• In the Wild West (oh dear, that ::IS:: where I live??), cowboys needed to hone their cattle roping, etc skills and being by nature…MEN…they immediately turned it into a competition.
• Buffalo Bill turned these competitions into more of a showcase of frontiersmen as athletes in his well advertised Wild West Shows.
• Ropin‘ and ridin‘ that’s what you’ll see when you go, nothing more nothing less.

• Please do not confuse the pronunciation of rodeo with the more famous pronunciation (in my mind) of RO–deo (as in Drive as in Hollywood, baby).

• There is such a thing as the PRCA – Professional Rodeos Cowboy Association. I am not mocking it. Who knew it existed however? But who knew that there was such a job as Corn Maze Architect (File Under – Things We Learned From Going to the Farm on Bella’s Birthday)??

• There is marketing everywhere…via sponsor flags at the rodeo. Someone has to pay for the “wildest, richest rodeo in the West.”

• Here come the cowboys and their bucking broncos. Prior to last night I assumed that these were all untamed, wild horses. We have those here, y’know. They are in the hills behind our new high school. The mustangs come down and drop poop all over the well planned, gated community in front of the school. You got to love that.

No, rodeo horses are bred to buck and are helped along by straps tied around their flanks. Don’t alarm PETA however, apparently these straps are of the humane variety. Picture me picketing at the next rodeo a la Kim Basinger and the elephants in the circus. Honestly, the horses seemed well treated in spite of a few picketers. Again, it is the Wild West where we don’t need no stinkin‘ picketers ;-)!

The bull riders have to be the bravest of the bunch. What person in their right mind would want to get onto a 2,000lb bucking bull?? Perhaps it’s the phrase “person in their right mind?”

For fans of Wells Fargo…there were a couple of stagecoach exhibitions. Yee-haw.

For fans of our kids…here are two of the three…the youngest was struggling to stay awake. And yes, Alex wanted to wear the Indy hat to the rodeo (an independent streak). And yes, he has a black (what other color exists?) cowboy hat in his accessory arsenal.

My very favorite of the night (besides the stirred not shaken margarita on the rocks…two please, so my feet squeezed into my semi-sensible leather sandals won’t hurt so much or swell attractively in the heat), was a bull…now warning…my astrological sign is Taurus, so there is a built in affinity for these thundering, majestic, load bearing beasts of burden.

He has only been ridden successfully three times in five years. I liked him instantly.

So with steak house sponsorships fresh in our minds, we trotted off home. Tired. Dusty. And full of spunk.

Wishing you a day where you take the bull by the horns. Try it. You may find that it’s your new way of approaching life.