It has been one of the hottest June’s on record here in Wisconsin and this week at camp, the girls .. most of them anyway .. didn’t seem to mind. Other than one day. They rode in the morning and went to the pool in the afternoon.
“Well,” my daughter tells me on the way home as she is reliving some of the fun that went on this week outside learning better horsemanship .. “some of the girls got really crabby the last couple days. I think it was just too hot.”
We laughed a little about it, especially since we were at that point, sitting in the air conditioned car. I looked at the temperature gauge. 99 degrees. According to the car.
Our 11-year-old absolutely loves this camp ..
This is only our second year of overnight .. but she’s been fortunate to come for years to the day camp. There is something about it. The place. The people. The other girls. Learning something new. Being close to home but not too close to start to really learn to feel more comfortable in her independence. Perhaps most importantly, it’s just camp. Late night chats. Secret stories. Running around like crazy. Freedom of being a kid in a cool place and confidence building in life and social skills. That experience she’ll remember for a lifetime. That she’ll perhaps tell her own daughter about.
She gave a few hugs. Said many thank you’s. Bought the standard camp sweatshirt. Grabbed a Gatorade and we hit the road. Ran errands. Then having had enough of the heat all week, grabbed the dog and headed for the River to cool off.
What a beautiful day.
While she has a few other camps coming up yet this summer, ones that I know she will love in very different ways ..
As we were watching early 4th of July Fireworks from a friends pier on the lake last night and she is leaning on my chest with her arms around me, she says, “Mom, I really miss camp. I’m worried I won’t be able to go back next year.”
“We’ll see,” I told her. “If you love it that much and it is important to you, that might be one of the things we’ll make sure you’re able to do.”
She hugged me tighter and said thanks.
“She can check in starting at 2pm, and we plan to be there between 2 & 2:15 so she can get a “good” bunk.”……………..I met my ex and our daughter at drop-off for camp this past Sunday .. can’t believe we’re halfway through the week already.It’s the second year in a row now, we’ve done a week of overnight camp. She’s wanted to do it for a long time but finally mustered up the courage this past year for her first week away from home. She didn’t want either of us, her parents, to leave. But then at pick-up, she .. as you can expect, also didn’t want to come home.I’m so excited for her, camp was always something I enjoyed so much asa kid, but never got to do much of. Went to one track and field FCA camp .. basketball camp a couple times .. but that was pretty much it. Ever. I felt pretty lucky I got to go to those that I did. And very few of our friends ever went either so I thought it was the norm that camp was a pretty big deal.My (our) daughter on the other hand, has pretty much been in camp non-stop on some level each summer as she’s grown up, because quite honestly it’s been one of the easiest, most reassuring she’s in good hands and economical options for her parents (myself and the ex). She’s gotten some great experience and had a ton of fun over the years. Music, sports, water, pure social, acting, art, animals, you name it .. she’s probably been at the camp. Week after week. Just about every summer.But last summer..She asked to not have to go so much. And as she’s gotten older, I agree. There are better ways for us to manage the time involved, the value of and the expense of it all. Plus, there are only a few camps anymore she really asks to go to .. some she’d like to attend and a few I think would be good for her. And I want her to be able to have those experiences.This week, it’s horse camp.And .. it’s only the hottest week so far of the year with temperatures soaring into the 90’s for days on end. I’ve been a bit worried about the girls and the staff this week .. I called to ask a counselor this morning if there might be anything any of the parents can do or bring ..“No, we should be good,” replied the young woman who answered.They will be spending perhaps not as much time on horseback this week and more time on field trips or in a pool or spraying each other with water. Either way, she told me, they are good and camp will be keeping a close eye on them all.Whew ..Can’t wait to see her Saturday. Hear all about it. And have some downtime together before ‘Camp Bayfield’ next week, not really camp. But where we’ll all be together with the Cowboy and his kids and a few friends .. and just have time to play.…………….“Did you go to summer camp when you were a kid,” I ask the Cowboy this morning as we chatted quick over the phone.