Love and Marriage…Love and Marriage.

Yes, we were the Bundy’s for Halloween

Sorry it’s been so long since I’ve posted. Check back tomorrow night for a regular post.

For a good laugh tonight, here’s Rico looking like a ding dong…

The grocery store.

Ughhh.

More like “Let’s drive mom freaking nuts” for an hour.

I had to take them with me today. Them, being the two Tasmanian she-devils I carried in my belly. It was a battle of epic proportions in which I would’ve won, except my grocery store doesn’t have a liquor aisle.

Anyhoo.

I had to get food as we were down to a can of Veg-All, strawberry jelly and a pack of hot dogs. Even the Food Network site can’t even come up with a recipe for that…don’t ask me how I know, it’s just the cold hard facts.

My first mistake, besides taking the children, was to not have a list. Second mistake was not bringing Valium. Third, letting the heathens talk me into using that ginormous grocery cart with the car on front. Never a good idea.

So, we’re shopping and buying crap that we don’t need and I’m letting them by with a little of it just to hurry along the shopping trip. Bread, check. Diet Cokes, check. Chips, check. Brownies, check. La-da-da-la-da.

And then we steer that beast of a cart to the meat department and I know it’s coming. It’s EVERY FREAKING TIME. All hell breaks loose, crap hits the fan and Ella falls out of the car cart smack dab on the floor and has some type of emo-seizure conniption.

For some unknown cosmic reason, my 2 year old has a complete emotional breakdown every time we round the corner into the meat department. EVERY SINGLE TIME PEOPLE.

I don’t know if she is just overstimulated by the site of THAT much bologna or what, but she goes absolutely ape shit and starts whining and screaming, “BA-WON-EY…I WANT IT MOMMA….PEPPA-NONI’S…MOMMA, MOMMA.”  She won’t get up…and she’s getting louder and louder….and her sister is waving a industrial size package of Fischer’s in her face just egging it on.  I’m sweating and doing that one eye sweep around to see who all is witnessing this momentous moment of motherhood as I point the finger, cuss under my breath and pray the security camera’s aren’t rolling on me as I swat her bottom.

As I was finally leaving the store  a elderly woman came up to me and said, “You know, it gets better when they move out.”

Apparently she is senile.

Here in Hooterville, every third weekend in September we celebrate Cow Days.

Yes, COW DAYS.

Many small towns here in Kentucky have their own festivals, such as Ham Days, Lincoln Days, the Bourbon Festival, Foothill Days, and The Apple Festival. For us, it’s Cow Days.

It’s a homecoming of sorts. Class reunions are usually planned to coincide with Cow Days and you usually run into someone you never thought you’d see before.

One of the first things you have to do upon arriving is milk Annie. She’s a large fiberglass cow that the kids can milk for grape Koolaid. This is the first year Ella would even come close to her.

I have been tempted to lay down underneath her and squirt the Koolaid right in my mouth but Rico said it wouldn’t be “appropriate.” He’s no fun.

Ella wanted to do the same…she really is MY child.

Next is a ride on the train. Which costs $3.00 per person for a 5 minute ride.

I think I need a new career. You know how many people fell for this rip off?

You can find all kinds of arts and crafts, fall decorations and even buy such things as camouflaged lingerie and this…

a candle called “Boyfriend in a Jar.” And I can speak from experience when I say this candle smells better than any boyfriend I’ve ever had. ‘Nuff said.

You can even let your 3 year old pick out a tattoo.

Then you can run into Farm Chick who always gets the better picture and blogging fodder.

Next is the parade which includes the local high school band, the Shriners, a gazillion tractors and several hundred horses and mules.

And what festival wouldn’t be complete without a beauty pageant?

Rachel decided she wanted to compete for the coveted “Miss Pre-teen Cow Days.” She begged and I hoped this phase would pass. It didn’t and we spent the whole week prior learning to walk in heels.

She looked beautiful and grown up and elegant.

She got 2nd runner up and had a great time.

Cow Days. While it’s certainly not an event for the society pages, it’s suits us just fine.

These people aren’t exactly my favorite.

I mean, they’re kinda like those relatives you see at family reunions, you’re cordial when you have to be but you’d rather not ever hear from them again. You know, those relatives that are always asking for money…and more money…and then they take it and blow it on something stupid like a cell phone or a party for a bunch of a-holes? Well, that’s basically what the government does with my tax dollars….but on a much grander scale.

Anyhoo, I just got finished paying my 2007 taxes. Like, 2 months ago. And yesterday, I mailed my 2008 corporate taxes and the bill wasn’t bad.

