8-13-05
Ah, it tis a Saturday morning and all is right with the world. The wife and children are snuggled in their bed and the house is quiet, aside from my tapping on the keyboard.
The little clock next to my laptop shows 7:19. It is actually a little fast. The clock down on the bottom of my monitor shows 7:10. I tend to go by the laptop clock as it is more in line with the other clocks in the house.
Our office is a mess. My wife has been painting the other rooms and whatever didn't get thrown away but wasn't supposed to stay in the rooms, has been added to the office. It is a mess. One of the wife's goals today, as she boldly told me last night, was to get the office cleaned today. She can only do that with my help.
Aargh! So sometime today, I'll have to mow, weedeat and clean the dadgummed office. Not the best way to spend a Saturday, in my opinion.
Last night, the youngest son and I went to the local rodeo. We represented our employer in some silly thing called a calf dressing. The basic gist is each team wants to corral a calf and put underwear on the calf. Whoever does it the quickest, wins $50 each.
Now, this sounds pretty simple and we were pretty confident that we would kick butt and take names. There's only a couple of problems, of course. The calf is more like a small cow, not the small ones you see sucking from its mother's udder.
Plus, the calf doesn't want women's underwear placed on her back legs any more than I would. The first team takes forever. Yes, we are feeling confident.
But then the second team, all women, go out through and take the calf down and put the undies on it in around 27 seconds.
We weren't expecting this. Finally, it is our time. The crowd noise fades away in antipication of a record performance. I have the rope. Swifty is going to wrestle the calf to the floor of the arena covered with dirt and animal excretion. My son will put the underwear on the calf.
As soon as the calf emerges from the chute, Swift starts pulling the calf to the ground. The officials tell us we have to pull the calf past the line first. But there isn't a line! I drag the sucker out until I hear somebody tell us it is okay.
Swifty goes to work, trying to wrestle the calf to the ground. The calf isn't crazy about this, either. Finally, Swifty has the calf in a good headlock and about has the calf down. I plow into the future steak and we put the mighty beast down. We turn it on its back and my son pulls the blue underwear snuggly up the legs and up to the tails.
We look to the official and he says it has to be higher! Calf crap, I want to say, but then help pull the drawers higher. The official says that's good, finally.
Our time is just over 28 seconds. We were reamed. Yes, we got beat by some chicks. But they had help. The only reason we agreed to embarrass ourselves in front of so many people was to win the cash, but then we were denied.
As we left the arena, heads down, nobody came up and offered me a drink or wanted my signature. It was an apt ending to what I feel was the main event. People didn't come to see the barrel racers or bull riders! They came for the calf dressing.
Uh huh. Anyway, the rest of the day was boring. It's time to enjoy Saturday to its fullest.
The little clock next to my laptop shows 7:19. It is actually a little fast. The clock down on the bottom of my monitor shows 7:10. I tend to go by the laptop clock as it is more in line with the other clocks in the house.
Our office is a mess. My wife has been painting the other rooms and whatever didn't get thrown away but wasn't supposed to stay in the rooms, has been added to the office. It is a mess. One of the wife's goals today, as she boldly told me last night, was to get the office cleaned today. She can only do that with my help.
Aargh! So sometime today, I'll have to mow, weedeat and clean the dadgummed office. Not the best way to spend a Saturday, in my opinion.
Last night, the youngest son and I went to the local rodeo. We represented our employer in some silly thing called a calf dressing. The basic gist is each team wants to corral a calf and put underwear on the calf. Whoever does it the quickest, wins $50 each.
Now, this sounds pretty simple and we were pretty confident that we would kick butt and take names. There's only a couple of problems, of course. The calf is more like a small cow, not the small ones you see sucking from its mother's udder.
Plus, the calf doesn't want women's underwear placed on her back legs any more than I would. The first team takes forever. Yes, we are feeling confident.
But then the second team, all women, go out through and take the calf down and put the undies on it in around 27 seconds.
We weren't expecting this. Finally, it is our time. The crowd noise fades away in antipication of a record performance. I have the rope. Swifty is going to wrestle the calf to the floor of the arena covered with dirt and animal excretion. My son will put the underwear on the calf.
As soon as the calf emerges from the chute, Swift starts pulling the calf to the ground. The officials tell us we have to pull the calf past the line first. But there isn't a line! I drag the sucker out until I hear somebody tell us it is okay.
Swifty goes to work, trying to wrestle the calf to the ground. The calf isn't crazy about this, either. Finally, Swifty has the calf in a good headlock and about has the calf down. I plow into the future steak and we put the mighty beast down. We turn it on its back and my son pulls the blue underwear snuggly up the legs and up to the tails.
We look to the official and he says it has to be higher! Calf crap, I want to say, but then help pull the drawers higher. The official says that's good, finally.
Our time is just over 28 seconds. We were reamed. Yes, we got beat by some chicks. But they had help. The only reason we agreed to embarrass ourselves in front of so many people was to win the cash, but then we were denied.
As we left the arena, heads down, nobody came up and offered me a drink or wanted my signature. It was an apt ending to what I feel was the main event. People didn't come to see the barrel racers or bull riders! They came for the calf dressing.
Uh huh. Anyway, the rest of the day was boring. It's time to enjoy Saturday to its fullest.
posted by Craig Hall at
7:08 AM
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