Humor & Inspiration in Writing: Prairie Wife in Heels

@PrairieHeels
Those shoes though...

Perhaps you haven't noticed my love of shoes. Maybe you've missed/ignored my many shoe selfies. (Suuuure.) Anyway, Cathy (AKA Prairie Wife in Heels) was one of the first people I connected with on Twitter, and I instantly thought, I like you! (See her profile pic on the left.)

Seriously, what's not to love? She's a city girl turned country girl with a shoe obsession. I tell you, Cathy, I can relate. 

Cathy (along with other life-minded cowgirls) writes a blog to inspire and uplift women. So when she asked if she could be a part of the Humor & Inspiration features, I was more than thrilled to pass her the mic. Take it away, mama!

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The Idyllic Country Family

When most people think of the Wyoming Prairie they imagine deep blue sky as far as the eye can see, wide open grasslands, and fragrant sage brush gently rocking in the wind. Cowboys herding cows, galloping horses, and women in long skirts. Perhaps they even imagine a few children cheerfully tagging along waving sticks and singing…From a distance my “homestead” does look like this but, the closer you get the more the idyllic scene above is proven wrong.

Cowboy and Cowboy-in-training

More often than not the sage brush and grass is being blown sideways by 30mph winds and while we have four horses and mini mule, they are kept in a corral and not able to roam free. My Cowboy can be found herding one of our five children rather than cows. Long skirts have been replaced with sweats. I do constantly have children tagging along after me but, cheerful isn’t the word I would use to describe their typical attitude.

Offspring. Definitely not cheerful.

I have always enjoyed writing but, with the birth of my first child and the next two years of being a working mother, I found other ways to spend my few precious moments of free time (sleeping). Then my husband got a new job which resulted in a move 30 miles outside of town.

As a city girl known for her love of high heels, the move to the Prairie offered many new experiences. My Wyoming life as a Prairie Wife was so unusual to all my friends back home, that I found myself being asked to share the same stories repeatedly. Those who knew me growing up, found it hard to imagine me shooting raccoons out my bedroom window in the middle of the night. 

Who's chasing who? Go, mama!

My herd of children offered many varied parenting experiences, and my local friends were often handing out my number to their acquaintances so I could answer parenting and nursing** questions.

Eventually, I began my blog PrairieWifeInHeels.com to share my stories with a wider audience and offer support to other women. I knew that having a blog would force me to take the time for myself and write. Finding opportunities to sit and write amidst the chaos of my life was overwhelming at first…but with true prairie wife grit and grace I kept at it. Soon, I began to notice that regularly taking time to blog was enriching my life in unexpected ways.

Writing has enabled me to reflect and grow. Feeding horses in -20 degree weather, in a foot of snow, nine months pregnant wasn’t funny at the time. But, I knew it would eventually make one hell of a blog post.

The connections I’ve made through our monthly interviews and social media has shown me that everyone has a story that we can learn from. What started as a way to take a few moments to myself, and perhaps help a few other women get through a rough day, has instead resulted in motivating me to be a better woman, wife, and mother.

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Cathy AKA Prairie Wife in Heels

Carry on, funny mountain mama! 
For more, connect with Cathy online.
Twitter
Pinterest
Facebook
Prairie Wife in Heels website

And for more inspiration, read the first Humor & Inspiration post, No, I Won't Write Your Memoir featuring Lydia Thomas. 

If you're a blogger, writer, or author and you'd like to be featured in the Humor & Inspirations posts, leave a comment below. 

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**The following, from Letter to the Grouchy Lady in Church shows Cathy's unique sense of humor. Apparently, after the little ones had jostled the Grouchy Lady coming and going, tossed their toys and mourned their loss, baby demanded lunch. 

“It is clear to me...that despite covering up with a blanket to nurse LittleMissH, I obviously offended your sensibilities. I of course refrained from pointing out that your breasts were only covered up by a piece of fabric as well. Though I will admit that your polyester black blazer offered a touch more coverage than my blanket. I have never prayed for a blanket to stay in place, or the baby to stay silent and not cry or burp before, how wonderful to have that experience while at church! Never before has the sound of a baby farting made me break into a cold sweat but I can attest to the fact that Secret Clinical Strength deodorant does work to hide stress sweat smell.”

