Mood: not sure
Now Playing: The kids fighting over the Nintendo
Yesterday the kids and I went to Joplin and spent lots of their daddy's money and wore ourselves out. No one has their durn cowboy boots out on the shelves yet, so poor little Sam got the short end of the deal. Abby got some really cute boots that look like she stepped through a sheep to get into the boots. Her exclamation was "I won't even have to wear socks with 'em!" Kady got some Mary Janes and some more Strawberry Shortcake shoes. Twice a year she gets new ones; tennis shoes in the fall and sandals in the summer. What are we going to do when ol' "Shootcake" isn't popular anymore?? But Sam got some Spiderman pj's and two new belts, so he was relatively happy. Found out, though, that Sam does NOT like Dip 'n Dots, which really is the "ice cream of the future", and the future is now, my friends. Personally, I could founder on those tiny, sub-arctic pearls of dairy goodness, but the boy does not share in his mother's delight. The moron at the little kiosk was a snot and said, "What, you mean like he doesn't like ice cream?" Which when you read it, sounds pretty benign, but the fact that she said it with a toss of her greasy hair and followed it with a snort really irked me. I really had to hold back the urge to grab that green nose ring (which looked like a booger) and give it a good twist, shove her face into a vat of Dip 'n Dots and say, "Hmm, beeyotch, you got anything else nasty to say? Huh?" But since the kids were with me, I played nice and polite and said, "Guess not," turned around and walked off. I'm so spineless.
We drove back into town and walked down Main Street, taking in the Designs of Autumn Festival. Whoop-de-freakin'-do. I really wasn't all that impressed, but maybe it's just me. I did get to see one of my good friends, though! Christy had a booth there, selling her magnetic jewelry and we visited awhile. Gosh, I hadn't seen her in so long!!!! She gave me such an awesome compliment when she told me that daily, her "time" is when she gets to sit at her computer and read my blog. Wow. So now when I don't see the comments rolling in by the bushels I at least know Christy is there reading my blog out loud to her husband, Mark, every day! You guys rock!!
After the festival (which every time I say the word festival I can't help but think of "Festivus!" from Seinfeld, lol) we split up kids, Sis taking Addison and Abby to see "Annie" at the Coleman and I took Kady and the boys with me to the auto shop to try on my demo car. The guys said the seat was stuck and they were afraid I couldn't reach the pedals. Keep in mind the guy who drove the car last year is called Hightower for a reason. The guy is like 6'8" and I get a crick in my neck when I talk to him from the depths of my not-so-lofty 5'2" stature. I wasn't really sure I was ready to get in the car yet, because after all I'd been shopping all day and had on my leather flip-flops, good jeans and a white blouse. But the guys were adamant and heck, my masculinity was in jeopardy if I refused. So into the car I went. They haven't sealed the passenger door yet so that's how I got in. They kept making fun of me for not trying it through the windshield, but I told them that getting in there in what I was wearing was a big enough of a stretch for me that I was not going to risk my clothing any further. I did not dare say a word when I plopped my big butt down on a couple of huge nuts and bolts they had left in the seat. I just winced and settled in. Probably be sporting a couple of bruises from them, though. Fortunately I could reach the pedals fine and took a moment or two getting a feel for my car and quelling my urge to scream "NOOOOOO I DON'T WANNA AND YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!!" but again, I checked the masculinity meter and decided that would not be apropos. Then I heard the words "Fire 'er up, Ma!" which is what Husband #2, aka Richie, calls me: Ma. So fire it up, Ma did. Ohhhhh man...it was pretty close to orgasmic, people. She's loud and rumbly and dirty and dusty and I got in touch with my inner redneck when I hit the ignition. The guys had me practice my skills by getting me out into the parking lot and yelling "STOP! BACKUP! GOGOGO!! STOP! GO! BACKUP!" until I was lost in a veritible dust and gravel storm, coughing and laughing like a loon. The kids thought it was a hoot and cheered me on with gusto. I found out later that I'm also not driving Powder Puff. My car's too small for that heat, so I'm driving with the boys in the mini-car competition. I nearly had a panic attack, even though I was so in love with my car by then that I couldn't have backed out if I tried. The veterans assured me that I was going to be safer in mini anyway. Powder Puff is usually 3 to 4 cars and big ones, at that. And those girls suffer from serious road-rage. I do, too, but I think that for my first derby I'll be better off with a bigger group. I hope. I felt better when Hightower told me his 14 year old daughter will be driving in the mini heat, too. We start the redneck training out pretty early here.
Hightower gave me some pointers, then suggested I get a mouthpiece. I asked why, since I'd never heard of anyone wearing one. He said, "Well, your mom was over here today and she's really concerned about your teeth. She said she spent a lot of money on them!" Mom's not handling this well, obviously. She's actually downright hateful about it. Truthfully it doesn't offend me. She's a mom and she's doing her job. Really well. She's allowed some concern.
Husband #1 called to see if I was coming in to pick out my paint. Well, I'm kinda miffed at him today, so I told him to pick whatever kind of paint he wants and shove it, rather roughly, into his southernmost sphincter. Well, Husband #1 isn't a complete fool. He knows better than to actually pick out the paint himself, even if I did just tell him to pick it out then sit and spin on it. So he goes with the safer option: He has Husband #2 call because I have no beef with him - yet. Richie wanted to know if I wanted a red-purple or blue-purple, light or dark. I told him lavender. Now, people if you could only know Richie - he's a big boy, very sweet and quiet and nice, but very very redneck, with that good ol' boy drawl to go with it. I nearly laughed myself into a fit when I tried to picture him standing in the paint department at WalMart asking the crazy woman on the other end of the line what KIND of lavender paint she wanted. I'm sure my husband, the real one, was rolling in the floor. Then to hear Richie rattle off some of the names, like "Luminous Larkspur", "Violet Devotion" or would I just rather go with a nice Periwinkle. I'm nearly in the floor at this point, telling him between guffaws that I'm not a big fan of Periwinkle, it's too blue. "Too blue...hmm....well, let's just go with a Marbled Violet then. How's that sound?" BWAH HA!!! Sounds great, Pa.