The Dangers of Appaloosas in Colorado...

Well, so far the whole Utah experience has been a positive one, other than the fact that it’s so horribly cold here and my phone doesn’t work.  Caleb can’t stand it and it’s an ordeal every time I have to expose him to the elements for even a moment.  I had hoped to go exploring in the mountains with the kiddos but I’m pretty sure that would blur the lines of adventure/danger and I don’t really have it in me to expose my kiddos to high levels of danger.  They can barely handle the low doses I throw at them every once in a while.  The drive up here was incredibly uneventful, other than this one minor setback, or what mom is referring to as “the incident.”  After surviving the biggest stretch of the drive, which is in disgusting New Mexico, I entered Colorado with high hopes of seeing something exciting.  I was about thirty or so miles into Colorado and was on a road in what can only be described as the outskirts of a quaint little country village.  The road was super curvy and there was snow everywhere.  There were giant trees everywhere and I was trying not to let the scenery distract me.  It looked like something off of a post card.  It reminded me of the little Christmas village decorations grandma sets up every year.  I knew there was a town coming up shortly and I wondered if I’d see carolers and horse drawn carriages.  I even imagined this might be where Whoville was located.  What a find.  Anyway, so I was driving and trying to be super careful on the road since I am not that experienced in driving in snow.  All of a sudden I saw a horse leap in front of my car and I knew for a fact there was no way I could stop fast enough to avoid hitting it.  I would love to say it was my ninja instincts that helped me not roll my car or do something super stupid.  Instead, it was all the stuff my grandpa tells me about what to do in case of an emergency on the road.  We had even covered what to do in this exact circumstance except grandpa had prepared me for what to do if a DEER leapt in front of my car on an icy road, not a horse.  So, I knew not to slam on the breaks or jerk the wheel or close my eyes and scream.  In conditions such as these, I would either flip my truck or lose control of it, so says grandpa.  So I quickly eased the breaks and drove my truck into the ditch which was not a ditch anymore because of all the snow.  For a split second I wondered if I was about to hit a fence and was very tempted to slam the breaks.  I might have; I don’t really remember.  The truck stopped and I felt my heart beating super fast and for a moment I thought I might throw up.  I checked on Caleb who was wide eyed and asking what had just happened.  He was fine.  I opened the door to my car which was a little difficult because of all the snow.  I stumbled up the ditch/snowdrift thing and was very aware that I was ruining my boots.  Snow was falling and getting in my eyelashes and making it hard to see.  I saw the horse just standing there.  He had reigns and appeared to be very used to people.  My first thought was to tie him to something and get the heck out of there but I realized my truck was stuck.  I grabbed the reign and lead him into the ditch back to my truck and held onto him while I opened my truck door and reached for my phone.  Caleb saw him and immediately started squealing and freaking out.  I was prepared to call grandpa and ask what the crap to do in this situation.  We had never discussed this circumstance.  My phone didn’t have service.  I had no idea how far town was but remembered seeing a house about four miles back down the road.  I wondered on a scale of one to ten how dangerous it would be to walk four miles with some random horse and my son to a stranger’s house to ask for help.  I considered leaving the horse but didn’t want him to endanger anyone else.  I decided that leaving my car would be the dumbest thing I could do and took myself and the horse back onto the road since people driving by probably wouldn’t be able to see my car from the road.  I hadn’t seen any other cars on this road for a long time and I stood on the road and wondered what exactly my danger level was at this moment.  I decided if worst came to worst Caleb and I could possibly ride this horse somewhere.  He had reigns on so he belonged to someone and that someone had to know he was missing.  For about ten minutes I stood there, thinking about options in the event no one drove by.  But then I saw a truck and it pulled over.  A lady hopped out and hurried over to me.  She took the reign and looked super confused and was like, “where was he?  Who are you?”
“I had to drive my truck into the ditch to avoid hitting him,” I said, “my three year old son is in there and I am VERY stuck.”

“Are you guys OK?” she asked, pulling out her phone.  I told her we were and she called someone and told them about the situation.

“My husband is about ten miles away and I live right down there,” she said pointing towards the direction of the house I had seen earlier, “he got loose and I didn’t know which way he went.  If you can hold onto him for just a little bit, I’ll go hook up the trailer and take him home.  My husband is going to go to the house and grab the tractor to pull you guys out.  Do you want me to take the baby to the house?  My family is all there.  They can watch him while we take care of this.  I’m very sorry.”

She seemed nice enough but there was no way I was letting Caleb go with her.

“He can stay here,” I said, “and I’ll watch this guy until you get back.”