Snicker! As always, thanks for dropping by, friends. By the way, you can read all the Humor & Inspiration features below:

Lydia Thomas: No, I Won't Write Your Memoirs  

Anne Goodwin: When Words Behave Like Toddlers 

Terry Tyler: Art Inspires Life

Kaley Tallman: Abandoning the Comfort Zone

Heidi Doxey: British Book Invasion

Carol J. Hedges: So You've Published a Book...

Allison Maruska: Four Steps Away From the Cliff
Colleen M. Story: Writers with Personality
Tamara Copley: The Magic of Humor
Sarah E. Boucher: Beating the Blaaahs
Jenniffer Wardell: All the Best Jokes

Diva Depressed

Even divas have their off days. In fact, being a diva ensures that you'll have some especially bad days. After all, the higher you soar, the further you fall.

When we met diva Vanessa Sumers--connoisseur of fine shoes, handbags, and obedient minions--all was running smoothly in her universe. However, like everyone, she has more than a few skeletons in her closet, including the family she left behind in the pursuit of greatness.

We rejoin her after she has learned of her stepmother's death. Returning to her hometown for the memorial services, she must face demons from her past and reunite with those who will always hold a special place in Vanessa's heart.

Excerpt from Vanessa Stmers:

The pastor gripped her hand in welcome, his face full of condolences as he drew her into the chapel.  Relief washed over Vanessa as she realized he didn’t know her.  She spotted a free section on the back row, and attempting to blend into the crowd, she scanned the room for familiar faces.

                “Nessa!” A voice called out as strong arms pulled her into a tight embrace.  “I can’t believe you’re here!  It’s so good to see you!”  Her stepbrother buried her in a bear hug. 

                Vanessa, surprised, returned his hug somewhat stiffly.

                “Peter,” she attempted a smile, her face tight with the effort.

                Unaffected by her uneasiness, Peter grinned.  Shadows of the little boy were evident in the man’s face; the same bright blue eyes that had charmed and incited mischief in his youth, and the ever-boyish grin. He’d become quite handsome.

                “It’s good to see you too,” Vanessa managed at last.

                “You look amazing, sis,” he said, squeezing her arm in a friendly way.  “You always were a stunner.  And we always knew you’d make it big.  Definitely got all the brains in the family,” he declared.  

                “Thanks, Peter,” she said, feeling awkward. She opened her mouth to force a more congenial reply but Peter’s gaze was drawn to the front of the chapel. 

                “Sorry, Nessa. Gotta run.  Looks like they’re about to begin.  You want to come sit with Dad?”

                She shook her head in response; she certainly wasn’t ready for that. 

                He patted her arm, treating her to a sad smile before turning away.

Still taken aback from the run-in with her estranged younger brother, Vanessa made her way down the row and took a seat by the wall.  The services began as someone settled into the seat beside her.         

Vanessa’s gaze was fixed on her father, somberly following his wife’s casket as it entered.  He took a seat by Peter on the stand, his eyes downcast. Roland Sumers had never been a handsome man, but the steel gray hair and the lines creasing his face gave him a distinguished look.  Like her hometown, she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed him, how she’d felt cheated out of the only parent who cared about her, until that moment.  As if an inner barrier had burst, her heartstrings pulled taut in her chest and tears rushed down her cheeks.

A handkerchief appeared before her.  Wordlessly, she accepted it, dabbing at her face so as to cause the least amount of damage to her make-up.  When she’d recovered her composure, she turned to offer a quiet thank you.  The words died on her lips as she met familiar dark brown eyes set in a deeply tanned face. 

“Matthew?” 

His lips curved into a smile.  “Good to see you again, Vanessa.”

The service was underway, so there was no time for else and Vanessa was so thoroughly tongue-tied she wouldn't have been able to formulate complete sentences.  Sitting perfectly still—to all appearances attending to the pastor—her mind dwelt on the man beside her. 

Vanessa had considered the possibility of running into a former flame.  But in her wildest imaginings she had never considered seeing her brother’s best friend, Matthew. When she’d left home Matty Johannsen had been a gangly teen.  All ears and long limbs, he’d been in that awkward ape-like state between boy and man.  His only attractive feature had been the big brown eyes fringed by long lashes.  Those beautiful eyes provided a glimpse into a singularly unique soul: equal parts amiability, wisdom, and humor. 

