Why am I not tired?

This weekend was my dad's postponed 60th birthday party and it was a jammie packed two days of awesome. Saturday morning I got in from a bachelorette party in Austin at 3am and slept a glorious 7 hours before waking up to run some errands, that included getting the most incredible eyebrow wax on the planet from a place in NB called Model Nails that has spoiled me from any other nail place ever because they are JUST THAT AWESOME.

Saturday ended on the couch with my dad and stepmom singing through my song book - my dad is a HUGE Doobie Brothers fan, so I learned Black Water for his birthday and he got all excited. Today was awesome (I'm going to try to use this word as much as possible in this post) again for many reasons, the first being that I woke up at 8:30am, wrote in my journal, then promptly hit the snooze button on myself and woke up at 11. Hung around, watched a little So You Think You Can Dance marathon on MTV and then hit the Comal County Fairgrounds (insert "YEE-HAW!" as appropriate) to check out the rodeo because it was, in fact, bull riding day. My favorite day, in case you were wondering.

As I was looking around the grandstands I was trying to figure out how I would blog about the experience (so lame, in case you were wondering if I realized that) and it wasn't so much the uproarious applause for McCain and converse me-and-three-other-people cheering for Obama that struck me. No, the feeling that I had was...contentment. I know, weird, especially considering I was hanging out with my dad doing something we hadn't done since before he'd turned into this really mean guy that I didn't care to know (we've come a long way). I also liked the feeling that nothing had changed since I'd last been to the rodeo, and I knew that when I bring my kids out there, it'll still be the same. When I looked around, I saw a really beautiful, strong tradition filled with simple people who work really hard their whole lives and who are really, genuinely happy. Happy with their faith, their family, and their cowboy hats and pearl snap shirts and the girls who wear sparkley chaps and trick ride.

Beauty in simplicity. Like the feeling I got when holding the 9-week-old son of a friend who I'd known since I was that age. It didn't matter that we hadn't kept in touch over the last few years in the least bit. I love that I'm from a small town kind of place, it makes me appreciate the rest of the world.