Cowboy Boots

As a little girl, I rode horses. We even had a few horses of our own over the years—Rose, the sweet mare who spent her fair share of time in arenas with the steers and cowboys; Brownie, our precious pony (who, unfortunately, lived a short life); and my very own horse, Too Classy Gypsy, who had a beautiful painted baby I named Way Too Classy.

I even participated in a few rodeos—barrel racing and pole bending with the other kids—and rode in a coupla cattle drives in my day.

But I refused to wear cowboy boots.

Time out. That's not completely accurate. For a short time I coveted—and eventually received—a pair of bright red lace-up boots. They were all the rage then and I just had to have a pair. Of course, after I wore them about two times I realized cowboy boots—even shiny new red lace-ups—weren't my thing. So they sat in the garage after that and I went back to wearing my sneakers when I rode.

And, other than that, I refused to wear cowboy boots.

So why are these on my feet?


Because when I went back to Montana last month for my grandfather's memorial service, I realized as we were wandering around downtown that I needed them. Or, at least, a pair of cowboy boots to wear with my dress to the memorial service. (It was at the fair grounds, people. It was necessary.) And so off we went to Don's Western Wear (where else would you get cowboy boots?) to find a pair. And find them we did. These beauties right here, which are actually kids' boots in case you're wondering.

Man oh man were they a hit. And Auntie S even gave My Sister her old shit kickers (pardon my language, but that's what they're called!) so she could look the part too.

Now, roughly 20 years after those red lace-up boots, I've finally warmed to the idea of cowboy boots. And I'm just itching to wear these again. Maybe to Cousin J's wedding next weekend in Montana? Yes. Then again, maybe out to dinner in L-Town sometime soon too. Why not?