Sometimes I just like to state the obvious.
I recently met someone who had never been outside of the state of Texas. I was a little stunned as I’m not sure I’ve ever met someone who hadn’t at least been to the state next to their state.
She said, in her defense, “Well, it is a big state.”
That’s a true statement. But hardly a good excuse.
We recently went to a little rodeo in a little town about 30 miles away. (It was very fun, by the way.)
There were quite a few international people in the audience, surprisingly. People from Germany, England, and Australia. The announcer and the clown (you know it’s a small rodeo when there’s only one clown) were trying to interact with the crowd and find out where people were from. None of my states came up, but there was a moment when I semi-panicked, wondering what state I was from. I mean, technically, I live in Texas. But am I from Ohio? Or Kansas? I’ve had 4 addresses in Illinois in my entire life and I had two kids there, but I never think I’m from Illinois. It’s strange to not feel like you belong somewhere.
But the nice thing about small town Texas, or small town anywhere, USA, is that they make you feel like it doesn’t matter where you’re from. Because we’re here now.
This is actually pre-rodeo. It’s the “stick horse barrel racing competition”. Some surprisingly stiff competition down there. (Did you know they make shiny pink chaps? Don’t tell Felicity.) I didn’t get many pictures, because the sun went down fast.
I can’t take a good picture of a bucking bronco, but…
I can make a styrofoam cup look really good. That’s what I call talent.
Now one more time, with feeling.
Oh yeah. I’m good.