I am NOT a gremlin.

Not today, anyway.

My sister Cara is a model. Now, when I say that, I don’t mean “she’s so pretty that she could be a model.” I mean she’s a walk-the-runway, New York Fashion Week, jet off to Milan fashion model. I have said many times that I feel like a gremlin next to her. It isn’t great for a person’s self-esteem when her sister is a supermodel. In reality I don’t think I’m a completely unfortunate-looking human, but next to her I always feel like a frumpy potato.

I’m currently in Miami to help my mom, who is having health issues. Cara decided that we should have a “glam day,” where her modeling people would do our hair and make-up, and we could get some good mother/daughter pictures together. I said okay. I don’t like most photos of myself, but I know photos are definitely Cara’s thing. Plus, I figured her glam squad could make Mom feel super pretty. Maybe it could even be fun.

I woke up this morning feeling a little nervous. Let me tell you a secret: I’ve comforted myself many times with the fact that models, royals, and other celebrities have teams of professionals to make them look good all the time. Even though I feel like a gremlin, I’ve told myself that if I had a team of professionals, I could totally look pretty. Not as pretty as Princess Kate, obviously, but pretty enough that I could look in the mirror and think, “Hey, you don’t look bad at all!” Now was the true test. I was going to have a team of professionals to make me look good. If I still looked like a gremlin after that…what would that say about me?? I texted Rex this morning:

I’m irrationally afraid they’re going to take one look at me and say something like this (in a French accent, because I don’t know why): Zis? Vat am I supposed to do with zis? No no no. I quit. *swoops out of the room.*

At 8:30 AM, the hair and makeup people arrived. I’m not exactly sure what I expected, but I didn’t expect secret agents of the glam world. They were dressed in all black, one was even wearing a suit coat, and they were pulling suitcases full of beauty supplies. These people were not messing around.

I gestured to the dining room table, asking if maybe that could work for our beautification station. I suddenly felt self-conscious about the fact that there aren’t any windows in the dining room for natural light, and the only light came from a dim ceiling fixture. Maybe those weren’t the best conditions for makeup. Luckily, Secret Agent 1 (Miley) said, “Yeah, this will work great.” Then she started unpacking her lights.

Right. Makeup people bring their own giant lights. Perhaps I should have known that.

My mom started with makeup, and I started with hair. Secret Agent 2 (Cathy) picked up my hair and said, “Wow, you have beautiful hair. It’s so thick.” I gave Cara a look that said, “Oh great, they’re already patronizing me.” Cara said, “She’s not lying! Your hair is great. I HAVE TOLD YOU THAT.” Cathy told me that she struggles so often with models who have super thin hair (I guess models have thin everything). She said my hair is full of body and would be fun to style. I cast one more look around to see if I was the brunt of some joke, but she seemed serious. I relaxed a little bit and maybe even smiled.

“Does your hair hold curl?” she asked me.

“No,” I replied. Then I paused. “Well, not for normal people. Maybe you can make it hold a curl.” She seemed to take this as a challenge.

Under the bright lights, trays of makeup, and an army of curling irons, I had fun listening to the glam squad. I wasn’t a part of the conversation at first, as they were talking to Cara about things I didn’t understand. For example, did you know that it’s completely tacky when models use facetune level 5? It’s completely tacky. And does anyone know if Eduardo is going to be at next month’s show in Argentina? Because omg we love Eduardo — he’s so much better than those cranky Germans from New York Fashion Week last year.

I mostly stayed quiet and tried not to move so that I wouldn’t mess anyone up. I snuck a peek at myself in the mirror at one point and saw that my curls were staying. My hair was curling! What kind of witchery was this lady using?

Miley was busy erasing my mom’s wrinkles. I mean, I guess she was covering them with makeup, but it LOOKED like she was erasing them. The makeup didn’t look like makeup – it looked like my mom got a new layer of skin. I noticed that Miley had pulled out a metal palette and was combining different colors of makeup to match my mom’s exact skin tone. She puts the “artist” in “makeup artist.”

After my hair was done and my mom’s makeup was done, we switched. Cara did her own hair and makeup on account of the fact that she’s a model and already knows how to do that. Miley asked me what kind of makeup I wanted, and I wasn’t sure what to say. There are options? I told her that she’s the professional, and I would trust the direction she thought would be best. I asked if she wanted to see my dress to get the tone of my look, but she said no. That doesn’t matter. Oops.

Miley and Cathy were really fun, and I enjoyed talking to them once we talked about things I knew anything about (for example: dogs!). Before I knew it, my make-up was done too. I was officially glammed. Before Miley showed me the mirror, my stomach twisted just a little bit. Here it was – my completed look with the assistance of beauty professionals. WOULD I STILL LOOK LIKE A GREMLIN?

Friends, I did not look like a gremlin.

I do, in fact, look good with the help of beauty professionals. Hooray! I didn’t have long to celebrate this win, because it was time to go meet Guido.

Confession: his name isn’t Guido. This guy is Cara’s favorite photographer, and he has some exotic name that starts with G. I didn’t catch it the first time she told it to me. Therefore I just started throwing out exoctic G names whenever I talked to Cara about him, figuring I’d get it right eventually.

Guillermo met us in the lobby, and we took some pictures. It was pretty windy out, so outside pictures were tricky. Cara had full faith in this guy, saying that Gustavo would not let us down – he’s a photography genius. I haven’t seen any of his pictures yet, but I know I had fun with my mom and Cara. That’s definitely worth something.

I asked Cara if it would be inappropriate for me to ask Guantanamo to take a picture of just me. My author photo is several years old, and it’s standard practice to update those once in a while. What better time for an author photo than when I’m all beautified and working with a professional photographer? She said it wasn’t rude, and Grigorio agreed.

He had me sit on a bench with some greenery in the back. He told me how to sit and turn my head and blah blah blah. Then I smiled, and he said, “No, don’t smile like you’re saying cheese. Say ‘prune.'”

Prune?!

He confirmed that yes, I need to say “prune.” He showed me how, pooching his lips out slightly on a soft p. “Puh-rooon.”

“It makes your lips look pouty,” said Cara encouragingly. I tried it and felt ridiculous. Then they said that I wasn’t “smiling with my eyes” enough, so I widened them a bit, but I’m pretty sure I mostly looked scary.

“Look sultry,” said Gonzalo. “Sensual.”

I admit it – I laughed out loud. I write children’s books! I don’t need a sultry author photo. Cara and Galileo assured me that people never know which pictures will look good, and I needed to try sultry. Eyes big. Lips out. PRUUUUUUNE!

Again, I haven’t seen these pictures yet, but I’m excited to see the sultry author photo. Not because it will ever see the light of day, but because it was really funny while they tried to coach me on how to look good. I’m clearly a novice when it comes to modeling.

For the evening, Cara invited us to go to a special dinner at a downtown Miami restaurant called Issabella’s. She had an invitation there for a free, three-course meal (for herself and for her guests) because of her model status and membership in Beauty Pass. Beauty Pass is an app with a lengthy application process and very strict regulations, taking only models from certain agencies, but if you get approved, you get gobs of free stuff. Free dinners, spa treatments, hair and beauty stuff, etc. The only requirement is that you post about the places giving you free stuff, that way they get their name in front of your thousands of followers (Cara is currently at 15k). I guess marketing budgets in Miami are mostly spent on giving free stuff to influencers now. Cara calls it “pretty privilege.” I don’t think she’s wrong. The world is in a weird place.

While we got ready for our dinner, Cara busted out her suitcase of accessories so we could look “full Miami.” I guess we had to match her brand or whatever. She hooked me up with a Louis Vuitton purse, a Rolex, a Chanel bracelet, a ruby/diamond ring, and Chanel shoes. I’m prettttty sure they were all knockoffs, but no one can tell the difference because Cara gets her knockoffs from some secret undercover guy in Dubai. I can’t tell you his name. That’s mostly because I don’t know what it is, but also probably because he’s top secret. I asked Cara to take a picture of my (her) cool shoes because I love them. She told me to turn my feet, so I turned both feet out. “Not like THAT.” She rolled her eyes. “You look like a duck.” Apparently this is what I was supposed to do:

Upon final inspection, Cara looked pleased. “If all of that designer stuff you’re wearing was real,” she said, “You’d be wearing well over $20k of accessories right now.”

“Ack!” I said, looking at the jewelry as if it was slightly radioactive. “That’s scary. Someone’s gonna murder me for this stuff.”

“No they won’t,” Cara said. “This is Miami.”

I’m not sure what that was supposed to mean. What, there aren’t thieves in Miami? I have seen all the Bad Boys movies starring Will Smith, okay? MIAMI HAS CRIMINALS. And thanks to Mr. Dubai, all my bling looked very real. Oh well. I had to match Cara’s brand. These are the risks people take to be shiny.

Although I had to be dressed in designer bling, Cara had an idea for her own custom jewelry. Ezra (my son, age 2) made a necklace for me to bring to her on this trip, and she loves it. She posted an Instagram poll asking her followers if she should wear the new necklace to dinner. Their choices were, “Yeah, make that a new trend” or “No. Take that off. It’s Miami.” We had to eagerly wait to see if the Ezra Webb original piece would make the cut.

Have you ever been to dinner with an official influencer? Because I had not. I told Cara it felt like “Bring your family to work day” because we got to see behind the scenes of an influencer’s life. First of all, when we checked in for the reservation, the lady at the hostess stand looked for our name, found it, and then said, “Oh! Oh, yes. How exciting. Thank you for coming!” She smiled like we were celebrities gracing her with our presence. She showed us to our table, which was beautiful and right by the window. Cara says this happens a lot, because the restaurant wants to brand themselves as a place where pretty people eat. I had never considered this, but now I’m gonna get all defensive when restaurants seat me in the back. Like, “You know what? Sure I may have had some extra french fries lately, but I’m STILL WINDOW MATERIAL!”

The server came up and told us that we all looked gorgeous (which, um, we did – thank you secret agents of glam). He gave us the special influencer menus. Did you think influencers would get the same menus as all the other mortals? Of course not! They get special fancy menus that will look good in pictures, and they are offered the food that will look best in the ads for the restaurants. It’s a whole thing.

I took out my phone and said that I was going to practice my influencer skills. I snapped a picture of the swanky decor and the saxophone player wandering around. I reviewed the pictures and frowned. “These pictures are kind of dark,” I said. “It’s tough to get good pictures in here.”

