Green Acres

New York

is where I'd rather stay
I get allergic smelling hay
I just adore a penthouse view
Darling, I love you,
but give me Park Avenue.

As you might have noticed, Confessions of a Pioneer Woman is one of my must-reads every. single. day. What's not to love? She can burp "good morning" for pete's sake! And honestly, I'm getting a wee bit of a crush on her Marlboro Man. I mean - she posts pictures of him in CHAPS! A Texas girl like myself has a hard time resisting that kind of manliness. Luckily for her - I live eleventy bagillion miles away and I'm not near as gorgeous as she is. I think Marlboro Man is safe.

Wondering why I'm rambling about PW? Because this morning, she had a picture of her youngest. On a HORSE!!! He's like TWO! Who knew two year olds could ride already? I mean - horses are BIG! And he's LITTLE! And I'm so impressed that her two year old can ride and the last time I was on a horse my butt was so sore I couldn't sit on anything but PILLOWS for a week that I've resorted to use ALL CAPS!

I'm such a city girl. I had no idea kids that young can ride. How in the world am I going to manage living out in the sticks? On my way home from the house last night, I was plotting where I was going to plant my millions of iris bulbs that I dug out of our flowerbeds in town. I had visions of lining my drive with them - purple ones on the north, white ones on the south. I could see myself tilling the ground, planting bulbs - spacing them out enough that I didn't have to thin them for at least 5 years, then watering them in......

And realized that I would have to have a 100 foot hose to water all the way down the drive. Not to mention those I've already planted down by the road last fall.

It just never occurred to me before last night. I've always lived in homes where you just hook a hose to a faucet and bam! Water. You know - city lots. But I'm about to be on a BIG country lot and the well is a long ways from the drive and oh my hell - what am I gonna do?

Does Gebos carry 100 foot hoses? Cuz if they don't - I'm screwed. Oh! I wonder if a spray nozzle can shoot water that far?

See? I'm so unprepared for this. What if we get snakes? I HATE snakes! It's one thing to imagine "living in the country." I beginning to realize the reality will be a whole nother story.
What if a coyote eats my dog? I love my dog. I would not be happy if a coyote ate my dog. As a matter of fact, if said coyote did eat my dog, said coyote would not be long for this world. At least I don't have to worry about deer eating my garden like Katrina. But I'm betting I'll be battling bunnies all summer long to keep them out of my garden. Not that I have any clue how to battle bunnies that want to eat my black eyed peas and okra. Everything I know about battling bunnies I learned from Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

Anyone know where I can find a Holy Hand Grenade? Cuz I think I may need one......

Brittney shaved her head? Who knew?!?

Oh it is fun times in this part of the state.

Last Friday? The local city council of the town I will be moving *from* had the po-lice arrest - get this - The Chippendales.

I. Am. Not. Kidding.

20 minutes into the show I hear. I actually didn't go last Friday for varied reasons (including my husband was sick as a dog and *someone* had to keep the children from eating all the candy in the house and watching racy movies on TV). But many of my friends did - and some were not at all happy. I mean really - these guys didn't even get a chance to take their pants off! And they were wearing *hotpants* under the pants. Not g-strings. Not thongs. Not even BREIFS. Hotpants. Oooo - thank goodness the city council saved all those consenting adult women from being subjected to THAT.

Yes - I'm being sarcastic. I think it was dumb. I also think they really just wanted to shut the club owner down for whatever reason, and I get *really* annoyed when those in power use that power to a) punish those they don't like or b) tell me what I can & can't do morally. Excuse me - I'll make my *own* moral decisions, ok? And if they want to run all "sexually oriented entertainment" out of town - then just have the ouevos to say that. Sheesh.

AND - we get to hear all about it. Every newscast has another spin. Every day the paper has a new article. The local talk radio? All about it. We even have radio dj's raising cain at city council town meetings. I hear tell it made CNN. I'm telling ya - we're just quite the cosmopolitan town here in good ole West Texas.

I didn't even hear about Brittney's hair escapade until yesterday afternoon! Or maybe it was yesterday morning. Either way - we've been entirely too busy to worry about Brittney.

Anyhoo - for the two who read on a regular basis - I have 3 of the color walls done - and one coat on the red wall. We got the paneling painted yesterday. Of course, my youngest tells me that his wall isn't navy enough. Navy? No one said *anything* about navy - he said "like the Denver Broncos" and I thought I had gotten close enough to that color....

