A German Goes to the Rodeo

One of my goals in our summer living in the western US was to take my German husband, Martin, to his first rodeo.  What better time than the 4th of July to stir some dust around (or rather – watch the cowboys do it while we sneeze in the bleachers!).  We hit up one of gobs of rodeos happening over the weekend to see the pros compete for the big bucks.

martin-katie-rodeo

We plopped our cowboy hats on and strutted to our seats.  The smells of cattle and dust were quickly accompanied by the heavy, thick scent of beer.  The crowd got louder as it got colder and colder (seriously – is this really July?  brrr.).  So we stomped on the bleachers and cheered plenty, and a fairly tipsy cowboy fell over when he looked at us.  Do you suppose it was the hats?

Yes-sir-ee.  Martin and I snagged cowboy hats of our very own.  Ever since I posed for this picture dressed as “Cowgirl Kate”, I’ve had my heart set on getting a cowboy hat one day.  (A hat for each of us was our one exception to the No New Clothes Summer at our house.)  Now we wear them everywhere.  Stay tuned for the scoop on hat shopping!

Meanwhile, back to the rodeo.  First there were the cowboys behind the arena.

cowboys

Then there were the same cowboys getting bucked around the arena.

bucking a cowboy

 

bucking a cowboy 2

Martin is thrilled to announce that now that we’ve been to a rodeo, he can officially say that old line, “This ain’t my first rodeo, cowboy” any time he wants.  I’m pretty sure that statement is only applicable to the people in the arena this weekend.  But who’s going to know that in Berlin?

Then cowboys wrestled, trying to get steers roped, tied, and on the ground.  You know – making ground beef.

cowboy-wrestling

The whole thing was fantastic.  I still flinched as much as ever during the bull riding.  And the barrel racing surprisingly had us on the edge of our seats.  

Have any of you been to a rodeo?  Or how about in the rodeo?