Rodeo Queen

August is fair time, so I got on the internet to see if the Cassia County Fair and Rodeo had a website, just to see what was going on. To all those non-Idahoans, this is the Burley Idaho fair... the fair I attended on a routine basis from birth through age 18.

I don't recall much changing during that time. I'm almost sure that if I were to go there today, I'd run into the same people standing or working in the same spots as they were 17 years ago. The only exception is my grandma's quilts, which would still win if they were entered today. Those other blue-haired ladies couldn't hold a candle to Grandma Lois' work.

Anyhow, I was surprised to see a Cassia County Fair and Rodeo website. It was simple, but nice. Didn't contain a lot of information, but what it did contain was ripe for comment.

I never had anything to enter into any of the fair contests. My only contribution to the fair were the 3 or 4 benches sitting out front that I made for my Eagle Scout award. Not sure they are still there, but for a few years, they graced the biggest butts that the Cassia County Fair could produce. Thank goodness we used 2X6 construction on them!

So, as I looked through the website, I came across the entry rules for being a Rodeo Queen. I read through them. Some of them caught me by surprise.

1. The queen must be 16-23 years old.

2. The queen must live in Cassia County OR attend school in Cassia County (this opens up the contest to all living Mexicans, by the way).

3. The queen must abide by all the rules.

4. The queen must have never been married or had a child, which is ironic considering a "queen" is, technically, a woman married to a king.

5. The queen must dress a certain way-- it varies from even to event, but there are no-no's, such as see-through material, hip huggers, or carpenter style pants. Encouraged attire include colored Wranglers and as many sequins, fringe, rhinestones, leather, and embroidery as you can possibly dare to fit on.

6. The queen must successfully "model, answer questions, and be able to introduce parents and guests" (that last one must have been included as a means to weed out the really dumb contestants).

7. The queen must be able to ride her horse "in a reigning pattern for the first go-around, a mock serpentine ride for the second go-around, and then to 'buzz the arena' because 'if you are chosen queen, that's what they do when they are announced-- buzz the arena'".

8. The queen must be able to "mount and dismount" at least once during the horse ride.

9. The queen must interview with the judges.

10. The queen must attend all the events asked of her.

Wrong use of the term "bareback riding".

All of the rules are reinforced with a couple of warnings: "Even though the western style changes from year to year at no time do we want our contestants to look unlady-like" (which to me is an odd things to say because I don't consider red Wranglers, blue Cowboy boots, and a rhinestone-covered shirt with a dinner plate-sized belt buckle to be very lady-like to begin with), and "if at any time the Cassia County Fair Board witnesses any actions of the Queen contestants that are not lady like, they will have the right to bring the contestant before the board for any reprimand or disqualification."

In other words, watch your toes and keep your horse in check. My old horse Bandit would have never made it as a Rodeo Queen stallion.

But, sadly, I also became aware of FRAUD going on within the CCFR Queen Contest, the magnitude of which has never before been seen within the fences of the Cassia County Fair since the sugar-beet-switcheroo controversy of 1989 that caused a previously unknown participant to win BLUE, surpassing the crowd favorite. And, I'm also not sure how high the conspiracy goes-- maybe to the top of the Fair Board, for all I know. The current queen, in her bio, thanked a Mrs. Marijane Jolley for her coaching and instruction in becoming the current rodeo queen. Coincidentally, I'm sure, the chairwoman of the CCFR Queen Contest is-- MARIJANE JOLLEY! My money is on the fact that Ms. Jolley bribed, coersed, and threatened judges to win the competition for her protege-- or, Ms. Jolley was the only judge, and the current queen was the only contestant. Not sure which.

Thanks to insiders that I placed within the Fairgrounds, I understand that attendance to the fair has been sagging in recent years. I can opine on the causes-- but I'll save that for someone who cares. Instead, I offer my advice for increasing future attendance.

1. Change the CCFR Queen Competition to the CCFR Drag Queen Competition. The same rules will apply-- the need to wear dresses, barrel race, sequins and rhinestones, etc.