“That’s why being an influencer is work,” Cara said. “It’s my job to make this place look good.” She took out her phone and started arranging items from the table into aesthetically pleasing formations. Then she started taking selfies.

While she was clicking away, our free drinks arrived. Mine was a lemon something-or-other. “Am I allowed to take this plant out of the top?” I asked Cara. “Or does that go against some influencer rule?”

She gave me a look. “Influencers are still people,” she said. “The restaurants don’t expect you to drink a plant.” I wasn’t going to drink the foliage, obviously. I just wasn’t sure if I had to drink around it to preserve the look or if I could take it out. I put it on my plate, but in a classy way (I think).

Dinner was delicious. Sorry I can’t take pictures like an official influencer, but you’ll get the idea.

My mom’s face basically sums up the experience:

Upon checking her Instagram poll, Cara discovered that 94% of the people voting told her to wear Ezra’s necklace. Only three people voted no, and I told Cara that she should obviously block them. She has 15,000+ followers. She can spare three. She told me she was going to wear the necklace no matter how the poll turned out, and she put it on. She posted a picture of it with the caption “Low key judging the people who said I shouldn’t wear it.”

Please watch for Ezra Webb necklaces to be trending in the near future.

When dinner ended with scrumptious desserts (orange cake and a cannoli platter), we headed back to the condo. I snapped a picture of my black jumpsuit so you can see the outfit I wore to dinner. It felt very chic.

Cara plopped on the couch, my mom turned on a Hallmark movie, and I was ready to get into some comfy clothes. “Are we done with pictures for the night?” I asked. “Can I go turn back into a pumpkin?”

“Sure,” Cara laughed while editing her dinner photos. “Go be a pumpkin.” So I did.

Now, in my comfy pants and t-shirt, I feel like the pumpkin from Cinderella after midnight broke the fairy godmother’s spell. But I know I have the potential to look magical if the secret agent fairy godmothers ever come around again, and that makes me happy. It’s information I’ll tuck away for when I need it.

I may not be a supermodel, but I’m also not a gremlin. Right now, I’m just me. And for the first time in a while, that feels like enough.

For our last day in Colorado, we decided to have a slow morning. It was wonderful – Ezra played a lot of car church with Rex, which is a good way to start any day. Once I took over, he shared some Cheerios with Baby NightNight and Cowie. Rex and Lauren looked for birds on the deck. Rex was looking for more grouse, and Lauren was looking for the elusive pine siskin that she’s been trying to find all week. They didn’t see either of those, but they still had a lot of fun. It’s hard to NOT have fun when you’re with good friends and enjoying this mountain view.

Ezra and I played outside for a little while, and we made up a new game: collect a bunch of pine cones, and then throw them as hard as you possibly can “like a baseball guy.” We were having so much fun that we decided to make Rex and Lauren play too. We filled up a giant bowl with pine cones and brought them up to the deck. We all took turns throwing like baseball guys. The adults all aimed for the same boulder, which was surprisingly difficult to hit. Ezra mostly tried to get the pine cone over the side of the deck, which was taller than him. One time the pine cone bounced off and hit him in the head. Oops.

After a brunch of bagel sandwiches, we headed off to hike. The trails were beautiful, and the weather was perfect. Rex gave Ezra a ride on the first trail, and Ezra enjoyed patting Rex on the head and saying, “Nice horsey.”

Lauren had a big moment on this hike – she FOUND A PINE SISKIN! Even though I didn’t even know what those were before this trip, I was very excited. It was the holy grail she’d been chasing all week, and there it was – a little gray-brown fluff sitting on a twiggy branch! We didn’t get pictures, but here’s one I snagged from Google along with picture of Lauren making her discovery.

On the second (shorter) trail, Ezra got to walk by himself. Rex picked up a walking stick for him, which made Ezra feel very cool. I got video of him walking with it, which is mostly Ezra haphazardly stabbing the ground every once in a while. Rex and I had walking sticks too, and we tried to show him how to use them, but I’m not sure he really ever got the hang of it.

After hiking, we went back to our place so that Ezra could nap and we could relax. It was chill, it was fun, I finished the book I was reading…good times. As we drove to dinner, I told Rex and Lauren that I was happy we had such a fun, relaxed day. Sure, there weren’t any crazy stories to blog about, but that was kind of nice. I’d rather rest tonight than write a long post, anyway.

Note to self: never say there aren’t any crazy blog stories until the day is fully over.

The place where we ate is called Rigby’s, a diner at the bottom of the mountain where we’re staying. I went inside while Rex tried to find a parking spot, and the place was packed! I asked a waitress about finding a seat. She did a quick look around and said that there weren’t any tables available inside, but there was patio seating available if we wanted it.

“Sure,” I said. “Sounds great.” The patio overlooked a lake and the mountains, and the weather this evening was awesome.

“Just go through the gate,” the waitress told me. “Keep an eye out for the dogs.”

Right. The dogs roaming the restaurant. That feels normal. *nervous face*

I didn’t know it then, but Rigby’s is named after one of the two dogs: Rigby. He is very loved. He is also smart, because he trots around to whichever tables give him food. The waitress informed us that there are no rules against feeding Rigby, and he can eat whatever people want to share. I’m not positive if that’s okay with the health department or the veterinarian, but I didn’t ask questions.

Our table on the patio was lovely. There weren’t too many people outside, and it was peaceful until we met Drunk Cowboy Bryan. He was holding a tall beer, and it clearly wasn’t his first or second one. He looked to be in his mid-forties and was wearing a cowboy hat with a turquoise band and a turquoise stone necklace to match. His eyes were blue, but they didn’t look like they could focus too well in his current state. He walked up and patted Ezra’s head. “Cutie fella,” he said. “I had a son that age once. He had John Deere boots. He’s twenty-one now.”

We politely said that’s nice and didn’t engage in further conversation.

“Yep,” drawled Bryan. “I’ve been living here for twenty years. On New Year’s Eve 1999, I stood on that mountain over there and said, ‘I’m gonna LIVE here,’ and now I do.” He sat down on the patio steps next to our table, which wasn’t a great sign of the possibility that he might leave us alone. He continued with his story, talking about killing rattlesnakes, doing drugs (“I only get STONED, not high”), and whether or not he’ll ever be a grandpa (his daughter doesn’t want kids, and neither does his son, but his son’s GIRLFRIEND wants kids, so his son will probably end up having them). It was…a lot.

Tonight’s band was playing inside the restaurant, and they sounded pretty good. I figured I would go check them out. Also, I needed a break from Drunk Cowboy Bryan. When I went in, I noticed a four-person table in the back had cleared out. Score! I asked the waitress if we could switch to that table, and she said sure.

“Hey guys,” I said, coming back to the patio. “The band sounds pretty good! There’s an open table in there now…want to go in?”

Rex and Lauren readily agreed and started packing up our waters and such. Drunk Cowboy Bryan said, “Here, I’ll help,” and picked up Ezra’s restaurant crayons and coloring page. “I’ll join you in there.”

None of us said anything.

We went to the four person (FOUR PERSON) table and settled in. Drunk Cowboy Bryan didn’t immediately follow us – did he go to the bar? – and I really thought we were home free. Just when I was ready to breathe a sigh of relief, he appeared and pulled up a chair at our table.

We had not invited him.

We had not been trying to have a conversation with him.

We had actively been trying to get OUT of a conversation with him.

Yet he just continued talking about who-knows-what while we waited for our food to arrive.

I realize there aren’t technically any rules against it, but isn’t it a pretty established social convention that you don’t just pull up a chair at someone else’s table at a restaurant?! I can’t imagine doing that. Picture yourself at Olive Garden, and the waitress brings bread sticks to your table right as a random person says, “Hiya! I’ll join you!” It was so weird. It would have felt very Gretchen from Mean Girls to tell him to go away (“You can’t sit with us!”), so we just…listened. We learned about his dog, a poodle and wolfhound mix. We learned why none of his neighbors raise chickens, because all poultry gets eaten by mountain lions. We learned oh so much.

Ezra kept asking me where his crayons went, and I was pretty sure they were either in Drunk Cowboy Bryan’s pocket or possibly he threw them away. I went to find the waitress and said, “Um, hi. Do you have any more crayons? The gentleman sitting with us picked up my son’s crayons, and I’m a little too uncomfortable to ask for them back…” Like what, I’m supposed to accuse a random guy of stealing my toddler’s crayons? Anyway, the waitress brought us new crayons. I feel like Drunk Cowboy Bryan is going to wake up with crayons and a coloring page in his pocket tomorrow morning and wonder what kind of bar night he had.

When the food arrived, I tried to eat as fast as possible so we could escape. Then, I’m not sure when the switch happened, but I realized that even though Drunk Cowboy Bryan was super weird, we were in an awesome restaurant listening to a great bluegrass band. No reason to waste it by wondering what he was going to tell us next. I asked Ezra if he wanted to get a closer look at the band, and he said sure. We walked up and stood to the side of the stage, dancing and enjoying the music. After every song ended, Ezra would say, “More? Another song?” Even Drunk Cowboy Bryan couldn’t ruin an evening where I got to dance to live music with my son.

The band playing tonight was the Gordon Creek Band. I tried to look them up on Spotify, but they’re not there. On first glance, the group kind of looked like three old guys enjoying a bluegrass jam session in a mountain diner. Nothing wrong with that! On closer observation, though, it seems that the Gordon Creek Band has a pretty loyal following. Lots of people in the restaurant were singing along with original songs. Lauren chatted with a woman who walked by wearing a “Gordon Creek Band” shirt (can we note – Lauren did NOT GO SIT AT THIS LADY’S TABLE). The super-fan’s husband made the shirt for her since Gordon Creek doesn’t have their own official merch. She said that she really loves the band, and she can only dream of aging as well as Hot Bob.

I almost spit out my water when I heard this name, but I did not. “Hot Bob” is the lead singer of the band, and he’s seventy-seven. His band mates are Rich and Tommy. Apparently they’re quite the heartthrobs around here. Hot Bob even refers to himself as “Hot Bob.” He’s the guy without a hat. Dreamy.

Back at the table, Drunk Cowboy Bryan confirmed that this band is “really good,” and he would know because he comes here every Saturday night. He sees all the bands. I don’t know what I expected of our last night out, but this was memorable if nothing else! Rex says I absolutely should have bought a Gordon Creek Band CD for $10, but who has a CD player anymore? Perhaps the band has a Facebook page or a MySpace or something. I shall investigate.

