No summer is complete without a rodeo

Awe, the nostalgia of it all....

The smell of dirt, horse manure, cigarette smoke and popcorn and the sound of clanking cowboy boots, hooves against the soft dirt and the over abundance of "Yeeha's," and spitting. You just can't beat it.

I grew up gracing such events always intrigued by the "cowboy culture" complete with glitter, bedazzled and embellished belts, tight, jeans, big hair, sparkle, fringe, plaid, tank tops, big hats, denim and leather. It's a culture one and of its own, not influenced by the outside world, of the norms by which the rest of us must live. It is a culture of forgotten chivalry, tough men who really are tough, beautiful women who are also tough and can beat up any guy we know and babies that are completely comfortable straddling an animal 100 times bigger and stronger than they.

I have always loved horses. Their big, beautiful, kind eyes and statuesque, strong bodies. My intrigue of cowboys and their culture may have a lot to do with the chemistry and ease of the relationship with a cowboy and his horse. A light tap of the boot and the horse knows exactly what to do. A cowboy's horse seems to know his thoughts and together they are one. It's kind of a beautiful relationship to me. Watching someone riding a horse who knows what they are doing and is completely at ease gives me a surge of envy and excitement. I feel like I was made to do that! Next time you see me, I might just be on a horse clad in fringe and leather.
Really, I love it and I don't mean to make fun.

I grew up around cowboys and was friends with quite a few. So I have a pretty good radar for authentic cowboys. The ones who rode horses and often. Who have a few scars from being thrown from one or two wild ones or know how to make it turn a barrel with a tap of a boot. Even at a young age I envied this lifestyle. Many of my friends had horses and could spit and cuss with the best of 'em.

My keen sense of authentic vs wannabe tells me that my Boo has a little bit of cowboy in him already. He's pretty darn authentic, already bull-legged and cowboy butt clad. He's my handsome little cowboy that I have always dreamed about.

Although he said that the cowboys falling off the horses made him sad. That might not be the cowboy spirit, but I'll keep it. So revision: He's my SENSITIVE, handsome little cowboy I've always dreamed about. Even better.





A kiss from a little cowboy to a big one. Grandpa.







My parents bought all the grand kids cowboy hats after the rodeo. They're pretty lucky to have such fun grandparents.