2. Instead of steers and bulls for the rodeo, provide the cowboys with steers and bulls that suffer from Mad Cow disease. Lets see if they can hang on while the cows spend their time bouncing around on their own heads.

3. Let the Cassia County Sheriff's Posse do their halftime show blindfolded-- heck, doing so might actually prevent them from running into each other while doing the figure-8 routine, which has sadly been a yearly spectacle for as long as I can remember.

4. Pay "streakers" to run the rodeo arena from time to time-- before, during, and/or after rodeo events.

5. Instead of team roping, do Mexican roping. This means replacing the cows with illegal aliens (and don't tell me that Burley doesn't have any), and replacing the cowboys with INS agents. Only ropes are allowed, but if the illegals make it to the other end without getting roped and hog-tied, they win amnesty.

6. Replace the rodeo clowns with members of the city council. This should be a smooth transition, as both are clown school graduates. And, both are used to serving a lot of bull crap.

7. Toss the fair food out and replace it with something that can actually be eaten and digested, preferably in that order.

8. Suddenly decide to change exhibit competition based on professionalism and appearance to winners for the ugliest submittal, worst tasting food, smallest and most pithetic vegetables/fruits, etc.

"Hey Bull rider-- you're doing it wrong!"

9. Force all belt buckle winners from all competitions to meet for one final round of WWE style "defend the buckle" bash where they face off with their former competitors in an all-out brawl, winner take all event.

10. Require that all cowboys inside and outside of the rodeo replace their boots and spurs with roller skates.

11. For the BBQ vendors, require that their signs include the words, "Please try last night's Swine Competition winner today-- fresh off the fire!"

12. Add "chicken showmanship" to the list of animal competitions.

13. Do away with the pre-fair parade and replace it with an unannounced Pamplona-style "Running of the Bulls" event down Overland Avenue and Main Street.

14. Instead of the Tractor Pull, have a Hair Pull, which would be part of the CCFR Rodeo Queen Competition. Points are awarded based on the distance one contestant can pull another contestant by the hair across the rodeo arena.

15. Add true Spanish-style bull fighting to the rodeo events. In fact, add this event and cancel all the others.

Jungle Fever

With the temperatures and humidity high in our area, we've had to keep the kids inside as much as humanely possible. Just too dang hot and humid to spend much time outside.

So, for one evening a couple weeks ago, we (Michelle and I) decided to try to get the itch out of the kids (particularly the boys) by taking them on a jungle safari--- a.k.a, a hike through the grove of trees in our back yard. The overgrowth, heat, and humidity leant themselves to the jungle atmosphere we were hoping to create.  See our red route above (the "A" marker is our house)...

Wondering if we should turn back

The home owner's association "maintains" this plot of land, which basically means they keep as many people and toys off of it without causing a neighborhood riot.

Oh yeah, and they cut a trail through the dense underbrush of blackberry, cranberry, fern, and a thousand other types of thorn-laced plants. Sort of. I mean, the trail is there, but without a machete, its hard to get anywhere without coming out of it looking like you had fallen into a tank of malnourished piranha.  See photos.

We packed up our expedition gear (i.e., shoes) and set out with the boys and Lee-Lee. It became clear that our trek would be tortuous-- the thorny bushes had clearly not been kept out of the trail. But, we were determined, so we pressed on.

Michelle, our native tour guide, showing off her thorn-handling techniques

The Explorers

Each of us got hung-up in the thorns at least once. And, once you make contact with a thorn, the bush, I swear, turns into an octopus-- each "arm" somehow manages to sense your presence and wraps itself around you, too, just to keep you from pulling free. Before you know it, you are trying to peel 4 or 5 thorn-encased limbs off your shirt, arms, and pants.

Thus, we all got somewhat bloody during the hike.

Lee-Lee was a trooper. She only complained a couple times when she got hung-up in the thorns, but for the most part, she kept walking along.

