G says next year, we should treat this like a Con (<--that's nerd speak for a 'conference' or gaming convention or nerd fest where the people all dress up like hobbits and anime characters and stuff). He said he could don some skin-tight Wranglers and I could plaster rhinestones all over my purse and we would fit right in. The man has a point.
I've probably mentioned this in past posts, but they have everything you can possibly imagine at these conventions. Each year I get a couple of new
This year we were brilliant and reserved tickets for the rodeo in advance. It occurs to me that people may have mixed feelings about rodeos, or about these huge agricultural events in general. Don't they just use animals? Break them and breed them and then eventually eat them?
I have to say, and maybe this is a product of mostly growing up on a farm in the south, you will be hard-pressed to find a group of people that (1) understands animals, and (2) respects them more than farmers, ranchers, and cowboys. They have relationships with these animals, and you can see that. It makes me want to go out and buy 57 horses immediately. Lucy can deal.
Full disclosure: it does feel a bit weird to gush and love all over the animals, then sneak away to eat some BBQ. But, what are you gonna do? It's so good.
They had (of course) every kind of farm tool and transportation known to man. There were cooking shows and furniture expos and clothing shops and endless arrays of boots and hats. There were petting zoos and indoor pony rides and souvenir picture booths and CSU educational displays. There were birds and lambs and cows and horses and llamas and bison and herding dogs. There were cowboys and cowgirls of all ages.
We considered running home and getting Lucy so that we could trade her in for a more useful animal. But we didn't feel like making the drive.
We ended the day with the 109th annual North Western Stock Show Rodeo. Now, I'm no stranger to rodeos; I've seen my fair share of bull- and steer-riding. My papa was a horse enthusiast and I spent a lot of my youth watching him train wild horses. I've even been bucked off, which, let me tell you, was not a fun experience.
But even so.
I almost gave myself a headache, grinding my teeth and holding my breath while these cowboys got flung all over the place. I would grimace and the lady next to me (a total stranger, I might add) would grab my arm and pray in Spanish. Meanwhile, G was adjusting the camera settings, looking around, sipping his frozen lemonade. This man is heartless when it comes to the rodeo. As far as he's concerned, the cowboys are certifiably insane for getting that close to a 2,000 pound, unpredictable bull in the first place. If they get trampled? Well, they had it coming.
A couple of times, I thought I heard him rooting for the bull under his breath.
Meanwhile I was trying to flag down the Coors guy. If not for myself, than for the Señora next to me.
It was a great day. It was nice to mix in some Americana before returning back to England for the rest of the night, weekend, etc.
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