The sun was so bright I had to wear shades….

And then someone thought it would be a good idea to send me this…

Uh, yeah. That says I owe $86,655.

After falling down in the driveway, clutching my chest and then looking for Ashton Kutcher, I realize that this is not a joke but a terrible mistake.

People, if I made the kind of money that would require me to pay this kind of tax bill, do you seriously think I would spend my days eating filet of bologna and planning my social calender around the upcoming Cow Days Festival of Hooterville?

I think not.

My days would be spent with a pool boy that looks like David Beckham and a full time maid.

Just sayin’.

Today I ventured into the big city to take Ray Ray to the doctor. We arrived a few minutes early as traffic was fairly easy.

As I walked into the waiting room, a mentally challenged boy about 12 glared at me and started yelling to his mother, “Just look at her…just a complete mess…look at her…a mess, I tell ya!”

Uh, yeah.

At this point I think I must have a huge booger hanging out my nose or have toilet paper stuck to my shoe.

But no. I don’t.

He just keeps on and on about me being “a complete mess” and getting louder and louder.

His mother is taking this all in stride. I can’t decide if it’s because she’s mesmerized by the head to toes polka dots she’s wearing or that’s she’s probably taking some good pharmaceuticals. 

She just agrees with him….that I am a “complete mess.”

The subject does change for a few minutes when they have a brief argument about where she bought the brats. It seems he was adamant he did not want brats from Kroger and only from Meijer and that if she bought him brats from Kroger there was gonna be hell at home.

This discussion wasn’t as nearly as urgent as the prior of me being a “complete mess.”

So I got paranoid and ask my 11 year old daughter if I looked “funny” which in hindsight is never a good idea.

Her reply, “You always look retarded Mom.”

And this is the reason I carried her in my belly AND gave up alcohol for 9 months?

Finally this young man was called back for his appointment and stood up and said, “Let’s get this shit over with” all the while looking at me and shaking his head.

That’s right people, the fashion police is disguised as a 12 year old mentally challenged boy and a middle age polka dot wearing, pill popping momma.

Back in April, Rico and I were pondering what our next move would be after the end of our Land Rover lease. 

I was thinking something on the lines of a VW Jetta. Small and economical to ferry the children around.

Rico, well, he had other ideas.

He wanted something massive. Something safe. Something big enough we could separate the girls to eliminate fighting. Something with a little bling.

He found a vehicle…in Minnesota.

Barely off the lot, it had been struck in the side and had minimal damage. It was well below cost of a new one.

We agreed. My lease would be up in June and we would buy this vehicle and have it fixed.

Life was good.

My first clue that things would not be happening as fast as I wanted them to was a statement that Rico made…

“You can’t rush a body man.”

And then there is the fact that my body man’s name was Clovis.

No big deal. It was April and I had my Rover til June. If it was a little over when I returned my truck, we had plenty of vehicles around the farm to drive. No big deal.

June came and went.

July rolled around and I got a little “pissy.” OK, alot “pissy.”

I had planned a getaway with my girlfriends and kids to the condo. I was supposed to have a vehicle to haul us all down to the Redneck Riviera.

We ended up borrowing a van from a friend.

By the end of July, it became a very sore subject around the house. As in, sorer than a boil on your ass.

My days were filled hounding Rico about the body man….”You talked to him?”…”Did he give you any idea of when it’s gonna be here?”…

and then became…

“I swear, you are not getting any until you get my truck…Did you tell Clovis that?”

and then it became the thing I was no longer allowed to discuss.

Thus the dialogue became, “You know that thing I can’t talk about? You know anything about it?”…because I’m a turd like that.

Today Rico finally told me the thing I couldn’t discuss was ready.

And so now I present to you, her web debut….

THE BIG ROLLING TURD

And since my truck is finally here, it looks like I have some sexual payback for Rico….I mean, I am a woman of my word.

Every now and then, Rico has to put on a swanky suit and head to the big city for an important bid’ness meeting. Sometimes I’ll tag along and he’ll drop me off at the mall where I’ll proceed to help out the nation’s economic slump.More often than not, I stay home and slave away with household chores, referee the children or just lay out at the pool….cause that’s my job.

I have to admit that when he tarries into the big city without me, I’m insanely jealous.  I love going to the big city. It’s such a different world than Hooterville. The shopping…the restaurants…bookstores. I love the hustle and bustle of the big city.