It’s time to wrap up this post – we leave bright and early tomorrow to head back East. Hopefully the drive home will be completely uneventful, so I plan for this to be my final post of this trip. Thanks so much for coming along with us. We had a fantastic time, and I hope you enjoyed our stories. In the words of Lauren, who has been using “the cowboy way to say goodbye” that she made up on this trip, toodle-oo buckaroo!

I was quite proud of myself: I found the perfect souvenir for Ezra. Since I’ve been so great about decluttering this year, I didn’t want to buy anything that felt weird, junky, or took up any space at all. I also didn’t want it to be expensive, because a two year old doesn’t need an expensive souvenir. I’m telling you – I did everything right. I even had Rex stay in the play area with Ezra while I popped into the gift shop so that Ezra wouldn’t fall in love with something I didn’t want to buy.

As soon as I saw the souvenir, I knew it was the one: a gold sheriff’s badge! It said “Cheyenne Frontier Days” on it, it was only $2.50, and it was definitely small enough to either fit in a memory box if Ezra loved it or cheap enough that I could throw it away next year without feeling crummy. I bought it, feeling quite good about the purchase.

Can someone explain to me why – WHY – Ezra ended up coming home with this HOT PINK COW as his souvenir?! How did everything fall apart so horribly?

The day started off great. The drive into Cheyenne was beautiful, and Ezra seemed excited to go back to the festival. He asked if we were going to see real cowboys again.

Me: Yes, we will! That will be so fun. Are you excited to see more real cowboys?

Ezra: No.

Oh, umm…well, that was too bad. I know Ezra wasn’t a fan of the rodeo yesterday, but this was a whole brand-new day! Plus, we drove allllllll the way out here to see the rodeo, so we wanted to watch the semi-finals. I made a contingency plan for if Ezra was upset by it. We had tickets to the Old West Museum for the morning, which is walking distance from the arena, and they have a great play area. I would go back to the museum with Ezra if he was too upset by the rodeo.

I won’t go on about all the history I learned at the museum (even though it was super cool!). There was an art show in the museum gallery which had amaaaaaazing pieces. If only I’d brought a spare $10,000 in my wallet, I could have bought one. The best part of the museum, though, was watching Ezra play in the toddler area with all the cowboy stuff. Here he is “making coffee” and riding on a real saddle.

When it was almost time to go to the rodeo, Lauren and I went to the gift shop to look for souvenirs while Ezra colored with Rex. I bought the aforementioned sheriff badge, and Lauren found great gifts for her nephews and her niece. We went back, collected Ezra and Rex, and it was time to go!

There was a familiar buzz of excitement as we entered the rodeo arena. The fans all looked great. Not only is Frontier Days awesome because of the obvious reasons, but I hadn’t realized how fun the fashion aspect of it would be. Everyone comes dressed in their Western best. It’s all cowboy hats, boots, bandanas, turquoise…so fun. I was a little nervous that perhaps my $3 garage sale overall dress and Amazon cowboy hat weren’t going to pass muster with the cool kids.

Then I saw a guy wearing a Turks and Caicos shirt. Ummm…Turks and Caicos? Who’s this joker? Who let him into the rodeo? I mean, I guess it’s still the western hemisphere. I just hadn’t realized what a strict unwritten dress code existed until I saw the Turks and Caicos guy standing out like someone wearing pajamas at a wedding.

As soon as we got to our seats, Ezra looked a little nervous and said, “Ezra go Daddy’s truck? Go Daddy’s truck??” He didn’t want to watch the real cowboys, and his lower lip began to tremble. No events had even started yet. I asked Lauren if I could borrow the gift she got for her niece: a pink stuffed cow. I thought maybe giving that a hug would help Ezra. Sure enough, he gave it a nice squeeze and seemed to calm down a bit.

The first event of the day was bareback bronco riding, which honestly is the most alarming-looking of all the events. The cowboys look like ragdolls being thrown around, and it doesn’t look comfortable at all. Lauren had the idea to go get some food during that section (she says it even makes her kind of uncomfortable), so Lauren, Ezra, and I left the arena to go to the carnival food court. There were zillions of food trucks, so we had lots of options for what we wanted to eat.

Lauren went to get some tacos, and Ezra and I went to a truck that sold pizza and subs. Ezra wanted a slice of pizza, and I got a sub. While I waited for them to make my sub, I sat next to Ezra and the pink cow. “Mooooooo,” Ezra said for it. “Mooo moo mooooo.”

We got our food and headed to the picnic table. Ezra informed me that the pink cow is named “Cowie,” and she would like some of Ezra’s pizza. He pretended to give her some bites, and I knew we were in trouble. “I think they’re bonding,” Lauren said. “You might have to take Cowie home.”

When we went back to our seats, Ezra still seemed nervous. “Wow!” Cowie said to Ezra (with a little help from me). “We get to see cowboys? I love cowboys, especially since I’m a cow. Mooooo! Hooray!” The next cowboy came out for the calf roping, and that doesn’t look so dangerous. Cowie cheered loudly for the cowboy. Ezra hugged her tightly. A couple minutes later, Ezra held Cowie out to Lauren and made it say, “I’m a cow! I love cowboys!”

Cowie had single-handedly turned around the rodeo experience for Ezra. For the rest of the show, he was fine. He cheered for the cowboys with Cowie. He fished the hairbrush out of my backpack and used it to brush Cowie. When he got lemonade, he shared it with Cowie. When he fell asleep in Rex’s lap, he was snuggling Cowie. Cowie was the MVP of the rodeo.

Here are some of Rex’s fabulous pictures from the rodeo semi-finals!

We stopped by the museum after the rodeo so I could replace Lauren’s cow. They didn’t have any more pink ones, so Lauren got a gray one. She assured me that Kenzie (age 1) won’t care at all if the cow is pink or gray. When Rex heard about this, he asked why Ezra couldn’t have the gray one. Ummm…because the gray one isn’t Cowie, obviously. That’s just some random gray cow. There’s only one Cowie, and she has been adopted by Ezra.

When we got back to the car, Cowie got to meet Baby NightNight. They, predictably, became the best of friends. I’m not sure what they were talking about, but there was a LOT of laughing in weird Baby NightNight and Cowie voices. Lauren sent me these pictures of them chatting and then all looking out the window together, searching for turbines.

Baby NightNight and Cowie couldn’t come in the restaurant for dinner, but at least they wouldn’t be lonely in the car since they had each other. We went to Forks, a restaurant that opened in 1875.

Once we got to our seats, I almost said, “I love the Old West theme in here.” Except, um, it’s an old restaurant in the mountains of Colorado – that’s no theme. It’s just how it really is. I don’t know of many (any) restaurants in Kalamazoo that decorate with shotguns on the wall or have those swinging bar doors you see in old movies, but this place does. While we waited for our food, Rex made a joke about picking noses that started way too much nose-picking from Ezra. Then Ezra tried to pick my nose, and Lauren’s nose, and things were getting a bit out of hand. Good thing the food arrived!

After a delicious dinner, we headed back to the RCM. We were too tired to do any major activities, so we had a Wild Kratts marathon. By “marathon,” I mean two episodes, but that’s a lot compared to what Ezra’s used to. We learned about wild ponies and white-tailed deer, which was pretty great.

It’s hard to believe that tomorrow is our last day of vacation – it’s gone by so fast! After two jam-packed days in Cheyenne, hopefully we’ll all get some good rest tonight. I’m sure Ezra will, since he has his trusty Cowie by his side.

Turns out that Ezra hates rodeos.

I really thought he’d like them, since he’s been talking for weeks about seeing real cowboys, and we’ve been reading books about cowboys, and Ezra adores his cowboy boots. Alas. I was incorrect.

When we settled into our seats at the rodeo, the bareback bronco event was just getting started. The first horse sprang out of the chute and started bucking around, trying to knock off his rider. Ezra screamed like he was watching something horrific, then turned and said with tears in his eyes, “He’s falling off! He’s falling off!” He looked so alarmed that this man might be falling off the horse, and why wasn’t anyone doing anything?!

I never considered rodeos to be violent, but perhaps I should have. Ezra is the type of kid who, if I’m napping on the couch, will come put a blanket on me on the off chance that perhaps I am cold. He’s very, VERY caring. The thought that perhaps a man could fall off his horse, and we weren’t even going to be there to kiss it better, was disturbing. I felt pretty horrible, like I brought him to watch gladiators or something. I found myself hoping that this wouldn’t scar him for life. “It’s okay, Ezra,” I said. “The guys mostly don’t fall off the horse, and if they do they’re still okay! They ride these horses for fun. Like a game.” Ezra stopped sniffling long enough to glare at me as if to say, “You, mother, are LYING.”

I thought we were screwed, and maybe I’d have to bow out of the rodeo not even ten minutes into it. I cuddled Ezra close and tried to make sure he didn’t watch the bucking broncos (there were plenty of other horses and riders to watch in between those rides). I tried to put on his ear muffs to drown out the crowd and rodeo noises, but he was having none of that either. He was not having a good time.

Rex, however, loves the rodeo. He was cheering, took some awesome pictures, and was clearly having fun. That really helped Ezra. If Daddy wasn’t nervous, maybe it wasn’t so bad! Here are a couple of Rex’s pictures, and he has tons more if you ever want to see fantastic photos of rodeo events.

Rex got Ezra to calm down enough to put his ear muffs on. Then he passed him back to me, where Ezra did enjoy events such as barrel racing where horses just ran super fast, and it didn’t appear that anyone could get hurt. I still felt like a really crappy mom. He eventually fell asleep on me, so obviously he was able to chill out enough to trust that everyone would be okay.

After the rodeo, Ezra decided to chat with a group of rodeo beauty queens. They said he was the cutest cowboy they’d seen all day. Also, as we were leaving, we saw the row of the beauty queens’ trucks. Apparently if you’re Miss Rodeo for your state, you get a really cool truck. Except Miss Kansas, who had some old SUV from like 2001. I didn’t take a picture of that one, but I should have. Bummer, Miss Kansas.

After the rodeo, we stopped at McDonald’s. Ezra ate a ton of food, and he loved dipping everything in his barbeque sauce. Lauren asked if she could have one of his apple slices, and Ezra said okay. He started to hand one to her, but then took it back and dipped it in his barbeque sauce. “Sauce!” he said proudly, handing the apple to Lauren.

