Saturday evening.

Last night I drove out to McKinney to go to the Round Up on the Range. A frollegue on sabatical (i.e. she’s escaped the wicked grip of the agency and I hope she will forever run free) J. and her still-tethered as I am fiancé, R. were heading to this do to meet with the band. R and J are getting married in April and are having an engagement party in Februrary and want the band, Thrift Store Cowboys, to be the band at the party.

For reference, McKinney is Kennesaw. The highway there is populated with all the fast food, restaurant chains, big box stores and strip malls you could ask for, but about a mile off the main road and it’s citified rural. Two lane farm-to-market roads, fields broken up with tracts of $200,000 homes. As I got closer to the venue, I saw horse trailers fancier than my AJ and UW’s RV. In the parking lot were trucks and SUVs and my little red toilet paper roll on wheels. Inside the hall is a packed dirt floor, coral fences at the perimeter, thousands of feet of fluorescent bulbs.

It reminded me of when I was little and being at the fair. Taking the bunnies to the fair for 4H. I’m glad to have memories like that. I have such wonderful parents. I have only a partial understanding of all the things they’ve done for my sister and I, but I know that I am who I am because of what they made possible for me as a child. Including 4H.

J and R ate (I did not as the only food that looked good was the BBQ – brisket, sausages, ribs, pork) and we talked. Wandered the “exhibition” area – I can only hope there was more in the afternoon. Then we sat again and chatted while waiting for the band to start at 7.

The band is fantastic. One of the guitarists was super fun to watch -- he must be full of Pop Rocks. Their music is difficult to define. I’d guess they grew up listening to country, rock, that California surf guitar that seems to work its way in to any Quentin Tarantino movie, 60s folk, with nod to Neko Case and Kelly Hogan. Good, good stuff. FYI: they are going to be at the Earl November 5th.

While the band played I watched children on the dance floor as mostly that’s all there was to watch out there. There was one girl, I’m guessing middle child, spent the two and a half hours twirling around the dance floor on her own. Twirling, spinning, running until she stumbles and saves. Twirls a bit more, stumbles and falls. Little boots in blue and red and white. Red jacket, red bandana-styled cotton skirt, red fleece jacket. Pony tail with two white barettes. Gets back up and starts again. The brother ran around the place in general. On the bleachers next to the dad, the sister, maybe 10 years old, proper and straight-backed, sitting with legs primly crossed. Platinum blond French braid, pastel paisley summer skirt, sandals, white top with a tank underneath. Round blue eyes, perfect complexion. Eventually she did get up and dance with her sister. I looked to the dad for one of those father and his daughter sweet moments. There was no smile in their dad’s eyes. I wonder where he is in life that his beautiful daughters dancing sweetly isn’t cause to smile.

There was also a little blond monkey boy, maybe 3 1/2 years old. Orange shirt, jeans, boots. He and his older sister running around the dance floor. Occasionally the boy would run off and go climbing the coral fences. He was like a little monkey. An adorable little blond haired monkey.

The event wasn’t what I expected; we were like interlopers at a block party. Not unwelcome, but not a part of things. It was more a community event. It was a nice drive and I enjoy J and R. The band was great. The experience over all was good.