Lies and Cow Pies: Revisited

This post first appeared here in August of 2010. I’m re-posting it because I want to tell you about my five years as a fake, and this story from my earlier childhood gives you some background.

Jan C Johnson, Writer

I have no idea whose cows they were, or why I was wandering around with them in their enclosure — wearing a dress, mind you. I was only five, we were visiting my grandmother, the grownups wanted to go see somebody (probably relatives) and their cows, and I was along for the ride whether I wanted to go or not. I only knew it was chilly and wet, and that I was almost up to my pristine little shoelaces in mud.

As a dedicated tomboy, I didn’t mind dirt one bit, as long as I was dressed for it. No sir, put me in old play clothes and I was good with soil, dirt, dust, sand or even grass stains, but mud was another matter. Especially thick, squishy mud that smelled of cows and was getting all over my new red tennies. (If you’re too young to remember “tennies” try…

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About Jan C. Johnson

Welcome! If you like food, reading, laughing over life's little disasters, and maybe thinking about the bigger things of life, you have come to the right place. Besides blogging, I write humorous fiction, though real life tends to leave fictional humor in the shade. But I'm not a total goofball. No, really. I'm also working on a biography project. I live in North Texas with my husband, Brent. We enjoy bicycling, Mexican food, and traveling to visit our kids and grandkids.
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