“Oh, no thanks,” she said. “I kind of wanted an apple without sauce.”

“SAUCE!” Ezra insisted, thrusting the apple towards her again. It was like he was trying to say, “I won’t even let you have a lame apple that doesn’t have sauce on it. You will love this.” Lauren ate the barbeque apple, which shows that she’s a real team player. She loved it and said it was totally delicious.

Just kidding. She didn’t love it. It was gross.

Other than the quasi-traumatizing rodeo, Ezra had a great time today. Some highlights included the parade in the morning and the Native American dances. At the parade, I liked the part where some cowgirls had painted their horses’ hooves iridescent colors, as if the horses got pedicures. They were very sparkly in the sun, which is tough to capture in a picture. Can I do that on Penny’s toes? Hmmm. The old carriages were really fabulous, too. Ezra loves parades, so he was a happy camper. A highlight for me was definitely when Ezra finally learned how to tip his hat and say, “Howdy.” I have to remember to video that tomorrow. He was friendly with the people walking in the parade, sometimes even yelling out, “HOW’S YOUR DAY GOING?” because we’ve told him that’s a friendly thing to say to people. I suppose we should work on context.

We also visited the Indian village and saw dances from some different tribes. Ezra spent entirely too much time picking out the perfect bracelet for his favorite babysitter Elliana, but he finally settled on the right one. It’s beaded in a flower pattern, so hopefully she likes it. Otherwise we’ll have to come all the way back here and get the other one Ezra thought she might like.

We didn’t get to explore the fairgrounds too much today, so we’re planning to go back tomorrow. Everyone kept saying, “Happy Frontier Days!” to each other like this is Christmas of Cheyenne, which maybe it is. It has a very festive and fun atmosphere. Now we’re all tired out, though, and it’s time to get some shut-eye before the party continues tomorrow. Goodnight, y’all!

Once the sun started streaming in the windows around 6:00 this morning, Ezra was ready for the day. His pack n’ play is next to the sliding doors that overlook the mountains, and he woke me up by saying, “Mom! Mom! Look at the mountains!”

(Why is it never “Dad! Dad!”? Rex is right there too…)

Anyway, I groggily sat up and looked at the sunrise over the mountains. “That’s beautiful,” I replied.

Ezra looked in awe at the scenery and said, “Can I chew on them?”

“What?” I thought about waking up enough to have a conversation about what he was thinking, but I was too tired. “No. You can’t chew on them. Go back to sleep.” Then I went back to sleep. Now I’m kind of wondering how he planned to go chew on them, and I may ask him tomorrow if he mentions it again.

Ezra didn’t want to go back to sleep. Rex was a total star and got up with him to go play car church so I could get a little more shut-eye. When I got up, I joined Rex, Lauren, and Ezra on the porch. Rex and Lauren were looking for birds, and Ezra was begging to use the binoculars. “Where’s his toy stroller?” I asked. Rex had forgotten about my brilliant plan.

Back when we were packing the truck before coming on this trip, Rex questioned whether or not we really needed Ezra’s toy stroller. I said that yes, we did, because our AirBnB has a beautiful wrap-around porch. The adults would want to sit outside drinking coffee/tea and watching wildlife, but Ezra’s not a “sit still” kind of guy. With a stroller, he could take Baby NightNight on rides around the porch for ages, which is a safe and minimally obnoxious activity. At the time, Rex seemed very skeptical. Now, though, I felt vindicated. We needed the stroller for such a time as this!

Once we got the stroller out, it worked like a charm. Ezra gave Baby NightNight rides around the massive porch, and we got to watch wildlife and chat. Every once in a while I do have a good idea, so I had to put this stroller diversion idea on the internet for it to be recorded for posterity.

Rex took some phenomenal pictures of birds. Lauren has an app that tells her which bird songs we were hearing, so she would tell us which species were lurking in the trees around our place. It’s a mostly accurate app, but at one point it said it detected a wild turkey. Confused, she played back the sound. It was Ezra using his high-pitched Baby NightNight voice to pretend Baby NightNight was talking. It really is quite screechy and kind of sounds like a female wild turkey, now that I think about it. Here are a couple of bird pics (I’m sure Rex will have more when he gets to edit them all).

Eventually, we came inside and had some waffles for breakfast. As we hung out in the living room after that, Rex looked out the window and said, “Hey Lauren, do you know what this bird is? It’s sitting under that tree. I can’t quite see it…” I walked over, curious to see the bird. All of a sudden, Rex gasped in shock – LOUDLY – and grabbed my arm tighter than a blood pressure cuff. His voice dropped to an awed whisper. “That is a dusky grouse.” He sprinted for the back bedroom to grab his camera, calling over his shoulder for Lauren and I to “Keep eyes on that bird!”

I consider myself more grouse-literate than most of the American population, but I had never heard of a dusky grouse. We don’t have them in Michigan. I’m not sure there is a person on the planet who would have been more excited to see a dusky grouse than Rex. That got everyone else excited too, and Lauren and I took turns watching through the binoculars while Rex snapped pictures. The grouse clearly didn’t understand that Rex would rather meet him than meet Taylor Swift (and Rex was fangirling accordingly), so the grouse didn’t act like anything interesting was going on. He poked around, hopping on rocks and walking around trees, and let Rex get zillions of pictures. One of my favorites is the one where the grouse was walking next to an old skull.

Rex wouldn’t leave his camera, and Ezra couldn’t push Baby NightNight around on the deck anymore because it would be too loud, so I took Ezra out to the opposite side of the house so Baby NightNight could “find some nature.” Ezra was very into this game, and Baby NightNight ended up with a stroller full of pine cones, rocks, and flowers.

After such an exciting morning, we were all ready for a little quiet time. Rex decided to use the sauna, Lauren took a nap, Ezra took a nap (well, he was supposed to), and I cozied up in that egg chair and watched a thunderstorm roll in over the mountains while reading about women homesteaders. Then I tried to get Ezra to fall back asleep and fell asleep myself, which wasn’t as efficient as I’d hoped.

Once the whole group was finally awake again, we decided that perhaps we should venture away from our place and go out to dinner. I’d researched a place that looked pretty good, and it was only a half hour away (that is very close considering how far away we are from any cities or towns). It was a tiny place near a lake, and we sat on the patio. Lauren struck up a conversation with some people, and they inquired as to how we found out about the place. Lauren gave some appropriately vague answer, but I wanted to say, “Listen, I love to plan vacations. If there is any hidden gem within an hour of where I am staying, I WILL FIND IT.” The guy was a local who said he and his wife love that tiny place, and they always get a little jumpy when tourists find it because they don’t want it to get too popular.

It felt like a modern, semi-polite version of “This town ain’t big enough for the two of us.” Lauren assured him that we won’t tell anyone about it and will keep the place super top secret, so I guess I shouldn’t say where it is. If you ever find yourself in the middle of nowhere in Colorado, though, and you eat dinner in the building with this fish on the side, you found the right place.

Ezra, who had barely any nap at all today, was getting loopy. We started playing this non-game game that goes like this: Someone says, “Who is the buckeroo?” and then Ezra picks who the buckaroo is. “DADDY is the buckaroo!” or “LAUREN is the buckaroo!” etc. And then he would laugh hysterically like this was the best game ever invented. It was kinda fun until the time I asked him who the buckaroo is, and he turned to some random man who happened to be walking by our table, pointed at him, and said, “YOU’RE the buckaroo!” The man didn’t think it was as funny as Ezra did.

On our way back from dinner, we stopped at this trading post. After all, it advertised groceries, general merchandise, gifts, tackle…and video rentals. Video rentals?! When was the last time you rented a video? Did they also sell a time machine so I could go back to 1996 and watch the video I rented?

While traveling the winding roads back to our RCM, Ezra picked up one of his books and said, “Lauren read this?” It was almost dusk, and all of us were looking for wildlife (we’d already seen a prairie dog and several deer, including bucks).

“No, Ezra,” Lauren said. “I want to look out the window right now.”

“It’s okay,” I said to Ezra. “I’ll play you a book on Spotify.” I tried pretty hard to get that to play, but we had no service at all.

“How about I make up a story?” said Lauren. “Then I can keep looking out the window. Okay. Once upon a time, there was a lady named…Lady Moon.” We had just passed the “Lady Moon” trailhead. Lauren continued the story, which was about Lady Moon and her cow named Pookie. Lady Moon and Pookie traveled to the lake every day to go fishing, where Pookie would fish with her tongue and tail. Rex and I looked at each other, confused, and asked for logistics on how this works. “She’s magical,” Lauren said. “Like, Pookie’s hooves are sparkly.” This explained nothing, but she refused to explain it further even though she allegedly had it figured out in her head (whatever). Finally, after some debate about Pookie, Lauren decided to end the story and said she wouldn’t be dropping any more episodes until tomorrow.

The car was quiet for a few seconds, then Ezra said, “Lauren read this?” and handed her his book as if the last fifteen minutes hadn’t happened at all.

Tomorrow is the big day – we’re off to the rodeo! At dinner tonight, we tried to teach Ezra how to say “Howdy” and tip his hat, but so far he mostly pulls his hat over his face and forgets to bring it up again. Then he can’t see, so he forgets to say howdy…we’re working on it. At least he’s got those light up boots that steal the show wherever we go. Maybe people won’t even notice his face is completely covered by his hat.

See you tomorrow, Buckaroos!

We’re HEEEEEEEERE!

After two days of driving (with admittedly a lot of stops), we are finally tucked up in the mountains at our beautiful AirBnB. I’m glad Ezra is okay with this place. When we were almost here, we asked him what he wanted our vacation house to be like. He immediately said, “BLACK!” It is not black. But it’s brown, which was close enough.

Ezra was a total champ for the whole trip. I brought him lots of toys, but he really liked staring out the window and telling us what he saw. That was mostly fun except when we were driving through Iowa and came across a bunch of giant white wind turbines. Ezra had never seen a wind turbine, and he thought they were very cool. This was his narration:

There’s one!

There’s another one!

Out Lauren’s window! There’s one!

Out Ezra’s window! Another one! And ANOTHER one!

Do you know how many wind turbines are in Iowa? I don’t. I do know that there are way too many.

When he wasn’t telling us about the scenery, he liked to read books or take naps. We are clearly related.

