In 1873, immigrants David Jacobs and Levi Strauss, combined their talents and resources and came up with a new phenomenon, called Waist Overhalls, more commonly known as jeans. From this first creation of denim thread and metal rivets, the single most popular clothing item in the history the world has taken shape, and variations are endless. Brilliant because of their durability and style, practical because they last forever and get the job done, jeans are synonymous with hard work and high fashion all at the same time. When women finally started wearing “trousers” in the forties and then “slacks” in the fifties, a proper pair of women’s jeans weren’t far behind. Cowgirl Tough Jeans have taken the jean world by storm, doing their well-fitting best to make women’s legs look longer, behinds firmer, and all with a sense of wild west chic. Pine Country Feed has the good sense to carry a product that goes so far in making women’s fashion about comfort, style and ease of care. Proud to carry the Cowgirl Tough brand, Pine Country is the place you’ll find a treasure around every corner.
Halloween is the day to make contact with you inner ghoul – the side of you that would prefer to be mysterious, and hide behind a mask of intrigue. We have to take our hats off to Martha Stewart who has perfected the art of ghostly retreat, greeting the holiday in the most elaborate way possible. Martha’s life isn’t a possibility in the real world, where you have to function within a budget, and your staff consists of your husband and your cat, but Martha forces us to look at life differently. She insists that we celebrate the everyday, that we go the extra trouble, that we make life a celebration, and she is never more Martha than on Halloween. Martha Stewart understands that there are times when the most important thing you can do is enjoy the art of living and she shows us just how to do it with style. We can take a lesson from Martha, who has become wealthy teaching people how to properly fold a bed sheet. Sometimes, despite the mayhem around us, life is very simply and exquisitely about the fun.
The condition of today’s world leaves reasonable people asking one question. Where is Wyatt Earp when you need him? Where is the guy in the black cowboy hat, and the long black denim duster that catches on the gun at his hip – the guy who was willing to fight for a decent way of life in a west that refused to be tamed? What happened to the man with the badge who didn’t stop until the job was done, didn’t care how long the ride, never asked if there was someone who could take his place? Things were easier in Wyatt’s day for the man who wanted to stand for right. You had to know how to shoot, a good horse was a must, and if you expected to live long a good buddy who could also shoot proved helpful, and of course you had to be brave. What you didn’t have to be was politically correct, college educated, connected to the people at the top, or certified in your field of expertise. You were respected for what you had done, not what you had trained to do, and if you put your foot in your mouth from time to time, nobody noticed, or at least they didn’t say anything, because you were Wyatt Earp for heaven’s sake! Where does this leave us? We must be brave, put on our dusters and whistle for our trusted steed. It’s time to fight for a decent way of life in a west that still isn’t tamed. Wyatt would be proud.
Let’s face it, shopping is a demanding proposition. It can be a feet throbbing, purse gaining poundage with every step, music blaring overhead making your head throb, standing in line, where in the world is a bathroom experience. Shopping at Pine Country Feed is actually none of those things, but truth be told, a nice glass of wine, your toes bare and propped up on the ottoman, not a line in sight can sound pretty good, and soon it will be yours. Shopping at Pine Country Feed will be an armchair adventure, laptop in place, browsing at your leisure. The On-Line version of your favorite place to shop for all of your “have to have” accessories, jeans, boots, jackets, hats, blouses and the most remarkable, can’t be found elsewhere home goods on the planet, is coming to a living room, or a king sized bed with tons of pillows to cradle your head, near you. The only thing better than a peaceful afternoon at Pine Country Feed, is a midnight splurge at Pine Country Feed On-line. Fire up the laptop. We’ll keep you posted.
