I went through my phone and favorited the photos I want to use for this blog post, and the total was thirty-one photos. Eeep! Too many. I’ll have to make some cuts. But man, today was fun.

We started by hitting up some garage sales in the neighborhood sale behind our hotel (obviously). Lauren won deal of the day because she found a super cool stained glass snail lamp for $5, and those usually retail for over $100. I didn’t know anything about the market for snail lamps. I mean, sure, it’s a little weird…but do YOU have a snail lamp? I bet you don’t. Lauren is unique and trendy, and now she has a snail lamp to prove it.

As I left one of the garage sales, the lady managing the sale said, “Have a great day!” I turned around and said, “Oh, I WILL. If there was ever a day that I felt confident would be a great day, it’s today.” Then we had to tell her about PugFest, which was maybe mean since she couldn’t attend it on account of running her garage sale. She didn’t seem too broken up.

We pulled ourselves away from the sales to make it to PugFest for the 9:00 opening. The festival was on the opposite side of the expo center this year, but we knew we were in the right place when we started seeing cars like this:

PugFest is on the west side of the expo center this year, and the east side is hosting HorrorCon. I feel like the overlap between those two festivals is pretty small, even though we DID get a coupon for 50% off our entry fee to HorrorCon when we bought our PugFest tickets. We didn’t go (duh), but Lauren ran into a HorrorCon guy in the parking lot and asked if she could get a picture to represent a mash-up of the two festivals. This isn’t a picture you’ll see often:

In the opening ceremonies for PugFest, Boomer was honored as a participant in this year’s Pug King competition. There was a photo competition a couple months ago where people could vote online for their favorite pugs. Votes cost $1 each, and the competition raised over $21,000 for pug rescues. Wow! Even though Boomer didn’t win, he got his portrait on the wall (he has the blue bandana), and he got to walk in the royal parade. Maybe Penny should enter the Queen competition next year.

One lady near me looked around at all the pugs and said, “This is so beautiful. It’s amazing. It’s my idea of Heaven. I hope Heaven looks just like this.” I nodded sagely, because I totally see her point, but also it made me laugh to picture how many people I know would be very, very unhappy to discover that Heaven is flooded with snorty, wrinkly, bug-eyed puggies.

Once the excitement of the royal parade was over, it was time to move on to the costume contests. Lauren and I decided to enter the “group costume” competition this year. Prior to the trip, we designed a hippie van and got hippie costumes for the pugs. We went out to the lobby after the royal parade to put the van together (we had to travel with it disassembled), and Penny hung out with our mascot Pugicorn while we got her ready for her moment of glory.

In the end, I was quite happy with our “Peace, Love, and Pugs” costume. It’s not bad, right? RIGHT??

Wrong. Apparently it was horrible. It didn’t even place in the competition! I couldn’t be that upset about it, though, because the judges really did pick the best costumes. I was wildly impressed. My personal favorite was this farmer costume. Look how cute the little strawberries are squished in the back.

There was also the cupcake shop costume.

This one was wild. It was a remote controlled car with a custom wrap featuring their “Fast and the Furrious” pugs. The humans (who aren’t in the picture) had custom black and white outfits with “Pit Crew” on the back, and they had music playing the Fast and the Furious theme song when they came out to the runway. I bow to them as costume champions, fair and square.

I went to a pug education breakout session where I learned about canine first aid. The instructor told us that the heimlich on a pug can be dangerous, so the first line of defense if a pug is choking is to shake it upside down and let gravity pull the obstruction out. I kid you not. She even demonstrated on a fake pug.

She also showed us how to help larger breeds in case we have them, so I guess now Ruby is safe. Also, this dog is safe too. He was disguised as a pug, but he didn’t fool me!

After being educated, I went back to the main competition center just in time to watch Lauren and Boomer in the custard eating contest. Boomer got third place (out of twenty-five in his round), and he has a shiny ribbon to prove it! Then Lauren won the pug book set in the silent auction, so Team Westerman has had a victorious day.

In the “most photogenic dog” competition, one of Rex’s photos of Penny won fifth place. That’s not bad when there were fifty-one photos in that category!

I didn’t place in the “pug themed” photo contest, but I want to see who won. How is the picture I submitted not a contender for best pug themed?! I even themed my baby! You have to look kind of close to see baby Ezra, but he’s in there. No wonder he thinks he would love PugFest – he’s been around pug stuff his whole life. That’s a pug-themed photo if I ever saw one, but alas. The judges disagreed.

The highlight of the day is always the pug races. Here in the same city that hosts the Kentucky Derby, PugFest does “derby-style” pug races with real starting gates and everything. It’s so, so funny. Some pugs are into it, some pugs don’t care, and a lot are just confused and run around in random directions. It’s amazing.