I did my fair share of reading and napping, too. I’ve been mostly reading books about Western history, and I shared fun facts with the rest of the group as I read them. At one lunch stop, though, I took advantage of a lull in the conversation and said, “And let me tell you another crazy thing about the Transcontinental Railroad…” Then I heard myself saying this, and I realized I was probably doing the wind turbine thing but with random Old West facts. Oops.

At our meal stops, we sometimes found playgrounds nearby. My sister-in-law told me about this fabulous app that finds playgrounds near you, so when we were at an exit we’d check if any were close enough. Ezra loved them, he got some wiggles out, and it was a win for everyone. This one even had a zipline!

For dinner, we went to Pizza Ranch. It’s a pizza buffet, and we ate our money’s worth for sure. We did a communal fist bump at the end to celebrate.

After dinner, it was time to get a place to stay for the night. Rex, Lauren, and I wanted to stay in a hotel, but Ezra was pretty insistent that he wanted to sleep at Wal-Mart. Unfortunately for him, he was outvoted. We set up in our hotel, and Rex was asleep almost immediately. He had been running on less than three hours of sleep for the whole day, so I didn’t blame him one bit. Lauren fell asleep quickly, too. Then it was just Ezra and me. I told him to go to sleep in his pack ‘n play and assured him I would be sleeping in the bed right next to his crib. I closed my eyes to demonstrate good sleeping technique. He wanted to keep talking.

“Mommy, was your day so awesome? My day was SO fun. Can I have a sip of water? Can we go in Daddy’s truck again tomorrow? Can Miss Lauren go with us? Can Daddy go with us?”

I pretended to sleep, which eventually turned into real sleep, but who knows how long Ezra was asking me questions.

The next day, we enjoyed a great breakfast before hitting the road again. We talked about a slight detour to try to find a ghost town. I thought I’d seen one on the map, but we have discovered that I am extraordinarily bad at maps. I’m not even sure how. They’re on my phone, which should be easy. When my “current location” showed that I was somewhere in Cambodia, though, I decided maybe Lauren and Rex should handle navigation.

It was another beautiful day to drive. When Lauren and Ezra were asleep in the back, Rex and I had a heart to heart.

Rex: I don’t see why people talk badly about this part of the country.

Me: Seriously. It’s beautiful.

Rex: Why would you fly over this? There’s so much to see.

Me: I know. Totally agree.

Rex: I could live here.

Me: Mmmkay DON’T GET CRAZY.

I may not be ready to up and move to the Heartland, but it really does have a personality. There are large, homemade plywood signs that say things such as “This is Trump Country” or “Thank God for Truck Drivers.” There are prairie wind mills and farms dotting the landscape. It was just us, the wide open road, and a lot of corn, with no concerns in sight until Lauren had to go to the bathroom.

Through that particular part of Nebraska, there weren’t many stops. When we finally found a place to go, I said I would be happy to wait in the car because, well, look at it. Lauren and Rex went in.

Lauren came back out a while later and said, “You’ve gotta go in there. Rex loves it.” Curiosity got the best of me. When I walked in, Rex had the biggest smile on his face. “This place is the best,” he said, like we were at Disney World or something. It did have a very Rex-ish calendar, and the bathrooms were pretty old school.

My favorite part of the whole place was the mug wall.

I asked about it, and the lady at the cash register told me the story. “That group of old guys,” she said, surreptitiously pointing to a couple tables in the corner of the store, “come here for coffee every morning. Then they come back around 4:00 for more coffee. They leave their mugs here and just pay for refills. When one of their group dies, they leave that person’s mug up as a memorial.”

Well THAT is cool. I immediately added that to my list of “stuff to put in a book one day.”

We drove for a while more after that. Lauren taught Baby NightNight how to knit during our trip, which made Ezra very happy. Considering the fact that Baby NightNight has no arms, he sure gets to do a lot of stuff.

Eventually, we made it to the ghost town. Hooray! My map of ghost towns WAS right, even if I was apparently unable to read it.

There were three buildings left in this ghost town: a tavern, a gas station, and the founder’s house. At its peak in the 1920’s, a few hundred people lived there. They had multiple churches, a school, forty-four cabins, the works. It’s mostly gone now, lost to the Western wind.

It was fun to see what was left behind. A lonely chimney sticks up in the middle of the old tavern, and the house still has an ancient stove and what looks like a child’s bed. There was even some flooring left, so we could see how it was decorated back in the day. I wanted to collect all the stories from the people who lived there, and I was a bit sad that I could not. At least I was honoring the existence of their town by visiting it. A lonely sign beckons any other travelers who might want to stop by.

I asked Ezra if it would be okay if we stay in that building for our vacation house, and he very politely said no. I told him we’d keep driving and try to find somewhere else. Here he is on some old cement near the town where flowers have started reclaiming the ground (*cue some cheesy metaphor about beauty rising from brokenness*).

After one more stop for some groceries, it was full speed ahead to our destination. The last three miles of the trip were winding dirt roads up through the mountains, so I had high hopes that this place would be awesome. We saw several mule deer while driving that road, which Rex found particularly exciting.

If you read my last post, you know I’ve nicknamed our place the RCM (rustic-chic mansion). It has absolutely lived up to its name. The place is huge, everything is beautiful, and it looks even BETTER than it did in the pictures! Rex snapped a picture of the view from our balcony before it got dark.

We had grand plans of going to the Red Feather Lakes area for some hiking tomorrow, and maybe we still will, but we’ve all agreed that we could absolutely hang out here all day soaking in the views, watching deer, and enjoying this richie-rich feeling. There’s even a sauna in this place. Are you supposed to use a sauna in the summer? I’m not sure. I don’t even particularly like saunas. But if I’m the kind of person who lives in a house with a sauna (which I am this week!), then maybe I should use it.

Time to do a little more reading — you never know when Lauren and Rex might want to know more about the Transcontinental Railroad — and then I’m off to bed in my plushy, king-size bed in our suite.

We’re thankful for safe travels, and we’re excited to see what tomorrow holds. 🙂

Last winter, Rex and I were sitting on our brown living room couch and dreaming about summer. It’s what you do when it’s freezing outside. We discussed that it would be fun to go on a family vacation, especially now that Ezra is old enough to DO stuff. I’m the vacation planner in the family, so I admit vacations sometimes lean towards things I love (did Rex lie in bed as a child and dream of cycling Ireland? Probably not). I make sure to include plans that he will really enjoy, but I don’t think I’ve ever said: “This summer’s vacation budget is completely yours. What do YOU want to do with it?” Mostly I haven’t done this because I know the answer would be, “Let’s stay home for the entire summer, spend the budget on more hunting equipment, and take a day trip up North to scout for grouse.”

Still, it was winter, and maybe I was drunk on Christmas magic or whatever, but I threw the question out there: what was Rex’s choice for a family vacation?

“I don’t know,” he said, thinking. “It could be fun to go out West, like maybe to a rodeo or something.”

“I’VE GOT IT!” I said, the vacation wheels in my brain spinning into high gear. “We’ll go to Cheyenne Frontier Days.”

Rex raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“Cheyenne Frontier Days! It’s like, the biggest rodeo in the country. It’s massive. It’s a giant festival in Wyoming. This is perfect. We’re going.” What I didn’t say was that I’d been to Cheyenne Frontier Days a looooooooooooooooong time ago, probably when I was in middle school. While I was there, I had so much fun that I wanted to remember it forever. I bought a hideous green t-shirt as a souvenir. It was the color of curdled pea soup, and the logo was too dark to really show up, but that’s why it was in the bargain bin. It’s what I could afford as a preteen, so I bought it. I think I even wore it once or twice before I got too embarrassed to be walking around looking like curdled pea soup.

ANYway, I kept it for the next 20+ years, because why would I get rid of a shirt that represented such a special experience?! (you can read about the beginning of my decluttering journey here…). When I was going through shirts in the basement, I found that one and said to myself, “Christine. You have hated this shirt for over twenty years. Yes, the rodeo was really fun, but this shirt continues to be hideous. You can let it go.”

So I got rid of it, but guess what happened when I got rid of it? I remembered how fun Frontier Days was. Which meant that when Rex wanted to go to a rodeo, I was all set with the perfect solution. Would I have remembered anyway? Maybe. But MAYBE NOT. Good thing I kept that shirt for so long. *nervous laugh*

Anyway, I’ll skip over all the boring bits where we considered different places and priced out different options. The point is, we settled on Frontier Days. Yippeee! Ezra asks multiple times a day if it’s true that he’s going to see REAL cowboys. Yep, on horses and everything! Well, we hope they stay on their horses, but you never really know at a rodeo.

The lodgings in Cheyenne were quite expensive. It makes sense, as this is a huge festival (500,000+ people last year!). Even booking months in advance, the pickings were slim. Our budget could get us a 1-ish bedroom apartment in town, and a lot of them looked a little sketchy. It was the bargain bin of AirBnB, if you will. Fearing a curdled pea soup type of AirBnB, I widened my search. Then I widened it a little more.

If you recall middle school geography, you might remember that Cheyenne, Wyoming is very close to the border of Colorado. Both of those states are home to the Rocky Mountains, and the Rocky Mountains are home to some of the best hiking in the country. We’re a nature-y family, so we figured that if we got a cabin within an hour of Cheyenne, we could spend some days hiking and a couple days driving in for the festival. I discovered a place near the border in Colorado, and it was love at first sight. I can’t call it a cabin, because that connotes a cozy little log place. It’s not even a house, really…not for a normal person like me. It’s grander than a house. I think of it as a rustic-chic mansion, or RCM.

This RCM is pretty much in the middle of nowhere. It’s a twenty minute drive to the nearest town and a forty minute drive to the nearest city. It’s in Livermore, which is officially an “unincorporated community.” It didn’t even hit “village” status. In researching this destination, I read online that the community has a small park with a totem pole that may or may not be cursed, and it also has a post office that’s been running since 1871, when loggers used to use to send letters back home. There’s also a diner called “Forks” that is open until 7:00 PM on most nights, but on Friday and Saturday they stay open late (8:00 PM). When that’s the sum total of things that TripAdvisor can find to advertise about a location, you can be sure it’s pretty remote. That’s my hunch about why the RCM wasn’t as expensive as I thought it would be when I first saw the pictures – who wants to stay in a fancy place when it’s close to nothing at all?

Us! We do!

