The Unfortunate Trailer Incident of '09

For those of you who have already heard this story, or perhaps witnessed it firsthand, or were in attendance at the meeting in which I told the story and even drew a court-worthy drawing of it on the whiteboard, my apologies, you get to hear it again.

It was a lovely Wednesday evening several weeks back and the kids and I were headed to church, as good Baptists do. My step mom Evie, had called earlier and was on her way thru our neck of the woods and asked if we would meet her at the gas station by our church, to do a transfer of goods in preparation for the kids spending the weekend with them. I was rather proud of myself for my time management skills on a church night, as I gotta be honest they usually stink, but this particular night I was right on time.

Evie was waiting for me,not because I was late just because she beat me there, and we did the exchange of goods. We said our goodbyes and got into our vehicles. I need to interrupt this story to tell you a minor detail: my Princess Mobile was very, very, dirty. As in so dirty I couldn't see clearly out of my back window or in my rear view mirrors. As in so dirty, I thought to myself as I glanced out my back window and could barely make out the outline of a truck at the pump behind me, that "Boy it would suck if I ran over someone because I couldn't see them."

I began backing up, satisfied that the only thing I could kind of see was a truck at the gas pump behind me. When all of the sudden I heard a very loud, disturbing thud and knew it was time to clean my windows as I had just hit something. My first thought was, "OH MY GOODNESS I JUST FULFILLED MY OWN SELF PROPHESY AND RAN OVER SOMEONE!" I put it in park and jumped out yelling "Did I just run over someone? What just happened?" A very nice man was standing there and said, "No, not someone, just my trailer." He was all calm and stuff which was good considering I was freaking out slightly. "Oh good I really thought it was someone. Is the trailer okay?" I asked. "Well I don't know you're still on it. Why don't you pull ahead and we'll see." said nice man who was still refraining from punching me in the nose. "Oh oh ok I'll move." I hopped back in all flustered and embarrassed and pulled ahead slightly. Nice man said, "It's ok, you're fine." and waved me on. As in waved me on without getting my insurance information, calling the cops, screaming at me for being an incompetent driver with a dirty vehicle, etc. I breathed a HUGE sigh of relief and swore I would marry that man, well if I weren't already happily married of course. But I love that man. My kids on the other hand were not so kind. The minute I got back in this is what I heard:

"MOMMY I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU RAN OVER THAT GUY"S TRAILER!"

"OH MY GOODNESS, FIRST A SPEEDING TICKET AND NOW RUNNING OVER STUFF. WHEN ARE YOU EVER GOING TO LEARN?"
"WAIT TIL WE TELL DADDY."

This is the thanks I get for carrying them in my womb, enduring months of morning sickness, acid reflux AND pitossin just to bring them in this world, not to mention feeding them, clothing them and refraining from beating them regularly? Apparently all of that was forgotten the minute Mommy's driving skills were in question. I assured them that if nice man said it was fine then it was fine, no need to talk about it. And then my phone rang and it was my step mom who had witnessed the whole thing, and all I heard was hysterical laughing, no words just laughing. Do you see how supportive my family is? Do you huh? Huh?

We pulled into the church parking lot and they hopped out and went inside. By the time I had gathered my things and went inside the church I was greeted with "Hey Crash, heard you had a little incident tonight?" and "Ran over a trailer huh?" THEY HAD 30 SECONDS ON ME...THIRTY SECONDS! Remind me why I thought having kids was a good idea? :) So yeah, that continued all night as did the harassment from the under 10 set. GI Joe had to work late that night so he was not at church and privy to the first hand account of what happened, sadly.

The next day I was telling my coworkers about my unfortunate run in with the trailer when my friend Martha (of Monkey Madness fame) said, "What did GI Joe say?" And that's when it dawned on me, that I had FAILED to mention the incident to GI Joe. Ooops. So I went to my office and called him. The conversation went a little something like this:

Me: "Hi. Umm yeah so I forgot to tell you about something last night."
GI Joe: "OK. What?'
Me: "Well you see there was a truck with a trailer parked at the gas pump at the gas station when I met Evie, and it was in my blind spot and when I backed out of my parking spot I MAY have run into it."
GI Joe: "You MAY have?"
Me: "Ok so I did, but it was totally fine, the guy was really nice and once I moved the PMobile off of the trailer he said it was fine and I could leave."
GI Joe: "You ran over someone's trailer?!?"
Me: "Yes, but it was hard to see and my truck was a little dirty and the trailer was really low and...."
GI Joe: "Did you ever consider WASHING your vehicle?"
Me: "It's supposed to rain on Saturday. And shouldn't you be a good husband and wash it for me? (SCORE one for PP) And it wouldn't have mattered anyway because it was low to the ground and in my blind spot but the good news is that I didn't hit a person cuz I really thought it was a person." (Sidenote: I blog exactly like I talk, run on sentences and all.)
GI Joe: BIG SIGH. "Did it do any damage to your vehicle?"
Me: "I don't think so."
GI Joe: "You're a dork." And then he said to the kids, "Hey guys how come you didn't tell me what Mommy did last night?"
Kids: "Oh you mean when she ran over that guy's trailer?!? Yeah that was so embarrassing."

AND SCENE.

The Corn Robbery & Ryderisms

A few random glimpses into life here at the Koons Zoo.

