Tonight, I’m going to the stockshow. I love stuff like this. I used to sit at home by myself, watching PBR (Pro Bull Riding, not Pabst Blue Ribbon) on TV. I loved how tough the boys were. I loved the chaps that they wore. Sawan and I went to see them live, and I haven’t watched it since he died. It just makes me too sad.
I love that I live in a town that still hosts a stockshow and rodeo for two weeks out of the year, that they have a whole set of buildings for this event. That part of Denver tradition means that you leave your Christmas lights up on the outside of your house until the stockshow is over.
I’ve been waffling back and forth today over weather I should wear my cuter vintage red cowboy boots or the more comfy brown pair. I have a belt with my name stamped in it, and a couple of really cool belt buckles to choose from. I just bought a really cool pair of boot-cut jeans that have flowers embroidered on them ($200 jeans at the consignment store next door to the salon, new with tags, for $50- yes, please!). I’m excited to wear them tonight.
I’m embracing my half-redneck-ness, getting my redneck on, listening to George Strait and Pure Prairie league. I’m looking forward to steak dinner at LoHi before I hit the rodeo tonight.
But I’ve cried a little today. I’m trying, unsuccessfully, to not think about this:
|With my "cowboy." Stockshow, January, 2009|