Show of hands - how many of y'all have stinkin' left the building and have gone on to find another funny, overworked, frazzled redneck mama? That many, huh? Well, dang.
Frankly, I'm shocked Mrs. Coach hasn't emailed, texted or called gently, yet firmly, reminding me to post. Of course, I was in her office yesterday and I think she could see by the look on my un-makeup'ed face that a blog reminder might not have been a wise move on her part. However, my BFF Tiff texted me yesterday telling me she was downright upset that there hadn't been a post in over a week. I appeased her with a sneak preview and sent her on her merry way, with the promise of a post soon. So.......in a pathetic attempt to keep the few of you who remain for running from the hills as well, I'll recap.
Last Monday Nonner and I laid on the couch and watched TV pretty much all day. Had I known what this week was going to be like, I'd have felt a lot less guilty about it at the time. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the heck out of it, but I kept saying, "Gosh, I should go
do something!" Yeah, today I'm just wishing I could
not do something.
Tuesday I actually accomplished a few things, but still didn't venture out of the house. So when I got ready to head to the school on Wednesday for the geography bee that my son was in, it was the first time I had driven my car in a week.
My van is a '99 which means it doesn't have those fancy schmancy anchor doohickeys for carseat bases like Paul's truck does. Putting Nonner's carseat base in the van takes an act of Congress, prayer and holding your tongue
juuuuuuust right. I also have to use a locking clip on the seatbelt because the middle seats don't have locking seatbelts. It's a production to go somewhere, so I really have to plan ahead on days we go places.
Wednesday, however, was an incredibly rainy day and I put the base in, put the baby in at the very last minute because I was hoping all morning the rain would stop. I made it to the school with just enough time to get in and settled before the bee started. I got the baby out (it had finally stopped raining by that time) and was leaning back into the van to get my purse when I heard hissing. No, not like rattlesnake gonna bite my leg off hissing but there is a hole in my tire hissing. I grumbled, whined and I'm pretty sure I even stomped my foot, then pulled out my phone and called Paul who gave me the advice "Well, ya better get to Walmart and get it fixed before it goes all the way flat." I came
this close to screaming in his ear but intead, through gritted teeth, explained that there was no way in heck I was missing that geography bee because, bless his heart, Sam had been so nervous about it - so nervous that he woke himself up one night reciting the names and capitols of states. I wasn't missing something that important to him. So Paul's next gem of advice was, "Hmh. Well, guess ya better get back home and get the truck before it goes all the way flat." Grr.
I pretty much broke laws galore going back home, said a thank you to God for the fact that Paul's truck has those nifty anchor doohhickeys, buckled Nonner back up and broke a few more laws on the way back to the school. I was only 30 minutes late, but Sam's face LIT UP when he saw me come in, so all was well. Sam rocked that geography bee, by the way. TotOne's 5th grade class actually won, but still Sam's class put forth some great effort. And I now know lots more about elementary geography than I did before.
Thursday morning I got Paul up for work, went back to sleep then didn't even wake up again until 9, THEN laid on the couch in and out of consciousnes until noon. YES! NOON! I was kind of embarrassed when I looked at the clock and saw the time. The kids were out of school for Fall Break, Nonner wasn't here because of Fall Break and I took advantage of the fact that my kids are great kids who behave and don't have knife fights and gang wars while I'm off in Dreamland dreaming of my Mother of the Year award.
That afternoon we cleaned out toyboxes, closets, under beds, and anywhere else there might be a demonic Polly Pocket hiding. I am not kidding, people, Polly Pocket is a tramp and a floosy and she's rude and disrespectful and not to mention she's always leaving her microscopic shoes ALL OVER MY HOUSE. Polly had to give up her jumbo jet and deeeeelux cruise ship as part of the plea bargain agreement that she can stay in my house as long as she gets her act together and stops leaving her squishy, sticky clothes everywhere. My mother will be none too happy that the jet and ship are going away a mere year after she bought them, but all I can say is "I'm sorry, Mom. I've priced them each for $15 in the garage sale. I'll gladly give you the money if you'll promise to never, ever, ever, EVER buy my youngest child a Polly Pocket again." I have also made the vow to ban Polly Pocket and have signed it in my own blood and the blood of Polly Pocket.
Saturday we dropped the kids off at Mom's at 2:00pm and headed to Montana Mike's, the only steakhouse in town, to meet up with some of Paul's friends from the casino. The parking lot smelled like soured water and the inside didn't smell much better. I asked anyone else if they smelled it, but the only other one was Tater and evidently no one else thought our sense of smell was important and they didn't want to leave. The two of us sat there sniffing periodically and making comments to anyone (read: pretty much no one) who would listen that the place smelled like butt.
Tater ordered the shrimp which was supposed to have cajun seasoning on it. It didn't so she asked the waitress if she could just get some on the side to dip it in. She was down to the last shrimp (of course - stories like this always happen on the last bite) picked up her thing of cajun seasoning and found a wee little bug just tromping away happily in her spices. Needless to say, she got her meal free. Mom and Pops went last week and had to send their silverware back FOUR TIMES until they got clean ones. We shan't be eating there anymore, ever again, forever. You probably shouldn't either, unless you're just a gambler and think a hospital stay for salmonella sounds like good times. Ick.