*I found a glass full of mud on the kitchen counter tonight. When I inquired about it, I was told by Ryder that it was apple seeds because he was going to grow some apple trees. And then he said to me and I quote, "You can call me Johnny Appleseed." Seriously. So I told Johnny to please move the glass outside to the deck so that it would not be mistaken for chocolate milk. I'll let you know when our apple orchard is open for business and Johnny Appleseed is scheduled to sign autographs.

*Speaking of Johnny, I mean Ryder, he loves to play board games. He recently got a game set that included chess. Tonight he came into the kitchen and said to GI Joe, "Daddy, will you play chest with me?" GI Joe responded with "No buddy, I only play that with Mommy but I will play CHESS with you." Insert eye roll and a "that's so wrong" here. Don't worry, went right over Ryder's head and he promptly starting setting up the chess game and then as he and GI Joe were playing he kept saying things like, "I'm so good at chest" and "I love playing chest." Better not hear that from him when he's 16.

*Then there was the tale of the Machete, the Cornstalk, and I, the Prairie Princess. I was at the landscaping store the other day and saw that their cornstalks were $9.99 a bundle. I repeat $9.99 for one bunch! I decided that since we live right across the road from a cornfield I would just trudge over there and hack some down with the machete. I know what you're thinking, "that's not a very good idea". That's kind of the same consensus my family came to as well. I was not to be discouraged, I found the machete, asked GI Joe if I was holding it right, put on my work boots and was ready to head out. Everyone decided to join me to, as they put it "watch me cut my leg off", thanks to my supportive family. We walked over, I leading the pack with the machete held high over my head for added effect and the family following along behind offering encouragement such as "you're going to die". We found a patch of cornstalks that met my satisfaction, not too much green, not too brown, and I gave one of the stalks a good hack with the machete. Nothing happened, not even slicing my leg open which I thought was inevitable. GI Joe took the machete from my hand and within seconds had 6 stalks cut down for me. We then had this conversation:
GI Joe: "Uh oh I think I heard a car."
Me: "Why would it matter if there's a car?"
GI Joe: "Because we don't want Mark the Farmer driving by and seeing us steal his corn"
Me: "WHAT?!? We're STEALING his corn?!?"
GI Joe: "Yeah duh, what did you think we were doing? He makes his money off of this corn."
Me: "Oh crap, I thought he was done with it."
GI Joe: "Uh no, he hasn't harvested it yet that's why the stalks are still high."
Me: "Oh my what do we do? What if he recognizes it when he drives by our house and sees our porch decorated with cornstalks? Maybe we should cut it shorter so he doesn't think it's his?"
GI Joe: "Let's just go home."
So I'm holding my cornstalks trying to walk sneakily out of the field when GI Joe who was in front of me said, "Oh hi Mark. Yeah my wife was just stealing your cornstalks." I nearly had a heart attack. Of course Mark the Farmer wasn't actually there, GI Joe just has a twisted sense of humor. But that spooked me so I took off in a dead sprint, and by dead sprint I mean I nearly died from sprinting, cornstalks in my arms, running towards our house, bound and determined to get to the safety of our yard.
But seriously....I ROBBED A CORNFIELD. You would've thought GI Joe could've mentioned it prior to the adventure because I really didn't think of it like that. What have I become...a corn thief? Now what do I do? Do I go try to stand the stalks back up that we cut down or do I go buy a case of canned corn and place the box in the row where the stalks once stood? Do I send Mark the Farmer a check for $9.99 and assume his prices would be the same as Earl May? Or do I just go about my decorating and hope Mark the Farmer doesn't notice that the cornstalks by our front door are very similar to the ones that were growing in his field, 3rd row in? Oh the moral dilemma. I blame GI Joe. He KNEW and yet acted as an accomplice. Yeah that's what I'll tell Mark the Farmer..."GI Joe made me do it." or "I'm sorry I didn't know any better, I'm not a REAL country girl."

Gotta go I think I hear sirens.

Yours Truly,

Fugitive from the Farm

Soccer Stars

Blade and Ryder are playing soccer this season, on the same team. Works out great for us, no dividing up to watch games and practices, it's one stop shopping. So far the coach hasn't put them in at the same time, which I thought was because he wasn't sure how they would play together but then I realized today it's because he's got 3 boys on the team, our 2 and 1 other little boy, and they basically carry the team. The girls on the team are cute and fun to watch, when the ball comes towards them and they take approximately 15 minutes to get in position and then give it their best kick, although by then someone else has already kicked the ball away. But as for helping to win games, they just aren't cutting it.

Today's game was against a pretty good team from our rival town and made up mostly of boys. Our team took a pretty good beating, no thanks to our cheerleading squad, I mean the girls on our team. Blade and the other little boy were playing for 4 as the girls they were out there with from their team were easily intimidated by things like oh I don't know, the ball coming towards them, or the scary other team. :) Then when Ryder went out he was the only boy on our team. The boys had their work cut out for them today, and they played great. However not great enough to make up for their female teammates and the skills of the other team. Blade is just slightly competitive, I have no idea where he got that from, and was at his wit's end at today's game. Here are some things said by my boys on the field today:

*I am done playing on a team with girls. They keep scoring goals....FOR THE OTHER TEAM. Girls are the worst."-Blade

"Next year I'm playing football instead, they don't let girls play football right?"-Blade

"It's all on me."