“No. Well, we went to rodeo bible camp. But our camp was going to rodeos every weekend with the family. That was camp,” he added.…………….There truly are so many great values to camps: Opportunities to learn new things, do good things, meet new friends, earn new responsibilities, grow, change, evolve, be active in ways you wouldn’t otherwise .. I feel blessed to have such great resources in our area to send her to.However ..I am just as fired up for her to have more downtime this year. To not have to go all the time. To not still believe every child gets to go to different, fun camps all summer long, because many don’t. It is a luxury not every family can afford or chooses to even if they can. But it’s a great option.The other option we’re excited about .. (during her time with mom anyway) will be spent with the neighbor boy and his mother, who is a teacher. She will be keeping them busy for awhile each morning doing some math and spelling to keep them progressing hopefully as they both head toward their first year of middle school. That will be part of the day. The other part will include responsibilities at home, chores around the house and taking care of the animals she so desperately loves and wants to have but truly has no idea how much work they are. Most importantly she will also have a great opportunity to spend time doing what a lot of other kids do during the summer .. and that is, enjoy some free-time. Figure out how to not be bored on their own. Be a kid.Chances are .. anyone reading is all grown up by now and knows how quickly camp .. summer .. and being a kid flies by.
It’s been a busy past couple of weeks .. spring/early summer always seem to be anymore, don’t they? Good busy, but whew .. busy.
So much to do .. projects to get done, events to go to, family and great friends to see and get caught up with, especially now that the windows are open once again and the neighborhood has once again come alive! Sadly, there never seems to be enough time to just let it all soak in and fully enjoy.
But we try.
In an effort to get somewhat caught up on posts without having to write two weeks worth:
First official week of summer. 6th grade here we come! Downtime for my daughter means coming home to concoctions in the refrigerator that are unidentifiable but that she says she wants to eat. Friends high school/college graduation parties. Family graduation parties, too. Family gatherings. Time at the River. Gigs. Practicing guitar. Catching up with old friends. Work. Camps. Catching up on meetings. Taking on new projects. Wrapping up old ones. Watering the garden. Trying to fit in a workout. Time in the backyard with the neighbors. Chasing my dog back home. Time with the Cowboy. Time with his kids. More gigs. Seeing my daughter off to camp (she’s so excited, more to come on that mañana).
Getting back to church. Special projects at work. Golf events in the name of good causes. 90+ degree heat. No air conditioning at home. Father’s Day bbq. Farmers Market. New phone. Not liking new phone. Trying to figure out how to get photos off new phone. Trying to find time to take new phone back and return for another new, different phone. Trying to fit in another workout (longer than the one before because I didn’t leave enough time for a good hearty one that’ll work off the beer I so enjoy having, especially on a hot summer night). Looking for the right wedding dress. Telling family/close friends that I’d prefer hear from me that I’m getting married .. that I’m getting remarried. Still trying to find the right wedding dress in part, because I don’t really want a wedding dress. Just a nice dress that I can wear again that won’t cost me really much at all if anything. In fact, my favorite choice so far is an awesome crocheted piece I got at a resale shop a couple years ago now for $10. I digress .. Tonight, conversations with the Cowboy centered around trying to find just the right bible versus for what will be a very quiet, simple ceremony, while having a glass of chilled white wine. Which means, I need to fit in a workout tomorrow morning before leaving early for work and a day of shoots for the upcoming month of sweeps. That’s my deal with myself. I can have a beer or a glass of wine as long as I get in a run at some point during the day. How’s that for a pact. The pounds, as some of you know when you age, don’t come off as easily as they used to .. so I’d rather not get incredibly far behind. Or I’ll develop a big behind. Not that there’s anything wrong with that ….
The Cowboy’s daughter said to me this weekend as we were all doing cartwheels on the Capital lawn during the Farmer’s Market .. ‘not too bad for a 40 year old!’. “Gee, thanks” I told her, trying to act frustrated but could hardly keep back from laughing.
