Okay, now I know what you're all thinking. My house is a rodeo, with a number of clowns, and how could that be exciting on my Anniversary? 'Cause you got it wrong. My house is more like the zoo or circus and I LEFT my house and went to the rodeo.
For years I have been trying to get my better half to take me to the rodeo. I love the rodeo! It was one of my favorite things to do when I was younger. The Ravalli County Fair, seeing how many times you could spin in the Zipper and not throw up (just thinking about it makes my insides turn upside down), and the Rodeo. Of course since I was, and am, such a cowgirl, I was an expert of the sport. Loved those cowboys, wranglers, and bulls. Redbluff, just 30 min. south of us, is one of the major stops on the Pro-bull riding circuit.
Before you get too excited, we didn't go to Redbluff. But, we did go to the one here in Redding. This one is, of course, smaller but a lot of the cowboys use this rodeo to add to their points and experience. There were quite a few Pros in the bunch.
I was so excited I was jumping out of my skin. We went on Thursday night, which was Family Night, and got fantastic seats right in the middle of the stands. I was telling Better Half this was a perfect spot because we could see "everything".
Out comes the first bareback rider. Well, that was kind of boring. He didn't even fall off. The same with the next and the next. I thought 8 seconds was hard to do. These guys were making it look like child's play. In fact, it was the same with the saddle broncs. Man these guys weren't any fun to watch. I mean, half the fun was watching the cartwheels and gymnastics as the guys were flipping off and over the animals. The only gymnastics were the ones by the Redding Daredevils (I think that was their name). They were doing all sorts of nonesense on their horses as they were galloping around the arena. Like Grandpa Recht once said, "I could do that (or jump that high) if my tights were that tight, too."
The bull riding. I was ready for some action. Who were these guys? I mean really. Only one guy even got close to being skewed by a bull. There was no major flipping, trying to run out of the way of the bulls, or even dirt on their wranglers. What a disappointment!!! At lease only a couple actually made the 8 seconds.
And the animals. Where did they get these pygmies? I remember the animals being so much bigger and, of course, meaner. I mean, they had to be in order to rid themselves of their riders so easily. These animals must of had "gentle juice" or something. I could have "rode" those animals and I don't even live on a ranch.
Did you not get the event? Oh, let me tell you again. It was the Redding Pro Rodeo. What??? What did I miss??? These guys were pros?? Weren't they pros in Ravalli County??? They seemed like it to me. Well, no wonder everyone was chearing for them when they got high scores instead of booing them because they didn't fall off. I think there is something wrong with me when I was looking forward to the animals having the upper hand.
It was fun, they were GOOD, glad we went on Family Night instead of "beer" night, yelled and cheared right along with the best of 'em. Can't wait for next year!!!
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Friday, May 7, 2010
The club and its phases of life.
I love to go to the club and watch the generation gaps between the Yearlings, Bucks, and Stags. And, of course, let's not forget the Caterpillar, Cocoon, and Butterfly. No matter which room or activity you are involved in, the play of nature is always the same. Especially during the Spring and "new beginnings" when the animals begin to shed their outer layers and try to use up the fat stored for winter.
Let me illustrate. In the weight room, the Yearlings are the ones that are strutting around, doing more strutting than actual lifting . . . . unless a caterpillar slithers by. They are the ones in the latest fashion accessories, flexing when they think their being watched, and if they get the chance . . . . off comes the shirt. They don't have any horns to speak of yet, but it doesn't stop them from tossing their heads and challenging the more mature. Some of them have definitely eaten well with their shiny hair and rippling hides, but lack the confidence to mingle with the elders.
Now you have the Bucks. Undeniably these are the ones that have emerged from the "immature" phase and have entered that "middle, can't quite get it right" phase. Clothes are still somewhat coordinated and in fashion. The Bucks spend a lot of time lifting and grunting in between checking themselves out in the mirrors trying to convince themselves they still look like Yearlings. They blow their horns loudly, stamp their feet, and make a good show. What they lack in hair and hide, they try to make up for in huffing, puffing, sweat, and the telling of "When I was. . . . "
And then you have the Stag. He is regal, sure of himself, doesn't bother with the young ones, and is basically there for himself. His clothes don't match and he doesn't care, the hair is usually a mess, he doesn't strut for the insect varieties . . . . but smiles at everyone . . . . realizing he isn't a Yearling and looks ridiculous trying to act like a Buck and will probably die trying. Enjoys the flattery, but moves beyond it. Love these guys!!!