*We have the worst team in the world because of THESE girls."-Blade

"Can I get some help over here?" -said by Blade when he had stolen the ball from the other team, taken it down field, passed it to one of the girls who then tapped it approximately half an inch when the other team tried to steal it and Blade was fighting to block it.

"I've scored so many goals my legs hurt." -said by Ryder.

"Did you see that girls? That's how you do it." Note how he's standing, this is his patented soccer stance. Hands on hips, belly out, we have no idea.

"RYDER ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!?"-said by me very loudly and Mom-like, after he'd been pushed down and was clutching his wrist. GI Joe told me that was enough of that and told me I was embarrassing him and Ryder by being THAT mom. Then he asked me if I was going to run out on the field to kiss Ryder's owie. To which I responded, "Umm that's my baby out there I need to make sure he's ok." Apparently, having one's Mom yell her concern for you is taboo in sports, something about detracting from your toughness factor. Whatever. I did refrain from going on to the field as Ryder gave me a grin to let me know he was ok.

"Do you mind taking one of your boys out to give our team a chance?"-our coach to the other coach when the "girls" were out.

"I had to score all the goals because Blade and Colby were to busy keeping the girls from scoring goals for the other team."-Ryder

Unsportsmanlike? Maybe. Sore losers? Possibly. True? Sadly. Hilarious? Most definitely. And here I thought being a soccer mom would be boring!

If I Tell You I'll Have to Kill You, But I'll Tell You Anyway

I can't tell you much about the annual Recruiting Banquet aka Drag Queen Convention ( http://hillbillyhilarity.blogspot.com/2009/09/drag-queen-convention.html) that we attended over the weekend or I'd have to kill you, you know how those military things are. Top secret, very hush hush.

Sadly, since the Drag Queen Convention of 2006 the military has changed hotels for the banquet so GI Joe doesn't get to see his "friends". Who knows how they are getting their dresses zipped up without him? The new location isn't near as exciting without the queens there but we still had a good time. What's not to like about staying an entire weekend in a nice hotel, kid free, and dressing up in a pretty dress? Oh wait that's just me. I don't think GI Joe is really into dressing up in pretty ballgowns, or maybe the Drag Queen Convention of 2006 made him change his ways. Not a chance.

Here are a few highlights that I am able to disclose without jeopardizing our nation's security and/or my husband's military career (any more so than the drag queen escapade):

*I decided this weekend that I completely understand why military recruiters often get a bad rap. Let me be blunt about this BECAUSE THEY'VE EARNED IT. The majority of them are cocky, arrogant, loud, pushy, rambunctious, and obnoxious. I'm not kidding when I say that I don't know how there was room for the spouses and significant others in the ballroom with all 75+ of them AND their egos. Wow. GI Joe is really the exception to the rule on this one and I'm not just saying that because he's my husband, that's just not how he rolls. I turned to him at one point during the weekend and said, "I really don't like many of the people you work with" to which he responded "Neither do I babe, neither do I." So the moral of the story here is that if you or anyone you know is interested in joining the military call GI Joe, don't deal with anyone else because they will likely feed you a load of crap while beguiling you with stories of how fantastic and awesome they are. GI Joe keeps it real and while he may tell you a story or two it will likely be about how awesome and fantastic his wife is...or maybe not. :)

*I decided to go all out and go to the local Aveda Institute and get my hair did (snap z formation). Really, I was just being lazy and didn't want to have to curl it out by myself. So I booked the appointment and told the receptionist what I needed. When I arrived for the appointment they told me Tony would be right with me. RED FLAG. I hoped and prayed that Tony was a girl because I had no confidence in a boy with a curling iron. Unfortunately, Tony was a guy, a guy from india (Jerry, I know what you're thinking and no there were no monkeys in the tree) and we had some slight difficulties communicating, to say the least. I told him what I wanted, he didn't get it. I tried to draw him a picture, still the lightbulb didn't come on. Finally, I grabbed the Seventeen magazine from the girl in the chair next to me and found a picture similar to what I wanted. Tony nodded and acted like he knew exactly what he was doing. I had my doubts, with good reason. Tony worked for approximately 30 minutes until an instructor came over and showed him how he should be doing it and told him how to finish it. As soon as she left he went right back to doing what he was doing, not heeding her advice at all. She came over again and corrected him and then left for the day. By this time, I was fuming and wavering between bursting into tears or throwing the flat iron at him BECAUSE HE WAS MESSING UP MY HAIR AND I HAD A VERY PRETTY DRESS TO WEAR TO AN IMPORTANT EVENT IN LESS THAN 90 MINUTES. You would be proud though, I refrained from doing either and just kept singing "Jesus, Take the Wheel" in my head. That's my calm me down song. However, a new instructor happened to walk by and must've seen the look on my face, because he did a second walk by, and then a 3rd. Probably to confirm that no, I wasn't having a seizure, or that my face wasn't naturally set in the angry mode. Have I mentioned that I have a terrible poker face? I do. I cannot hide what I'm feeling it's written all over my face. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and even surprised myself with how ticked I look. The observant instructor came over immediately and told Tony what he should be doing and after watching Tony get the cord of the curling iron all tangled up in my mane, he called for reinforcement. He went and got a more experienced stylist, A GIRL (thank goodness) who came over and relieved Tony. Tony stood there and watched while the nice girl tried to rectify the hair situation. He walked away for a minute and the girl began apologizing profusely and promised to hurry. I explained that I had to be done by 5:30 as the ball started at exactly 6:20 and you cannot be late to such things. Finally, she finished and spun me around to look in the mirror. Not exactly what I'd envisioned but it would have to do and it was certainly better than the rat's nest that Tony was trying to create and by this time I was freaking out a tad because I was going to be rushed to get dressed and do my makeup. I left there at 5:45, got back to the hotel at 5:55, and was dressed and made up by 6:10. Impressive yes? To Tony-Maybe a barber shop is your best bet. Also, should I go to the Aveda Institute (which I probably won't) I will be specifying NO TONY. Nothing personal, you just stink at doing girls' hair.

