But lo! The sun did shine, and it was good!

I got to sleep in on Saturday while Cowboy went to work (supposed to be a little while, but he ended up there until dark. You just can’t pull that man off a grader.) I wandered over to his job site late morning, and rode around with him a little while he surveyed his building pad, and then got to go to lunch with him. I really didn’t fell like riding on the grader with him, so I went back home to ride horses.

The arena had almost dried out—not enough to rope on, but enough to ride in. So I saddled up Jack and loped and trotted him around for a couple of hours. He’s sore in the front feet again. I don’t know what we’re going to do with him, but he’s due another trip to the vet. If he’s not completely sound by spring he’s for sale. That’ll teach me to have a favorite.

Chris was out there with one of his friends working some of the younger horses on the Heel-O-Matic. Corey pulled the thing, which is a heeling dummy with battery-powered legs that hop up and down, around in circles with a four-wheeler. Chris would then follow with the horses, teaching them to track the steer at the correct distance. It’s a good way to get consistency, since practicing with a real steer is hard on the steer and not too predictable.

So there they were going around in circles; Corey on the four-wheeler, the Heel-O-Matic, Chris on a colt, and Bailey, running back and forth behind Chris the whole time. It looked like a circus ride and was just one more reason why I need to get a small digital camera to keep in my pocket for surprises.

After I went home and Cowboy finally got home, a strange thing happened. We actually went on a date! Sort of dressed up and all (I even wore makeup, can you imagine?), which we only do about twice a year. We went to see National Treasure, which was very good for an Indiana Jones knock-off. No, it wasn’t rocket science, but all we expect out of a movie is that it be entertaining, and this one was. Would have been more entertaining if the volume wasn’t maxxed out (that’s fun with an ear infection) and the row before us wasn’t full of squawking, cell-phone calling teenagers. Ah. This is why we watch DVDs, I remember.

But it was fun overall, and we went out to dinner after. Actually, I didn’t have to cook all weekend, because we went out last night before our late grocery run.

By yesterday, the wind had picked up and scoured the air clean and most of the moisture out of the arena, so we roped. At this time of year, we’re lucky to get to rope every other weekend, but the horses haven’t dropped out of shape too far. They’re certainly getting fuzzy though.

I rode my Jack again a little, but then handed him off to Dennis’ girlfriend. The younger horses were feeling a little fresh from the inactivity and the weather, and Cowboy didn’t want to put a stranger on them. So I loped Frosty to warm him up, and what a change he is from Jack! I’d got used to Jack’s jackhammer gait, which is rough even when he feels fine, and Frosty was a real treat. He’s the smoothest horse Cowboy’s got (Chris’ are all very good too.) I’d forgotten how nice that can be.

So I rode Frosty, chased a few steers on him, and then traded off with Cowboy and ended up with Dually. Now, Dually’s a little jittery, but I’m learning to deal with him. I was down at the stripping chute giving the steers a lesson on getting out of the way promptly, and one of the ropers pulled a rope right in front of us. That shouldn’t have been a problem, but another steer lunged right at the same time and it freaked Dually out. He jumped straight in the air and flung himself sideways, and I collected him right up.

I didn’t think anything of it, but Cowboy was right behind me. He congratulated me on not panicking and falling off, and I had to point out to him that in two and a half years, he’s never seen me panic and fall off. He must just be expecting me to for some reason, maybe because he always seems to be watching when I screw up, but not when I do something right. But he’s taught me a lot in the last few years and I guess he might be thinking I’m still back where I was when he met me. That’s fine; I was 30 pounds lighter then too.

But after we roped and went home and watched some rodeo and ran the monthly Wally World gauntlet, it turned out to be a nice weekend. Certainly better than being holed up in the house with a raging sinus headache. Took me a few weeks this time around to remember that it feels better if I go out in the cold and the wind than if I stay comfortable in the house. Counter intuitive, I know; going out seems to be the last thing I feel like doing when I wake up with the Sinus Pressure of Impending Doom. But it works, and I don’t waste the weekend.

