October 10th, 2009
I went by myself at 2pm to catch a fiddler's contest. It was grand - the youngest fiddler was 7 years old and the older was 78 years old. I tried to look friendly and dressed appropriately for a fair, but still was unable to strike up a conversation with the locals. Everyone was there with extended family and looked busy. I exaggerate.
At 5pm my friend Liz met up with me. We watched the FFA members show off their sheep and listened as the judge would say the most improbable things about the winning sheep. For dinner, Liz had the largest corn dog I have ever laid eyes upon and I ordered a $4 sausage sandwich. We then walked over to the petting area where the animals looked sad and in dire need of freedom. It was very upsetting, but we took our photos with them anyways.
They don't call it a Texas longhorn for no reason.
We popped our head into where the Miss Rodeo or whatever they call them were all dressed up like dolls and were put on the spot to say something thoughtful to the crowd. It was like loading up your sushi with wasabi, you know it's going to be painful - but you like it. We stopped by the Master Gardeners booth and learned an alternative name for Sorgum: Milo. They gave us some free seeds and I dropped a dollar in their donation jar.
The rodeo came around, and in honor of breast cancer awareness, all the cowboys were dressed in pink. Hot. Did you know that the reason the horses and bulls buck is that their testicles are bound? Well, now I know too. We left early to beat the rush, and gosh I'm glad we did. You have never seen so many trucks in one place as the parking area for a rodeo.
Comal County Fair & Rodeo
September 26th, 2009
Jeanette, Jason, and I rolled in about 3pm. We walked around the gigantic fair grounds and headed for the livestock barn. The petting areas were clearly meant for the kids, but I got right in there and cuddled the baby cows, pet the silly goats, and kissed the baby chicks. Next we went into the plant room and oo-ed and aw-ed over the native plants. Next door was a taxidermy room where I saw a bobcat, a wild hog, and a bunch of other stuffed animals. Next door to that was the room with all the winners of various craft arts from around the county. There was canned foods, pies, vegetables, quilts, photographs, paintings, and more.
I bought my first cowgirl hat for $20. It's fabulous.
We ate fried pickles and fried oreos. I know you will have to try it too to truly know what it is like, but really - don't bother. It was just as weird and wrong as it sounds. Then we ate gyros and listened to some live music. By the time the rodeo came around, I was accidently too intoxicated to enjoy it. I become emotional during the National Anthem and cried.
August 15th, 2009
Jeanette and I drove into town at around 11am, just missed the parade but just in time to see the crowds of folks getting their BBQ from the outdoor pits made by big burly men with two-pronged forks.
The fairgrounds were quite vacant, the fair rides sat lonely and unused, the only action was a group of men throwing washers into a hole. I later learned the game is called Washers. We sat on the benches, watching and trying to figure out the rules. Then we wandered over to where some cowboys were team roping; it's where two guys chase a young cow and one guy lassos him around the horns and the second guy lassos him around the ankles. It was about 105 degrees.
About 6pm folks starting pouring into the fair. The rodeo was to start at 7pm. We finally got to talking with some locals and shared a picnic table with them as the Washers game was finishing up. I made a dumb-ass of myself by walking across the playing field in the middle of the game (thanks a lot Lone Star). By the time we went into the rodeo arena, there were no bleacher spots left. We sat on the ground with the kids, which ended up being awesome.
There were so many families there. There was one rodeo event called Mutton Bustin' in which little kids held on for dear life to some sheep that were sent bolting across the field. Another event had the littlest of all the kids run around barrels on stick horses. It was enough to send an independent, free-spirited gal like me into premature ovulation.
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