Grandkids on my bed and spellbound by Uncle Jamie's magic.
The Fort Worth Stock Show is a grand occasion for my grandchildren, now a family tradition. They laughed and repeated stories last night about the bull riding, the monkey that rode a dog, and other wonders of the rodeo. Today was Stock Show day—wander the barns, the exhibits, and the Midway. I think I may have just taken one more step down the path to being elderly, but I had an epiphany in the middle of the night: I didn’t want to go; I wanted to stay home, in the quiet, get some work done, have a nap, and enjoy those two darling little dogs. There were immediate questions: Are you feeling alright? Yes, thank you, I’m feeling fine, but I’ve noticed of late that my idea of what I want to do has changed, and my main memories of the last two years “doing” the stock show are very sore feet and being parked various places to read while the kids went off to games and so on. I can read at home and my feet won’t hurt. And I suspect they’ll all have more fun without worrying if the “old lady” in the bunch is okay and having a good time.
They came home, again full of tales, in time for happy hour, for which Jordan joined us briefly, and then we were off to dinner at Joe T.’s (Texans know the huge, sprawling restaurant with its set menu, either, “the dinner” or fajitas, is the classic place to go). Some say you go for the atmosphere, because the food isn’t all that great. It’s certainly not the best Mexican haute cuisine but I’ve always liked it—had my first-ever taste of Mexican food there almost fifty years ago.
Tonight, all I could do was look around and enjoy that my family was around me. The crowds waiting in line were incredible, and inside it’s way too noisy. I couldn’t hear what anyone said. I tried reading lips, especially Megan’s because she is really expressive with her mouth and I’m reading a mystery about a deaf detective who reads lips—didn’t work for me but I guess I need practice. Yes, the food was good but I ate much less than usual (yay for me!) until we ordered sopapillas and then I almost ate the whole thing. So sticky, so sweet, all the things I don’t ordinarily want—but I loved them.
Generational change. I always used to be the first to go to bed. Now at ten, everyone’s asleep except Jacob and me (he won’t go to bed until I do). Jacob’s cousins were most jealous—“How late does he get to stay up?” I promised to go to bed soon, so off I go.
Tomorrow, a big family breakfast with a casserole and biscuits for the adults, waffles for the children if they want them. And then they’ll all be off in various directions, and Sophie and I will be left to our routine. I will be sad and lonely, but omigosh! Do I have a busy week ahead!