This morning I came in to one excavation, a site walk through the grass (try not to step on anything explosive please!), and some dirt work on my landfills. I got the landfill stuff put off, because driving on them at this point would be worse than fixing them, but I was a busy critter this morning.

If I felt like the weekend blew by too fast, that’s because it actually did. Cowboy spent all day Saturday at work, while I holed up in the house groggy on decongestant and wishing this ear infection would go away. You’d think that it would by the ninth day of antibiotics, but it seems that I’m going to have to go back in and get a different kind. I did get in some nice naps though, thanks to the cold medicine the doc gives me, but I was peeved to waste a whole day sleeping, barely stirring enough to do some laundry.

Yesterday was better though, and we spent most of the day on the horses. They’re all getting hairy for winter and goofy from being penned up, so we rode all of them. We ran the steers up at least ten times, and got all of the horses good and worked out. My butt was fine (I do have plenty of padding, after all), but my back was sure stiff by last night. I was walking around like a little old lady—didn’t help that my once-broken ankle has been giving me grief ever since they took my Vioxx away either. Cowboy was feeling it too at least, so I didn’t feel too bad about being an old fart. As long as I’m moving around today, I’m fine, but set me down in the office and I have to creak down the hall.

After we roped, we pulled the horn wraps off of the cattle for the winter and tipped some of their horns. I wish I’d had a camera, because Cowboy was balanced up on top of the run-up chutes with a pair of long-handled hedge trimmers. He slipped off once, stepped on a steer, and stepped down without getting hurt. He was in the good spot though, since those horns have a small artery in them that spurts and makes a huge mess when you cut it (closes right up though afterwards). He didn’t want me to get too messy, so he had the boys holding the steers. He knows I’m a dirt magnet, and would have been covered with blood faster than the boys, and besides, he has to live with me. I did smell like I’d rolled in something, but that had to have been my boots. I couldn’t have smelled worse than he did anyway.

But Chris’ header missed on the high-team steer.

Today, Cowboy is roping in the number 7 roping with Chris and a kid who placed second in last night’s number 8. I think Chris is in it with someone else too, but he keeps throwing out names that I don’t recognize, so I forget them before the conversation is over.

Good luck Cowboy! Bring home a saddle!

In a state that rarely has a storm until late November, we’ve got our first big one early. It hit this weekend (fortunately after the Junior Rodeo), and it’s still going.

And normally, I’d not be worried about it, because all of our big work would have been done over the summer. But today, I’ve got trenches open all over the place, and I’m supposed to have an excavation start this morning. Won’t be happening.

And I’ve gone and spent all of my vacation time. Normally, there isn’t a storm worth getting excited about during deer season, so I didn’t think I’d miss much. But this is primo hunting time, and I can’t go. I can’t even go up in the evening, as it’s two hours away and I get off at five.

Oh well, I knew I would have to sacrifice hunting time for my business this year; I just didn’t know it would be good hunting time.

Cowboy and son are up in Reno at the ACTRA finals. They beat the storm going up through Donner Pass, but they’re about to get some nasty weather. The main arena is indoors, but I think they run a second arena that’s outside. If they have to cram all of the ropings into the one, it’s going to make for some long ropings.

Cowboy roped in the 40/40 yesterday—both ends have to be over 40 years old. He drew a bad steer that ducked on the second run for one partner, and the other heeler missed on the second, so it wasn’t a long day for him. Today is the number 8 roping, and I think he’s in that with three partners. I’ll hear how he went tomorrow.

I have caught Cowboy’s cold. I was really hoping the scratchy throat was just because I’m not used to talking as much as I did on Saturday. Falling asleep on the couch at 7:30 last night kind of disabused me of that notion though. I never do that. I kind of grogged myself awake at 8 and went to bed. Must be getting sick, and of course, I get the kids back tonight. I’ll have to try really hard not to infect them, since I don’t have any sick time left at all to take care of any of us.

So I’m going to hide in my office on this rainy day, and attend meetings over the phone. Let’s hope I can stay awake.