Take a guy who had an odd way of talking and an even odder way of walking, who couldn’t finish college because a body surfing injury made him lose his athletic scholarship, whose application to the Naval Academy was rejected, whose first real job paid him $105 per week, and whose given name at birth was Marion, and what do you get? You get one of the top three most popular film stars of all time, and the only one to make the list every year since the poll started. John Wayne, who was too tall and broad to really fit into the Hollywood scene, but ended up with lead roles in 142 films, and is now thought of as a legend for his work on the screen, didn’t start out with aspirations of stardom. The celebrity came to him after nine years of bit parts, one in which he played a corpse, and hours mentoring with stunt men about riding horses and straddling fences and taking a fall in a gunfight, and his “don’t mess with me” attitude when he refused to work with a major film maker because he didn’t like the way “the guy had treated him when he was nobody”. His stardom came from the way he owned the screen, the fact that he looked like he was born on a horse, the distinctive intonation in his voice that he didn’t even try to change, and the fact that in all but one of his roles he played a rough talking, heavy drinking, fight at the drop of a hat, good guy. He brought us bigger than life characters and better than life stories and he did it without being “discovered”. He just stayed with it until the screen was ready for John Wayne, and that took a few years.
The constancy of breast cancer has become such a part of our daily lives we are no longer surprised by the diagnosis of thousands of women around the world, yet when it forces its presence into our inner circle we gasp with the harsh reality and shed tears of what lies ahead and it isn’t just the disease itself – it is the many methods used to combat the horror that subjects women to fearful, lonely, startlingly vulnerable scenarios that break their hearts a little at a time. When it is done, all the scans and readings, the surgeries, the endless consultations, the poisonous treatments, and you hopefully emerge “clean”, the pain of those months seem bearable, but in the early steps of the journey, and even the middle ones, before you can see the results, there is a deep grieving that the sufferer must endure. When my sister began the radiation portion of her treatment, and she described to me the mean moments of feeling helpless and exposed, at the mercy of people she didn’t know, I heard a wrenching discouragement in her voice, and the only thing I could pray was that somehow in the weeks of treatment ahead of her she would find some element of joy. There wasn’t anything joyful about a bi-lateral mastectomy, with months of chemotherapy, loss of hair and strength, utter exhaustion, always feeling less than whole, but somehow the radiation seemed like the final blow in a long drawn out fight, because we had hoped she would be able to avoid that portion. After her first ugly encounter, I dreaded the days she had ahead of her, until I received the call after her second treatment. She spoke of a room full of people, all awaiting their radiation treatment, and in their midst a group of nuns who called everyone honey, and walked from patient to patient with trays of donuts and Danish, pushing their sweets and their sweetness on the crowd. Every little bit one of them sang out a name, and the owner would pass the desk and ring a little bell as they went through the doors for their “medicine”. We laughed as she vividly described this elderly crew of women, dressed in their habits and Bronco sweatshirts plying the radiation patients with pastries and good cheer. The conversation concluded with a grand assurance in both our hearts that my sister, despite the weeks ahead of her, had found the one thing she needed to get through it. In those Bronco loving nuns, she had found her joy.
Perhaps the most dreaded utterance in the English language, or in languages worldwide is the word cancer, for with it comes a series of other words, like chemo-therapy, radiation, surgery, autoimmune disease, and death. When my sister’s regular annual exam brought about the discovery of something “questionable”, I was the first to say that it would be nothing, and yet, perhaps a week later, though it felt like months, we were discussing the treatment her oncologist was recommending for her breast cancer. It was as though we were walking one day as sisters, and then we were walking as cancer victim and onlooker, because there was no way I could walk in her shoes. Helplessly, I could do nothing more than possibly carry her shoes when they became too heavy for her. She faced her future with fear, certainly, but with the grace of one who knew that her steps were ordered, and she would walk them honestly and in faith, and I would share in her faith, praying that each step further from the diagnosis would bring her closer to health. The uncertainty was painful, but the greater pain came in knowing that the belief I had always unconsciously held that she would be protected from anything as horrific as breast cancer, that we all would, was a thing of the past. We indeed had cancer.