Category: Commentary

Rodeo

As a native Texan I’d heard tales of the mythical Houston Rodeo–an epic 20 day extravaganza featuring competition between the top cowboys and cowgirls in their respective events. Now at the age of 59 I finally got to savor the experience first hand. And what an amazing experience it was!

My brother, Kelly, works with a man who has volunteered at the rodeo in various capacities for more than two decades. This man has two sets of season tickets that he offers to friends during the event. We were fortunate to get incredible seats close to the action so there wasn’t a calf roping or bull riding that we missed. 

The pageantry was “over the top Texas” with fireworks and wagon races, mutton busting and a host of other events.

   
   
Once the rodeo events were completed for the night country singer Jason Aldean took the stage and rocked the house from a rotating stage. There were no bad seats for the concert.

   
   
We drank copious amounts of beer, consumed peanuts, nachos, fried Snickers and fried pecan pie. 

And smiled.

 

My brother Kelly and sister-in-law, Susan
  
My goofy self and brother Kelly
  
My handsome son, Jason who came from Dallas for the rodeo, and me.
 
What a great evening! And I didn’t even relate my bull riding experience. That’s coming in another post.

Peace, people!

Woman About Houston

I spent the first night of a two-night stay with my brother and his wife in Houston. It’s not my first trip to the country’s fourth largest city, but it is the first time I’ve been armed with GPS and felt brave enough to wander about on my own. 

So what did I do with my morning? Well, first I spent some quality time having a mani-pedi at Footopia. 

  
These are my happy little piggies.

Then, I thought to myself, “Friend, you’re in Texas, the home of big hair. Go and have it styled for the rodeo. So I did just that at a salon that specializes in blow outs, The Blow Out Bar. 

  
Apparently my hair is too short to become really big, but I liked the results.

After that I had a bit of time to kill, but little money, so I just rambled about looking for something interesting. My reward was a place called Wabash Feed. 

  
Not only did Wabash Feed have food for animals of all persuasions, but they had plants and fertilizer, pottery and funky  objets d’art. Best of all, they had live animals: Bunnies and chickens and pigeons and a one-eyed turtle.

   
    
    
 
I wandered around Wabash Feed for an hour or so, and wondered if Studly Doright needed a pet chicken to assist him in his shop. In the end I decided a chicken might not be able to handle a wrench or a screwdriver rendering them lousy shop assistants. 

Finally it was time for a snack. And where better than a place called Luke’s Icehouse?

  
I had an ice cold Shiner Bock and a chicken quesadilla with terrific salsa before returning to Kelly and Susan’s home. 

Now I have a couple of hours to relax before we head to the rodeo grounds where  I was told that one can enjoy a fried Oreo, among other things. I’d better go ponder that.

  
Yeehaw!

Peace, people!

Big Day

What a wonderful day for something new! I spent last night with my son Jason and my daughter-in-law, Liz, at their home in Dallas. The three of us ate dinner at a great little restaurant, Goodfriend Burger and Brewhouse,

  
where I enjoyed a Barbecue Grilled Cheese. Oh my! Think of perfectly cooked brisket between cheesy goodness on grilled bread. It was the sandwich to top all sandwiches.

My son and I then went to a late showing of Deadpool where I laughed way more than perhaps a woman my age should have. For those of you who haven’t heard of the film, Deadpool is a fun,  irreverent look at the world of super heroes. 

This morning I waited for morning rush traffic to taper off before heading to Houston where I spent a couple of interesting hours getting a beautiful tattoo:

  
I don’t know about you, but I think my nephew, Russell Bagwell, did an absolutely beautiful job bringing my glimmer of an idea to life. His shop, Royal Avenue Tattoo and Piercing is the place to add a little (or a lot of) ink. The whole procedure was relatively pain free, and I love the results.

After my tattoo I headed to my brother’s home in Houston and had a relaxing evening with him and his wife. We ate at the amazing restaurant, Coltivare. 

  
I should probably forgo food for the next two weeks. But I won’t. 