Friday afternoon was the day we brought in the livestock for the Junior Rodeo. I got off work early, and would have been there to help, except Cowboy was running the water truck and didn’t need my help. I wandered down there eventually, and found the crew running the cattle through the circuits a few times to show them where the exit was. All of these cattle had rodeo experience, but they have to know where the stripping chute is to run to, or else they mill around all confused. They’re not dumb though, and once they find their escape, they’re set.

And I’m not one for standing around and watching when there’s fun to be had, so I jumped in and became the chute help for the rest of the evening. After accidentally poking one of the boys with the hot shot (hey, he shouldn’t have had his arm there!), I was left to it with occasional help from outside the fences.

Oddly, the breakaway calves (big ol’ bubbas) were the most unruly. At least they didn’t have horns, but these were solid animals who weren’t all that hot on the idea of going where I wanted them to go, and were also just barely small enough to turn around and face the wrong way. I only got stepped on once, and not kicked at all, before I got a little faster about hopping up on the fence when I needed to. I’m a little spoiled by our cattle, who are used to being pushed from the ground. They’ll kick too, but I don’t have to get as close to move them.

Good thing I learned that lesson then, because next we ran the team roping steers through. And these were big, heavy steers that may be used for steer wrestling in their other lives. They were bigger than all but one of our steers at home. If they decided to run over me, I wouldn’t have had a chance. I did a lot of standing on the fence for them.

Last through the roping chutes were our calf roping calves, and they were small and timid. I could get right up behind them and push—didn’t need the prod at all. But I did have to stay right in there with them, because they were easily small enough to turn every which way and get all tangled up.

Then it was on to the roughstock chutes. This is the only time each year that I have anything to do with roughstock events, and I had a pretty short learning curve on how to work those chutes, with the biggest steers we had pushing me around. Luckily, that time I had plenty of help. Chris chute dogged (which is just like steer wrestling, except the kids don’t have to jump off a running horse; they get in the chute and grab the steer around the neck to start off) each one to make sure it was used to it.

Now, dogging looks pretty severe, but it’s not. Those animals have necks of rubber; you should see a longhorn with horns two feet wider than the chute come barreling down at you with his head held sideways. The boys just turn their heads and their body follows in the dogging events. The kids did a little testing of the riding steers too—we don’t use bulls for our Junior Rodeo—but there wasn’t much riding going on without flank straps and bull ropes. Mostly, it was all just a lot of fun.

And with an early start the next morning, we were at the grounds before dawn. There were the goats to get still, and tables, microphones, and chairs to set up. The ladies in the trailer took late entries and got everyone signed in. I was the lead timer for the small arena (we run two in parallel), and my backup timer and I had things sorted out.

Or so we thought. Some woman came in, who I didn’t know, and started changing things around, moving the other timers and generally rearranging things without so much as a by-your-leave. I had no idea who she was, and neither did the other timers.

I couldn’t stand it anymore, and I interrupted her and asked who she was and why was she directing. Seems that the announcer had asked her to come and give us a hand, and she was some past director of another junior rodeo association. Well, that’s very nice, but we’re not a part of that association. I talked to our secretary when she came up with our scoring sheets all laid out in order, and she wasn’t happy at all with the situation. Fortunately, the arena director just happened to be my boyfriend, so I let him deal with the problem. The woman ended up making things much worse than they would have been if left to our own devices, although she did have some good advice, when I asked for it.

She ended up moving our other timers to a flat bed trailer nearer to the large arena, but we didn’t have power there, so the barrel racing eye had to be set at my table. And she was going to try to announce our arena’s events and relay the big arena times over to the other announcer at the same time. Well, she tried, but she couldn’t multitask that well. That’s not all that surprising, since she’d gone and made the situation as confusing as it possibly could be.

