Tag Archives: cowboy

Things I Try Not to Think About

funkeeper.net

funkeeper.net

With the mess the world is in, there are probably some things you would prefer to never think about. My list keeps changing. Here are two I added today:

  1. The color brown. As the proud owner of a Y chromosome, I look at things in a manly way through a man’s eyes. As such, I know there are eight colors. How do I know this? In kindergarten, the box of Crayolas had eight colors. There was no peach, because peach is a fruit, not a color. I did have a problem reconciling the fact that there was violet, but no purple. I attribute that to purple being in the witness protection program.

     

    There was, however, brown. Brown is one of the eight (and only eight) chosen ones. It should be treated as sacrosanct.

     

    Today, I noticed that UPS has copyrighted brown. How can they do that? It’s a color! It’s an earth tone, so it certainly existed as a color before the first amino acids combined to form basic organic molecules.

     

    But then, brown might be entering the witness protection program, and this is a cover story.

     

  2. There is a new focus on gay rodeo riders.

    I once lived in Cheyenne, Wyoming and was very involved in Frontier Days, THE rodeo.

However, when somebody gets on two thousand pounds of angry bull.

When he’s hanging onto a rope with one hand as the bull jumps and twists.

When a winner is someone who can stay on the bull for eight (count them – eight) seconds.

I really don’t care one way or another about the rider’s sexual orientation (or for that matter, the bull’s)

Okay, I’m done not thinking about them.

The Good Old Days

cfrodeo.com

cfrodeo.com

I lived, for a while, in Cheyenne, Wyoming where “Cowboy up!” was a normal part of the conversation.

I loved Frontier Days, the last week in July with parades on Saturday, Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, and, of course, the “Daddy of All Rodeos.”

Cowboy life – how dramatic and inviting – at least until you think about the reality back in the 19th century.

As they say, don’t squat with your spurs on – and on the trail there were no roadside rest stops with clean restrooms.

Coffee made by throwing a handful of grounds into a metal coffee pot full of creek water.

The smell that comes after herding a couple hundred head (and therefore rears) of cattle. “Cow pies” (yep, that’s what I’m talking about) are even nastier than the “road apples” produce by the horses.

Bathing? Shaving? Clean clothes? Not so much.

So, my (real-honest-to-goodness cowboy) hat is off to those who paved the way.

But I’ll take my twenty-first century comforts, thank you.