(last couple weeks cont.) .. oh yeah, few more things to add and then feeling more caught up. Also been consumed with Root beer. Ice cream. Kayaking out on the lake amongst all the weeds. Stand Up Paddleboarding with a woman I absolutely adore. Trying to figure out how to do yoga on a paddle board. Wine after paddle boarding. Finding a bike in the lake while climbing a tree. Larry who’s not really Larry but who was awesome at helping my daughter pull seaweed out of the tires of the bike and clean it off so that we could put it in a friends car (the paddle boarder!). Which reminds me, need to go pick that up. Note to self.
Tying up out of control tomato branches so rest of garden can breathe. Fans in the window again. And again. Sunflowers on the table. Conversations about faith and family and doing what’s best. Or what we believe is best. Making tough decisions. Keeping those close to the vest for now. Talking with a friend who’s mother’s cancer is progressing. Madison Children’s Museum. Making soap. Not going to the Union. Birth father stopping by and getting to better know some of my half siblings (who are just incredible kids). Raspberry pie. And shortly .. will be putting shoes by the door so I can boogie on another quick run in the morning and not spend time trying to figure out where I last left one or both of them. Or do I just get on the road to today’s golf outing. Love that someone came up with the idea to get people to golf to support great causes.
Excited to write about camp tomorrow ..
His old roping partner called him up about three weeks ago ..
He was going to be back in town and thought it would be fun to enter.
The Cowboy didn’t want to do it. Doesn’t like the thought of ‘doing something half-assed,’ he always tells me. Or putting money up to rope when he hasn’t been working at it.
The Cowboy hasn’t been doing much rodeoing for a couple years now.. since the divorce and especially this past year. Many weekends are spent on the road between South Dakota and Wisconsin. To which I am grateful for, but I know they have put a serious dent in what used to be his lifestyle.
He told me about the call.
“C’mon,” I said. “It’ll be fun .. plus, I’ve seen you teach others how to do it, I’d love to go watch you actually rope. And I’ll be at the ranch that weekend.”
Reluctantly, I believe, he agreed to go.
We all piled into one of the Cowboy’s best buddies trucks just before noon Sunday, me, the Cowboy, Scuba Steve and his pregnant wife, and Little Brother Trucker ( .. his partner. They’re going to kill me for the names.) yesterday, horses in tow and headed for the Foothills Rodeo.
“You’re on the hot and dusty now,” said the Cowboy. Laughing.
It wasn’t long .. stories started flying about their history together. Their travels. Their friendships. And all the things they would do to one another while on the road. The Cowboy says these are among the best friends he has in the whole world. He’s spent a lot of time with them over the years and he laughs as he tells me, you really get to know someone after spending 48 hours together in the same vehicle, sleeping in same bed, living in 5×5 quarters. You have to learn a lot of coping skills on how to get along.
For them, and I would assume many others in their shoes, it’s meant a lot of pranks and joking around.
And it literally didn’t take long for the sh*t to start flying yesterday. We no more than parked on rodeo grounds. They get the horses out and the Cowboy goes back into the horse part of the trailer to take .. um, use the facilities. Just number one for the record. (If the horses can do it, why can’t they? Had never thought of that.) The trucker locks him in. Apparently this is a regular thing they do, or did in the past .. to each other.
The Cowboy says, “Remember what I did to your brother the last time he did that to me?”
“N …” says the Trucker.
But before he could even finish that one small word, a wad of horse sh*t schmucked his shoulder and face. We all bust out laughing and immediately starting wondering, worrying a bit actually what the Trucker would do now, to get him back.
Thankfully he had brought another shirt.
The rodeo came and went. None of them did as well as they had hoped. But where they may have taken it hard in the past, life has them all in some very different places now. And it seemed …
.. they were just happy to be back together.