So we gave my helper the mic for a while, because I was doing the averaging and official times for our arena. She couldn’t keep focused very well either though, so when she had to take a potty break, I took the mic. And how about that, I discovered that I am a ham, and a good announcer. I hate to hear my voice in recordings so much that I really hadn’t wanted to go out over the loudspeaker (come on, I can’t even get drunk enough to do karaoke—I pass out long before that point), but it sounded OK to me, and I could pronounce names, keep an eye on my arena, and work my stopwatch, average, and record official times just fine. I hope my helper didn’t feel too redundant, but she wasn’t as good at keeping track of things even with fewer things to follow. See, there I go, bragging again.

And I had a ball. The small arena was where we held the more junior of the events in which stock was involved. There were Pee-Wee events behind the grandstand that included things like dummy roping and stick horse barrel racing, but my arena was the youngest kids doing actual rodeo events. There is nothing cuter than a six-year-old riding a giant babysitter horse, kicking away although their feet don’t quite clear the saddle pads, jogging through a pole-bending course. I had to be careful not to cheer with the microphone live, because that wouldn’t have been too professional looking!

We only had one incident of parents chewing on someone. Usually, there’s quite a few. Some rodeo parents are every bit as competitive as soccer moms or Little League dads. We saw the competitiveness in them, yes, but they respected us for the most part.

I did have one parent come up to argue our call (and not on their kid, I don’t think). I’d already discussed it with the line judge before I announced the kid’s time. My two helpers (the actual assistant and the redundant one who wasn’t even watching our arena) started arguing back at the parent, trying to justify our decision. I was trying to time another kid through all of this, and they were on the verge of blowing that kid’s run, which wouldn’t be fair. I may have spoken louder than I meant to be heard over the squabbling, but I hollered something to the effect of, “The judge’s decision is final and we’re not going to argue about this!”

That shut all three of them up, and I noticed that we didn’t get talked back to the rest of the day. Coincidence? I think not. I talked to our Secretary about it later, and she said I’d done the right thing, or else the parents will run right over you. Cowboy definitely would not have wanted to be drug over from his arena to split up an argument involving his girlfriend, and I was the one wearing the committee shirt up there. Lest you think I’m a horrible, cranky person, I was doing my best to talk to parents that came up asking for clarifications or repeats of times politely.

I made other calls a few times too, when I had to. We weren’t terribly prepared on what rules we were going to use to keep the scoring consistent. Next year, the women are all going to get together and hammer it out before the event. That way, we can post it, and there won’t be any arguing or stopping of the action while I discuss something with a line judge.

At some point in the day, I mentioned Cowboy to the feather-ruffler, who I was getting along with perfectly well after I got smoothed back down. It was in the course of conversation about the running of the rodeo, and she had no idea who I was relative to him.

She said, “He’s very nice, isn’t he?”

I agreed.

She said, “He’s also very good-looking, isn’t he?”

I said, “Well, I certainly think so.”

And then she went on, “I hear he’s single!”

I snorted out my nose, because I could see where she was going with this (although her husband was there, so I think she was actually prodding me). I couldn’t help myself, and I burst out kind of loudly with an, “Oh, no he’s not!”

She looked a little baffled. I laughed, and told her that he had a serious girlfriend, paused, and then told her that that would be me. She cracked up, and told me that she was glad she’d only had good things to say about him. It was really nice to hear that though; usually people know who I am, and will say nice things about him to my face, but to be a sort of a fly on the wall is priceless. Yes, I liked her much more after that, although she was still redundant and bossy.

After I called lunch, we ran our last two events in our small arena. I kept right on announcing; our spontaneous helper saw that I could read numbers off of the electric eye faster than she could tell them to me, as it was right next to me, and went off to do her own thing. I did learn a thing or two from her, but unsolicited advice always goes over like a turd in a punch bowl. Once I mentally shifted gears, I was OK, but damn, I was mad at first.

After we finished, I finally got to watch some of the events in the big arena. The only drawback to working one side is that you don’t really get to follow what’s going on at the other side. I did catch our little friend barrel racing, but I missed her brother breakaway roping. These are kids that come out and rope with us all the time and I’d really wanted to see them perform. I did give her a great big hug after I was done working, and told her that I was proud of her. She was beaming from ear to ear, and only partly because she’d bested her brother.

