Welcome to my blog -- The Ropin' Pen!

Do you ever think your life is like a country song?  I sure do.  If I would ever sit down and write about the crazy and fun experiences I have had throughout my life in agriculture, in particular, I'd probably be a country superstar!

Sometimes people ask me why I like agriculture so much.  I probably drive a few folks nuts sharing my experiences and talking about all the ag "stuff" I am involved in, but it is what I understand and enjoy.  I love nothing more than to walk into a public place with a pair of cowboy boots on and a Carhartt.  When I wreak of agriculture (and I am not talking cowpies here), I am in my element!  Go ahead...stare at me.  Make my day!  Don't worry....I won't bite.

You know, I like being a part of the two percent of the U.S. population that has the noblest job around.  And if you are an aggie, you probably agree.  If you aren't an aggie, you may be scratching your head in doubt.  If you like to eat and wear clothes....well, there you have it. I'd say a farmer's job is pretty important, wouldn't you?  Let's face it; no one can live without agriculture and the people that produce goods from it.

Aggies have a special bond.  They are about the only people I can truly connect with.  It doesn't matter how much money they make or what trucks they drive.  There is something about "our kind" that is like no other.  In fact, I was inspired to start this blog after a song called the Ropin' Pen by country singer, Trent Willmon.  I think his song sums it up best.  Read the lyrics and tell me if you agree:

Ropin' Pen -- Trent Willmon

"Every Friday afternoon, I hitch up the trailer,
Saddle up ol' Rock an' ice down the cooler.
Drive that back road until it ends,
At the ropin' pen.

There's rusted out pick-ups an' fancy rigs;
Twenty-thousand dollar horses, then there's my ol' stag,
But we're all the same the minute we ride in,
To the ropin' pen.

Well I ain't no Clayo Speed,
But I give her hell,
Hell, you never can tell,
Some day, I just might be.

We'll turn a few steers an' tell a few lies;
Kick back in the saddle an' philosophise.
Most of life's problems, we can prob'ly solve 'em,
In the ropin' pen.

We don't do it for the money, hell we're always broke.
Just ask my ol' buddy Nathan what he'd pay to rope.
He lost a couple of wives an' the fingers on his hands,
To the ropin' pen.

An' it takes a little skill an' a little luck,
An' you can talk smack if you can back it up.
Ah, but we're all friends no matter who wins,
Here at the ropin' pen.

Well I ain't no Clayo Speed,
But I give her hell,
Hell, you never can tell:
Some day, I just might be.

We'll turn another pit of steers an' tell a few more lies;
Drink another beer and hypothesise.
Most of life's problems, hell, we're gonna solve 'em,
In the ropin' pen.

See y'all again next weekend,
Here at the ropin' pen.
At the ropin' pen.
Down at the ropin' pen.
In the ropin' pen."

Not bad, eh?  So come along for the ride.  Maybe we can solve life's problems here at The Ropin' Pen.....