Good Morning, Good Monday, and may I add Good Grief.
It happens to me every time. Every 'spring forward' for me is like a horrible case of jet lag.
I do so much love the extended hours of daylight in the evenings, but OH SWEET MERCY I feel like I was hit by a bus.
A very large bus.
But you're not here for this "woe is me" stuff, now are you? You're here for encouragement, for excitement, for a taste of the Big Time, and I DO NOT PLAN TO DISAPPOINT.
I know there are very few places you can go to experience first hand the 'Living Large' that you get around here, and I am proud to be your guide.
Right off the bat let me apologize. I am so, so, sorry.
I have cheated all of you out of the possibility of ever seeing me dressed in these:
It took all the restraint I could muster not to snatch them up from one of the vendors at the Houston Livestock Show.
I'll just say it for all of us.
"I would have been nothing short of a sight to behold wearing those ruffled, lacy, pink pantaloons."
A SIGHT I tell you.
And with the addition of the kicky lime green boots?
I think Fashion Forward would be an understatement, no?
But it's The Chief's fault. I mean he would never actually give me a 'yay' or 'nay' when I asked his opinion...
Now that I think about it, he wouldn't even acknowledge me at all.
He just wandered off over toward all the farm equipment and tried to look terribly interested in buying a new cattle squeeze shoot. I can't imagine why he didn't want to be over at the booth with me when I tried them on.
His loss, I suppose.
I somehow avoided eating a fried candy bar or anything fried while I was there. But I tell you there was no shortage of opportunity.
The temptation was there
But I think it may have been The Chief's warning look, or maybe when I spotted the handicap sign between the Snickers and the Twinkies that I decided on a Large Diet Coke instead.
Just call me a chicken.
We did have a great time, and especially got a kick out of seeing the "Rodeo and Western" fashion choices of all those people who are not what you'd call 'natural farmers and ranchers'.
But, Bless their Hearts, they were having fun and just a BIG TIME, and who am I to judge?
And of course we loved looking at all the beefed up livestock, and occasionally could not tell the difference between the cattle and the pigs, but that's what it's all about- The Biggest and The Best.
The cows at the farm would not even recognize these robust specimens as some of their own.
It was Llama and Alpaca day.
These two were waiting to have their hair curled on those pink spongy rollers or maybe orange juice cans...
I decided that I think the Llamas look a little haughty and snobbish, while the alpacas could not be cuter...
As a matter of fact, Darn It if The Chief didn't stop me from picking the lock on the pen of this one...
I was planning on bringing it home for Weegie.
I mean, please. Can you imagine the cuteness of the two of them together?
But Mr. Burst my Bubble and Shoot Me Down reminded me that we had driven my car and not his truck, AND OF COURSE that the little 10 year old girl who owned said alpaca was watching me and dragging her very large father over to the pen.
So I've decided.
Next time I go I must leave The Chief at home.
Because, really, just think about it.
If I had been alone, I would have come home wearing those great pantaloons and boots, holding a fried Twinkie in one hand, and a fried Snickers in the other while leading that precious Alpaca back here to The Weegester.
I mean that picture alone would be enough for you to keep clicking over here every day for the rest of your natural life.
(Oh, and Happy Pi Day!)