Ballard Street by Jerry Van Amerongen for October 29, 2018

Well, no wonder Henry. You’re wearing the wrong shoes.

I want. To be. A cowboy.

That’s okay Henry. As long as you get up tomorrow and get back on the horse that threw you.

And the day just rode away.

Never be spur-of-the-moment without spurs. Things just become spurious…

Yeah, I imagine horses don’t take kindly to cardboard inserts in your jeans. Or in big yellow pants. I think the horse was embarrassed in front of his friends.

Is Doris sympathetic or stifling a chuckle?

Well, the day doesn’t feel too well treated either, you know….

He’s been rode kinda hard, and put away wet.

You two just weren’t matched up right… I think you gave each other saddle sores.

Be sure Tomorrow is cinched up tight… keep the reins and sit him high.

He rode an old paint, and led an old dam. Gonna go to Montana and throw a hoolihan.

Shoes and belt buckle. You’ve got to get that right to be horsed.

I’m there. Often.

Cowboys perform best at night anyway.. Go have a nap and rest.. the night awaits your fervor.

Doris wishes Henry would quit horsing around…

Doris is the absolute image of my history teacher from waaay back, Mrs Vosburgh – lovely lady. :-)

Hmmm. Is that Doris Day??

“But, were you ever on the horse, Henry?”

♪♫"I see by your outfit that you’re not a cowboy…"♪♫

O.K. Somebody has got to say it, so it might as well be me…

As we say in Arizona, poor ole Henry is all hat and NO horse !

Don’t you know, Henry?

The day, like all cowboy horses, rides off into the sunset.

You were supposed to ride hell bent for leather, pard, but you wore gabardine!

Henry was on his high horse. Obviously, this was his first rodeo.