*Typically, at these banquets the wives wear very boring, blah dark colored dresses. There's no written rule saying that's what we're supposed to wear, I just think most of them aren't risktakers. It probably goes without saying that I have NEVER worn a black dress there in the 7 years we've been attending. Let's review my dress colors for the past 6 years: sage green, red, hot pink (x2), lime green, and purple. Yes, I totally blend in every year. Each year I've noticed more and more wives kicking the black bucket and wearing a color, no hot pink or lime green but baby steps. I may or may not be a trendsetter, I'm just saying. This year I really outdid myself and found the perfect dress, it was black (kind of) but definitely not boring. See for yourself

.

Emphasis on the shoes...be still my heart. How I love these shoes.

Can you believe I was the only one wearing zebra print? Weird.

*As we walked into the crowded ballroom before the "Call to Mess", that's military speak for "Time to Eat", we discovered that GI Joe's boss had not reserved a table so we were left to our own devices to find a spot to sit. As luck would have it we wound up at a table of 3 Colonels (sounds like kernel even though there's no R in it), 2 Lt. Colonels, and a State Command Sgt. Major and his wife. If you're not familiar with military ranks, those are some very high ranking individuals. GI Joe was sweating bullets as we sat down. I think he was worried about me saying the wrong thing or telling them about our gay llamas or him and the drag queens. Every time he spoke to any of them he ended it with "sir". I sat next to one of the Colonels who happens to be the Inspector General of Iowa, kind of a big deal. He was very nice and introduced himself to me, but then added, "But you can call me Steve." And I said (because I'm me), "Ok good Steve because there was no way I was going to remember that Colonel stuff." Steve and I became good buddies by the end of the night and he's probably reading this right now..Hi Steve!! (OK, not really.) So we hobnobbed with the big wigs, juggling the 14 pieces of silverware that surrounded our plate, and GI Joe managed to survive it all without suffering a stroke and using the wrong silverware! Although a few times during the awards ceremony as I provided quiet commentary to him about so and so's wife's dress and other such pressing matters, it was shaky as evidenced by the looks he kept giving me. But really I would much rather have sat with the nice, friendly, distinguished guests than the majority of the recruiters, see above. The banquet itself was b-o-r-i-n-g with a capital B, I could teach them a few things about putting together an eye-catching presentation, but then the Adj. General for the state of Iowa spoke and he was surprisingly entertaining and interesting.

*After the banquet was over we headed back up to the room for our annual photo shoot and to change clothes before heading to a late movie. There were technical difficulties with the camera and we just couldn't get the setting right for the light we had to work with. By the time we figured it out we had to decide if we were going to have our photo shoot OR make it to the movie. We decided to hurry and change so we could catch the movie but only because he promised me that when we got back from the movie we could change back into our banquet duds and have our photo shoot. Should've stayed and had our photo shoot as the movie "All About Steve", not so good. So much potential yet just didn't deliver. Better luck next time Sandy.

Here's a pic from our 12:30 a.m. photo shoot.

The ones where we are just standing there side by side looking like we're at our high school prom look posed and stuffy so I like to shake things up a bit. Something about zebra print makes a girl go a little wild.

Drag Queen Convention

Every year the Army National Guard puts on a big event for all of the recruiters in the state and their spouses. It starts on Friday night and ends on Sunday morning. They put us all up in a nice hotel in the big city and then have all kinds of meetings, activities, giveaways, etc, culminating with a very formal awards banquet on Saturday night. It's a nice little break from the every day AND gives me a chance to buy a fancy dress every year and take lots of pictures. As if I needed an excuse to do that. Before I tell you about this year's event I need to tell you about the Drag Queen Convention of 2006.




This particular year we decided to let the kids spend Friday night with us at the hotel to swim and hang out before we shipped them off to the grandparent's house on Saturday. We had just checked in and boarded the elevator to go to our room. We were riding the elevator when the doors opened and approximately 6 (hairy) men stepped on...WEARING EVENING GOWNS AND SPORTING GLITTER IN THEIR GOATEES. Our innocent, sheltered children looked up at us with wide eyes and said "Mommy, Daddy, why are those boys wearing dresses?" And as you know kids never ask such questions quietly in your ear, oh no, they say it loud and clear to make sure you hear them. Of course, not only were our children looking at us expectantly for an answer but so were the glitter guys. GI Joe cleared his throat and very tactfully said, "They're probably just going to a costume party." The kids were satisfied with that answer, thankfully. Until one of the glitter guys leaned over to GI Joe and said in a loud whisper, "Well if that's what you want to tell them HONEY." I doubled over in laughter while steam escaped from GI Joe's ears and he wore a less than amused look on his face. Thankfully, the doors opened to our floor and we made a quick getaway.


