Contrasts

Last weekend was museum time in the Big City. Crazy costumes like suits of armor made from doilies, candelabra and ceramic birds, fake fur, sequins, buttons, even beaded baskets and Easter bunnies. They are all designed to make different sounds when danced in, as well as invoke spirits and memories, I think. The rest of the weekend was wandering around enjoying the sights and foods, public transportation, and friends.

This weekend (so far) was the rodeo! The real deal in a small town. They rode (mostly fell off) bucking broncos, they jumped off a horse to collar a steer and wrestle it to the ground, they roped little calves, all the typical rodeo stuff. I was tearing up all over the place. The American flag, the empty horse to memorialize someone who had passed away, the incredibly competent women on horseback, and then the poor little calves. What made me so teary? Past life on a horse on the plains? Sad because I always wanted to ride and never did? Just being goofy?