After the dinner that shouldn't have been, we ran to Tater's to set the TiVo for SNL, all emptied our bladders in avoidance of the portapotties at the concert then headed out to the Big Fancy Casino for the much-anticpated by pretty much everyone but me Brooks & Dunn concert. I may have mentioned a time or twenty that I don't really care for country music and B&D are waaaaayyyyyyyy down the list of Artists I Would Listen to if I Absolutely Needed My Ears to Bleed in Order to Save My Life or the Life of One of My Children. I'd rather listen to Hank Williams Sr. really.
So why did we drop $90 on tickets to this concert? Oh I'm so glad you asked. See, I was still working at DHS when Paul called me one day and asked if I wanted to go see B&D in concert. I replied, "
Want to? No. But if you want to go I'll go." He seemed awfully excited and bought the tickets like, the next day. As we were standing in line waiting for the gates to open before the concert he said something about not being that excited about seeing B&D. I gave him a funny look and said, "What do you mean 'not excited'?" He said, "Dear, I bought these tickets because I thought you liked them." I said, "Hon, I only wanted to come because you seemed so excited." He grinned and said, "I was excited because I was doing something for you." Yeah, it sounds all sweet until you stop and think that
we dropped $90 on tickets to a concert that neither of us wanted to go to all because we don't communicate that well. We rock.
The concert was scheduled for May 30th but a few days before the 30th it was postponed due to illness in the band or something. The oringnal show was to be Kellie Pickler (can't STAND) and Rodney Atkins (he's funnish to look at, but that's as far as it goes), but since the concert was postponed to October the opening acts changed to Chasing Dixie (couldn't even find them on Google), Darius Rucker (sans Hootie and the Blowfish, now turned country) and Miami native, Keith Anderson. I got excited about Darius and Keith since I have nearly worn through my copy of
Cracked Rear View because Darius Rucker's voice is what all of my personal angels in heaven are going to sound like and also because while I look at Keith every day because his poster is on my daughter's wall I have never gotten to see him in concert and he's a Miami boy and he's just dang easy on the eyes.
SisterJ met us out there and we all picked our spot not too close, not too far, hit the beverage tent and got Paul some free samples of chewin' tobacco, then settled in to wait. Then Tater's phone rang - her friend had an extra VIP pass and did Tater want it? Heck yeah, she wanted it! She got to get close enough to be spit on. Woot. The first act was a trio of screaming pretty girls that didn't impress me at all. Keith was next and let me just say that when he sang "I Still Miss You" I knew he was singin' to his momma who passed away this last year and I got a little teary. Darius Rucker doesn't dance like a country boy, but dude is kickin' country in the tail. I was so insanely impressed it's ridiculous. By the time B&D came out I was tired, cold and heck, after Keith and Darius, everything else paled. Oh and to drag the concert out further they decided to throw in a few extra songs since they'd had to postpone. How gracious. The first song they encored with was "My Maria" which is one of those songs that makes my spine detach itself from the rest of my skeleton and curl up like a little fried shrimp and whip around on the floor and get all dusty and dirty. It was at that point we decided to head on out and beat the crowd.
And please no hate comments about the concert. Unless Ronnie Dunn is your daddy and Kix Brooks is your second cousin twice removed, just read it from a humorist's point of view and go about your business. If those guys are your kin I'll apologize. Otherwise, just know that yes, I'm aware my redneck card could be pulled at any time over my near-loathing of country music and NASCAR, but we won't get into NASCAR right now.
Sunday was pretty uneventful except for the ongoing church tension that makes me wanna switch denominations, counties, even states. I hate tension. It makes me tense.
Yesterday I met the Bow Lady in town to pick up our new batch of bows, which includes two oh so adorable camouflage clippies, a Halloween bow and several in the school colors. I also went to see Mrs. Coach - briefly, though. (I apologize for being not very sociable, my friend. I could say that I was embarrassed that I didn't have on any makeup, but I'll just go ahead and be honest and say all I wanted to do was just come back home and cry. It was definitely an overpass night.)
Folks, Tater and I are getting ready for the mack daddy of garage sales this weekend. I'm here to tell ya, the kids are starting to worry we're going to stick a .25 sticker on them. And occasionally, amidst the flurry of pricing, sorting and yelling at the kids, we'll look at each other and say, "You know that none of this is coming back into the house, right? NONE." I mean it. I don't care if it
might sell in the next garage...oh heck NO, if I have my way about it, there will be no more garage sales because I am never buying another toy or useless piece of clutter for the rest of my life. When we're all 90 and all of my blue-haired friends are collecting china kitties and ceramic pigs and doilies, I will just be sitting there in my lift chair, watching the Outdoor Channel, breathing. That's all I want to do when I'm old - breathe. Because then when I die, my kids don't have to sort through it or anything. See? I'm thinking ahead. I figure that by not collecting things my kids will be grateful that they don't have to do anything more than just bury my wrinkled butt and therefore they will overlook my crankiness. Because I plan on being plenty cranky.
I'd like to say I'll post again before next week, but after the garage sale this weekend I may take some time to practice up for when I'm old and just breathe for a few days.
We'll see what happens.
In the meantime, if you've made it this far, leave a comment telling me how much money you've ever made from a single garage/yard sale. I'm just curious.