When they announced the first group, heat 1 lane 1 was assigned to Reeser. I assume that means his owner signed up first. I remembered her from last year – she is INTENSE about pug races. Before the race, she gives Reeser a pep talk and warms up his muscles. She shows him the homemade treats that will be waiting for him at the end of the track, and as soon as those gates open she screams at him. “Reeser! REEEEESER! Treats? DO YOU WANT A TREAT? RUN REESER!!!” She’s so loud and…well, kind of obnoxious sounding. A lot of people in the audience giggled about it. I got a video of it this year because I knew it was coming (I’d be happy to send it to you if you text me). The thing is, though, that her system works. Reeser left the rest of the dogs in the dust. We can giggle about Reeser’s owner all we want, but she was out for victory and showed no mercy.

Penny wasn’t running until heat #7. When they called her name, I had to wake her up from her nap. I’d made the mistake of letting her try out the new dog bed I got for her today, and she loved it a little too much. “Penny,” I said. “Come on, girl! Pump it up! Get some pep in your step!” She looked unconvinced.

Lauren put Penny in the starting box, and I waited at the end of the track. As soon as the gates opened, Penny ran straight toward me. Hooray, Penny! It was such a tight race at the finish line. To be honest, I still kind of think Penny won. The judges called Boris the winner, though, and I wasn’t about to demand a review on the play at a PugFest race. Second place is still respectable.

Within a minute of finishing her race, Penny was back on her bed returning to her comfy nap. I think that’s why she ran so fast this year – she wanted to get back to that memory foam bed. I would find that motivating myself, come to think of it.

Boomer’s heat was next. I loaded Boomer up into the starting box, and I let him keep eye contact with Lauren for as long as possible before going in. He was so focused. Even the judge standing by me at the starting lanes said, “Whoa. That dog is locked in. He knows what’s up. He’s gonna be fast.” Sure enough, as soon as the starting gates went up, Boomer BOLTED out and sprinted straight for Lauren. I’m not sure how fast he went, but I really think he could have rivaled Reeser (REESER!! WANT A TREAT?!?!) if they were in the same heat. It was a runaway victory. No one was even close. UNTIL…

For some reason, within inches of the finish line, Boomer turned around and ran the other way. Ahhhhhh! The only thing I can guess is that maybe he realized none of the other dogs were with him, and he wondered where they went. It was the biggest upset in PugFest history. I say that with absolutely zero authority or knowledge of PugFest’s history, but I can’t imagine a scenario in which such a strong lead got completely smashed. It was a little heartbreaking and a lot hilarious. Some random lady came up to us after that race and said, “I got that run on video…do you want it?” YEP. She was kind enough to text it to us, and it gets funnier every time I watch it. It’s another one I can text to you if you want. As Boomer trotted back to our seats, he was clearly so proud of himself. His curly tail was held high, and he was smiling a big goofy smile. It was almost like he was saying, “Did you hear all the cheering? Everyone was cheering for me! I’m such a good boy.” Oy. Pugs.

In case you were wondering, after all the heats and the semi finals and the finals…Reeser was the grand champion. I bet he got a lot of treats.

The festival cleared out quite a bit after the races, which meant Lauren and I could visit the vendors with way fewer lines and crowds. Fun! We bought last year’s Green Mountain Pug Rescue t-shirts for only $5 each, and they say “Peace, Love, Pugs” on them. It’s a perfect way to remember our epic (yet loser) group costume. We decided that since the costume’s hippie van disassembles so nicely, we’re going to keep it for Halloween. That costume should slay at West Michigan pug Halloween parties. We just weren’t ready for the national stage.

The line for pug crafts was also gone at this point, so we got a chance to do pug-casso paintings. Here’s how it worked: after I chose paint colors to put on a canvas, one of the volunteers put the paint-splotched canvas in a Ziploc bag and then put peanut butter on top of the bag. As Penny licked off the peanut butter, her pug tongue squished around the paint in the bag to create a masterpiece. She did a pretty good job. Ezra told me he wants to hang this on his bedroom wall.

We got Skyline Chili to go on our way home so that we could relax in our hotel room tonight. Now I’m blogging while half also watching Pirates of the Caribbean with Lauren, and the pugs are enjoying the doggy popcorn treats that we figured would put the perfect touch on a PugFest movie night. I should have taken a picture of the cookies before I gave them to the dogs – oops. I tried to get Penny to let me take a picture of the cookie now, but this was the best I got.

Cheers to PugFest! We can’t wait to go back tomorrow.

Here’s a fact that you probably don’t know, and I hope neither you nor I will ever have any use for it: the neonatal intensive care unit in Louisville, Kentucky is extremely highly rated. It’s better than what we have back home in Michigan! These are the kinds of things you look up when trying to explain to your husband that it’s a totally good idea for you to go to Louisville for the weekend, even though you’re about to start your third trimester pregnant with twins. Because to skip out on Louisville this weekend would mean to miss PugFest, and well…that just won’t do.

