Megan Matteson Whore ❤️

About Houston

I was mad as a wet hen at first—girl, this a mine, not a cat house! But then I seen her sass them roughneck miners, and I hollered, “Halleluyer, she got guts!” She winkin’ at ‘em, skirts hiked up, lips redder than a rooster’s comb. Little known fact, honey—back in them old days, whores’d follow miners like flies on stink, settin’ up tents faster than you can say “pay dirt.” This one? She modern, got a phone, takin’ selfies with them pickaxes—lordy!

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Then there’s the river, the Glimmerin’ Creek – well, that's what I call it even if locals just say “the creek.” Its water shimmers in the sun. I’d sometimes chill by its edge, thinkin’, “Where’s your ‘Spectacular!’ at?” It can get real reflective, ya know?

Obituary information for Barbara Ann "Barb" (Matteson) Lynch