No Blood, No Foul

For the ones who know me well, this will come as no surprise:

I'm not the most graceful person in the world.

My feet trip over the lines in a parking lot,  I've been known to fall up stairs, and if there is a way to stub my toe or burn my finger I'll find it. 

Knowing this, last nights events come as no shock. 

It all started at the grocery store as I was loading up my purchases in the back of my vehicle.  Without any regard for the surrounding hazards, it wasn't long before my hitch plowed right into my knee.  Of all the times I've made it useful while pulling lawnmowers, four wheelers and boats, this is how it repays me - by leaving a half dollar size bruise and a cut on my poor little right knee.

Thankfully my patella remains in tact (as far as I can tell, anyway), but I am seriously contemplating painting that sucker fluorescent orange and attaching one of those bicycle flags. 

Perhaps I'll go all out and give it a bell with stringers, too. 

Friday Night List

- 4 hour drive

- History Books

- Caffeine

- Best Friends

- Dr. Seuss

- Laughter

- Japanese Diner

- iPod shuffle

- More caffeine

- Cheap gas

- Cruise Control


Combined, they make a late, great start to a perfect weekend.

JLH

I've purposely put off this post for a while now. Perhaps I didn't want to talk about it, or maybe it just hasn't sunk in.

But, here goes.

Our beloved Pop-Pop passed away last month, 7 weeks shy of his 93rd birthday. A heck of a guy, with a great big heart. The funny thing is that I never really broke down and let it all out until last night. Sure, as I told people my eyes became glossy and a lump made nest in my throat, but I was fine. After all, I'm a tough bird.

Sadly, the funeral got to me as the grandchildren (myself included) covered his oak casket with the white pall- a staple in a Catholic funeral. It was stormy on the morning of the funeral, and as I was driving my grandmother to the church from the funeral home, her 4'11" frame, which has spent three quarters of a century compared to his 6'3", slouched over in my passenger seat as I heard the sobs. The three other passengers rode in silence as my wipers attempted to keep tempo to a song that wasn't playing.

Reaching the church, his casket was brought from the hearse as the rain poured from the heavens. Throughout the mass, I only heard the blasts of thunder during the priest's dramatic pauses. And that's when it dawned on me... I had to read. My fear wasn't the crowd (heck, I love a crowd) but it was my own mind. Could I make it through without crying? Will I mispronounce a Latin word? Will I trip on the way up due to shaking legs and lack of sleep?  Oh good grief, I'm gonna cry at the part where I have to say his name!

 

Well -in case you were wondering- I made it through the funeral without mishap, the rain soaked burial without tracking too much mud in my four wheel drive, and the bereavement dinner that was an almost-catastrophe because of an appearance that was made by an un-welcomed party.  

 

Looking back at it all, Pop was remembered as the wonderful man he was.  The one who loved his family, his country, his farm, and John Deere tractors.   He taught this woman how to drive a stick in a old GMC flatbed, how to make biscuits, and how to operate tractors.  I could never have asked for a better man to be my grandfather and my only hope is that I make him as proud of me as I am of him.  

Me Gusta Mexicano

I have no idea what that title actually translates to, but I'm hoping it's something along the lines of proclaiming my love of Mexican food.

Mayberry has a mexican restaurant. Well, technically there are two but in my opinion there is only one. It's called El Mexicano and I highly recommend the chicken chimichanga, fried ice cream, and their cheese sauce is ohhhh-emmm-gee GOOD!

You should try it. And tell them I sent ya.

Anywho, their food is great, and so is their service. For instance: today, my friend Megan and I patroness El Mexi for lunch (after all, where else can you eat for $6?). Our server today was Darrell, whom we love. He knows to bring out drinks in to go cups, as well as what drinks to fill those to go Cups with. His wife just has twins two weeks ago and they're adorable. We've seen the pictures. Until this moment I've never realized that might be a little odd, but I digress.

What I'm trying to say is that Mayberry's Mexican is unlike anybody else's.   They know you, they're friendly (especially on Tuesdays when domestics are a dollar), and in this small town when everybody knows everything, you can even catch some half-truths and possibly run into people you haven't seen in a while to catch up. 

So here's to my favorite Mexican restaurant.  The one where they know as soon as I walk in the door to bring me a Mt. Dew; they'll ask me how work is because they know I have a couple or three jobs;  and they know to put me in a booth, not a table.

Next time you're in Mayberry you should stop by.

My Best Friends Wedding: The Eve of the Eve

This coming weekend has been on my mind ever since the week after Valentine's Day.  Excitement has mounted, preparations made, dresses fitted, and the preacher is ready. 

Yep!  My best friend is GETTING MARRIED!!!

Today's work day was cut short for yours truly in order to make the four hour drive so I could partake in the wedding of the year.  I'll have a front row view of all the funny shenanigans, the tearful moments, and any last-minute mishaps.  Wait, not front row - I'll be right there trying to make everything run as smoothly as possible. 

Pictures will follow, but first I must help my bride-to-be bake and icing cookies tomorrow!

Who knew a wedding could be such a stressful, energetic, exciting time?  Never mind, if you've ever been involved in one, you already know.

Sisterly Love

Have I ever told you about my older sister?

That's her in the middle.

She's sophisticated.

And tall.

I call her Joe Bob and she enjoys the finer things in life, like good wine, high heels, nice makeup, shopping sprees at Nordstrom's, fast cars, and sushi.

