What a Day!!

I can't believe I'm saying this, but my Grandad partied until 10:30 at night! What were we doing, you ask? Well, let's just say that my lust for "Western Music" (not by any means Country or Bluegrass) has been thoroughly sated. We went, with several mature married couples who were great fans of the Bar D Chuckwagon Supper.

We arrived just in time to have a seat on a gigantic picnic table among a crowd of 650-ish tourists, and, I hate to say it, old(er) people. It just so happened that a group of about 60 Sun City residents were sitting directly in front of us. The tables were situated in long rows in a gigantic old barn that amazingly enough had a retractable roof, so that in case of rain, we could all stay warm and dry. Fancy Shmancy.

We were directed by various 10-gallon hat wearing cowboy-looking people (who later turned out to be the band) into long lines to get our food. After picking up a tin (yes, tin) plate and shoving some silverware in my pocket, I was given a baked potato, beans, a hefty slice of BBQ brisket, a roll, some cake, and, weirdly enough, applesauce. With two individually wrapped butters and a tin cup full of lemonade, I was off to the picnic table once again.

While eating dinner, I was harangued by the man beside me about the fact that there was no money in Counseling, a fact that was particularly close to home for him because his son was a counselor. The fact that his son loved his job did not seem to matter to this man who had more money than he possibly knew what to do with. I told him that I would rather be happy and live frugally than be miserable and rich, which effectively ended his argument. Point for me!

After we had finished eating, we delivered our plates to the flashing blue police light in the back corner of the barn. I don't know who thought the police light was appropriate, but hey, it's a "Chuckwagon Supper," apparently anything goes!

Soon after the plates were cleared, the Bar D Wranglers took to the stage, guitars and fiddles in hand. After a rousing selection of old-school Western songs about breaking horses and missing their dew-eyed Clementines, they gave the stage over to the Riders in the Sky, self-titled "America's Favourite Cowboys" (I added the 'u' in Favourite myself because it makes me feel more trans-Atlantic).

I can not wait to show you all pictures of these quirky 'cowboys.' Each of them was wearing a retro pearl-snap complete with as much embroidery, fringe, and even sequins that they could manage. One of them was wearing sheep skin chaps (wool still attached on the outside), which they joked had resulted from a tragic Rogaine accident. This same mis-user of Rogaine was wearing a green necktie with arms that he called his "Cactie." Oh My Goodness...

Their music really was fantastic, as far as Western goes. Lots of yodeling. The occasional accordion solo. And, of course, the very necessary impersonation of Billy Ray Cyrus. I do hope that you all look these guys up, because they are definitely worth a look and a listen.

It was a lovely (and memorable) way to spend an evening, especially one as special as my B-day.

As far as the rest of the day goes, we drove to town, and had an amazingly silent lunch at Francisco's Resturante y Cantina. This place was a real gem and had specials like "Beef liver and onions," "Chicken fried steak and gravy," "Turkey sandwich on sourdough," "Salad greens with chilled shrimp." Only one of the MANY specials was even remotely mexican. Very strange. Toto, we're not in Texas anymore...

For those of you who want updates on all of the creatures that are under my care, the birds are doing wonderully. Munching away at sunflower seeds. The hummingbirds are very entertaining and sound like chipmunks that have sucked helium. The raccoons still come by every evening, and a couple even came a few mornings ago. They got to drink the milk from my cereal. Yummy!

I've been riding Opie every day since the neighbors said I could. It's pretty fun to ride around up here, up and down the roads and through the mountain meadows. They asked me to do a little fine tuning with his training, specifically around water, so I've been taking him through a lot of streams and ponds. The second day we walked up to one tiny stream that was maybe a foot and a half wide. He stopped, looked at the water, and, out of nowhere, took a flying leap over the stream. If the stream had been a three foot tall log, he would have cleared it. I cracked up! It was ridiculous! Needless to say, we have since crossed that stream a dozen times, and each time his leaps get a little bit smaller. I can just imagine some poor crusty old rancher riding him as he took his flying leap over the water. Oh my.

We've done more work on the barbed-wire cattle fence. Great fun. My arms look like I tried to steal food from my raccoons because of all of the prickly brambles and barbs on the side of the mountain.

Tomorrow I get to look forward to a birthday lunch with the basement-dwelling-Indian neighbors. I'm excited, and determined to take a few pictures of the Chief and Sitting Bull, not to mention Custer, while I'm there.

Don't worry, I'll keep you posted!