Tomorrow evening is going to be spent at a rodeo and concert. Someone should pinch me. This is all too cool. Right now, though, I’m heading to bed. All this excitement has worn me out.

Peace, people!
 

Stopping in Claude

We once lived in this double wide trailer situated on a county road in Claude, Texas, back in the really bad old days.

  
This morning I made a detour on my route between Saint Helen’s home in Hereford, TX, to my son’s home in Dallas to see if it was still there.

It is. I’m not. Life IS good.

Peace, people!

Undiscovered Treasure

Facebook is a source of much of my blog inspiration. Between cute kitten videos and wine humor, political satire and jokes about aging (un)gracefully the social media site is a veritable treasure trove of ideas.

Take this post for example:

  

Here is one of the sentences I culled from the multitude running through my head:

Gabriella Montagne plucked a pomegranate from a basket on the kitchen counter and hurled it at her loathsome brother Claude, hitting him squarely in his one good eye.

Justification for this being a unique sentence: uncommon names, uncommon fruit, one good eye.

The possibilities are endless. Come, give it a try. Who knows where that sentence might lead? 
Peace and happy writing, people!

Slow Ride

There are songs from my youth that take me right back to a certain time and place. Foghat’s Slow Ride returns me to a concert at the Amarillo Civic Center in 1976, and perhaps the wildest night of my life. 

My roommate, C, and I had won tickets to see Foghat on a call-in radio contest. I’m going to confess that I wasn’t really into Foghat. I was more of an Eagles fan–mellow country rock. But C was a huge Foghat fan, and rather than let her go alone I gamely put on a t-shirt paired with a pair of faded and flared hip huggers and let her lead me into that den of iniquity.

C and I carried in bottles of Boone’s Farm Wine underneath our jackets–her idea, and by the time the opening act came onstage we were already pretty tipsy. The Marshall Tucker Band opened for Foghat that night. I’ve often thought that was an odd combination, but it worked. 

When Foghat took the stage an electricity like nothing I’d ever experienced lit the air. My good girl self got lost in a barrage of pounding drums and heavy metal guitar. Joints were passed. I might’ve inhaled. We passed our wine around. The whole night swam in front of my eyes like a fuzzy psychedelic movie. All the time my good girl self kept saying, “Just for tonight, kiddo. Just for tonight.”

Some random male in the crowd kept touching me inappropriately. Even in my out of body frame of mind I knew I needed to find a safer spot to stand. I elbowed C and motioned to a spot where we could have our backs to the wall. We began systematically making our way to the safe spot, but somewhere on our route we were separated. 

I didn’t panic at first. We’d driven my car to the venue, so I knew I could get home. But there was no way I’d leave my roomie. As the band played their encores I began hunting actively for her. No luck. I stood around as the concert hall emptied. Still no C. 

Nowadays we could just text or call, but back in the olden days that wasn’t an option. I feared the worst. Maybe the guy who’d been targeting my delicate femininity had grabbed my friend.

Finally I went to my old Ford Galaxy and stood there, hoping she’d meet me back at our starting point. I saw an old boyfriend. He suggested I go home and wait for C to call. And that’s what I did.

Sure enough, around 5 a.m. the phone rang. C had gone partying with a group she’d met and needed a ride home. I was relieved. And pissed. Did she have any idea how worried I’d been? 

On the ride back to our rental I chewed her out a bit. She just grinned. She might’ve said, “Sorry MOM!” 

I never had another night like that. Fun and crazy and a little scary. My good girl self knew she’d had quite enough. But oh, it was fun to be out of control for awhile.

Being out of control–that’s what I remember when I hear Slow Ride.

http://youtu.be/GcCNcgoyG_0

Born a Ramblin’ (Wo)man

After a week watching over our Illinois grandchildren I’m back on the road. The three children, ages 13, 11, and three, were fun to look after while their parents enjoyed a much-needed second honeymoon.  

 

A wintery view of the Mississippi River from the Illinois side.
 
