If you’re new, you can read about what started this cowboy party here. Part two is here. And three. Part four is over yonder. Don’t forget to leave a comment on the last four days of posts to win this. You have until midnight tonight.
And yesterday’s winner of some very fine music is Heather J. (My daughter’s drew the name. Her hands were sticky. We went the one that stuck first.)
Date night arrived and we were ready! Hubby had his costume on. I wore my new boots proudly.
They killed my feet.
But I didn’t say a word. I lovingly wore them and I have the blisters to prove it.
Getting to a concert at the Rodeo is an ordeal. We sat in traffic and pushed our way thru to a parking lot. From the parking lot, you pay to ride a bus. The last time I rode a rodeo bus, my son ruined ALL future bus rides. Just sitting down, caused a rush of emotions and nausea.
From there, we stood in line to have our tickets scanned and went up 4 of these. To our good seats.
I use the word ‘good’ loosely.
I kept squeezing my hubby’s arms and saying, “ Isn’t this fun?”
It wasn’t so much that it was fun, yet. I was free of children. At the Rodeo. With my beloved. And in the same building with Rascal Flats.
Fun. It was going to be.
We walked another million steps to the nose bleed section. Good thing I wore my new, comfy boots.
We sat down. The Rodeo had just begun. Now the Rodeo was built around cowboys and cowgirls doing their thing. Down here in the south, these guys are athletes. The concerts are a huge draw, but it’s really all about the roping and racing.
For some people.
But for the rest of the crowd, it is about showing off their attire.
And their assets. Plenty of assets.
Of course, this is why I attended:
Funny thing happened with those nachos. At least, it cracked me up. But I’m learned that just because I thin
k it’s funny, doesn’t mean the man in front of me at the Rodeo thinks it’s funny.
As the hubby and I were wolfing down our healthy, balanced meal of nacho-grossness, a big glob of cheesy goodness fell off my chip and in S-L-O-W motion, landed on the arm of the man’s nice western duds in front of me.
He did not even notice.
Which of course made me giggle uncontrollably. We stared at the glob for 4.75 minutes. My hubby finally leaned up and told him. He took the blame. I love that man. True chivalry, right there ladies and gentlemen.
Just as the cowboys finished roping those poor calves and the cowgirls started running the barrels, a drunken brawl broke out in the row beside ours.
Okay. It wasn’t so much a brawl. But it did include a drunk.
This man dumped his entire long neck bottle down a ladies back. I don’t know if he dozed off into a drunken stupor or if he just was bored. But the ladies husband, decidedly chivalrous, but in an ugly way, started screaming and cussing at the drunk.
Oh my lands. I listened to every word. Stared with an open mouth. And downright, enjoyed myself! I’m a stay at home mom, remember?
My hubby and I snuggled up close and settled in for some country music. Rascal Flatts came out on the stage and sang their heart out. It was glorious.
But anticipation is funny. I knew the food would be sinful. I wanted to watch the little calves run from the ropes because they liked being chased. I wanted to people watch and make fun,quietly. I thought all these things would make it great and that the highlight would be listening to our favorite band at the Rodeo.
He was the best part. Holding the hand of a strong man. Being his girl, that was the best. I have a good man. I mean, a good man. And this whole rodeo thing reminded me of why I chose him for the long road. We have a crazy life. The road has had obstacles, even some nasty surprises, but I wouldn’t change a thing.
Thru thick and thin, he’s my part’ner (said with the most southern accent you can imagine).
Yee-haw ya’ll and thanks for sticking around!
Check back on Monday to see if you won the Texas Dinner Bell.