweetie, easy, this is not what you want".  His kindness was misinterpreted as foolishness and I mistakenly thought that since I was not looking for love, I could instead manipulate this goofball with the heart of gold to help me get what I needed-- out. But I underestimated the weakness of my own heart.  Quite quickly, I forgot about Jean DeBout, Ricococo, Fernando, Vladimir, CCS (name is protected for privacy), Chihuahua and fell in love with Billy.

While Billy's looks and appeal were undeniable, I was, initially, a little unsure about Billy's intellectual abilities.  He was not as acculturated nor as abreast to the metropolitan way of life as my typical social circles were and at times, I wondered how well-suited we really were for each other.  We looked fantastic together, no doubt, but he wasn't particularly sophisticated.  My doubts were assuaged, however, as I realized that Billy was incredibly intelligent, not so much in the ways of the city world, but in the ways of the natural world.  For example, Billy had an innate gift of compassion and was able to communicate between the horses at the ranch and the cowboys.  He was the problem solver and could coax the horses to do what the cowboys couldn't get them to do and vice versa.  Also, Billy knew everything about the land, the sky, the stars, the seasons.  It is through Billy that I learned to see  beauty in everything.

I didn't expect to be so satisfied on a ranch, but there was so much to do.  Billy took my hiking and camping.  He tried to get me to swim, but I told him that would never do.  I watched him perform his very masculine work at the rodeos and the chuck-wagon races.  Afterward, we would delight at the bonfire, stuff our mouths with hot dogs and stare up at the moon.  It was a lifestyle unlike any I had lived before and as the seasons passed, this city girl was surprisingly happy.

I knew our relationship was getting serious when Billy gave me his red bandanna.  The ranch had frequent visitors and they got a hoot out of Billy wearing the thing, and as he always aimed to please, he wore it daily.  Since Billy had to get up before dawn to lead a private horseback expedition, we had decided to stay the night in the barn.  When I awoke well after the rooster's call, his bandanna had been draped across my shoulders.  It was so thoughtful a gesture and so sentimental a sign and so clearly my clue to get out.  Recently, my agent had located me and was sending certified letters three times a day urging me to return to the catwalk.  I had withheld the letters from Billy as I knew that he would fear my departure and I wasn't sure what I wanted to do.

Billy had blundered into my heart in a way that not even my true love, Jean de Beaux had been able to do.  I had surreptitiously been asking Billy if he had any desire to live a city life so I knew I couldn't have both. I was going to have to choose:  Billy or career.  As much as I loved Billy and the country, I knew the fashion world needed me more.  The designers had been struggling for a few seasons in my absence.  They had no muse. 

Rather than make our hearts hurt more, I decided to leave Twin Elm before Billy returned from that fateful trip.  I carefully folded up the red bandanna into the shape of a heart and left it in the middle of our spot.   Pinned to the center was my good bye letter, "Dearest Billy, I love you truly.  Sweetie P."

I heard that Billy eventually forgave me and came to understand my hasty decision.  He met a nice girl who worked at the rodeo.  They settled down and even had a few pups.  A few years ago, I came across a story that a ranch in Bandera was in danger of closing.  An anonymous buyer purchased the ranch and set up a trust to ensure its continued operation.  The buyer bequeathed the ranch to Billy.

Yours truly,
Sweetie P. Clark

The Nose Knows

Dear Readers,

It has come to my attention that while my fans were thrilled with the snippet from my interview on Smell Smells and simply adored my new single, "Give a Little Bit (of Your Ham to Me)", the base was distressed that since the interview was on radio, no one was able to see my beautiful little face.  In light of that news, I've decided to dedicate this post to all those who know a pretty girl when they see one.  I have new and delightful photos of me to share, and I've decided to focus on one of my favorite and most under-mentioned body parts, my sensational nose.  Smells are, after all,  perhaps my favorite sensory experience.  I love the subtle qualities of an aroma that my nose detects.  Each and every quality of a smell is noted and appreciated.  I can linger in luxury as my olfactory guide identifies the complex nuances of assorted scents.  All of this is thanks to my beautiful nose.

Coincidentally, I've noticed that alleged strong minded, mature women have been succumbing to our culture's pressure to reflect eternal youth.  Noticing the dearth of naturally beautiful women, I recognize my duty and responsibility to be the spokes model for looking our ages.  I alone can show the western world the grace, the dignity, the wisdom, that an aging face displays.  I thought Madonna was going to be that gal, but she opted out somewhere along the way. 

Adorable!

 

 

The first photo I've shared is a close up on my precious nose.  It's remarkable how perfectly symmetrical it is.  My black nose is flushed with a touch of pink.  The carefully scalloped edges lead the eye to the precise bottom point which further directs the eye to my furry little lip.

More goodness.

Above is a slightly different angle of my beautiful nose.  I'd like you to notice how white the areas around my nose have become.  I happen to be rather pleased with the evolution of my face.  Do you see any signs of salon color?  Do my cheeks look too tight?  Am I wrinkle-free? Absolutely not!  And, I look good and know it.  Everyone knows it.  It is true that this look is all the rage, but it's because as I vowed to accept my glory in it's fully natural state, I inadvertently started a new trend, among the young pups nonetheless.  Hardy har har.

Thought you might like the three quarter angle.  Notice I hold my nose high.

There's some old sayings about different kinds of beauty, it's in the beholder's eye and all that jazz.  Fortunately for everyone involved, those sentiments are completely true as technically, no one is more beautiful than me.  Anyway, really, what I want, what I insist, you take away from my latest words of wisdom is that we all must be able and willing to see the beauty in our own faces.  Maybe your nose is not as long as mine, nor as adept at recognizing fragrances, maybe you don't have sharp whiskers, or a furry face, maybe your face is still smooth with youth and angst.  Guess what?  That's perfect and just the way it's supposed to be.  Appreciate what you have. You can be fabulous just as you are, just as you change, day after day after day.  What more proof do you need than moi?

Ta-ta darlings,

Sweetie P. Clark

P.S.- some of you were probably admiring my teeth.  I'll have a story to tell about them soon.  But before that, I may tell you about Billy.  Any votes?