Apparently not. Now I have to fix it. And I'm betting that E's wall isn't "St. Louis Rams" blue enough either. *sigh* I wonder if I can talk the hubs into going back to the paint store?

Adjusting to Hicksville

I find it ironic that the last post I did was about hockey. Why you ask? Because they fired our coach Sunday night. AFTER a win. A win against a pretty decent team too. Now they've hired some former NHL superstar type who has never coached before for the rest of the season. This should be interesting.

My message board has just been a bundle of fun all WEEK. I don't think we've ever had this kind of traffic before. It just makes me glad we renewed our Gold (aka - no popups) status in the summer - I don't even want to think of what it would cost now to do it.

There are those who think it was wrong to fire our coach this late in the season. They go on and on about how hard he works - and how hard he tries. You know what? William Hung tried really hard too - but he still couldn't sing. If you ain't got the talent, you ain't got the talent, capesh?

The house is coming along - the hubs has painted all the tan walls with two coats, and this weekend we intend to get the color walls done. Then we wait a few days - paint the paneling and the ceilings. Then we get to start cleaning - woohoo!

E is having a harder time adjusting to Hicksville than I had hoped. While he's not getting bullied like he was in the big city, now - he's just kinda ignored. I don't know what to do - or what to tell him. I remember very well what it was like coming into a new school. It's not easy making friends. Sure - at first everyone is nice to you because you're new - but after awhile - if you don't find something in common with them - then they go back to their lives and forget you're there. And for a kid that really seems to *need* buddies - it's so hard for him.

I wonder if it might have been easier if he had stayed in basketball instead of opting for off-season training after football season was over? Now they're about to start track season, and he's going to be involved in that. Maybe that will help?

Of course, it doesn't help that he was struck by the acne curse - from both sides of the family. Both his dad and myself have such oily skin - and he does too. Poor kid - he started getting breakouts when he was 10. Now he's 13 and it's just a never-ending battle just to get him to wash his face twice a day and treat the bigger zits and scrub hard enough to get the blackheads....

Maybe I worry too much? Auuuuugggghhhhh!!!! WHY don't we get a teenager manual? Seriously - what do *I* know about raising a BOY? I was supposed to have DAUGHTERS!!!! Girls that I could teach how to apply makeup so they didn't look like mini-hos, and insist that they start wearing a well fitted bra early so they never had to worry about boob saggage at an early age. GIRLS!!!! By the time my little brother was this age, I was in the midst of teenage rebellion and totally ignored him - I have no idea what to do for E. How to help him make this transition - how to teach him NOT to piss everyone off. Because my son - he doesn't have that filter that keeps us from saying thoughtless stuff. Nope - he's brutally honest with others because he just doesn't filter.

He also tries to be funny. Sometimes he is - the kid is bright and witty and sometimes says things that literally have me laughing my rear area off. And he revels in that. But more often than not he tries to be funny - and unintentionally hurts someone's feelings instead. How do you teach them the difference? Or is it something that is just ingrained in someone? I have no idea. But it breaks my heart to see him hurt.

For the Love of Hockey

I may have mentioned once or twice before that I'm a bit of a hockey fan.

"A bit" would be putting it mildly. I'm a hockey fanatic. Truly.

In September, I start the ice watch. Where we wait for them to put the ice in at the coliseum. And once we (that would be me and my fellow fanatic, Jules) know that it's in - we go to smell the ice.

Smell. The. Ice.

Because we're freaks that way.

Oh - we don't get down to ice level and sniff it - it's just mainly walking into the building. There is a certain smell to a hockey rink. (No - not the locker room - that's a completely different stench) We go up to our seats and check out the ice - see how the logos look - if the red line is straight, stuff like that.

And then we wait patiently for training camp.

Ok - no I don't. I complain everyday unless there is a signing announced. I hope against hope that this year we'll finally have a team that will not only make the playoffs - but GO somewhere - maybe even the finals. Maybe even win the Cup. So I spend too much time on The King's Court, and wait for training camp.

Which I go to, by the way. For the entire first week. And take notes. Yes I do. Then I write up reports on the message board. I actually make a point to save up my vacation time so that I can take off for two hours a day for a week to attend a minor league hockey team training camp.

