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lose the fight

Yesterday we had our first official outing in this little town of Lubbock. Three guesses what we did.

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We didn’t go boating. Jace and the boys did, lucky punks. I think my mom thought it wasn’t true enough to Texas activities. So we got to go mule riding. That’s right—mules.

We drove far away from our little house. I didn’t think people could possibly live any farther out in the country, but I was wrong. And extremely jealous. The houses were huge, beautiful, brick houses sitting on vast squares of land. After driving for a while the pavement turned into dirt and we spent long stretches of the drive speeding down brown earthy roads. The land all had fences holding in horses and occasionally children on four wheelers. Cue jealousy. I want a four wheeler for Christmas. Our directions took us further and further into the deep country, turning left past a nunnery. That’s right—a nunnery. It was a day of firsts for me. We pulled into the wrong house a few times, though in retrospect it shouldn’t have been that hard. Only one house had a decked out cowboy sitting outside on a mule waiting for us to arrive.
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A real cowboy! My life is so cool.

We all extracted ourselves from the car, filled with anticipation. Kenyan, being the most disabled, got to drive to the golf cart around and you better believe she loved that. After spending so much time being hindered by the walker she loved being able to fly past everyone. It was really more entertaining to watch her than anything else. She would speed back and forth across the field turning circles and churning up dirt, leaving clouds of dust and echoes of laughter in her wake.
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It was, by far, the best part of my day. She deserved to be happy, to have that temporary freedom from everything.

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Aria spent a solid thirty seconds trying to keep up with her—and she is one fast little kid.

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But eventually the heat got to her and she gave up, resigning herself into hitchiking with Nick on his little battery operated car.

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Watching my feeble mom mount a donkey in a neck brace was nothing short of hilarious. And she knew how funny she looked, so of course she exaggerated the difficulty of it. I’m sure I didn’t look any less pathetic trying to clamber up with my one good arm and one good leg.
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Between the two of us, I’m sure it was entertaining for everyone. Especially for these two true Texans who probably thought we were moderately disgraceful to their great state.

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The best part about riding the mules was that one of the mules was named Sleazy and you had to “smooch” it to get it to move. Just in case I wasn’t laughing hard enough at my mom trying to get on the donkey, I was rolling listening to her smooch at Sleazy.

Aria was the best smoocher, hands down.
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I was fascinated (probably more than I should have been) with staring at the cowboy boots and the spurs and the little pant thingys that probably have a proper name. I think I probably looked like a creeper sitting on the ground staring at/taking pictures of everyone’s feet, but it was a novelty to me.

We don’t have spurs in South Florida.
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There were, of course, several other reminders of Texas scattered everywhere we went. IMG-20110716-01425IMG-20110716-01433  IMG-20110716-01423

Though I have no true desire to live in Texas, I could adjust to it. It was different, but enjoyable nonetheless.

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As much as Kenyan enjoyed her gold cart she did want to meet the mules. True to big-hearted-people-of-Texas form, our trusty cowboy made sure that happened.
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It was a good day, one where I was sad to go home even though I could already feel the soreness in places I’m not used to being sore. It reminded me of our last day on the boat. It was sort of a celebration of one chapter ending and another one beginning. I’m not sure what that means now, because it’s only clear in hindsight. But it’s a little bit of a recognition that we’re okay—always have been, always will be. Even if we’re sitting in the middle of a dry, brown desert.

That’s right. We’re Texas people now.
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Just kidding. We’re really not. Either way, guns and mules are now welcome in my life.

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Represent.

(Post edit: Chris Brown, the resident cowboy, kindly informed me that they're "donks!!!!!!!!!!!! not mules!!!!!!!!!!" so re-read this post replacing 'mules' with 'donks'. Thanks.)

[Title from Alive by Sherwood]

8 comments:

  1. KT--You beat me to it!! Brid...You guys crack me up and I love you all so much for it! What an inspiration you are!

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  2. Haha, you all look so cute!

    I can picture you all riding off into the sunset with your spurs, and boots, and panty thingys.

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  3. To quote Al Pacino, "Nice Ass". Glad you had fun.

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  4. Looks like a fun time except for the frightening picture of you holding all the guns... I think the Texas heat may be going to your head! Ha ha on the panty thingys!! Now to become a tru-Texan you need to learn a proper "YE-HAW" I can help you if you don't pick it up there (hint: it's all in the HAW!) I am glad that you got to have a fun experience and enjoy some time as a family!

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  5. PS- My bro owns a few 4 wheelers so when you get to UT if you guys want we could go riding... almost as good as owning one right?!

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  6. haha! the "little pant thingys" are called chaps! ;) everyone in nephi has them. I even had some back in the day when I had my own horses..and i think my boots are still floating around somewhere ;p haha. love ya!

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