And edit photos.
Story of my life.
I'm not going to complain about the rain; I honestly can't remember the last time it rained in October. I would be fairly content if it continued raining for the rest of the week. The dogs, however, are not so convinced.
Anyways, after building a fire, making some hot apple cider and letting the poor shivering wet doggies in the house, I settled in and edited away.
Cowboy H and I have some city-folk friends. We are, in their eyes, a novelty. We have tools, and animals, and fire places, and horses, and cowboy boots. They have a four year old son. We (meaning Cowboy H) can chop wood and lay tile and hammer nails and drive screws with a drill and ride horses. They have cable and a big-screen TV and a four-year old son.
We met this family about two years ago, and have watched their boy evolve from a barely talking two-year old into an almost-as-big-as-his-mama chatterbox. Who wants to be a cowboy.
No joke. Backwards Dodgers ball cap and all. Right after I took this photo, he pulled his cap from his head, swung it around in the air, and yee-hawed. His mother almost died. I rejoiced.
His parents divulged that his FAVORITE song is Toby Keith's "I Shoulda Been a Cowboy". Well, truth be told, little guy, you still can be a cowboy.
Cowboy H will show you the ropes.
And Mama H will document the whole process.
However rough it may be.
There ya go!
That's how its done!
You got em!
Besides riding horses and roping cows, real cowboys have to handle livestock. Which, judging by the "petting zoo" at the Fair, is not an easy task.
Being that Cowboy H and I are the country folk, we escorted the kids into the battlefield. Cowboy H had to put a few goats back into their rightful places so that the kids could feed them in a reasonable amount of peace.
I think he's heading in the right direction. Now, we just have to get him on some real horses...
And get him a real cowboy hat...
(Other things I can cross off the list: getting well and picking pumpkins!)
