rodeo

Last weekend we did our annual Cheyenne Frontier days. Basically, my two sisters and I, our men and brood of offspring all huddle into my dad's hyper-air-conditioned house for the weekend, eat snacks, ribs and lobster tail, watch movies, chit-chat, half-monitor unbridled childhood aggression, and go to the Daddy of 'Em All Rodeo. I love it. I love the chaos of all those people in a small space. I love the unexpected pure grace my dad pours out to us as a host. I love the drive up there and how magically antelope appear as soon as we cross the border into Wyoming. I love imagining for the umpteenth time life as a cowgirl as we drive across the gently rolling plain with cows speckled on hillsides and distant thunderclouds breaking up monotonous blue. I love the rodeo itself. I love the awkward, slightly apologetic allowance and irony of the "Indian Village" as we enter the cowboy domain, drumbeats and ornate headdresses off to the side while a plastic tent of strippers under the pretense of some cheap AMERICAN beer brand is on the other, a sign hanging overhead, "18 and older ONLY". I take the rodeo seriously. I feel humbled by so many people there. Sure, there are the maybelline-clad 19 year-old blond girls in tight shirts being loved over and over by the camera for the side jumbo t.v. screen. There are the the random urbanites scattered here and there observing the whole event like it's some social obligation to better oneself in accepting and witnessing the phenomenon of a rural subculture. There are multitudes of locals who have waited twelve months for this specific SOMETHING to break up the mundane year of vocational drudgery, raising babies and watching sitcoms on weekly nights. But then there are the cowboys. Ranchers. Old men with deep wrinkles from years out on a horse in the sun rounding up cattle. There are people there that really know the difference between each bull and bronc rider and how each placement of stirrup compared to the last. There are people who understand the demeanor and spirit in the eye of the horse that braces itself in the mud as its rider jumps off and scrambles to tie a steer within fifteen seconds. It's beautiful. It's sport to some, it's real-life-gone-entertainment to others, a spectacle of unusual quaintness to more, it's otherworldly to me. It's a slipping reality. I know we won't get this one back. Once a year I get to sit on an aluminum bench, coax my child into paying attention to the man riding the "big cow" in the arena, wish I had a better 'authentic' cowgirl guise, and long for a time and place where I can tap into something as pure, foreign and unbridled as the cowboy cinching a rope around his hand enough to break it, hold on for mercy eight seconds while praying all the while that he won't lose his hat, just to get up again on two unbroken feet an do it all over again.

nice day

I thought I should post just for the sake of posting. I'm a little premature in this, perhaps, since we're about to embark on a fun weekend and I feel the need to save the savory. The thing is, it was simply a nice day. We got a bike seat in the mail today for Evelyn. Thanks to my friend Sarah, I've been inspired to try out biking with kiddo in tow. Evelyn's seat is now bolted onto the back of Steven's bike, and her new pink flowered helmet is resting on a chair, waiting for its first use in the morning.
On Sunday Steven and I celebrate our seventh wedding anniversary. We decided a couple years ago to follow the traditional pattern of anniversary gift-giving. This year's theme is wool/copper/desk sets. I was sure the desk set idea would be my best bet until Steven ruled it out as if it were cheesy. With a $20 limit and having given myself only this morning to come up with an amazing, thoughtful, you-shouldn't-have kind of present I gave up in exhaustion after four random stores and asked Steven if we could call off gift-giving this year. He was chill to oblige. So we are giftless. We do, however, have plans. Plans. It seems I don't have much of these in life these days. Some people would be envious of it. I tend to feel like I'm drowning in a big sea of boundlessness, guided only by the unruly enterprise of a two-year old. But this weekend we have plans. Thanks to the enormous generosity and love of my mom and Evelyn's eager ability to adapt and love Grandma back, we are going to Breckenridge for a night - ALONE. We're going to eat out at a nice restaurant, have drinks and travel back by foot to our hotel room, we're going to SLEEP IN the next day, we're going to get coffee in the morning and summarize our last year in our "love journal".... The plan of it is enough. It sounds that great. So there's that.
Back to today, though. A storm rolled through and brought us a much needed downpour. The sound was accentuated by the fiberglass roof of the sunroom, to an extreme where I kept the french doors open only a crack. Steven and I went to Bourne Ultimatum (or whatever the title is) and loved it. I really love those movies. I feel like I could do kung fu right now, even though I don't think they really did kung fu in the movie. Violent car chase, perhaps?
Now I'm on my second Coors beer (which I should mention is affecting me a bit more than it ought to and I apologize) which I might shock people by saying I've upped to my top three favorite beers. Could it be true? Something as main-stream as Coors? Yes. I may not know anything about wine, but I've tried a million different beers and I've elected Coors right to the top. It's sweet, it's smooth... Perhaps I'm a simpleton. Fat tire, Coors and Negra Modelo. These are my top three. I should mention that Dogfish Head's Midas Touch is freakishly yummy. Okay, I'm catching myself trying to feign some sort of beer connoisseurship. I like Coors. What can I say?
Today is also the first official day of me being off antibiotics. Yes, my sad wisdom tooth saga continued with an infection in my jaw. If the infection comes back they'll have to cut open my gums to 'irrigate'. Let's say, I've decided I'm fine. And that oral surgery and I don't mix nicely at all. At all.
All these things sum up a good day. In a random, free-association sort of way I'm glad to share them with you.