Not to be outdone we have the other species of life, which begins with the Caterpillar. Oh, yes. She is primped, primed, and stamped with approval. Nothing is out of place from her shiny attennas, her fancy outfits, down to her bristling fur. Her job is to bring Yearlings and Bucks out to play. Activities are usually done with one eye on the mirror and lots of smoothing and grooming. Lap swimming is where the greatest performance takes place. Each Caterpillar works to outdo her competition. They jump in the pool and try not to mess up their antennas or fur. If any are brave enough to actually pretend to swim, their minimal outfits don't allow for all swimming strokes or even a pace quicker than a slow slither. They are good!!!
The Cocoon is very similar to the Buck. Kind of in hybernation, not wanting to be a Caterpillar anymore . . . basically because she knows she can't . . . . and trying to be dignified as she moves toward Butterfly, kicking and screaming all the way. Outfits are still more on the showy side than practical, but it doesn't quite make it. After all, no one wants to admit they've outgrown their first set of colors. More interested in prolonging the onslaught of the Butterfly, the Cocoon spends a lot of time sweating, then making excuses for why the antennas are drooping, fur is dull, and colors are fading. The Cocoon still smiles at the Yearlings, realizes they can't pass the Bucks, and avoid the Stags like a plague
The crowning jewels are the Butterflies. They are marvelous creatures. They spread their wings and fly. Not only have they matured to the fullest, they are not afraid to show it. If the antennas are not quite straight or shiny, that's okay . . . . they'll just wilt with the bodily exertions. If a comb doesn't quite make it to tame the fur, that's okay . . . . a hat, ponytail, other interesting gadgets, or just leaving it as morning greets them is just fine. There is no pretense as to the purpose of their visit. Their outfits are very practical, if not commical. If they "don't have it", they don't care and aren't going to hide it. They are lovely and each one is unique and beautiful. Their job, of course, is to keep the Stags from hurting themselves and add balance.
Today, my Butterfly was emerging. I had the outfit, my nails were done, I walked with a little pluck in my step, and . . . . I'd forgotten to do anything with my fur. I'm one of those that it takes all night for my fur ro reach such magnitude and splendor. Half of the fur still looked like I was still in bed and the other half looked like it was trying to run away. I certainly didn't pull it off with the dignity of a Butterfly, but spluttered right along with the best of them. I'm a Caterpillar living in the body of a Cocoon and in complete and utter denial that I will EVER turn into a Butterfly!!!
Let me illustrate. In the weight room, the Yearlings are the ones that are strutting around, doing more strutting than actual lifting . . . . unless a caterpillar slithers by. They are the ones in the latest fashion accessories, flexing when they think their being watched, and if they get the chance . . . . off comes the shirt. They don't have any horns to speak of yet, but it doesn't stop them from tossing their heads and challenging the more mature. Some of them have definitely eaten well with their shiny hair and rippling hides, but lack the confidence to mingle with the elders.
Now you have the Bucks. Undeniably these are the ones that have emerged from the "immature" phase and have entered that "middle, can't quite get it right" phase. Clothes are still somewhat coordinated and in fashion. The Bucks spend a lot of time lifting and grunting in between checking themselves out in the mirrors trying to convince themselves they still look like Yearlings. They blow their horns loudly, stamp their feet, and make a good show. What they lack in hair and hide, they try to make up for in huffing, puffing, sweat, and the telling of "When I was. . . . "
And then you have the Stag. He is regal, sure of himself, doesn't bother with the young ones, and is basically there for himself. His clothes don't match and he doesn't care, the hair is usually a mess, he doesn't strut for the insect varieties . . . . but smiles at everyone . . . . realizing he isn't a Yearling and looks ridiculous trying to act like a Buck and will probably die trying. Enjoys the flattery, but moves beyond it. Love these guys!!!
