05 July 2009

they call the thing rodeo

"Two words," S.'s text message said, "Wrangler butts."

So we went to the rodeo.

We sat just behind the cowboys, where they line up leaning over the chutes to help their friends balance on broncs and bulls. We cheered for the steer wrestling, and sighed with disappointment when they got away. We held our breath as the women raced around the barrels.

And then we walked down and stood next to the horses as the fireworks went off, right in front of us. The horses startled and shuffled, finally settling with their heads close together. We held our heads too far back, until our necks cricked, to watch the flashes. "There should be more red-white-and-blue," I complained, and there were, in the finale. We agreed that the prettiest were the white falling sheets of sparkle.

S. bought a bright pink straw hat. "This hat is awesome," she said, "I'm going to wear it at work every day."

"People are going to make fun of you." I said.

"No, they're going to think it's awesome. I've been wanting a pink cowboy hat for a long time."

Today when we met at a concert on the water, I sat down beside her before she saw me. "How did you find us?" she asked, "Did you call?"

"I recognized you by the hat." I said.

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