Yours truly is more of a tomboy/walking contradiction who likes to get a little dirty and stir up a little dust in my four-wheel-drive while putting on my lipgloss.

The two of us don't have a lot in common, but we have thought of a few things: Green Bay football, cute shoes, DNA, baking, demolition derbies, KY basketball, and of course - sushi.

She turned me on to it last year when our other sis and I were in town (she lives 3 hours away in the most awesome city on the planet) and now I wish Mayberry had a sushi joint.  And lemme tell ya - this place was SO DELICIOUS!! It's my favorite since I'm now a sushi connoisseur and all.

Speaking of which, that brings us to today's example of how much we love and respect each other.

You see, we really admire and love one another in our own twisted way.

Someday maybe we'll even open up a sushi joint.

Or not.

Appreciation the small stuff

For my entire life, Mayberry has held a special place in my heart.  It's seen my best, witnessed my worst, kept me grounded, and helped teach me some of life's most important lessons.

If you're not from a small town, there are some things you have been deprived of:

For instance, where else can you walk into a restaurant during the busy lunch hour and the waitress knows exactly what you want before you sit down?

In towns like this ...
- You wave to just about every vehicle you pass, because you know them, are related to them, or used to date one of their relatives

- You can, while on your morning 3 mile walk, pass the doughnut shop and decide to eat one. However, you don't have your wallet and the owner tells you to take it and bring by cash before you go to work, which is a block away.

- When a fire truck is around your neighborhood with its lights on, you WILL receive phone calls wanting I make sure that you and your grandma's cookbook are ok.

- Instead of pulling you over, a cop might call your cell phone to tell you to slow down. Or, better yet- he'll call your dad. (That will scare the crap out of any sixteen year old!)

- You will see people driving to a rural restaurant on their 4-wheelers or UTVs. Technically, I think it's illegal, but people do what people do.

- If there's been a death in your family, people will show up within hours to mow your yard, feed you broccoli casserole, water your flowers an take out your trash. Why? Because they know you have more important things to deal with and they've been there too.


All that is just more reason for me to love this town, but more importantly, appreciate the people who have molded me into the person I am today.

Wherever I may end up, I know this town will always be in my heart.

Good Wittle Wabbits

Remember those rabbits my John Deere met?

Oh, those poor creatures didn't stand  a chance.

Please ignore the current condition of my lawn and take a moment to remember those lost to the wrath of my 42 inch deck.

But there is a happy-ish ending to the story!  The momma rabbit came back for the little bunnies!

Finally I did something semi-correct!

Here's to all the bunnies in the world.

Tragedy

Something bad happened in Mayberry tonight.

Something bad, bad.

Something so horrible I'm trembling at the memory.

So here goes.

Don't read this if you have a weak stomach.

It started like any other Tuesday: Wake up, clean up, go to job #1, go to job #2 and finally dinner with the family.  Then I decided the yard needed mowed as I pulled in the driveway, so I fired up my new John Deere and went to it.

With the backyard complete, I moved to the front.  Sadly, however, a few minutes later I heard a high-pitched squeal that sent shivers down my spine as my eyes found the source: teeny, tiny baby rabbits no bigger than the palm of my hand.

Four of them scattered from the nest their mother had burrowed in the ground while one laid motionless (and leg-less) at the exact location of the accident. 

Panicked, a scream might have exited my mouth.

Looking up, I see my neighbor crossing the street with her toddler son and holler "I just ran over a bunch of rabbits!"  An animal lover herself, she hustled over to aid in my attempt to rescue the mini-rabbits.  Her cat takes off with one, another runs under my mower (don't worry, it's turned off), one is sitting stunned by the nest, and the last of the still-alive rabbits runs for my neighbor.

So we do what animal-loving girls do; we take the three we can catch (since the cat and mower took care of the other two) and put them in a box with some grass and such.

Thinking that will be the last of the rabbits for the night, a few minutes later my neighbor knocks at the door with the three rabbits and says she looked it up and we need to put them back in the nest and mark an "X" with some twigs because the momma rabbit comes back at night.

In the morning we'll know if momma rabbit learned of her misfortune of having two less mouths to feed.   In the meantime, I must cope with the fact that I'm a terrible, terrible person. 

Someone please explain to me how gutting a deer is wonderful to me, but this horrific incident is proving highly traumatic. 

You can tell a lot about a woman...

By her purse.  (And the contents of it)

Trust me.


For instance, take my younger sister.  In many ways, she's my polar opposite: quite, brunette, even-tempered, you get the idea.  Well, her purses are always whatever is in style.  Right now she's toting grey patent leather snakeskin with ruffles.  I have no idea if that's really what it is (but it is grey and ruffled), but it sounded good, right?  She's the kind of girl with tissues and gum wrappers, pencils and lotion littering the bottom of her handbag.

But like I said, we're polar opposites.

Cleaning out my own purse today was more like a magic show.  You know, the kind where the magician keeps pulling stuff out of the hat and you have no idea where it comes from.  Or this could be because my purse could double as a small suitcase.

There were no tissues.

No gum wrappers.

No pencils.

And definitely no lotion.

However, there were:

A pair of needle-nose pliers, crumpled gas receipts, a half-empty tube of lip gloss, a couple of .30-.30 shells, a backup Valentines Day card that was never delivered and now has a song written on the envelope, 31 pennies, dress tape, and a travel size Germ-X.

You may now form an opinion on my lack of tissues.