cowgirls

cowgirls

Sunday, March 16, 2014

Saddle Up or Go Home

Despite staying up half the night consumed with writing, I woke up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed without the aid of Sister Cindy poking me with the kitchen broom this time. The big day was upon us and before anything else, we needed to get gussy'd up for the beauty pageant cowgirl prom. Yes, I said, cowgirl prom, y'all. "Making girls out of women," a Sisters on the Fly slogan, ran amuck in my head as I was pulling together my giddy-up attire. A wallflower at my own (high school) prom, the thought of prom queen had me laughing out loud.





Bella was up and dressed before the break o' dawn. For her casual wear attire, she chose couture Americana. It's all the rage this season.   



  








 
Always the center of attention, Bella was attracting visitors like flies to a turd. I don't think Cindy nor I once sat down during the parade of homes events that day. Our guests were fascinated at the concept of glamping and Sisters on the Fly. We talked sisterhood, renovating, caravaning, fly fishing, martini drinking, cigar smoking, um...we talked in depth about fly fishing.


With one of us with womanning Bella at all times, we each snuck away to participate in some of the goings-on within the campground. Much to Sister Cindy's dismay, the mechanical bull attraction was a no-show this year. After hearing tales of bein' thrown so high that St. Peter could whittle yore initials in yore boot soles, Cindy was sorely disappointed she didn't get a chance to straddle a bull.  After a quick glimpse of a group of caballeros, I found myself next in line for a lesson in cowboy steer branding. Just like dipping bourbon bottles at Maker's Mark distillery, it's always good to have varied work skills under your garter belt when composing a resume.







 Save two horses, y'all.

At high noon, the crowd gathered 'round the chuck wagons for a menu of chicken-fried steak, mashed taters 'n gravy, beans (the talk back kind), biscuits, cornbread, and peach cobbler. Speaking of caballeros, I bumped into my cowboy BFF, Too Tall I, as I moped past the wagons envious, again, of all the non-celiac folks enjoying their meals. He told me he'd been watching out for me on accounta he'd prepared a gluten-free plate for the real Sister Louise and wanted me to have one too.

 
He said, "Hold up there pretty lady. I got yore plate rite cheer. I was ecstatic. That would not be the last time me and Too Tall I would cross paths over the weekend...
 
On the red carpet post awards ceremony.
 
...and the day was just half over.

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