Single in Cowtown…

Of recent weeks I have been a shut-in, and not for reasons of my own choosing. The stomach flu has felled me and kept me captive of the ‘salle de bain’ as one might politely put it. This naturally has zero amusement quotient. Friends have kept me at phone-call length, in between bouts of delivering broths of various sorts. Rumpole, too, keeps a necessary distance, going so far as to make food and libations for mainly himself so that I cannot contaminate foodstuffs he plans to ingest.

A couple of days ago Our Lady of Perpetual Crisis phoned again to check on my progress or lack thereof. Having her for a friend is like having a personal stand-up comic in attendance and on call to lift the spirits when occasion demands. She regaled me with anecdotes about a particular co-worker at the hospital rehab unit where she works. Apparently this particular chap keeps recovering stroke victims in stitches. Naturally, OLPC is also such a caregiver and provides much levity in a situation that is often fraught with frustration for patients.

So, this time I innocently enquired about any good stories and gossip which might amuse me presently and in times to follow.

“How goes Daphne’s life in Cowtown? Has she sold her house yet? Has she found herself a new man upon whom to lavish her attentions and affections?”

“You know, G,” said OLPC, “Daph hasn’t been able to get a bite on her house yet, and it’s been a year since she’s had her place up for sale. She absolutely hates Cowtown and says it has not much to recommend living there.”

“Is she still boarding the Uni’s water polo boys?”

“Oh, yeah. It keeps her out of trouble. Besides which you know what a controlling den-mother she can be.”

“This must mean she has not found a suitable man her age to hang out with,” I suggested. “I’m surprised she hasn’t given up the quest.”

“On no!” chortled OLPC. “Daphne never gives up the quest, as long as she is breathing. After all… you realize… she is Cougar Extraordinaire. You’ve got to hear a bout the toe-sucking farmers from Canmore!!!”

“The what? The who?…. yuck, blech!”

OLPC proceeded to fill me in on Daphne immersing herself in the famous Cowtown Briar Curling Bonspiel – a mad whirl of watching teams skid flattened bowling balls down the length of ice whilst madly sweeping their brooms ahead of the coasting objects. Apparently this is a well lubricated event, with non-playing teams retiring to the on site watering hole called the Briar Patch, in between their turns on the ice.

Naturally, to a Cougar Extraordinaire, this is prime stalking grounds. Maybe easy stalking grounds. The game tends to be variously inebriated, which makes the hunting unfairly weighted in favour of the hunters, not the hunted. It so happened that Daphne bagged a whole passel of drunken farmers from Canmore, who proceeded, each in turn, to demonstrate that long-lost art of toe-sucking in public spaces. As OLPC was telling me this, I had a mad vision of Daphne, lounging at a bar table with her leg elevated onto the edge of the table, while each Canmore farmer took turns in nibbling at her stockinged toes. Hand kissing, in the French Manner, is something of which I am rather fond, but toe-sucking in the Canmore Fashion defies even my imagination.

We were laughing, helpless with mirth. Naturally, to be fair, there is something in the atmosphere of Cowtown which compels even the most decorous lass and lad to let down their hair and behave in an unthinkable manner in public. I admitted to OLPC that back thirty some years ago, while attending a three-day International Ceramics Symposium in Cowtown, I succumbed to the wild lure of the place and danced on tabletops in a number of bars on the blow-out evening after the symposium.

I never knew I had the capacity for such wanton wildness. Must have been because I was still single then. Got to spot Daphne some leeway, now, since she is once again single, although a middle aged matron with two grown children.

I do wonder how she feels whenever recounting vague memories of this toe-sampling incident. I think I might feel compelled to sign up for a body transplant so no one could ever recognize me as the scandalous recipient of such public and serial attention.

As for the farmers from Canmore, let’s hope they used plenty of mouthwash when they returned to bunk in at their hotel suite.

Still madly chortling in Suburbia…. a shocked Stepford Wife.

8 Responses to “Single in Cowtown…”

  1. citrus Says:


    Don’t know whether I should move to Canada or not. Are you sure who did what to whom?


  2. suburbanlife Says:

    Gee, Roger – you might be better off to remain in Arizona. cannot be too sure of who did what to whom, mine is a second hand version, and you know how gossip goes – becomes increasingly unrecognizable with further retellings. G

  3. lookingforbeauty Says:

    It’s unbelievable what some women will do to snag a man! And did she take one home? That’s the proof of the toe pudding.

  4. Marsha J. O'Brien Says:

    Sorry to hear you’ve been sick. We got it from our granddaughter and it held on tightly for almost 3 weeks. I’m sending healing energy and prayers your directions right now! 🙂

  5. christine Says:

    Maybe she washed her feet first? At least she had a good story to entertain you. Hope you feel better soon, G.

  6. ybonesy Says:

    Wow, I didn’t realize that toe sucking was such a fashionable way for demonstrating one’s affection, especially at a bar. Perhaps it’s better, at least, than grinding on the dance floor. 8)

  7. Deborah Barlow Says:

    Memorable characters and a welcome distraction from my own version of perpetual crisis…Thanks for this!

  8. suburbanlife Says:

    Lookingforbeauty – you are so right! Yuck!! G

    Marsha – thanks for your wishes – i am much improved and in great spirits. G

    Christine – did she? I don’t generally wash my feet before going out. That may be because there is no expectation of toe-sucking in my case? This surely is one of the wildest stories i have heard in a long time. Must lead a very sheltered life, eh? G

    Ybonesy – maybe those earthy Albertans have novel ways of demonstrating attraction. This is one not in my own repertoire. But that’s because I’m old and staid. Hee! G

    Deborah – I’m sorry to hear you are in your own version of perpetual crises. Glad to be of distractive service for you. This was really a silly post, but sometimes, i succumb to the silllies. G

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