Win or lose.
Even locked in with the horses again.
You would have thought the bathroom at the restaurant where we stopped for dinner on the way home would have been as easy to use as the back of the trailer .. but Scuba Steve’s pregnant wife, who was about fed up with the teasing, decided it was too easy two of them were standing in there bonding with the horses, again. She locked em in. Said to the rest of us, get in the truck. And away we drove ….
Looking forward to the next rodeo.
I love learning something new each day. I love getting my hands dirty, getting involved, putting myself in situations that challenge me and make me think about who I really am and what I am capable of or able to do.
But there are also many times where I thoroughly appreciate learning something through the eyes of others and sharing their stories.
The owner of the ranch hosting the Cowboy’s roping clinic had this past Sunday asked if I wanted to ride as they were all roping in the arena, and said it’d be a favor to him if I’d run one of his.
So I did. A little bit.
And it didn’t take long for the Cowboy to ask a question I knew would be coming.
“Want to chase a steer?” he says to me.
He’s been after me to give roping a try .. which I’d love to. And I’ve tried my hand at it, very meagerly, on the ground, a few times.
But I’m thinking I need like a year or two, where I can take off of work entirely and do nothing more than rope, to have all that much fun with it. And more importantly, not injure anyone including myself.
It’s an incredibly acquired skill. And while I consider myself blessed to be able to pick up most things quite easily…
This is one sport where I’m concerned I might lose a thumb. (Which isn’t all that uncommon, apparently.) Get completely tossed and break a limb. Maim or plow over the steer because I didn’t better ‘steer’ my horse. Or quite possibly, severely injure the person I would otherwise be roping with. Like throw the rope around them .. and pull.
That .. would .. be .. bad.
“No thanks,” I replied to the Cowboy kind of chuckling under my breath.
The horse I was on would have loved nothing more than to rope that day, too and he was trying to let me know in no uncertain terms he was ancy to get to work doing what all his buddies were. All he wanted to do is run. Fast. And chase more than the air I was giving him up and down the other side of the arena in-between the guys running the steers.
(All my own horse ever wants to do is walk, maybe trot. She fights me to get her to lope. But we’re working on that. It would help if I would get out to ride her more often. That’s a whole other story.)
“C’mon,” said the Cowboy. “Just chase one out, see what it feels like, you don’t have to even have a rope” he added, as he walked me over and into the ‘box’. I tried backing Roper in, kind of. Didn’t feel good about it. And walked him out.
“Not ready for that,” I nervously smiled and said to the Cowboy. He laughed.
‘What is it, about roping that has so many people seemingly addicted to it,’ I asked the Cowboy Sunday night after we had both returned home, my daughter was asleep in bed and I had originally sat down to write this.
“It’s competitive,” he replied. “And it’s kind of addicting. Rodeo is addicting. The people, the competition. The gambling. It’s like gambling, only you have some control over it.”
“Well, in theory you do. Have control over it. You put the money up and you win if you do well. But you have two horses, two cowboys and one steer. A lot can go wrong with that. But if it goes right, it’s great.”
The Cowboy used to practice two to three hours a day .. and have a ranking most others strive for, I believe.
While he’s removed himself the past couple years through life changes from the rodeo circuit for the most part .. and says he doesn’t miss the 10 hour drive to get somewhere, the money it takes on gas and to enter, having to win and knowing if he didn’t the truck payment wouldn’t get made that month ..
He still loves the sport.
And says one of his favorite things now, is helping others learn.
Learn how to get along better with their horse .. how to use their rope better .. how to win more when they do enter.
This past weekend must have been a win for everyone .. because there’s already an invite for next year’s clinic. Same time .. same place ..
Next clinic: next weekend in Wisconsin.
(And I’m thinking I might put down the camera long enough to try a little ground work with the rope, get going on that yearlong or lifelong project to learn this sport, myself.)