Big Daddy Rico knows I get a little melancholy when he goes away and he always tries to cheer me up with a gift when he comes home. It can be something as simple as a box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts (ahhh…heaven!!!) or a book I’ve been wanting to read.

He’s sooooo thoughtful.

But every now and then, he REALLY out does himself…bringing home a lethal combination no matter which way you look at it….

SLIDERS AND PANTIES.

Last week, a couple of my girlfriends and I decided to take the kids to the condo for a few days of fun and sun on the beach. It should have been a pleasant, joyful time for us all.

It was not.

The kids were wild…they bickered..they drove us absolutely nuts.

After four days, we packed our stuff and came home.

Now mind you, the ride home wasn’t much better. The kids were wild…they bickered…they drove us absolutely nuts AND our fuses were shot.

Traffic through Montgomery, Alabama was horrid and we tried to allude a 3 hour traffic jam by taking a side road. The problem was everyone else had the same idea. People were tired, in a hurry, and generally pissed off.

While going through a green light, a Lincoln Navigator barrelled through the turning lane, illegally going through the light and cutting in front of me, missing my vehicle by inches.

Needless to say, I was pissed and I blared the horn.

Well, ”Miss Thang” decided to jump out of her SUV and proceed to call me everything but a dirty white girl.

Words were exchanged..most of them not so nice…and then she told me to get “my white ass” out of my vehicle.

Oh, yes…she did.

As my friend,who weighs 98 pounds soaking wet, gets out of the car to “get my back”, I loudly asked for her to “GET MY GUN!”

And magically, ”Miss Thang” got her ass back in the vehicle and left.

I may talk slow and with a drawl. My hair may be big and blond. I may carry a fabulous purse.

You may outweigh me by 100 pounds.

BUT MAKE NO MISTAKE…I CAN SHOOT YOUR WEAVE OFF IF NECESSARY.

Just saying…

I try to raise my daughters to be lady like…I really do. I will admit to occasionally burping in front of them but other than that, I don’t fart, pick my nose, chew with my mouth open or pick wedgies out of my butt.

Well, I do one of those things…but I’m not telling which one.

Anyhoo, yesterday we were riding in the car when my 2 year old announces…

“I FARTED…HAPPY BIRTHDAY EVERYBODY!!!!”

And then she proceeds to sing the Happy Birthday song.

I was speechless. We are definitely investing in charm school.

Lately my posts have been infrequent. My mother had back surgery 5 weeks ago and has suffered a mysterious complication that has also affected three other women who had neurosurgery the same day at the same hospital. No one knows what exactly is wrong with my mother but she has suffered greatly these past weeks and I have been busy helping her as much as I can.

Also, as some you may know, I suffer from Crohn’s Disease and Sjogrens Syndrome and have taken a leave from work since the first of May. I had hoped to be back and at ‘em by now but that is not the case. I have had to resign from my job due to my illness. It has been a huge decision for me as I have always worked. Since the age of 14, I have known nothing else. My new role as a “housewife and stay at home” mother has been a huge adjustment for me emotionally. I’ve always prided myself on being an independent working women and then suddenly, I’m not. I know things happen for a reason and it will be fine but I’m scared of my new role. The plus side is that I have gotten to spend some quality time with my girls this summer and we have both enjoyed that immensely.

I will get back writing more as I feel myself coming out of this lull. I appreciate all who have emailed,wondering where I’ve been and if things are alright.

My friend Katie invited us to her parents farm for a cookout over the 4th of July. It was there that they shared with me the greatest summertime drink I’ve had in a long time. I thought it only fitting that I share the love with all of you…

BLACKBERRY BOUNCE

2 pounds blackberries (you may substitute lemons, raspberries, cherries, etc. If using lemons, use zest only)

1 quart clear grain alcohol, such as vodka or rum

6 cups of purified water

2 1/2 cups cane or granulated sugar

Place blackberries and liquor in a tightly sealed jar or bottle large enough to accommodate at least a quart of liquid.

Place container in a cool, dar and dry place for at least 3 to 5 days. Shake the jar at least twice a day. If using lemons, the zest will turn white when flavoring is done. Strain the fruit from the liquid through a fine sieve or coffee filter; discard the fruit and set aside flavored liquor.

Place 6 cups of purified water in a saucepan over low heat, and add sugar. Heat, stirring occasionally, until sugar dissolves and syrup is clear.

Cool syrup to room temperature and mix with liquor. Strain the sweetened liquor through several changes of coffee filters, and store in tightly sealed bottles in the refrigerator. Chill and enjoy. Makes about 2 1/2 quarts.