We went to the rodeo with Grandpa Phil. 

He is a real cowboy. He competed in this very rodeo half a century ago. As the ropers were announced he'd say, "Oh, I roped with his dad." or "I knew his family." He also was a judge at the Poway Rodeo (among others). It was so neat for me to be there with him, and with my kids. So much of my childhood was spent waiting quietly by his side in his workshop out back as he would teaching me the patience and carefulness of leather working. He taught me how to soften the leather so it was workable and how to stretch it to fit the purse, or wallet, or belt, or pencil holder you were making. He told me how his floor to ceiling sewing machines were so strong they would sew you fingers to the leather as you fed it through if you weren't careful. Then told me to go ahead and sew those two pieces together. I'm sure glad I still have all my fingers. He's given me indian blankets and turquoise belt buckles and made me key chains and guitar straps. He's made Ryan a saddle and chaps and taught him how to rope. Every time I look at these things, I think of this wonderful man and remember all those afternoons and all the time he spent with his work. And know he was showing us he loved us. He is my favorite cowboy ever.

And he has a pretty cute wife. 

Even though it was blisteringly hot, we braved it. We have real cowboy blood in us, we are tough. Ryan sat next to him watching the whole time. Asking all about each event and each rider. Three hours,  100 degrees, he didn't care, he loved every second.

This little lady, was more interested in the stairs.

Love this man. So much.