Matty had been Vanessa’s favorite among Peter’s friends—a group of boys who had typically made her feel stodgy and straight-laced.  Matty hadn’t been like that.  Instead, he’d smile that too-wide, too-many-teeth grin and bombard her with tales of his latest hare-brained schemes and pepper her with questions about her dreams and ambitions.  She would feign disinterest, but something about the odd-looking youngster fed her attention-starved soul.  Matthew had been more like a brother than Peter and some part of her mind persisted in seeing him as nothing more than the skinny too-tall teenager of days gone by.  She couldn’t have imagined he’d turn out like this.

Vanessa covertly looked him over as the pastor droned on. He was extremely tall, she noted, but where he’d been scarecrow-thin as a teenager, he’d developed a broad-shouldered muscular physique as a man which was only accentuated by the suit he wore.

Under the carefully applied make-up, Vanessa felt her face flush all the way up to the roots of her carefully coiffed hair. How could she think this way about Matthew? 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Matthew's lips twitch, as if he found something amusing.  With a feeling of irritation blossoming in her chest, her lips drew into a severe line and she fixed her gaze back on the pastor.  Matty Johannsen, attractive as he might have become, would not be permitted to laugh at her. Ignoring him for the remainder of the service, Vanessa folded her arms and sat ramrod straight in her seat.

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I'm quite fond of Vanessa. She's the type who stomps her little Prada heel and demands a story of her own. And she did. Read more about Vanessa's adventures in Dealing With Divas, Hostile Makeover, and Finding Myself in Literature. Thanks for stopping by!

Fairytales & Fancy Footwear

Regardless of my neanderthal-esque upbringing (i.e. five crazy brothers who liberally tossed about the phrase “I'll give you something to cry about,” a handyman dad who firmly believed in the merits of electrical tape and chainsaws, and a self-proclaimed tomboy mom who preferred the great outdoors to housekeeping), I am undeniably girly.

I'm the girl who hosts pampering parties, paints itty bitty toddler nails, and houses a burgeoning collection of high-heeled shoes I will never be able to wear to work. (Seriously, they have an average wearability of three hours. Like I'm going to teach kindergarten in those puppies. But they're just so pretty!)

I'm still not sure how it happened, but one day I went from chunky orthopedic footwear to peep-toes, sling-backs, and kitten heels. Somehow, I had learned the truth:

Shoes Are Magical.

And not just in fairytales.  Shoes fit when your cute pants are too snug and your fat pants with their elastic waists beacon from the nether-reaches of the closet. Shoes make your legs, behind, and too small/too big feet look sexy.  Even on the worst of very bad hair days (think cockatoo or Dudley Moore), a snug pair of Spanx and a cute pair of pumps can change your outlook on life.

Maybe that's why shoes are featured in fairytales like Cinderella. Where would Cindy be without the fairy godmother's final gift, the exquisite glass slippers? (I'll tell you where, stuck in the kitchen fetching meals for her ugly stepsisters by day and weeping into the cinders by night.)  One pair of shoes turned a "mentally abused shut in" into a princess.

As Cindy's fairy godmother understood, there is power in a good pair of shoes and a well-chosen outfit. Bella, the heroine of Becoming Beauty, shares this philosophy. However, what's a girl to do when the entire countryside is smitten with her elder sister? (It doesn't seem to matter that Cassie is uninterested in any of the gentlemen bent on wooing her.)

Thoroughly frustrated with the situation, Bella turns to what she knows best: pretty dresses, delicate dancing slippers, and expensive adornments. After wheedling the best that money can buy out of her father, Bella holds her head high at every social gathering and flirts shamelessly with the less-than-exuberant second sons and backward country gentry who figure they've got no chance with her sister anyway.

Night after night of being rebuffed would wear on any girl, especially someone as strong-willed as Bella. She could never guess that her determination and good taste will aid her in changing the life of one who has lived in darkness and shadow for far too long, and win her the love of her life.

I'm a firm believer in happy endings, so here's my advice to girls everywhere:

Thanks for dropping by, friends. Keep those adorable accessories in place and feel free to leave me a comment to tell me what makes you feel like the Queen of the World. Thanks!