After our fun day at the Houston Street Fair last Saturday, I was saddle sore and Tom was whatever you call bare back sore. After the bullpen adventure Tom wanted to tear into a big beefy steak, but I thought of Bingo, my Longhorn buddy and I was thinking more about enchiladas. We agreed on a Mexican Seafood Restaurant we love called “Siete Mares”. We had tried just about everything on the menu and wanted to try something different. Our favorite waitress, Elia was there. She said “I think you guys should try the Filetes De Mojarra Borracho ” The translation was Drunken Sheepshead Filets. Sounds yummy, but I couldn’t eat that or Cabrito either. Tom laughed and said that sheepshead was a type of fish. Too late, the image was already in my cabeza. “Let’s try the Ceviche de Pulpo”. I knew what that was, but I thought I will pick around the tentacles and gorge on the chips, salsa and avocado. After two weak margaritas, Tom tried to talk me into taking a bite of pulpo. “Aguafiestas” he laughed, which in this case meant party pooper. I smothered it in pico de gallo and swallowed a spongy tentacle. I was already thinking of what awful thing I would make him eat when I had the chance! I knew the perfect payback… my cooking!!!!!! The things we do for love…..
I never did get a look at the bull riders face. I missed the final buck that landed him on his feet like a cat. That feat was within the realm of Tom’s abilities. He was a pole vaulter and State Champion basketball star in high school. He still rides, runs and does Pilates like the major football players do. He would have stuck to that bull like velcro. But this shot says it all. This was NOT my bronc buster after all. This guy had ridden bulls before. He probably did Pilates, too. I should have slipped him our e-mail address in case he needs knee or hip replacement in the future. He could be Doctor Peyton’s first patient. What a story that would be!!!
I needed my 300mm lense but all I had was a little zoom. I could see the outline of a black and white bull and a fit looking Cowboy getting ready to mount. When the chute finally opened the sun was in my eyes, but I could tell that this bull was a tough draw for a first timer. Could Tom have learned how to ride like this on Sarita? Well, maybe, but our ponies wouldn’t buck to save their life. Pasture ornaments don’t have quite the same motivation as these champions for the Chiropractic profession.
Well all good things must come to an end, even if it only lasts 8 seconds. Soon I would know for sure if my crazy sexy husband had learned to sit a buck. I kind of hoped it was true. I knew of a few rank unbroke, surly, rescue horses that needed to be placed into a “good home only” and I had found the man for the job.
Only this time, it was a Canon Rebel XT. So many bulls, so little time to find Tom and try to change his mind about his first bull ride. I figured he would pick the black and white one that looked like our horse, Sarita, but this was no Missouri Fox Trotter. A cowboy saw my distress and took it upon himself to reassure me. “They jest look bad ass, but I rid me a heifer, them kin be ranker thin any a them bulls. Heck, it’s a whole bunch safer thin gettin’ on a arroplane.” Gr8 I thought, now go away. I stopped listening as he whistled a bad rendition of By The Time I Git To Phoenix through his missing teeth and edged my way closer to the barricade to try to hear what the announcer was saying. There was a break before the next contestant. I found a space in the crowd and edged through an opening where I could at least see a backlit view of the corral. “Get ready, this could be the luckiest ride of the day.” The whooping and hollering started for the green horn taking his first ride with a borrowed Stetson and chaps to boot. That couldn’t be Tom. He would be wearing a helmet. Still, in the shadows of the bucking chute, I wasn’t completely sure. The crowd was so loud, I couldn’t even hear the name and where he was from……
Tom had the Canon 5D with the 70 to 210 zoom. I had the Rebel XT with the 18 to 55 zoom. Wouldn’t he wait so that he could hand me the camera before he got into the chute ? Would he hand the camera to a stranger just to get the shot and surprise me? I doubted it and would he even take the risk of getting that dirt on his white shorts? He wasn’t wearing boots or even socks. Would they let him ride without chaps? Would he just please borrow a helmet and vest? I had a lot to think about and I couldn’t even remember which direction the bucking bulls were. And then I saw the sign…
Stumpy had the highest view and seemed willing to help spot Tom above the crowd.
Luckily, I had a recent picture of him, I laughed to myself. He wasn’t really wearing a fanny pack. He would gladly carry my ten pound purse for me if asked him to, but a fanny pack is a stretch.
At this point, I wasn’t worried. How far away could he get from me in 8 seconds….? Then I remembered his last words when I was still drooling all over Bingo. Now I had something to worry about!
Aguafiestas!!! I said to Tom, which means stick in the mud. Come on and just let me get one picture of you with this guy. “Tator Tot” was Bingo’s buddy and he was taking an afternoon siesta. I had picked Bingo for my steed because he was a pretty color and I liked the name, but Tator Tot was a nice name, too. We were laughing and talking in our version of Spanish that was a foreign tongue to the natives passing by. Forget it, Woman, I’m going to ride me one of them buckin’ bulls” he claimed switching to a Texas twang. Whoa, Cowboy, just because I made it look so easy riding these guys, don’t go and get yourself in agua caliente riding one of those bulls. Besides I had a saddle, unlike the bucking bulls who had names like Firecracker and Widowmaker. I guess I took too much time saying good-bye to my Longhorn friends, because when I looked up, Tom was gone! He was last seen wearing a Hawaiian shirt, shorts with a fanny pack……