This was the perfect solution – we can go to the festival and be surrounded by thousands of people and party party party, and then we can retreat away from Cheyenne and say, “NO MORE PEOPLE! If you need me, I’ll be over here by this sketchy totem pole reading my book in silence.” I can’t wait.

Ever since we’ve booked this RCM, I periodically look at the AirBnB pictures, read any new reviews, and dream about how lovely it will be. If I’m feeling down, I sometimes think, “Okay, but in July…I’ll be living in this RCM like some kind of logging heiress!” *star-eyed emoji* This week, I sent the host a very strange e-mail inquiring about chairs. I almost didn’t send it on account of not wanting to seem like a crazy person, but I needed to know:

This is the strangest question…but is the egg chair still on the porch and the comfy chair in the reading nook by the teal mountain art still there? I love to read, and I’ve been so looking forward to those comfy reading spots! It’s no problem if they’re not there (I realize things change after pictures are taken), but then I need to stop looking forward to them now so I’m not disappointed when I get there.

Like, I needed to be EMOTIONALLY PREPARED if my reading spots were gone. I have issues.

Luckily, the host responded quickly:

Yes! The cushioned egg chair is still on the 3rd level patio and the library chair is just as it is in the picture. I love reading and relaxing up there too! When we work remotely at Peak Retreat that’s often where I’m working!

So yes, we’re going hiking and to the rodeo and it’s going to be amazing…but also I will get to read in THESE CHAIRS! I put twenty books on hold at the library this week in anticipation of the long drives and relaxing in these chairs (the books were not all for me, but…lots were for me).

I hope the AirBnB is lovely, but even if it’s not as fabulous as the pictures and reviews promise, I’ve derived a ton of joy from just looking forward to this trip. That’s worth something!

We leave tomorrow, so I’ve got to finish packing. I bought Ezra some light-up cowboy boots for this trip, and he loves them (obviously – who wouldn’t love light-up boots?). He also likes wearing the cowboy hat he got from Aunt Patti, and he tromps around the house yelling, “Heeeeeee-haw!” I tried to explain that cowboys say “Yee-haw,” not “Hee-haw,” but he likes his version better. He sounds like a jubilant donkey, but I guess that’s not horrible. Kids say worse things.

It’s going to be such a fun fRamily trip. Did I mention Lauren is going with us? (*scrolls up to the top*). Oh, I suppose I didn’t. Yep, Lauren’s going too. Family + Friends = FRamily, and this is a Framily Trip. I’ve known Lauren since middle school, and she has been my travel buddy for years. She’s been friends with Rex since their lockers were next to each other in high school. Ezra loves her, and we all have a lot of fun together. Maybe it’s odd to have two families go on vacation together if one of the families only has one person, but whatever. I don’t care. We had to bring her, or there wouldn’t be anyone to beat me in Scrabble.

Gotta go – I need to start putting last minute things together. I can’t wait to take you along on this ride! Heeee-haw!

I am sad to say that the pug festival is over. Lauren and I are already talking about going back next year. I asked her if we should book the same AirBnB, and she said, “Yeah, that was perfect. The only reason it wouldn’t work is if we have a big group of people next year.”

I think I laughed out loud. “LAUREN,” I said. “Who else is going to want to come to this?!” It is quite the niche event. But hey – if you want to join us next year, apparently Lauren is cool with putting a whole tour group together. Maybe we’ll rent one of those cushy buses. (Or maybe it will just be Lauren and me again, which feels more likely).

The last day of PugFest got off to a rocky start. We weren’t as stressed about getting there right when the doors opened since we already had our goodie bags, so we decided to sleep in a bit and shoot to leave around 9:30. That would put us there at 9:45. Our only hard deadline was that we had to be to the festival by 10:30, because that was the time of the talent contest that Lauren and Boomer had been training for weeks (months?) to enter. He had some fun tricks to show off.

We got all packed up, got the dogs packed up, everything was great. We looked at the AirBnB checkout list, which was totally reasonable (leave beds unmade, leave trash in trash cans, return key to mailbox). No problem. We did our final checks in each room, everything looked good, and we headed out. I reached into my bag to get the key so I could put it in the mailbox.

Then I reached in again.

Then I pulled literally everything out of my bag.

The key wasn’t there.

Lauren was already in the car with the car running, and I had to go tell her that I didn’t exactly have the key. We went back inside to look for it, but it wasn’t a successful search. After all, we’d already checked every room to make sure it was spotless. We would have seen a key. We pulled back couch cushions and chair cushions and such, but nothing turned up.

Next, we turned our attention to the car. It had to be in there somewhere. It wasn’t in the cupholders, hadn’t fallen to the floor, and wasn’t in any of the seats. “Don’t panic,” Lauren said. “We got in last night, so the key has to be here somewhere.”

I was a little panicking. It was nearing 10:00, and if Lauren missed the talent competition because of me, then that would make me the worst friend ever. All her work would be down the drain! Boomer wouldn’t have his moment to shine!

We started unpacking the whole car and going through every bag. WHERE WAS THE KEY? It wasn’t anywhere in the bags. Back inside, we tried looking again. Lauren looked inside the microwave, which should show how desperate we’d gotten. It was 10:05. I thought about asking Rex to pray for us, but then I realized I shouldn’t text him because he was at church. Suddenly, I felt ridiculous. Maybe I should pray for us. Duh. I prayed about it, and then I tried to think really, really hard about what I might have done with the key. An idea hit me, but it was completely ridiculous.

The previous night when we got back from dinner, I had gathered up the trash from the car and thrown it away. I remember my arms being really full with dog stuff, so what if I accidentally threw away the key with the trash? I rushed to the kitchen to check. The trash was almost empty – a few random items and the morning’s coffee grounds. No key. My heart sank, but I decided to investigate further (what did I have to lose?). I grabbed a paper towel and started poking around in the coffee grounds. There, in the middle of the grounds, I felt a small object. IT WAS THE KEY. I looked at my watch immediately. 10:11. We had a chance! I washed off the key, dumped it in the mailbox, and told Lauren to drive fast.

We pulled up to the festival doors at 10:27. “Go go go!” I said, as if we were running some military drill. “You’re gonna make it!” She grabbed Boomer and rushed out, leaving all non-essential items behind. I parked the car, unpacked all the pugness, and got in there as soon as possible. Luckily, Lauren had made it in time to register. Also, Boomer hadn’t gone yet, so Penny and I would get to cheer. Hooray! Whew – that was a close one. We knew Boomer was about to be famous, so I made sure he had some security on hand.

Penny wouldn’t make the best security guard. Luckily, there were no incidents that needed her intervention.

Boomer didn’t win the talent contest – who were these judges? Did they have proper training in appreciating pug talent? One judge was Mrs. Kentucky, who I guess would know about a talent competition, but still. I really hope that when Mrs. Kentucky won her crown, she understood that part of the amazing prize package would be a spot judging the PugFest talent competition. That’s probably why she entered the pageant in the first place, honestly.

Boomer DID win third place for “Best Kisser”! Even better, he won second place for “Fancy Fella,” where he walked down the red carpet in his tuxedo and fancy shades. He is officially an award-winning pug.

I noticed a trend during the festival – people attached any winning ribbons to their pug strollers. It was like you had extra cool points if your stroller had ribbons on it. In real life, people think it’s ridiculously bizarre that I have a stroller for my pug. At the festival, it was ridiculously bizarre if someone didn’t have a stroller. Like, “Oh, you’re going to make your delicate, struggling-to-breathe furby walk around all day with no breaks? I guess that’s your choice…” *judgemental eye roll*

I didn’t even have one of the respectable strollers. Mine is a janky garage sale find from a few years back. Many pug lovers would accept nothing less than the best for their puggies, so their strollers looked like this:

Whatever. Mine had ribbons on it!

Lauren wanted to watch some more competitions, but I wanted to go to an educational breakout session. I went to the session on pug nutrition, which was super interesting. I took a lot of notes. The speaker was a certified dog nutritionist who talked about the history of dog food, what to look for in an appropriate dog food, etc. She gave tips on how to keep meals varied and novel while still using the same food base. When she got to the part about grating fresh carrot shreds on the top of the food, I admit I put my pen down. I love Penny – I really do – but I am not going to grate fresh carrots as a garnish for her kibble.

Lauren and I grabbed some lunch, and then it was time to meet up with Cara again and do a bit more shopping. All the vendors had pug things. Occasionally we’d see something with a Frenchie or Boston Terrier on it, but all of the dogs were smush faced. I was flipping through some smushed-face dog art when I came upon this:

What? What was Ruby doing here in this beautiful, hand-painted piece of art? I was so taken aback that I actually asked the vendor, “Umm…what is this doing here?” Maybe she brought it by mistake.

“Dunno,” she shrugged. “Someone donated it, so I figured I’d put it out for $7 and see if anyone wanted it.” It felt a tiny bit insulting that she charged only $7 when someone had clearly spent a lot of time on this painting, but whatever! Turned out that Rex was going to get a souvenir from PugFest after all.

Just before we headed to the races, I bought Penny the fancy derby hat so she could cheer for Rocket and Boomer. I may be biased, but I think she was the most beautiful spectator.

Cara entered Rocket into the all-breeds race, and she wasn’t messing around this time. She had a whole strategy about walking the fence, keeping eye contact with Rocket until the last second, etc. When they called for the all-breeds dogs to head to the starting gates, she had the look on her face of an elite athlete about to do an Olympic run. It was a little much, especially when she said, “This is my Superbowl.” I mean, she was joking. Obviously. I think.

Her nerves were a little contagious. I carried Rocket to the starting gate and had a pep talk with him. I wished they were playing “Eye of the Tiger” or something, because that was the vibe. I got anxious when I saw that Speed-Demon Chihuahua from the first day was racing again. “You’ve got this,” I whispered to Rocket. “You can win.”

The lady told us to load the dogs into the starting gates. Once everyone was settled, she said, “On your mark…get set…go!”

The dogs burst out of the gates, and I held my breath. I didn’t have to hold it long. Rocket sped down the track toward Cara, leaving all other dogs in his dust. Not even Speed-Demon Chihuahua had a chance. Rocket jumped into Cara’s arms, and she was so happy that I wondered if I was going to see pageant-queen-style tears. “I knew you could do it!” she cried. “I knew it!”

The blue ribbon smelled of victory and vindication. Rocket is, indeed, the fastest non-pug at the pug festival. We are all very proud.