We’ve both been on the road and thawing out from too much time in the cold and the rain .. so I haven’t had a chance to really type much. Or very well, anyway. And I’m about to start working to get the kiddos fed while the guys get out the door so – just a few quick observations from the past 24 hours.
I’m not sure how long he’s been holding clinics..
But for quite a few years now, ‘twelve years maybe’ he says as I ask him this morning, the Cowboy travels to wherever he’s asked or hired to go, and he hosts roping clinics.
We are in Minnesota this weekend for his first clinic of 2012 .. and while all it’s done is rain since we arrived, the guys are making the most of it.
Since it’s at a dear friend of the Cowboys .. in fact, the first weekend we ever met in person, he was staying here to hang out and rope .. we’re all in tow. His kids. My daughter.
While the kids love to ride and try their own hand at roping when they go with their dad .. yesterday, we spent a lot of time on ground, running around. Driving around in the Gator. Chasing the dogs.
And at the mall. While usually the two of them are happy to stay and throw their own rope, they preferred going to the mall where it was warm and dry .. and there are lots of fun rides.
The guys stayed and played in the rain …
We’re all hoping for better weather today .. but everyone is getting ready to roll rain or shine.
Easter Sunday, 2012 was a beautiful day .. as well as a bittersweet end to an incredible week of vacation, one unlike any other in my life, I realized as I pulled back into Madison late last night.
We almost always drive wherever we go. And we are almost always going from place to place, spending only a couple days in each place .. visiting quickly before we’re off again.
This vacation, we settled in. Felt at home. And soaked up all we could of a place I never dreamed we would want to do much more than drive through on my way somewhere else .. a community (several) of people who all know each other by name, who have each others backs .. and a family we adore and can’t wait to see again.
Easter Sunday, we woke. The Easter Bunny had successfully made his trek around the world again .. paying the ranch a wonderful visit on the way. There were baskets. Easter eggs hidden everywhere. And four sweet kids running on jelly bean-chocolate bunny-peanut butter egg-hubba bubba highs around the house trying to find them all.
The Cowboy got the boys ready for church while the girls got into their Sunday best on their own ..
We went to church. Which, on a holy day like Easter Sunday, was packed. Apparently like the Cowboy’s family had never seen before. Even getting there early meant the eight of us ended up on folding chairs in the church basement with about 50 others, having to watch the service on tv. At one point, there wasn’t anything that happened in that service that didn’t set the Cowboy and I off laughing.. which I felt bad about. But couldn’t help it. And, I believe it all started before we even reached the steps of the church as we watched two young women/girls trying to keep some of the shortest new Sunday dresses I’ve ever seen from flying up in the wind as they walked gingerly in their 4 inch heels into Catholic Mass .. not sure why that struck us as funny but it did .. and it just got better from there. Egging us on especially was a woman to our right singing her heart out but so incredibly off key. Which .. not that there’s anything wrong with that. But on top of everything else .. It was a wonderful Easter morning and it felt good to be in church, yet it was a strangely humorous scene.
The Cowboy and I tried after that .. to not feel time weighing on us, like it always does when one of us has to leave to return home .. and just enjoy what was left of the day, our time together and the chance to be with family – especially the kids.
There was one more afternoon of riding. Of working around the ranch. And time with family. The Cowboy’s mom prepared for us all an incredible brunch .. and there were more Easter baskets and candy of course to be shared, before we all had to part ways.
I often shed a tear as we leave to head home because .. the girls asked why the other day .. well, because it’s just sad, I told them. I never take for granted I will see those I love again and I usually tell them to a fault, how much I love them and to travel safely until we meet again. Plus, I just love being there.. Or having the Cowboy here. So what lies in-between just kind of stinks.
This time however, it was my daughter I was consoling as we pulled away ..
“I don’t want to leave, mom” .. she said, crying as we hit the road for home. And the fact that it was her prompting that got us to stay in one place the entire week, made me feel very blessed that she seemed to enjoy not only our time together as a mom and daughter .. but a vacation we look forward to every other year .. and perhaps most importantly, that she is feeling increasingly at home with the Cowboy.