Not to be outdone we have the other species of life, which begins with the Caterpillar. Oh, yes. She is primped, primed, and stamped with approval. Nothing is out of place from her shiny attennas, her fancy outfits, down to her bristling fur. Her job is to bring Yearlings and Bucks out to play. Activities are usually done with one eye on the mirror and lots of smoothing and grooming. Lap swimming is where the greatest performance takes place. Each Caterpillar works to outdo her competition. They jump in the pool and try not to mess up their antennas or fur. If any are brave enough to actually pretend to swim, their minimal outfits don't allow for all swimming strokes or even a pace quicker than a slow slither. They are good!!!
The Cocoon is very similar to the Buck. Kind of in hybernation, not wanting to be a Caterpillar anymore . . . basically because she knows she can't . . . . and trying to be dignified as she moves toward Butterfly, kicking and screaming all the way. Outfits are still more on the showy side than practical, but it doesn't quite make it. After all, no one wants to admit they've outgrown their first set of colors. More interested in prolonging the onslaught of the Butterfly, the Cocoon spends a lot of time sweating, then making excuses for why the antennas are drooping, fur is dull, and colors are fading. The Cocoon still smiles at the Yearlings, realizes they can't pass the Bucks, and avoid the Stags like a plague
The crowning jewels are the Butterflies. They are marvelous creatures. They spread their wings and fly. Not only have they matured to the fullest, they are not afraid to show it. If the antennas are not quite straight or shiny, that's okay . . . . they'll just wilt with the bodily exertions. If a comb doesn't quite make it to tame the fur, that's okay . . . . a hat, ponytail, other interesting gadgets, or just leaving it as morning greets them is just fine. There is no pretense as to the purpose of their visit. Their outfits are very practical, if not commical. If they "don't have it", they don't care and aren't going to hide it. They are lovely and each one is unique and beautiful. Their job, of course, is to keep the Stags from hurting themselves and add balance.
Today, my Butterfly was emerging. I had the outfit, my nails were done, I walked with a little pluck in my step, and . . . . I'd forgotten to do anything with my fur. I'm one of those that it takes all night for my fur ro reach such magnitude and splendor. Half of the fur still looked like I was still in bed and the other half looked like it was trying to run away. I certainly didn't pull it off with the dignity of a Butterfly, but spluttered right along with the best of them. I'm a Caterpillar living in the body of a Cocoon and in complete and utter denial that I will EVER turn into a Butterfly!!!
Sunday, May 2, 2010
I ran away!!
Now, I can't say that my destination was paradise, but then again, being alone sure helps.
I called my prince charming yesterday afternoon and told him I was renting a hotel and running away. My kids were asking, "Why, Mom?" I squeazed each of their little faces and said, "You are one of the six reasons I'm going."
I wish I could say I did incredible things, but I painted my nails, slept, read a little, slept, took a drink of water, slept. You see the pattern.
I came home this morning to a nice clean house. Prince Charming definitely knows what I need.
I do feel bad for him though. Can you imagine being called at work and told your spouse is "running away" for the day? Poor guy probably thought I was going off the deep end and not coming back. Well, I did go off the deep end, but I went with a life perserver attached to the bank. Can't get too far!
For the record, I love my family, I love my kids, I love my husband . . . . Sometimes I just have to take a breath.
I called my prince charming yesterday afternoon and told him I was renting a hotel and running away. My kids were asking, "Why, Mom?" I squeazed each of their little faces and said, "You are one of the six reasons I'm going."
I wish I could say I did incredible things, but I painted my nails, slept, read a little, slept, took a drink of water, slept. You see the pattern.
I came home this morning to a nice clean house. Prince Charming definitely knows what I need.
I do feel bad for him though. Can you imagine being called at work and told your spouse is "running away" for the day? Poor guy probably thought I was going off the deep end and not coming back. Well, I did go off the deep end, but I went with a life perserver attached to the bank. Can't get too far!
For the record, I love my family, I love my kids, I love my husband . . . . Sometimes I just have to take a breath.
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