I went and hung out behind the roping chutes and watched most of the rest of the rodeo from there. Many of our friends were participating in the family team roping event, so I hung out with them and acted the cheerleader, gate-opener, and general gopher. I did go sit with family a few times, but I’m somewhat on the hyper side, and can’t stand to sit around.

After the rodeo was over, and we’d given an all-around buckle and two saddles to some very proud kids, it was time to break it down. Down is a lot faster than up, and this time we had some FFA kids there to help us.

Those FFA kids had also run the Pee-Wee events, worked their concession booth, ran scores for us, and raked around barrels and poles. They sure were a help, and not surprising when you consider what this rodeo is for. We give scholarships to kids in two FFA districts, and I really hope to be in on the selection process this year. I may not know their names, but I’ll recognize the pictures of some kids who really worked their butts off to make this event a success. We couldn’t do it without them—most of the committee members’ kids are grown and gone. Not a one of us has kids in the Junior Rodeo anymore. Some of them never did, and are solely in it to support the community. The Secretary doesn’t even have kids, and I think she does the most work every year.

And then, once it was all torn apart and all the livestock had been hauled back home, then it was time to party. The Basque restaurant (famous throughout the State!) knew we were coming and held two big tables for us. We were almost all filthy and exhausted and had hat hair, but it didn’t matter. They’re used to us and it’s family style. We all gorged ourselves and then went home to crash on various couches.

I say this every year, but next year I’m going to take a bigger role in the committee. They’ve invited me back to announce, and since I’ve been there three years now, they’re getting used to me. It’s time to help them out with some new ideas and new energy. I have good intentions of increasing our advertising, and I’d like to see the kids’ towns printed on the score sheets so I can announce them as well as the other caller (he just knows most of them).

I had so much fun that I told them I’d be back next year even if Cowboy were to quit. He won’t. He loves it too.

Oh, and Hi Mom!

But lately, all sorts of people have been joining in the fun. And I never know how Angus or the strange dogs are going to react. There’s been one woman there running three dogs, and she often gets there about the same time as I do. That kind of pissed me off, since her dogs were slow and mine fast, so I couldn’t run Angus unless I got going first, and she never let me go first.

Well, this morning she was sort of hidden behind some trees when I got onto the dirt road. I saw her dogs chasing me, but I tried to pull ahead of them to let Angus out. There I was flying down this dirt road with a rooster tail of dust following me, and three dog-shapes chasing me through the clouds. It was pretty funny. Eventually, I lost sight of them and stopped to let my dog out. Of course, they hadn’t lost me; I just couldn’t see them anymore. They popped out of the cloud and Angus got all up in their faces and checked them out, and it was wagging tails all around.

The lady had pulled up behind her dogs, and I got out to apologize for the ruckus. She laughed and said she thought I was afraid that I’d picked up three more. We talked while the dogs played, and it was obvious that they were going to get along fine. She told me to watch out for one German Shepherd who’d taken a chunk out of one of her dogs earlier in the month. Eventually, she collected her animals and left, and we went on with our run. Next time we hit it at the same time we’ll just run them together.

Tomorrow is the local Junior Rodeo. Our family is big in it, and I’ve jumped in with both feet. The first year I was seeing Cowboy, I helped set up all the arenas and panels and whatnot. Last year, one of the timers flaked at the last minute, so Cowboy volunteered me with no notice. That was fine, but I had my kids with me and they were bored to tears. Thanks to Marci, who took them home to play with her kids, we got it done. The lady who flaked hasn’t been invited back—I’ve taken that over indefinitely. I may end up announcing the small arena too. It’s all good practice, because Cowboy’d eventually like to hold ropings at our arena, and I’ll be neck deep in that.

I got the kids rearranged this weekend so I don’t have to keep an eye in the back of my head. It takes more concentration than it looks, because these little kids take their rodeo seriously, and so do the parents. You think Little League Dads are bad? You ain’t never seen a Junior Rodeo Mom.