I told you. I'm a freak. I admit it. I'm not ashamed.

And I'm right there when the season starts. I'm in the booster club. I was even president for a couple of years. I go to all the games, and enjoy the thrill of the game, and the sound of skates on ice - a sound like no other. And as we start off the season with hopes of the playoffs - I'm excited and thrilled and wear my goofy crown and my hockey bracelet and one of my many jerseys (I'm from Texas y'all - we call 'em jerseys because a sweater is something you wear skiing.) and put on my hockey necklace and I'm so optimistic! And I just know THIS. WILL. BE. THE. YEAR!!!!

Then - the last few years, anyway- reality sits in. And we start losing. But I still go. Even though I'm pretty sure our coach just doesn't have what it takes to put together and coach a playoff team. Even though our team doesn't have what it takes to win a cup. I still go. Even when sneezing eleventy billion times an hour - I still go.

(Of course, Jules hates it when I do go then - because she sits next to me and has to spend the entire evening spraying me with Lysol. But I digress.)

Because when it comes down to it - I love hockey. And even when I detest the low down dirty sneaks that own this team, and the coach that is in over his head and too clueless to realize it....I still go. For the game. For the thrill of a goal. For the fun of seeing grown men duke it out then sit in the penalty box like chastened boys in time out.

Because I love hockey.

And that's all there is to it.

Attack of the Cold....

Could I please stop sneezing now?

I swear - I just sneezed eleventy-BILLION times just now. And I took a generic sudafed (that I had to SIGN for when I bought them - just so they would have PROOF that I bought them - just in case I used them to make crack or crank or whatever it is you make with 2 boxes of generic sudafed. Pfft - like I'd waste generic sudafed on CRACK!) just a couple of hours ago, so I can't take another one for another hour or two.

Colds are no fun. Although, after a couple of generic sudafeds and a couple of beers at the hockey game tonight - I bet *I'm* alot of fun. Or at least entertaining.

My buddy Lacasse better have worn his earplugs tonight - because unless he scores a few goals, I'd bet money that a doped up Mysti will be hollering that he sucks again.

Because, you know, I'm mean that way.

Especially after a couple of generic sudafeds. (yes yes - I know - it's really psuedopherineahuckahookasomething, but I can't SPELL that without digging out the package, and then I'd just be tempted to take one early, and we don't want Mysti getting loopy on psuedohookasomething so early, do we?)

Hmmm. Apparently just one is enough to get me typing in the 3rd person. That's a scary thought.

I keep thinking I'm seeing little white things falling outside. I certainly hope if they ARE falling - it's psuedohockasomething induced hallucinations, because I'm in no mood for more snow. We have to start painting the house this weekend. And we'd really like to be able to open a few windows. Otherwise - it won't be psuedopheromonehoookas that we'll be loopy on - it'll be paint fumes.

Now that I've scared off the two people who seem to read this blog - I think I'll go do my to do list for next Monday, and find something totally unredeeming yet amusing to watch on You Tube.

And sneeze.

Psst. Rumorville in Hicksville....

I hear tell - now - it's just hearsay. But I hear tell that a cement truck is supposed to head out to Hicksville today.

And, you know, might actually pour some of that cement in these frames. Ones that will actually form my porches.

I know I know - you shouldn't listen to gossip. But just in case.

I may have a porch tomorrow!

Woohoo!

Did we REALLY love the 80s?

So - while perusing blogs instead of working hard this morning (ok - so I was opening mail while perusing blogs, so it wasn't a complete goof off morning), I came across this post. And I thought to myself....

(after watching the MC Hammer video)

What the HELL were we thinking back then? What on earth possessed us to think that wearing spandex workout gear in public - out of the gym - was a good idea? I mean really. I think back - and distinctly remember not only the pink bike shorts I wore on a regular basis in the summer - but the GREEN ones M wore.

As much as I love my hubs, this was not a good look. For either of us. I shudder to remember our horrendous taste in clothes. I remember sleeveless t's and acid washed jeans and ankle boots and huge earrings and heavens to betsy - PARACHUTE PANTS - and wonder ....

Were we *doing* that many drugs back then? Or were we drinking THAT much beer? Because my LORD - those were not good looks.

And we won't even discuss the whole running around in nothing but bike shorts and a black bra trend.