As the evening wore on and we participated in the Casino Night that the Guard put on for us (P.s. I became addicted to Craps that night), we noticed more and more ahem....queens around. They were EVERYWHERE and they had escorts, male escorts. For protection, for company, who knows what but they were very serious about their escorting business. Maybe it was to protect the queens from the crazy military dudes.


Turns out that the Marriott had booked both some type of National Drag Queen Pageant Convention AND the Army National Guard Recruiting Banquet for the same weekend. Nice mix don't you think? I probably don't have to tell you that that was the last year the event was held there. The people watching was great and I was slightly jealous that some of those queens had bigger boobs than I did. But I took solace in the fact that I didn't have to special order high heels in a Mens Size 12. (Editor's sidenote: Dakota is sitting beside me as I blog this and was mortified and told me it wasn't appropriate for kids that I typed boobs in my blog. And then she tried to correct my punctuation. Nice.)


Back to the queens, apparently like the military, their big event was also on Saturday night, on the floor below where ours was held. And did I mention that it was open so when you walked out of the ballroom and looked down, there they were. So there it was Saturday night, GI Joe and I were dressed in our fancy duds and headed down to the ballroom. We got all situated at our table when he realized that he forgot his wallet or chapstick or something of utmost importance so he went back up to the room. I was left to mingle and jokingly said to the rest of the table, "He'd better be careful, there are queens on the loose around here and they seem to like him." Everyone giggled because they knew GI Joe. For those of you who don't know GI Joe personally, let me just say this, he's a traditional, old school, conservative, opinionated, Baptist,country boy, which is why I love him, but things like Pride Parades and Drag Queen Conventions are not exactly in his comfort zone. Understatement of the year.


GI Joe walked back into the ballroom a few minutes later and the look on his face along with the shade of red he was, indicated that something had happened. I couldn't wait for him to sit down and tell us. He was a bit fuhklempt but we finally got it out of him. Here's the story in his words as told to us that fateful evening:





"I was coming back down to the ballroom, alone on the elevator, praying that the elevator would not stop on floors 13 or 14 because that's where the queens were staying. But then the elevator stopped on 13 and on walked a fat man in a dress, all made up, wig and everything. I thought, "Dear God, do NOT talk to me." And so, "IT" asked me, "So are you in the Army?" I nodded yes, thinking to myself "DUH did the uniform give it away?", still avoiding eye contact. Then "IT" asked me if I could help "IT" zip up "IT'S" dress because it was stuck. "Umm WHAT?!" "IT" turned it's hairy back to me, and don't think poorly of me for hesitating but I did. So I was thinking to myself, "Do I just stand here and have them think I'm homophobic OR do I just hurry up and zip up the dress and hurry quietly back to my side of the elevator and hope that the elevator doesn't stop until we reach my floor?" Me, being the nice guy that I am decided to just hurry and try to zip up the dress and get it done and over with before anyone knew that I touched "IT". As if it weren't bad enough that "IT" was hairy and fat "IT" was also short so I had to squat down to zip up the dress. Imagine the horror I felt when the elevator stopped, doors opened, and a fellow soldier stepped on, as my head popped up from behind "IT". All I could do was shrug and laugh awkwardly to the tune of "I'm not gay" . Since the soldier was with his wife and I was unable to get the zipper unstuck I said to "IT", "Here's a woman, maybe she can help." Finally, the elevator doors opened and the soldier and I got off and left his wife there with "IT". I told him, "It wasn't what it looked like."

His military career has never been the same. :)





I was going to post a picture here of a drag queen next to GI Joe. But of course we didn't actually take a picture that night and googling drag queens and/or cross dressers to photo shop one in resulted in me needing therapy for the next twenty years. Instead here's a picture of GI Joe in his dress uniform. At least the queens have good taste.







And this is probably very similar to the look that was on his face in the elevator that night, the "I can't believe I actually have to do this and I'm so annoyed right now" look. Simply irresistible.

Speaking of queens, GI Joe's dad, refused to watch the TV show "King of Queens" for the longest time because he thought it was about a bunch of drag queens.

Enough talk about drag queens, next up I'll show you the queen of this year's banquet...ME! Think zebra print people. Drag queens have nothin' on me.

Llama Love

We did it, we finally bought a girl llama to come and reside at the Koons Zoo and hopefully set the brokeback llamas straight (pun totally intended). We haven’t named her yet, I’m thinking Bahama Mama Llama, as you know how I love rhyming or Dolly Llama because well, that makes me giggle. Feel free to weigh in with your naming suggestions. But now is the hard part…deciding which male we want to….ahem…hook her up with. Right now we have her in the barnyard and the boys are roaming the pasture on the outside of the barnyard so they can see each other, talk, flirt, exchange numbers, court, etc but no hanky panky. We have our reasons for this. If we were to let her out with them, the boy llamas (if they are in fact interested and I really REALLY hope they are) would fight over her and it would get ugly, well and also we don't want her to turn into a complete tramp, we have our morals. So instead of dealing with llama drama we’re going to do a little Llama Love Connection and decide for them, who gets the girl. Anyone know if Chuck does on location shoots…with llamas?
This is kind of a big decision as the first boy we put with her will cause her to become a llama mama. Fun fact for you about llamas that I’m sure you never wanted to know but since I’m here to educate and inform you here goes, unlike dogs or cats or other animals that have a “season” (delicate huh?) they can be impregnated at any time. So basically the first boy llama she does the deed with is gonna be her baby daddy. Which is why we need to choose wisely. Do we go with Carter or Cash? Both are standoffish, snooty, slightly aggressive, and possibly gay, so it really boils down to which one is better looking. Man, the dating world is rough even for llamas. The good news is that To Be Named Llama is a very sweet, friendly, pretty girl so at least the offspring will have a fighting chance at being normal and pleasant.
Now the really fun part is to explain to the kids this process in a way that a) won’t traumatize them for life and b) skew their views of relationships with the opposite sex. Yeah, hard to instill fidelity, morals, chastity, etc when we’re running a full on llama brothel ‘round here.

