Well, you will never guess where I went on Friday night.
I'll give you a hint.
It rhymes with "modeo."
That's right. I went to the rodeo. I'd never been to one before - they're not exactly everyday occurrences here in the Philadelphia area, believe it or not. But for the past couple of months I've been seeing signs for one, so a few weeks ago I sent my sister a text that said, "I am totally serious - would you want to go to a rodeo with me?"
OF COURSE she was all in, and so were my parents, and that is how we all ended up at the rodeo on Friday night like a bunch of regular old country people.
The rodeo didn't start until 7:30, but we got there early in order to get good seats and eat corn dogs and funnel cake. Finally at about 7:00 my mom said, "Okay. It's time to get this show on the rodeo."
She is hilarious.
As a rodeo rookie, I was unaware that there would be so much fanfare in the beginning. In just the first twenty minutes we recognized military veterans, said some prayers, learned some rodeo lingo, watched a few skits, and honored the US of A.
Right before the rodeo started, out came Old Glory. The announcer told us she is 234 years old.
That's one old horse.
We spent the next few hours watching barrel racing and bull riding and I had the best time.
Saturday was not nearly as exciting as Friday, but let's he honest, it's tough to beat a rodeo. I met my mom and Emily at the mall after lunch and bought some new fall clothes. Apparently I have decided to embrace the blazer trend. We shall see how that pans out.
Emily had to work at 4:00, so I drove her home and my mom shopped for a while longer. Emily has her driver's permit so I offered to let her pilot my wheels home, but she turned down the offer.
That was her mistake, really, because whenever we were at a red light and I was playing the steering wheel drums, I used her knee as a cymbal.
And there were a LOT of cymbal crashes on Saturday. At one point I thought she was going to crawl into the back seat.
Or out of the car completely.
The weekend ended on a fantastic note, and by that I mean that finally, after nine months of living in this apartment, I hung curtains in the living room.
Shout out to Matt for coming over to hang the curtain rod and getting hit in the head by the ceiling fan in the process.
Looking back I guess I shouldn't have turned that on while he was standing on a chair in the vicinity.
He still bought me an ice cream sundae after the little fan/head incident, because he is a keeper.
And now it's back to the weekday grind.
Unless I decide to quit my job tomorrow and become a rodeo cowgirl.
It's not out of the question.