Saturday morning we ventured out to the annual Wild Wild West Festival in downtown Pueblo. We spent a whopping $4 for the entire family of five for admission to the street festival and all shows. I think parking alone at such an event in Fort Worth would be at least twice that. (Parking was free at the festival by the way.)
I mentioned in an earlier post that my grandfather (Bigdaddy) was part American Indian. I realize that I am only at most 1/16 American Indian, but something about their music, dance, and history moves me. We watched a street performance of an amazing American Indian group. My husband asked me after the show if I was going to go tell them that I am part Indian and that I am one of them. He said he wasn't kidding. I have a strong suspicion he was poking fun at me-- and my people. If I hadn't just had my long hair cut, I would be wearing my black locks in two braids as I look out over the mountains and plains just to freak him out. My grandmother called me "Sassawee" all of my life growing up. I think I am embracing it now as a 38year old 1/16 Cherokee listening to the coyotes howling at night.
Just down the street was a chainsaw artist who we watched carve a bear head from a trunk of a tree. The highlight of Ben's day was the slapstick western comedy show-- he belly laughed through the whole thing. He and the grown woman sitting in front of us were thoroughly amused. We finished up our day watching wool riding-- not bull riding-- wool riding. Kids aged 3-6 and under 60 pounds get geared up in a helmet and chaps and are put onto a sheep and must "ride" it for a minimum of 6 seconds. It was a riot. My lightweight Nathanael was ready to get on and give it a go, but he is too old. Ben suggested that he could just go home and ride on our giant Pyranees/Akbash puppy who weighs in at 66 pounds. Nathanael was not amused.
No wild west day is complete without kettle corn, a late lunch trip to McDonald's, and a shopping stop at the Big R for more mouse traps. It was a great day.
John 10:14-15 "I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me- just as the Father knows me and I know the Father- and I lay down my life for the sheep."
I mentioned in an earlier post that my grandfather (Bigdaddy) was part American Indian. I realize that I am only at most 1/16 American Indian, but something about their music, dance, and history moves me. We watched a street performance of an amazing American Indian group. My husband asked me after the show if I was going to go tell them that I am part Indian and that I am one of them. He said he wasn't kidding. I have a strong suspicion he was poking fun at me-- and my people. If I hadn't just had my long hair cut, I would be wearing my black locks in two braids as I look out over the mountains and plains just to freak him out. My grandmother called me "Sassawee" all of my life growing up. I think I am embracing it now as a 38year old 1/16 Cherokee listening to the coyotes howling at night.
Just down the street was a chainsaw artist who we watched carve a bear head from a trunk of a tree. The highlight of Ben's day was the slapstick western comedy show-- he belly laughed through the whole thing. He and the grown woman sitting in front of us were thoroughly amused. We finished up our day watching wool riding-- not bull riding-- wool riding. Kids aged 3-6 and under 60 pounds get geared up in a helmet and chaps and are put onto a sheep and must "ride" it for a minimum of 6 seconds. It was a riot. My lightweight Nathanael was ready to get on and give it a go, but he is too old. Ben suggested that he could just go home and ride on our giant Pyranees/Akbash puppy who weighs in at 66 pounds. Nathanael was not amused.
No wild west day is complete without kettle corn, a late lunch trip to McDonald's, and a shopping stop at the Big R for more mouse traps. It was a great day.
John 10:14-15 "I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me- just as the Father knows me and I know the Father- and I lay down my life for the sheep."
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