Bits and pieces from the boot box
Cowgirl Sass & Savvy by Julie Carter
As short, funny stories fly through my life, I latch on to them and save them in a boot box to be shared with the world at some point. Boot boxes are the perfect place to store about everything.
Destination weddings
Missy and Randy planned to get married just as soon as she finished her Finance final at college. They had a "destination wedding" planned. Their destination was the local courthouse.
As they were leaving the courthouse, the deed done, signed and sealed, Randy told Missy she needed to drive, he was tired. New-wife dutiful, she obliged.
About a block away from the courthouse he said to her, "You know, I don't have a big old money tree like your daddy."
Missy slammed on the brakes bringing the pickup to an abrupt halt. "My God Randy, couldn't we have had this conversation about 10 minutes ago? I'm already married to you now."
Women get the last word in every argument. Anything a man says after that is the beginning of a new argument. Missy has proved that to Randy for 38 years now.
Happily ever after
Not long ago a Southern Belle barrel racer was given her Senior Association Gold Card for being 75-plus years old and still competing.
She thanked the committee for their recognition and told them how much she appreciated the gesture.
The association president assured her it was their pleasure. He mentioned how much they enjoyed seeing her and wished they could catch up with her a little more often.
She replied, "Hopefully I'm going to be able to go to more rodeos now, because last week I put my husband in a rest home."
The president nodded and thought, "This lady makes team ropers look human."
Turning blue
Cleverness abounds when it comes to cowboys. Team ropers, contrary to common misconception, are no exception.
Tim had "had it." Every time he went to a roping, someone stole his roping gloves out of the back of his pickup.
Standing before his washing machine, he dumped an entire bundle of new white cotton gloves into the tub along with a box of blue Rit dye.
Quite pleased with himself and this grand idea, he said, "Now I'll know immediately who's stealing my gloves."
Soon after, he called his girlfriend up and asked if she'd like to come along to a roping. He suggested she could sit in the grandstands where she could easily spot those who were wearing blue roping gloves. He'd appreciate her help and the information.
Situating herself with a good viewpoint, it wasn't long before she was nearly rolling off the bleacher seats with uncontrollable laughter. Everybody that rode in the arena was wearing blue roping gloves.
No one would admit to stealing his gloves, even when Tim waved around the empty box and pointed out everyone had on blue gloves.
Nope, no siree, didn't steal them, they told him with conviction. Bought them at the feed store right there locally. Didn't he know? Blue was the new fashion color.
Tim rode away muttering something about "I swear to Jesus, next time I'm dying them pink!"
The blue story wasn't over. Soon after the blue-glove roping, Tim called up his girlfriend in some distress. He didn't know that the blue dye would stay in his washer and he now had all blue shirts, all blue socks and all blue underwear.
In complete sympathy, sort of, she laughed and asked if there was any chance he thought someone was stealing his underwear? She suggested a Saturday night at the local honky tonk, checking to see who else might have blue underwear.
He was not as amused at the idea as she thought he should be.
Priorities
Reminiscing about his rodeo career, a handsome 40ish cowboy stated, "I started riding bareback horses and bulls when I was 15. I rode both until I turned 22. Quit the bulls because I was a little better at the horses. And besides, I didn't like waiting around after the bareback riding to ride a bull at 10 p.m. I had to get to the dance!"
Julie can be reached for comment at jcarter@tularosa.net
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