The llama love triangle

I think Carter (pictured right) is edging out his competition.

Stay tuned for the next episode of Days of Our Llama Lives.

Last Wishes

Today we attended the funeral of a very dear lady, Carolyn, who was a long time member of our church and mother of one of our good friends. Here are a few things I loved about Carolyn: she had a cane and wasn’t afraid to use it, meaning if you ticked her off she just might whack you with it; her spunk, no matter how ill or frail she was she still had spunk and would get mad if she couldn’t find the pie server in the church kitchen or we tried to add a new menu item to the annual Thanksgiving dinner; every single person in our church received a birthday card courtesy of Carolyn, may not have always been on your birthday but didn't matter; even though Wednesdays were one of her dialysis days, that didn’t stop her from being at church every Wednesday night even if she felt horrible which she probably did; I never heard her complain about her aches and pains although they were aplenty, her husband always had to tell everyone how she was doing because she never said a word about them.
It was a bittersweet day as she’s no longer suffering and is probably up in heaven right now bossing people around and planning the Thanksgiving banquet, but church just won’t be the same without her sitting in her pew, organ side. We’ll miss you Carolyn!

One of my faults (or strengths depending on how you look at it) is finding the humor in every situation. And yes that includes funerals, unfortunately. Just ask my sisters how many inappropriate laughs and giggles we had at our Mom’s visitation. We got many a dirty looks but it’s how we dealt and you know what, to all you dirty look givers, our Mom would’ve been laughing right along with us while simultaneously scolding me for making them laugh. :)

So in true Prairie Princess fashion here are a few highlights from Carolyn’s funeral, no disrespect obviously:
1) My parking job. There were a lot of people there so the parking lots at church were full and I didn’t want to park on the circle drive going to the upper level so instead I parked on the grass next to the circle drive going up the hill. However, you know how I park, so it ended up looking like if you touched it to roughly on the driver’s side it would flip right over. Luckily, it was dirty enough that no one dared touch it so it remained upright.
2) Trisha (wife of GI Joe’s #1 brofriend John) and I sat next to each other at the funeral because our husbands were sitting together since they were both pallbearers, and mainly because they are brofriends. While waiting for the service to start we discovered that we both have a problem with getting the giggles at funeral. Then we avoided eye contact or conversation for the remainder of the service so as not to burst into giggles..or tears.
3) Someone’s cell phone went off during the funeral service and the pastor aka my father in law, without missing a beat, said “If that’s God I’ll take it.” And then Trisha and I were able to let out our giggles without getting any dirty looks. But seriously people, let’s turn off cell phones when attending a funeral, I’m just sayin.
4) In the processional from the church to the cemetery, my mother in law and I rode with Trisha and were having some good ol’ girl chat, until Trisha got so caught up in the conversation that she nearly rear ended the person in front of her. That would’ve been classic, a fender bender in the processional line, at least there were police nearby. Trisha is awesome.
5) As we were putting out the funeral food spread at the church we came upon a bowl in the fridge that said “Heavenly Egg Salad.” No one knew who had brought it or where it had come from. The ironic thing about it was that Carolyn always brought egg salad sandwiches to Food Fun and Fellowship (that’s what we Baptists call a potluck). I think I know exactly where that Heavenly Egg Salad came from, that Carolyn she’s a sneaky one.
6) On my way back to work from the funeral I was on the interstate and went through a construction zone while trying to eat my to-go plate of funeral food. As I passed the guy standing next to the Slow sign we made eye contact and then HE BLEW ME A KISS! Seriously. Must’ve been the baked beans dripping down my chin or the sandwich I was trying to stuff in my mouth, oh yeah I looked hot, and so did he in his neon vest and all.

As it always does, attending a funeral made me think of my own last wishes. I’m documenting them here so should that time come and GI Joe is too overwrought with grief that you, my faithful readers, will be able to step in and remind him of my wishes. No, I'm not a control freak or Type A planner why do you ask?

*Let it be known that there are to be absolutely NO ham sandwiches at my funeral meal. Ham sandwiches=Death. I’m gonna take that a step further and say no deli meat sandwiches at all. I want a Taco/Nacho bar and if anyone tries to serve a ham sandwich at my dinner I will haunt you.

*Regarding my funeral service music, I want some gospel, some R & B (just no Kanye West, I happen to agree with the president (for once) on him), some country, and some rock n’ roll. I mean that pretty much sums up my life right there. No “My Heart Will Go On” or similarly sappy tunes please. Our wedding had as many songs as a Broadway musical and I loved it so why should my funeral be any different? Let’s rock it out, ya’ll!