Being small, you are much better at avoiding the thorny extensions. You are more flexible. You can bend and twist and rotate any part of your body-- which is why I think Twister is anti-geriatric. As for me and Michelle, well, lets just say that we "filled up" the pathway a little more than we'd like, making it inevitable that we'd get stuck on virtually every bush.

We finally made it through to the other side and the kids had fun rolling themselves down the grassy hill. Preston mentioned that he'd like to go back the same way we came, but the rest of us said "no!" So, we took the sidewalk back up through our neighborhood.

Success-- and a hill to roll down

Come to think of it, the residents of our neighborhood didn't give us any more sense of security than the thorny path. They peered out of windows and garage doors at us, most didn't smile. Kinda like I would expect from natives along any jungle trail.

Quest for the Perfect 'Q'

I've been trying for years to perfect the perfect barbeque.  And, when I mention "barbeque", I mean the real-deal-- the low and slow smoking of, well, anything.

I couldn't bring myself to spend the hundreds of dollars ($200-$1000) for a commercially made smoker, so I made my own, "Kodiak Northwest" style, for those familiar with the phrase.  My first smoker was absolutely fantastic, believe it or not.  It consisted of 2 large terracotta pots, one hot plate, one steel pot (small), and one traditional barbequer grill.  Simply turning one pot upside down and on top of the other pot (which was upright) provided the "oven", whereas the hot plate and steel pot provided the smoke (once wood was placed in it and the hot plate turned on, of course). 

But, I later got a stroke of genius when visiting the Idaho Falls Army Surplus Store.  I came across a large, unused diesel tank, Army green, sitting in the aisle like an angelic gargoyle.  My mind envisioned the tank, which already was separated into 3 sections, assembled with three doors, a smoke stack out the top, a couple of lifting handles, a little black paint, a little help from dad, and a thermometer.  The result-- "The Black Pig":

The burner consists of a large "Louisiana" style pot burner with its stand hooked up to a propane tank.

The Black Pig has served me well the past couple of years, creating smoky goodness on a consistent basis.

So, off and on, I've been doing a trial-and-error method for finding the best BBQ recipe.  Chicken is/was a total failure.  Fish dried out way too fast.  Pork is a work in progress.  However, beef has been fantastic!  Brisket, rump roasts, chuck roast... it is nearly impossible to screw up.

Last weekend, we bought a Costco brisket with as much fat on it as possible.  I lovingly rubbed it with my secret spices and cooked it at a modest 230F for 5 hours in a bath of hickory and mesquite smoke.  It was also mopped every 15 minutes with another one of my secret sauces.

The result-- a smoky heaven.

From Guppies to Tadpoles

Our two boys successfully participated in and passed their annual swim lessons.  Neither of the drowned.  And, for that, we are thankful.  We are also thankful that their instructor didn't purposely drown them, either, as I understand there were a few times that they probably deserved it.

So, good-bye "Guppies" class and hello "Tadpoles" class (next year).

Honestly, the only difference now that they perhaps didn't know or have before the lessons is the ability to resist screaming when a drop of water gets on their face.  Ethan still will not put his head under water (causing all kinds of problems and anxiety right now because he realizes his baptism is in a few months).  Preston wouldn't leave the kiddie-part of the pool until the final 10 minutes of the last lesson of the week.

The pool is a private one-- a member of our ward has it in his back yard.  Thus, the floaties that have scorched me for life and kept me out of public pools for 20 years or so were gratefully absent. 

Not too sure, however, that we got a good deal.  For $60, all we got in return was a few pictures, Preston's first step out into open water (hanging like a leech to his instructor), and Ethan's resistance to water-drop-on-the-face induced screaming.  I could have done the "Jensen" technique by taking them to Moraine Lake north of Cranberry and throwing them in, forcing them to pick up swimming or sink to the bottom.  At least the pictures would have been funnier, and I could have kept the wad of $20s.

In true insanity fashion, we did put Ethan in lessons for the following week as well.  For another $30, I'm sure we got something.  Not sure what it is, but I'm sure it was something.