As I ground beans for a fresh pot of coffee this Monday morning and reflected on the time .. I am just purely grateful for every moment this past week … Especially the down time together, something I know I can always do better at.
Along with that, the fact that never once, for us anyway this past week, was there an alarm clock set. (I am reminded of that, as I hear one going off in my daughters room.)
Here we go, I guess. As I pour the beans into a filter and hit brew, I’m thinking ..
Back to the old grind.
It may not be the vacation blend .. but it is still a pretty good, robust brew. And I am just trying to enjoy every sip ..
Let me just start by saying, I will never pretend to be a True Cowgirl.
cow·girl n. A hired woman, especially in the western United States, who tends cattle and performs many of her duties on horseback.
I love the life, the lifestyle and am incredibly appreciative of the opportunity to do more things considered Cowgirl since meeting the Cowboy. But despite the fact I’ve worn cowboy boots since earning enough to buy my first pair as a teen, love country music and all it stands for and have always wanted to live at the end of a dirt road .. I’ve never called myself a cowgirl and know it’ll take awhile to earn the stripes associated with the title, if ever.
Especially after the events of this week.
We have worked a lot around the Cowboy’s ranch this week.
We’ve also ridden each day. For hours. Down dirt roads, through fields, in arenas …
And unfortunately for me .. I also rode this week, into a barrel.
It’s happened only once out of all the runs we’ve ever taken. But I took a pretty good chunk of skin out of my shin.
(Apparently real cowgirls, some of them anyway.. the Cowboy says ones who have horses who like to ‘dive at the barrel’ wear shin guards because they have the gift of that experience. But I’m thinking most don’t, because true cowboys would most likely make fun of a cowgirl who wears shinguards.)
Anyway, days later the leg still smarts.
But not as much as it did before. Because I now have a few new aches and pains to help take my mind off a sore leg.
We no more than got Ol Joe saddled up yesterday (the Cowboy’s roping horse, who I have been riding all week and every time we’ve been to the ranch), and into the arena with the girls on their horses ..
And he threw me.
It was a valiant effort to stay on, mind you. I’m sure of it .. (lmao)
But I ended up on the ground.
While I have prepared mentally for that moment for years .. until it happens, I’m pretty sure you can’t really appreciate how little control you have over how you fall. Unless like bronc riders for instance, you practice .. A LOT.
Regardless, it was the first time I’ve ever been thrown. And as I lay there in the dirt having hit my tailbone a couple times on the saddle and then my head on the ground after bracing the fall with my arm .. I assessed just what really hurt.
And then the thoughts creeped in .. that a true cowgirl both would know how to ride through something like that .. and that she would also probably get up faster than I was.
I hear crying over to my left ..
I’m still laying there. “I’m fine,” I say.
The girls, both now standing nearby on their own horses, were upset and worried.
“Are you okay?” says the Cowboys daughter .. mine saying in unison, “Mom, are you okay?”
I hear more crying.
I start laughing to reassure them that I am, or will be shortly, just fine.
“Really,” I say. “Just give me a minute.”
I’m still laying in the dirt. I laugh some more. And think, that’s about how my own mother would have handled it. Laugh through the pain.
I got up .. slowly. Dusted myself off. And went to help them get Ol Joe back into the arena.
The Cowboy rode him for a few minutes.
And then I got back on. I wasn’t sure my body was ready for it. But the Cowboy made me. Which in hindsight, I appreciate.
“You haven’t ridden enough if you haven’t been bucked off at least once,” the Cowboy tells me.
So .. this was a good thing, I guess.
I may not be a true cowgirl. But I’m on my way perhaps to better understanding what it takes to be one ..
And as we talk this morning about saddling Joe and the other horses back up ..
I’m enjoying every painful step of walking around, getting ready to head back out again, to ride.