It’s a family affair, although none of the committee members have kids in Junior Rodeo any more. Chris will be a flagger and a line judge and Cowboy runs the show. One of our roping friends and his Dad and Mom will be working there—he’ll judge, but he doesn’t want to mess with flagging because of the hassle from the parents. I told him to come time, and I’ll flag. They won’t mess with someone that won’t stand for it, and the flagger’s call is final.

I’m sure I’ll have much to say on the subject in my next entry. It’s a ton of fun, but I wish Cowboy’d been more into the meetings during the year. I can only go if he goes, and I have a lot of ideas about how to make it better. And I guess with three years as part of it, they might listen to me now. I may have some input on the advertising next year.

The cotton is gone! They had two module builders, one in the empty area where the front pasture will be, and one over behind the barn in a most inconvenient place. Cowboy was planning on spreading rocks there, but not with a giant cotton bale parked there. They got three bales out of the place—somewhat less than 20 acres, because we didn’t let them farm the front sections this year. So call it 15 acres that was farmed.

Those bales are huge. I’ve never really watched them harvest cotton up close before, and I stood outside and watched for a while. The picker runs over the plants and little finger deals strip all of the cotton off. Then it dumps its hopper into the module builder, which has a hydraulic ram that packs it down tight. It’s so tight that they can pick it up with the trucks and it doesn’t fall apart. So the bales are about the size of the interior of a tractor-trailer, maybe nine feet high.

And we’re glad to see it gone. Tenants are a pain, and we want to use the land ourselves now. The farmer is going to plow the stubble under and level the field off, and then Cowboy’s got a ditch and a lot of fence to put in. We might hay it for the first year, but we won’t put livestock on it until the second, to let the pasture get good and established.

Roping last night was largely uneventful, barring some acting up from horses feeling frisky from the first cool night and a close encounter with the hot shot. Ouch. Clay’s right; it is leaking, because I was hanging it up, not pushing the button. That’ll get your blood pumping!

I’ve been riding on the high from that class. I’ve been getting my ducks in a row. I’ve got my test gauge ordered, and this weekend I will do some finalizing work on my logo with my sister, so I can get my forms made. I’ve got a whole list going in my head, and lists make me happy, especially when they’re completed and not late at all.

I pimped out my company to one of our friends, who happens to be the construction manager for the largest home builder in the county. He has someone lined up to do what I do in two of the towns they’re working in, but not the third. Sadly, he needs someone sooner than I will actually have my paperwork, but he promised to keep me in mind for upcoming work. That has potential!

My favorite horse is sore, so I just lightly exercised him while the boys were roping last night. I didn’t get to chase any steers, but I had fun with Jack. In the two months we’ve had him, he’s lightened up considerably in the mouth and the sides, and he’s much more fun to ride. He’s building my confidence more and more every day. He is one of Cowboy’s main roping string, but Cowboy also knows that he’s my favorite, and only rides him when he needs to rope. I do most of the rest of the riding on him.

And if I thought a horse was great therapy for a bad mood, well, he’s also good for a good mood. Even for a senseless good mood. I’m grinning at nothing in particular, and people are starting to look at me funny. Is this the opposite of PMS?

And today, some subcontractors are on my site. I like this company a lot—I worked really closely with them three years ago. I do like competence, and these guys are not only really good at what they do, but they’re a bunch of good people. Their boss is coming out later this afternoon, and I’m looking forward to going out to lunch with him.

And they have a good association with me in another way. When they were last here, I was dating the construction foreman of the company who hired them (gasp! Dating a coworker!) Even after we stopped seeing each other, we always had a nice friendship going. When I heard these guys were coming out, it reminded me of him, but I’ve lost track of him due to too many job and phone number changes.

But I walked up to the site this morning, and the current foreman said she had something for me. She gave me a ticket stub, and written on it was, “Jules, call me,” and his phone number. So I called and left a harassing voice mail message, but it’s just made my day.

Damn, what’s left to this week? It’s too early in the year to win that truck, but I feel like something else is bound to go right for me.