*I want my funeral to be one full of laughs. Instead of reading a boring obituary (although it won’t be because I’m totally going to write it before I die) I want people to get up and tell a funny story about me or heck, just read a few posts from this blog. Remember me how I am, ditzy, uncoordinated, accident prone, sarcastic, sentimental outrageous, outspoken, over the top, bad at math, etc.

*If you see anyone at the funeral that you KNOW I didn’t like (ex: Jason the Clown Brown, the “Bulldog”, Kanye West sorry he’s just really on my nerves right now, GI Joe’s ex-girlfriend “Horse Face”) please escort them out immediately. I don’t care if they are there to pay their respects I don’t want them. For my 30th birthday I threw a huge party, complete with bouncy slide, Elvis impersonator, the works and sent an invitation to anyone who had ever meant anything to me, that I could remember and that I thought might attend. I went so far back as to invite the neighbor boy from 3rd grade that I haven’t seen since or talked to since I moved in ’89 (shockingly, he did not attend). Initially post party, I concocted a list of people who were invited to my 30th but didn’t attend and did NOT RSVP, and those on that list would not be allowed at my funeral because I was officially done with them forever. (Over dramatize much?) It came to my attention that there could’ve been, and actually were errors with the mail service, change of addresses, circumstances beyond control, warranting people not attending or RSVP’ing, so maybe the “funeral list” was a bit harsh. Since I did turn 30 and became a more rational, mature adult I accepted this and am not ostracizing those people forever. But there is still a list and if you’re name is on it don’t come to my funeral because I’ll know you’re there to gawk OR to hit on my grief stricken husband, I’m talking to you…Horse Face.

*Many people say they don’t want a lot of flowers or an extravagant casket. I am not one of those people. I want all things pink. Pink casket draped with pink flowers, pink programs, the works. We can accent in black, it looks good with pink. You know my motto, "Go big or go home.", literally.

">*Lastly, I want a black funeral. Not black in color or black as in grim but black as in like a black person's funeral. Hands down the classiest kind of funeral ever. We attended one last year and I immediately called a black friend and asked how I get a funeral like that and if it mattered that I am in fact, not black. For starters a trumpet serenaded the family in and the pallbearers were tall, handsome black men dressed in WHITE suits and WHITE gloves, they looked like angels. It was surreal. I want the angels and trumpet at my funeral. Remember I used to be black ('92-'94), so it's totally fitting.

Enough death talk, I've still got a lot of living and blogging to do. Starting tonight when we go see Billy Currington (be still my heart) and Sugarland in concert. There are bound to be stories from that as we're 11th row, which means we'll likely have an altercation or 2 with Security as we rush the stage. Stay tuned, and do you mind if I call you for bail?

McDreamy's Magical Birthday

McDreamy celebrated his 39th birthday on 9-9-09. Ok, so he's not quite 39 but it sounded more magical and nine-ish. But he really did have a birthday on 9-9-09. We called it McDreamy's Magical Birthday, not sure if any magic actually happened but it sounded good. Last year, when we welcomed him into our fold and found out his birthday we informed him that would be a perfect day to get married. Unfortunately, Annette and I are much better at picking out presents than we are at picking out wives so the wedding thing didn't work out. But we did get him a fantastic present, if I do say so myself.

We celebrated as we celebrate most monumental moments in our lives...with buffalo wings at Buffalo Wild Wings. Birthdays, surgeries, bad days, our waitress going off to college, all of the above are commiserated by eating wings on Tuesdays at Buffalo Wild Wings, it's just how we roll. We actually celebrated McDreamy's birthday on Tuesday night because 9-9 fell on Wednesday and some of us (some being GI Joe and I) have church on Wednesday nights and also wings are only 44 cents on Tuesdays, and we are nothing if not smart consumers. We told our new waitress (our old one grew up and went off to college..boo hoo, don't worry we had a party for her), it was McDreamy's birthday and she promptly brought him a Buffalo Princess crown. Liz, our #1 waitress, left big shoes to fill but I think the crown was the first step in the right direction for the new waitress, the free appetizers didn't hurt either. Thank you new waitress, maybe some day we'll have a going away party for you too and if you want to give Doug or McDreamy your number that'd be okay too.

So once McDreamy was wearing his crown, Annette and I couldn't stand the anticipation any longer and insisted he open his present from us. We'd been plotting for MONTHS and had even had to have a covert op to complete it, and it had all been leading up to this moment.

This moment right here......

Yep that's right, it's a Hawkeyes jersey that we had personalized to say McDreamy (notice the little c in Mc, love it), with his high school number on it for extra kicks. If only everyone could have friends like us.......

He has yet to wear it. Not sure what that's about. I'm sure it's just because he's saving it for just the right moment when we're all together, right McDreamy...RIGHT?!? I'm sure it's not because he's embarrassed by it or afraid to answer the many questions he might encounter. Nah, that can't be it.

To McDreamy-Hope you had a great birthday, and yes we know we are awesome friends and that you love your present. You're welcome.

