We all survived the Spring Creek Ranch Rodeo, and I don’t mind saying just barely. Luckily, there were no wrecks requiring an ambulance or vet, and the only incident to note involved a cowboy’s right rein breaking during the branding contest. I won’t mention any names, but he works at the YP, was riding a big Paint horse, and answers to Tim Kershner. Not too sure what exactly happened, but he finished the event with only half his steering ability and did just fine.
I got “voluntold” to help with the calcutta prior to Saturday evening’s performance. I’d never helped with a calcutta before, and it turned out that “helping” meant running a footrace with myself carrying receipt books up and down bleachers and collecting checks from large, menacing women who said they owed $195 while my calculations said $205. I barely survived.
After my public service stint, I sipped a gin and tonic and mingled. Katie and I had prettied ourselves up at her house before the rodeo, and between the pre-event cocktails and giggling, I ended up with an Oscars-worthy updo. I wore smoky eyeshadow, black eyeliner, and a you-can’t-tell-it’s-not-real-leather biker jacket. Seven-year-old Anna said “You look like you should be on a motorcyle!” I felt like a bad a$$. It was fun 🙂
During the rodeo, I finalized the details of my next job, lined up interviews for articles, conducted an interview, ate some French fries, cuddled the world’s cutest six-month-old (he belongs to you, Becky!), and pinky-swore a high school junior that I’d substitute teach school one day on the rez next year. I hope I survive.
After the rodeo, we enjoyed smoke-free ambiance and conversation at the Star, then headed to Stockmen’s to dance. The band was good and the drinks were weak, but due to the chain smokers we were all guaranteed to feel ill the next morning. We somehow survived.
I decided partway through the night that I would be sober driver, but my change of plans was thwarted when I realized I didn’t have my pickup. After the band quit, I drank big cups of water and listened to the guys tell stories about getting frapped harder into the dirt by the pickup man’s run-off horse than the actual bronc, starting colts in Kentucky last fall, and drinking in Nashville (“There are twenty-six bars in that town, and we went to all of ’em in one night! I don’t remember most of them, though.” Really? Weird.) They barely survived.
Finally, Christina and I took the boys to their motel at 4 AM. One of them offered me a ride home, and I told him Christina was taking me. He offered again, and I told him if he needed a place to stay, we had two extra rooms.
He looked at me with a level gaze and said, “But, I wouldn’t want to stay in one of those rooms.”
“Well, that’s where you’d be stayin’,” I replied.
“You mean, we can’t just make out for a little while?”
“Um, no,” I said and (because I laugh at everything), I laughed.
He shrugged and laughed, too. “Well, don’t be mad at me for trying.”
“Oh, no, I’m flattered, thank you. But that’s just not going to happen,” I said as I grabbed my purse and headed for Christina’s pickup.
Whew! I went to bed early Sunday night and I’m teaching third grade today, which is a survival story in itself. Can’t wait ’till Jordan Valley Big Loop….hope I survive 🙂