After that, it was on to the pug races, which had quite a few more entrants. I suggested that it would be fun to bet on the races. The event was Kentucky Derby themed, after all. It would be so fitting. Lauren and I both had our coin purses, and Cara said she was “totally down.” We were in the first row, though. It seemed a little sketchy to run pug race bets from the first row. “Christine,” Cara said. “It doesn’t matter. Do you think we’re going to get thrown out for betting pennies and nickels on pugs?” She had a point, although getting thrown out of a pug festival for illegal gambling would have been quite the blog post.

We planned to do the penny/nickel bets, but we got distracted. If you recall, Boomer was eliminated in the first round on Day 1 in a controversial finish. Lauren was convinced that he could make it further this time. I wished they had a March Madness-style bracket for the pugs, because it would have been cool to watch the field get narrowed down. Boomer had a great first run. By the time he got to the semi-finals, we were all getting pretty excited. Who cared about pennies and nickels? Boomer could win this thing!

There were some really hard-core pugs in this race. There was KC, the pug who wears a Kansas City Chiefs jersey. It was a little intimidating to be against a Kansas City dog, with all that team’s Superbowl wins and such. There was also Reeser, whose owner had clearly been training with him. She brought homemade treats because he loves them so much, and even before the race began she was yelling, “RESSER. COME GET YOUR TREATS. REESER. HERE. TREATS. RESSER.” She was very serious – kind of like Cara was, but a bit more aggressive. No smiling here. There was also a woman with black hair, black shorts, black tights, and a black shirt with a pentacle pattern on it. She was racing her black (of course) pug. Who knew what kind of witchcraft she was using to give her dog an edge?

Then there was Boomer…blobbing along with his teal bandana and no anxiety whatsoever about winning this race. And yet…he made it to the championships. Rookie of the year, right there.

In the championship race, Boomer ended up in third. We were pretty proud of him, especially since he hadn’t had any training!

As the race area cleared out, I snuck over to the Kentucky Derby backdrop they’d used behind the starting gates. I snapped a couple pictures of Penny in all her race-day gorgeousness.

Even though the day started with me losing the AirBnB key, I shouldn’t have been too concerned. Any day that starts with these leggings and these shoes is bound to end up as a good day.

I’ll leave you with this picture of Boomer, which was taken approximately three minutes after we left the festival for the day. See you next year, Kentucky. 🙂

An hour into PugFest today, Lauren put her hands to her face and said, “My cheeks literally hurt from smiling so much.” The festival was a blast from the first minute we got there, and it somehow got better as the day went on.

The expo center hosting the festival is huge. There are a bunch of entrances and different wings, and it takes up the equivalent of multiple city blocks. Lauren and I weren’t sure where to park for PugFest, but we figured it out. There may have been a couple of clues to guide us.

The doors opened at 9:00 AM, so we were there at 8:30. The festival website promised goodie bags to the first set of people to come in (but they didn’t say how many people, so we had to decide how dedicated we were to goodie bags. We were 8:30 dedicated, but not 8:00 dedicated). Luckily, a half hour early was enough. There was a line of people and dogs waiting to get in, sort of like a furrier-than-usual Black Friday, but we got our goodie bags! I don’t even remember all the stuff in it, but there were full-size bags of treats, toys, stickers, air freshener sticks, and a pug-in-a-car bandana that Ezra is going to love. Score!

In the vendors area, there was a table selling official PugFest t-shirts and sweatshirts. Let’s review: the doors opened at 9:00. When I finally made my way to that table (at 9:04), they only had two medium sweatshirts left, and NO larges! Of course I got the competitive shopping itch (this was feeling more and more like Black Friday…), and I snatched up one of the mediums. Hooray for me! The design is fabulous, and I can see why they were popular, but still. Four minutes?! I thought maybe the festival people were trying to make it competitive and secretly had more hoodies stashed somewhere, but nope. No hoodies were for sale for the rest of the day. Now I own ultra-rare, limited-edition, genuine Bluegrass PugFest memorabilia. I’m not even going to look up how much this kind of stuff is going for on eBay.

The first event of the day was crowning the royalty of this year’s PugFest. There was a competition held last month to determine the winners, and today they got to walk the red carpet. I took a picture of Lola, the duchess, just in case anyone ever asks me, “How would you describe your personality?” I can just show them this picture.

When Skippy (the prince) walked the red carpet with his owner, the announcer explained that Skippy was named after the owner’s friend who died in a fire. Both Skippy and the owner’s friend were joyful and kind and loyal. Skippy’s owner teared up and got very emotional about this. My first thought was that it was touching that he named his pug after his friend, but then I thought that it would really depend on the friend as to whether or not that was honoring him well. For example, if I named a pug after Janell, I think she’d be so mad that she’d come back and haunt me. This guy seemed quite sure his friend would have appreciated it, so that’s good.

Shortly after the coronation of the pug royalty, Lauren and I discovered there was a photo contest. A photo contest?! Our dogs are adorable! We looked at today’s categories (Most Photogenic, Best Christmas Picture, Animal Encounters, and My Pug and Me) and decided we simply had to enter. The catch was that the photos had to be printed, which is a good idea because then people could all see the winners posted at the end of the competition. Unfortunately, Lauren and I had no printed photos. Fortunately, Walgreens was only a mile away! We skipped out on the pug CPR training to go print pictures, so I really hope I never have to know pug CPR.

Pugicorn helped us choose the perfect photos to submit.

After we got our pictures, we popped into the coffee shop next door. It had a fun, urban vibe, and they were playing “Mmmbop” on the radio. “Mmmbop” has been my favorite song since literally 1997, so there was no way I was leaving the coffee shop that was playing my ultimate jam. We stayed for lunch, and Pugicorn got to enjoy the music as well. He didn’t get a raspberry limeade like I did, but that’s okay.

Back at the expo center, we met up with my sister Cara. Cara lives in Miami, but she’s in Louisville for a wedding this weekend. Cara and I discovered a couple weeks ago that we’d be in Louisville the same weekend and were staying only ten minutes away from each other – how random is that? She has a french bulldog named Rocket, which isn’t quiiiite as cool as a pug, but she brought him to the festival anyway.

Cara is a runway model, and high fashion is very important to her. That means that at any event we both attend, there is a 99% chance that she is better dressed for the occasion than I am.

Today, my friends, was the day in that other 1%. Yaaaaay! I got a zillion compliments on my fabulous pug dress, which was clearly the better outfit for this occasion. To commemorate this moment of outdressing Cara, I told her I needed a picture. I shall treasure it always.

Once we caught up with Cara, we shopped for a while. At one vendor, I found this shirt and texted Rex to see if he would wear it. He said sure.

He hadn’t asked to see the back of it…ha!

We gathered at 2:00 to hear the results of the photo contest. I am happy to report that Penny won third place in the “Most Photogenic” category, and she won FIRST place for “Best Christmas Picture.” Goooooo Penny! Boomer placed fourth in “Animal Encounters,” which was also exciting! Here are our winning photos:

Animal Encounters, 4th Place:

Most Photogenic Pug, 3rd Place:

Best Christmas Picture, 1st Place:

After the photo awards, there was the Blessing of the Pugs. There was a lady in robes, officially ordained in the church of something or other, who gave a short homily on dogs being creatures created by God that we should treasure. Then she blessed all of the pugs with health and longevity. Pugs really need that blessing – they’re kind of medical disasters who can barely breathe half the time.

Once the blessing was complete, we moved on to the pug races. I wasn’t sure what to expect here, but I definitely didn’t expect a Kentucky Derby-style track with functional starting gates. For each pug, one person would stand by the gate while the owner of the pug went to the end of the track. Once the pugs were released, the owners called their pugs. The first pug across the finish line advanced to the next level.

Here’s some pictures of how the races work:

The announcer started the event by saying they would run the all-breeds race before starting the pugs. All breeds? Like, any dog could join? I turned to Cara and said that if I would have known that, I would have told her to enter Rocket. There are also races tomorrow, so we decided we’d check if perhaps she could enter him then.

Today’s dogs got their lane assignments. There were only five dogs entered in the non-pug race, and there were six starting gates. “Wait!” called Lauren, interrupting the proceedings. “If there’s an extra gate, can we have a last-minute entry?” The announcer looked a little flustered but said, “Um, sure. I don’t see why not.”

“You’re in!” I said to Cara and Rocket. I practically threw $3 at her and said, “Here’s the entry fee. Go go go!”

None of us really knew how this would go. When the gates opened, there was a Chihuahua who beelined it for his owner and crossed the finish line right away. That was one speedy Chihuahua. Rocket started running forward, but so many people were yelling that he got confused. He looked at the side of the track, trying to find Cara. Cara screamed as loud as she could from the other end. “ROOOOCCKKEETTTTT!”

When Rocket finally saw her, he sprinted and jumped into her arms. He started licking her in a frantic way as if to say, “That was horrible. I love you. But where the heck did you go?! I love you. Never do that again. I love you.” Once he saw her, he ran fast enough to secure second place!

I thought it was pretty cool that the last-minute entry clinched second. Cara was happy too, for about a minute, and then said, “Now that Rocket knows how this works, we’ll win. No question. I’m entering again tomorrow.” She’s strangely competitive about a non-pug race at a pug festival, but hey – maybe Rocket will win tomorrow.

“You know what?” Cara said, looking around at the pugness, “This makes me think of when people study the Holocaust or whatever, and they say, ‘Whoa, this is the worst possible side of humanity.’ This event is the exact opposite. It’s the actual best side of humanity. This is the most wholesome, best day ever.”

Every once in a while, Cara understands me.

After the non-pug race, there were a lot of rounds of pug races. I wasn’t even sure why I entered Penny, as she was a little sedated on some meds the vet recommended she take before going to such a massive event. You never know, though. She could have been the Usain Bolt of pugs, and who was I to hold her back?

(Turns out she’s not the Usain Bolt of pugs)

Boomer’s heat was before Penny’s, and he did awesome! There was a bit of controversy about the finish, and they declared a different pug the winner. Lauren was gracious about it, but she was also convinced that an instant replay would have shown that Boomer won. Here’s a picture of the finish (Boomer has the teal bandana):

I’m not saying Lauren’s out for revenge tomorrow, because that would lean more into the ugly side of humanity, but we will all be cheering extra hard for Boomer.

Penny’s race was…wow. It was amazing. The gates opened, and she sauntered out like she was completely unbothered by anything in life. Some pugs ran by, and she acted like one of those guys who smokes a lot of weed and says, “It’s cool, man. No need to hurry. Just chill. It’s all about the chill.”