Green Teeth

We were having a little fun with food coloring the other day while decorating a cake for McDreamy's birthday (full recap of THAT coming soon), when the boys decided they wanted to do a little experiment. They wanted to put a white flower in a glass of water with the food coloring of their choice to make the flower change colors. I sent them outside with their glass of water and a tube of food coloring each to pick their flower. (Editor's sidenote: Believe it or not I have NOT killed all flowers and plants adorning our flower beds and flower boxes and they are actually thriving! It's not like I've been watering them or anything I've just gotten lucky with the weather this summer. Doesn't stop me from being pretty darn proud of myself though.) Blade came back in, with his white flower in his blue water, no problems. Ryder, on the other hand, came back in with green food coloring all over his face and hands. He handed GI Joe his cup which contained clear water and a white flower. It was pretty obvious that the food coloring hadn't made it into the cup. Blade and Dakota accused Ryder of drinking the food coloring (ewwww...) to which he responded, "NO I DIDN'T!!!" very adamantly. Which might've been convincing had his lips, teeth, and tongue not resembled the Incredible Hulk.

Poor kid, just can't get by with anything.

*Not pictured: Ryder. Once again I failed to take a picture but this one's pretty close, except Ryder is much cuter, even with green teeth.

Kids These Days

First I'd like to thank you all for your overwhelming support in my petition to obtain a zedonk. Oh wait there were only 3 of you who commented in favor of a zedonk. Apparently, GI Joe is not alone in his objection to a zedonk. I don't give up easily so I may have to resort to other methods that don't involve my readers. Wink wink. :)

In other news......we've got problems people. 2nd grade problems. Remember the overly agressive girl, Trina, that informed me she was "in love" with Blade last spring? (http://hillbillyhilarity.blogspot.com/2009/04/it-started-way-back-in-1st-grade.html) You know what they say about absence makes the heart grow fonder? Well, the summer spent without seeing our dear Blade every day must've done just that for her because she's BAAAACK on the prowl and more obnoxious than ever. I'm thinking restraining order. My apologies to the hundreds that I've already told this story too, you get to hear it again. I'm just so distraught over it I need to vent.

In our school, you can purchase a school directory that lists all the names, addresses, phone numbers, of all the students in K-5. Maybe this is done at other elementary schools or maybe it's just because we're a hicktown and when someone has a birthday party all 35 kids in their grade are invited, but next year I'm opting out of our information being included. So what if it means my kids won't get invites to birthday parties anymore? It will be well worth it to not have the phone ringing off the hook for my alleged hunk of a son...WHO IS 7.

I can deal with her chasing him at school and annoying me by professing her undying love for him at his soccer games but I CANNOT deal with the phone calls. It started last week, when she called and asked if she could come over to pet the animals. She's lucky it was GI Joe home instead of me. Obviously, he told her no but the girl is persistent so she kept calling and talking to the machine. And then she called again yesterday...ON A HOLIDAY. I have some phone etiquette rules that I try to adhere to, such as not calling anyone after 9:00 p.m. or on holidays. Clearly, Trina is not familiar with such rules because she sho' nuff called and this time when I answered she got an attitude with me. Here's the conversation that took place between myself and 2nd Grade Stalker, Trina.

Me: Hello?

2ndGS: Is Blade there?

Me: He's outside right now who's calling?

2ndGS: It's Trina* and can you go get him and tell him to come inside?

Me: Ummm NO, and I really don't want him talking to girls on the phone til he's a little bit older.

2ndGS: NOOOOOOO...you can't do that, I'm just his friend and want to talk to him. (getting slightly indignant with me)

Me: Yes I can do that and you can just talk to him at school tomorrow.

2ndGS: But I want to talk to him now.

Me: You can just talk to him tomorrow. Bye.

2ndGS: (loud, exasperated sigh) Fine, bye.

Seriously?!? SERIOUSLY?!? 2nd GRADE!!! Blade was less than thrilled and shook his head and rolled his eyes when I told him about the call. Then not 10 minutes later the phone rang again but this time I let the machine pick it up and wouldn't you know it was another girl, a friend of Trina, also calling for Blade. By the end of the day there were a total of 4 messages from one girl or another on our machine (yes, we still have a machine because darnit the 80's and 90's were good decades and I'm not ready to part with everything good and right about them including the answering machine and I hate voicemail, so impersonal.) Needless to say, Mama was not a happy camper.

We could call the parents of the girls but given that Trina's mom is the one we aptly named "The Bulldog" I don't think it would do any good. And between you and I, as tough as I am wrestling goats and all, I'm pretty sure she could take me. And something tells me we wouldn't see eye to eye on this issue. Call me old fashioned but I think 2nd grade is WAY too young for coed calling, they should still have cooties at this age right? So instead of starting World War 3 by calling the Bulldog and telling her to please stop her daughter from harassing my son, I'm taking the high road. And by high road, I mean I'm putting blunt, tell it like it is, Dakota on the case. I asked Dakota to utilize her role as older, influential kid and tell the girls "girl to girl" that they should probably not call for her brother anymore because her Mom (me) doesn't like when they do that and they don't want to make her Mom mad because she can be super mean (I really can be!). Because Dakota marches to the beat of her own drum and isn't concerned with popularity or fitting in, she had no problem accepting the challenge. I'm not ashamed to have my children do my dirty work for me. Whatever works right? And if it keeps me from getting beat up by The Bulldog I'm all for it.

While I complete disagree with Trina's tactics, I do have to give the girl credit for one thing. She's got good taste, I mean really he is pretty darn adorable.

Too bad the only way she'll EVER get to date my son (when he's WAY older than 7) is OVER MY DEAD BODY.