 But Studly Doright and I live an intensely laid back life–no rush or bustle, and going from that to getting three active kids ready for school in the mornings and into their respective beds at an appropriate time each night was a shock to my delicate system. I’m exhausted. 

I’m headed now to Hereford, Texas, where my lovely mother-in-law, Saint Helen, resides. This evening I’m staying in Emporia, Kansas, having fallen short of the halfway point between Rapids City, Illinois, and Hereford. I had to stop and take a nap at a rest stop this afternoon and that put me behind schedule. I HATE being behind schedule! 

Plus, I’ve come down with a head cold, so I’m sitting on my hotel bed, watching American Idol and struggling to breathe. In a few minutes I’m going to take a large dose of Tylenol extra strength liquid nighttime cold medicine and hope that my friend, Insomnia, doesn’t purloin my sleep. 

 Hopefully tomorrow will be a better travel day. In the meantime, here’s a little Allman Brothers’ tune to inspire us all.

http://youtu.be/68X8o0S7vJc
Peace and quiet, people!

The Shadow Knows

Recently we had a guest from the Hoosier State spend a few days with us. On one day of his stay, Studly Doright and I took our friend Jerry to Cascades Park in Tallahassee. As the former State Director of Parks in Indiana, Jerry is keen on such outdoorsy venues.

I’ve written about Cascades Park before. It’s a beautiful multi-use site that serves as part of Tallahassee’s drainage system–the park is intended to flood.

Within the park are a restaurant and bar, an amphitheater, as well as walking/biking trails, various monuments and works of art, a splash pad, and a natural playground area.

Jerry snapped this photo of me standing next to one of the climbing rocks in the playground. I was not prepared to see the shadow I cast. 

 

I think I look like *Kokopelli:  

Or alien:

 
Only the shadow knows. Bwahaha!

Peace, people!

*From Wikipedia: Kokopelli is a fertility deity, usually depicted as a humpbacked flute player (often with feathers or antenna-like protrusions on his head), who has been venerated by some Native American cultures in the Southwestern United States. Like most fertility deities, Kokopelli presides over both childbirth and agriculture. He is also a trickster god and represents the spirit of music.

Tattoo Dreaming

My 59-year-old, lily white skin is unblemished. Kind of. If one ignores the C-section incision, the old scraped knee scars, and a multitude of freckles, then my epidermis is almost pristine.

Recently, though, I’ve been considering the addition of a tattoo. It’s no longer taboo for a woman my age to consider getting inked (note the hip jargon) and a tat would be an interesting way to mark the end of my fifth decade on this earth.

Plus, I have a nephew who is an exceedingly talented tattoo artist. Russ Bagwell, and his wife Ashley, have a top notch studio, Royal Avenue Tattoo in Spring, Texas.

 

An example of Russ’s work on model Veronica Lowe.

 
Now lest you think I’ll be going all out like the young woman pictured above let me reassure you that I’m getting a very simple tattoo. I’ve asked Russ to design something special, but for now it’s a secret.

That being said, I had a realistic dream several nights ago in which I finally got to view my new ink. It was already on my body, just above my right hip. Apparently in the dream I hadn’t previewed the design, so I was somewhat shocked to find this:

  
I guess I am the softer side of Sears.

Russ Bagwell, I will be previewing my design. 

Stay tuned. I might just come back with a bit of art.

Peace, people.

Baby Sitting?

Pondering the deeper questions of existence today as I watch over my daughter’s three children.  Primarily, why do they call it Baby Sitting when Sitting hardly comes into play? 

Better this activity should be called Baby Following or Baby Running or Baby Exhausting instead.

  
Above, a rare moment of baby sitting as the youngest grandchild presents each of her princesses to me with a colorful introduction. “Actually,” she explains, holding one tiny figure, “This is Princess Tiana, and she is very beautiful. Notice her colorful dress.”

I’ve become quite adept at oohing and aahing. Perhaps I’m a Baby Ooh-er!

Peace, People!