It Ain't Me, Babe

Hoodie, black cap, dark glasses, yep.  That was me on my walk this morning, Springsteen on the iPhone playlist--along with Willie and Waylon and a bit of Adele--and a twenty mile per hour gusty wind.  I was all set.  I was truckin'.

Here's a pic of my walking trail:

Here's how I looked:

Okay, you're right.  I Photoshopped a few pounds off.  And that's a guy, but other than that . . . it's kind of how I looked.

Anyhow, if you know me, you know that I'm just an old a granny who has let her Natural Woman haircolor come out.  (You have to sing the song when you read that sentence.  Go ahead, here's the words, I'll wait:  "You make me feel, you make me fee-e-e-l, you make me feel like a . . . "  Okay, I'd better stop.  Copyright and all that.)  

Anyhow, I was bopping down the trail, covered head to toe Against the Wind (darn, there's another song), earbuds firmly in place, when something began to intrude.  You know how it is, you're doing your thing, wailing away in your head (what?  that's just me? nah . . . ), when some larger noise worms its way into your space.  The space between your ears.  At least that's how it was for me.

And then . . .

A huge shadow passed over me.

I stopped, looked up, one hand holding my hat and hoodie on, the other hand shading my already covered eyes, and what did I see?  A black and white DPS helicopter hovering right over me.

EEK.

What'd I do???

So, I just started walking again.

The thing began to circle.  Totally drowned out Springsteen and Adele.  Willie never had a chance (nor Waylon).

Check out the pic again, my trail has a few places where it is completely open and a few more where it is fairly hidden by mesquites and yuccas.

I soon noticed that every time I hit an open space, here came the 'copter again, shadowing me, hovering.

Finally, after a mile or so, I had a brilliant idea.

I whipped off my hood, my cap, and my sunglasses (extra dark because of a developing cataract in one eye) and ruffled my left hand through my iron gray Natural Woman hair.

The helicopter moved slowly away.  

Just what I thought.  They weren't looking for an old a granny woman at all.

Whew!  Never thought I'd be glad I was too lazy to keep coloring my hair.

I couldn't wait to get home and tell Dude all about it (he was home with a bad cold).

So there I stood, regaling him with the long-short version (sort of like this but without illustrations) when a Special Report broke into the Ellen Show (yep, telling off on you here, Dude, heh heh heh).  The reporter said the Midland Police and DEA had just busted 22 people in a cocaine/heroin ring but that they had indictments for 35.  You know what that meant, right?  Several of the indictees were gasp! still at large.  Probably wearing hoodies, baseball caps and dark glasses . . .

So let me just end my story with another snippet of song.  This one comes from the great Bob Zimmerman.  It's my response to the DPS helicopter who shadowed my entire walk--until I revealed my snowy summit:

"It ain't me, babe, naw, naw, naw, it ain't me.  It aint' me you're lookin' for, babe.  It ain't me you're lookin' for."

Afterthought:  Tomorrow is another day.  Hope they've rounded up the remainders!