“It’s not going to be too active,” I said, making my case. “It’s at an Expo Center, so there will be plenty of chairs. I probably won’t walk much more than I would in a weekend at home. Plus, pugs aren’t super athletic. Most of their people probably aren’t very active either. Just relaxed, chill, sit-a-lot people.” (I didn’t mention that Lauren is a marathoner, because that’s not relevant here. She’s what we math teachers like to call an “outlier”).

After a good discussion, we decided that it wasn’t too risky for me to come to Louisville with Lauren and our pugs this weekend. By “we decided,” I mostly mean that Rex is a great guy and said something along the lines of, “I see this is really important to you, even though I don’t super get it…but I support it if you want to go.”

HOORAY! PUGFEST OR BUST!

Rex, Ezra, and I went out to breakfast this morning before I headed out. Ezra, who was helping me with pug costumes yesterday, looked dreamily into the distance before taking a sip from the straw in his styrofoam cup. “I LOVE PugFest. I can’t wait to go to PugFest one day when I’m a bigger kid.” He sighed, like this is his lifelong dream. I wasn’t sure at that moment if I’m raising him to be super cool or a super weirdo (it’s a fine line). Everyone should have PugFest on their bucket list, though, so I decided that it’s a good thing.

I tried my best to help Lauren load up her car before leaving my house, but I wasn’t much help. I am not allowed to lift much, and I run out of breath so easily. “Sorry,” I said, trying to recover from carrying, I don’t know, a pillow or something. “It’s just really hard for me to breathe lately.”

“Then you’ll fit right in at PugFest!” she said. “None of the pugs can breathe either!” She has a point there.

On road trips, Penny is used to riding in her crate in the back seat. Boomer is more of an “open road” kind of dog. Here’s a picture from last year:

About ten minutes into the trip, Boomer was on Lauren’s lap like usual. Suddenly something smelled bad – really bad. His anal glands had leaked on Lauren’s shirt. Ewwwwww! I can’t even describe the smell. Pug farts are bad enough, but this was like someone took a fart, let it ferment in some rotten eggs for about a year, distilled it down to the most concentrated awfulness possible, then filled up a bomb with it and set it off in Lauren’s car. I rolled down the window and gasped for air, trying not to mix puke into the grossness. “Lauren,” I said. “We cannot drive for five hours like this. I think you might have to change your shirt.” (By “change your shirt,” I secretly meant, “burn the shirt and bury the ashes to protect society from this stench”). She *claimed* that if we stopped at a Biggby, she could wash the shirt and make the smell go away. She didn’t want to change the shirt because it was one of her PUG shirts, and we were on our way to PUGFEST. Regular shirts wouldn’t be as festive. I mean…fine. It was worth a try.

After Lauren’s improvised Biggby laundromat experience, it didn’t smell so bad anymore. Plus, I got a strawberry lemonade. I guess it turned out okay. After a rough start, the rest of our trip was blessedly uneventful. We saw pugs in the lobby of our hotel when checking in, so we knew we were in the right place. I had to sign a pet waiver which said that I cannot hold the hotel liable in any way if my dog attacks someone. Ha! I laughed out loud and said, “Yeah, sure. I’ll sign that.” Even if Penny wanted to attack someone, which she never has, I don’t feel like pugs are high on the list of causing injuries to humans. I’ve had more serious injuries from papercuts than from that dog.

For dinner we decided to go to a nearby restaurant called “Double Dogs,” which is dog friendly and seemed to be on-theme for our trip. The waiter poured Penny her own bowl of ice water, which she enjoyed. Lauren’s “dog bowl” nachos were served in a literal dog bowl, which was pretty cool. Everyone who passed our table wanted to stop and pet the pugs, which was of course fine. Not that the hotel would have been held liable if it turned out not fine – just making that clear here for legal purposes.

Right now I’m sitting in our chic Louisville hotel at the desk in our room, lounging in my dog pajamas while Lauren categorizes all of the costumes she brought for Boomer. We’re in an upscale suburban part of town, and the swanky neighborhood behind our hotel just happens to have a sign out front advertising their neighborhood garage sale tomorrow. We’re not going to go garage saleing, obviously. I mean, we’re here for PugFest. But if garage sales start at 8:00 and PugFest starts at 9:00…that leaves a little time to find a treasure or two.

Not that we’re going to actually go. It’s just that if we leave the hotel early and have to drive around a while before PugFest opens…and we drive by a garage sale…you never really know. That’s all I’m saying.

The pugs are drifting off to sleep, getting their rest for their big day tomorrow, so I guess I should get some rest too. Happy PugFest Weekend! 😀

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. 🙂