She finally saw me, and I was yelling and telling her to come. She started heading my way, but very slowly. If there was a thought bubble over her head, it would have said, “I’m coming, I’m coming…no need to get all flustery about it.” She crossed the finish line at a lackadaisical walk.

Unbelievably, Penny wasn’t in last place. She beat Petunia, who sat and stared at the back of the box when the starting gates opened. When Petunia finally came out and started poking around, she had no clue what was going on. Her owner was yelling, but to no avail. People tried pointing her toward the finish line, but she just cocked her head in that puggy way and looked confused. Here she is at the beginning of the race:

Lauren went to the side fence and said, “Petunia! Let’s go!” She held her hand up and talked to Petunia, coaxing her along and walking next to her from outside the fence all the way to the finish line. I’m not sure why Petunia listened to Lauren out of all of the yelling people, but she did. Later that afternoon, Petunia’s owner came up to Lauren and said, “Thank you so much for helping Petunia. Last year she didn’t even finish.” It was an emotional moment, almost like Petunia was one of those runners who fell at the end of a marathon, but his teammates carried him across the finish line. Very inspiring.

Cara had to leave after the races so she could, you know, go to that wedding she came here for. Lauren and I kept walking around and checking out the different booths. My favorite pictures of Penny came from a booth where you could donate a dollar to the pug rescue and use their photo scenes for your doggo. Ezra loves fire trucks and airplanes, so I knew I needed to get these pictures of Penny for him.

At the end of the day, a lot of pugs were losing steam. It’s a big day for everyone, but especially for a pug.

Once the expo center closed, Lauren and I went to the “After Paw-ty” at a local Dog Park Bar. I had never been to a dog park bar. The bouncer (I mean, hostess…) checked our dogs’ vaccine records before we could go in, which felt oddly like having IDs checked back in the day. Luckily, we both had the records with us. Before we could enter, we had to take off the dogs’ leashes and harnesses. Collars were fine, but they said harnesses are a danger if dogs start wrestling around.

Once Penny was naked except for her collar, we went through the gate. I turned around to pull the gate closed behind me, and when I turned back there was a whole cluster of pugs snorting around in front of me. Where was Penny? She had been there just a second ago! I looked at each pug, trying to look quickly, and it felt like a high-stakes Where’s Waldo game. There’s only one Waldo…BUT THEY ALL LOOK LIKE WALDO.

Finally, Lauren said, “Hey, is that Penny?” she pointed out to the yard, where Penny had sprinted over to the big dogs and started running around with them. I don’t remember if I did a literal face palm, but that’s how I felt. She’s used to chasing Ruby at home, so I suppose she thought that looked like more fun then snorting around with the hoards of fluffy gremlins.

I admit it – I got a little nervous. Not all big dogs are as gentle as Ruby. Also, Penny was already breathing hard. I didn’t want her to overheat. I took her to a fenced-in area in the back for “sensitive dogs,” which was completely empty, and we sat at the picnic table together. I sent Rex a video message asking if I was being a helicopter mom but for a dog. I don’t want to be one of those moms who says, “Johnny! DO NOT climb that tree – trees are dangerous. Don’t play jump rope – you might trip. Don’t play in the mud – you might ingest a brain-eating amoeba.”

I rationalized that I’m not a helicopter mom by telling myself that Penny has very little dog park experience, so I didn’t want her to get freaked out. Also, the dog park in Las Vegas wasn’t a great place for Elvis. And, as the final piece of evidence that my decision was fine, Penny didn’t even care about being in the sensitive dog area. If she had been sadly whimpering at the fence, that would have been something to consider. But she just flopped happily in the grass and snuggled on my lap, so I didn’t feel too guilty.

Lauren got some delicious pug-themed cocktail, and I almost got one too. Then I realized that the drink was $12, and that happens to be the exact price of the fancy little Kentucky Derby hats that pugs can wear to the races. Penny’s not entering the races tomorrow, and it would be so fun if she cheered for her friends while wearing a feathery and/or ribbony hat. I’m using that as my meter stick when shopping tomorrow: “Do I want this item more than the $12 Kentucky Derby hat?” If yes, fine. I’ll buy the thing. If not, then at the end of the day right before the races, I’ll buy Penny a fancy hat.

Now we’re back at the lovely AirBnB, where Lauren is prepping Boomer’s outfit for tomorrow. It’s a tuxedo, because he’s planning to enter the “Dapper Fella” competition. I thought Lauren had a lot of outfits for her dog, but turns out she does not. One family today had a literal suitcase of pug clothes, and they did multiple outfit changes for their dogs throughout the day using outfits that appear to have been dry-cleaned (they were in that fancy plastic cover over the hanger).

Pug people, man. I tell ya.

I’m so sleepy, kind of like those pugs, and we still have a whole day of PugFest tomorrow. Can anyone handle so much fun?!

To christen our road trip, Lauren started by adding a fabulous pug decal to her car. It’s her first decal of this vehicle, and it seemed the perfect time to add it. It’s sort of like the Queen smashing the champagne bottle against a ship to bless the voyage, but except not at all like that.

As we left, our friend Janell texted and told us to have a fun time. I told Janell that we were just leaving, and it was her LAST CHANCE to come with us, but we would be willing to come by and pick her up.

She responded by saying, “I have to do my laundry, clip my toenails, and vacuum the couch. Shucks.” She never has understood about pugs. Good thing she didn’t take us up on the offer, because we were pretty much out of space anyway.

It was time to hit the open road!

The hours passed quickly between talking, snacking, and listening to our awesome playlist. Before we knew it, we both really had to go to the bathroom. Unfortunately, there was nowhere to stop. We were on one of those stretches of road that doesn’t believe in exits. When we finally found a place to stop, I barely noticed that the building was kind of sketchy. Sure, the name Bonkerz was kinda weird, but who cares? They had a toilet!

When I walked in, I was a bit overwhelmed by the stench. It’s like if you’re in a truck stop bathroom that hasn’t been cleaned since last fall, so you hold your breath while you pee. Except the whole place smelled like that. Whatever. I really had to go.

I made my way to the back of the store by the restroom, and there was a long line of people. I wondered if I started doing a potty dance like a toddler, maybe someone would let me go first, but that seemed a little selfish. The family next to me in line had what I am calling “daddy and me tattoos.” It’s kind of like those “mommy and me” matching sweater sets that you can buy on Etsy, except the dad had a tattoo sleeve and so did the kid (the kid’s was fake, but still…). I tried to distract myself by looking around. They had lots of misspelled signs, but hey – words like “liter” and “open” can be tough, you know?

When I finally (FINALLY) got my turn in the bathroom, I almost laughed. They had a sign on the wall that said to let them know if the bathroom needed any cleaning or maintenance. The full-size trash can was overflowing, there was dirt on the walls, and it felt like maybe the sign was ironic – like, a satirical decoration.

The tampon dispenser charged 75 cents, and I thought, “Whoa, that’s kinda steep for a tampon. Aren’t they usually a quarter?” Then I looked closer, and they weren’t selling tampons. For only 75 cents, I could be the proud owner of a “Fantasy 6” Kit: Aromas, Excited Creme, DeLube, Body Art Tattoos, and Flavored Neon Body Paints.

If that wasn’t odd enough, I noticed a lock on the machine (because I’m sure theft of the Fantasy 6 Kits are a real problem). A family had decided to leave their signature on the lock in white out: “Family Road Trip – 2021 Spring Break!” One part of me really wants to meet this family, but another part really, really doesn’t.

I was very happy to leave that place. The entire experience was, well, bonkerz.

Now that Lauren and I weren’t going to burst, we were a lot comfier for the rest of the trip. We were very hungry, but we waited until we got to our AirBnB so we could unload. I wanted to check out the AirBnB to see what we’d gotten ourselves into – you just NEVER REALLY KNOW. If this place was a broken-down shanty in a back alley, I was going to feel guilty since I’m the one who picked it.

Good news: it’s awesome! It’s one of those rare places that actually looks better than it did in the photos. I can get some inside pictures tomorrow, but here’s the outside when we first arrived. Love love love.

Lauren was in the mood for Mexican food, so we decided to check out Senor Iguanas. It was nearby and had good reviews, so why not? There was a good vibe when we got inside: twinkle lights, fake plants, bright colors, a standard Mexican restaurant feel. Our waiter, a mid-twenties guy with hipster glasses, led us to a booth where this creepy woman was artistically painted for our…enjoyment. I might have nightmares about her later.

I mostly tried not to look at the wall, which turned out to be okay once the food arrived. The food was lovely enough to hold my attention.

When it came time to pay, Lauren and I dug around in our purses. We found out that we have matching coin purses, which was a happy discovery.

After paying the bill, the waiter came back to give us our checks. He handed me mine and said, “Will you be sure to sign yours with your number?”

I feel stupid now, but I was genuinely confused. “Like, you want me to write down my credit card number?”

“Uh, no.” He laughed nervously. “Your number. Like, your phone number.”

“Oh,” I said. “Um, no. I’m not going to do that.”

“Okay,” he said, looking a bit disappointed. “I had to try.”

Maybe this doesn’t say good things about my self-esteem, but my first thought was, “Did someone dare him to ask me that?” I searched around for guys giggling in the corner about their friend who lost a bet and had to ask out the road-trip bedraggled crazy pug lady. There weren’t any.

I was still a bit shocked. “He wanted my number?”

Lauren laughed, “Yeah, he did.”

I processed my confusion. “But like, I’m super married. And I have a kid. And I’m at least ten years older than him. We’re not at a bar. I’m wearing a wedding ring.”

“He probably didn’t check for a wedding ring.”

“Well, he should.” I sounded a little poutier than I meant to. “Now I probably made him feel bad. I should apologize. Like, it’s nothing personal, and he could be a lovely person, but I’m not looking to get into a relationship at the moment.” By “at the moment,” I mean, “not in the past eighteen years and hopefully not ever again,” but I didn’t need to go into all of that. Then I thought maybe the situation would be even WEIRDER if I apologized, which Lauren assured me it would, so alas. We left.

Now we’re cozied up in the living room, where I’m blogging and Lauren is doing repairs to Boomer’s unicorn outfit. It was a great travel day, and I’m so, so, SO excited for the festival to start tomorrow. Penny and Boomer have no idea about the fun they’re going to have.