She took off and I stood there blinking snow out of my eyes and patting the horse’s neck.  I can remember a few times that grandpa’s cows have gotten onto the highway so I know things like this happen to even the most responsible farmers/ranchers.  I was still a little annoyed that I was losing time and even though Caleb was in his carseat, I was getting worried about him.  I led the horse back down to my car, opened the passenger door, which wasn’t that easy, and told Caleb what was going on.  He didn’t care about anything other than petting the horse.  Since I didn’t know this horse, I told Caleb no.  He asked if he could ride him.  He asked if we could keep him.  He got mad when I wouldn’t let him pet him.  He wanted to get out.  I told him to stay in his seat and closed the door so that he wouldn’t get cold.  The horse and I went back onto the road and about fifteen minutes later the lady showed up with her trailer.  She loaded the horse up and told me she was going to go put him up and she’d be right back and wait with me until her husband got there with the tractor.  She said he hadn’t made it back to the house yet.  As she drove away, I panicked a little.  What if she didn’t come back?  I went back to my truck to inspect how stuck I was.  I was super stuck.  The longer she was gone, the more convinced I was that she had stranded Caleb and me.  I made sure the exhaust was clear of snow and grabbed my phone and stumbled up the snowbank.  I aimed it at random things, walked down the road a little, turned it off and turned it on.  No service.  Ten minutes went by.  Then fifteen.  Then twenty.  I wondered if there were any houses or anything up the road.  I wished I had asked the lady how far I was from stuff.  Surely she wouldn’t actually leave me and a three year old out here.  Surely not.  I was so cold but was afraid to get in the truck because if she came back I was afraid she wouldn’t see us and I wouldn’t hear her.  I stood on the side of the road and felt tears run down my face and I felt like I would throw up when I thought of little Caleb being cold and there being nothing I could do about it if the car ran out of gas.  I decided I’d set the entire effing forest on fire before that happened but realized I couldn’t because of all the snow.  I started thinking about worst case scenarios.  No one could see the truck from the road and if I had to I could go try to find help and leave Caleb there.  Unfathomable.  I could not leave my baby alone while I wondered around freezing balls Colorado.  I panicked a little more when I realized I had ignored mom’s advice about which rout to take and taken backroads instead because they were quicker.  No one knew where the hell I was.  I went to the truck again to check the temperature and saw it was thirty degrees.  I knew once the sun set it would be much colder.  I had a quarter of a tank of gas left.  I did a quick inventory of emergency supplies:  food, water, extra clothes and blankets.  I wondered if we were totally forced to spend the night in the truck if I could keep Caleb warm enough.  I decided I would not be sleeping in order to keep an eye on him.  I remembered something about staying awake and moving if you’re ever stranded in the freezing cold.   I thought about my grandparents and quickly forced that thought out of my mind because that thought would make me cry.  I decided to focus instead on how to get out of this mess.  I was trying to figure out a game plan when I saw the woman driving up.  She got out and instructed Caleb and I to come sit in her truck until her husband got there.  I grabbed Caleb and we got in and it was so warm I thought I might cry again.  My feet were throbbing and I couldn’t feel my fingers and I was snotting and had runny eyes and was still incredibly nauseous from being afraid she wasn’t coming back.  My teeth were chattering so bad I couldn’t even talk but the lady talked to Caleb and was telling me about that dumb horse and how sorry she was.  She assured me her husband would check my car out and that they had extra rooms if my car was too damaged to drive.  She told me there was a town about twenty miles ahead and she knew a great mechanic.  Twenty miles.  I was glad I hadn’t been forced to decide whether or not to walk that way.  I asked if there were any houses along the way to town and she said there were a few but they were set back from the road and hard to see.  She asked if I was alright and I told her yes.  About twenty minutes later, her husband showed up with his tractor.  He had some teenage boy with him, probably his son.  They pulled my truck out and looked over it.  It was fine.  I thanked them and the lady apologized again and I assured her everything was fine.  I was so ready to get out of there.  We said goodbye and Caleb and I were off.  He was throwing a fit that we didn’t get to bring the horse with us. I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach from the fear of being stranded there like that.  I looked back at Caleb and thought I might cry at the thought of him freezing and being scared.  The thought of having so few options and not knowing the outcome of those options when someone else’s life depends on me was putting me on the verge of a panic attack.  I tried to take deep breaths and felt my face getting hot and then I remembered something grandpa told me once:  “don’t think about what if.  Think about what is.”  What was, was that Caleb and I were fine, on our way to Utah.  We weren’t freezing, we weren’t stranded, and we weren’t in a horrifying predicament.  We were fine.  I calmed down and after an hour, was able to find some humor in the situation.  After a couple of hours, my phone had service again and I called mom and told her what had happened.

“Well, at least you and Caleb are alright,” she said, “only you could get in a wreck with an appaloosa.”  She has teased me about it ever since.  She was more than happy to share my adventure with my sisters later when I got home.  I am now utterly terrified to drive back through the snowy roads to go back home.  I’ve already got a few game plans to go off of in the event something like that happens again. 

            Christmas day was fun and my kiddos were up at five am to open presents.  Things have actually been pretty uneventful.  Caleb and Makayla are having the time of their lives and Caleb insists that his name is Ironman.  I’m loving spending time with them but am also getting kind of restless.  I am not used to doing nothing except hanging out in the house and am itching to go explore things.  I want to go see around this town and go up into the mountains and go check out the Aztec Artifacts museum.  There’s also a dinosaur fossil museum and I am very curious to find out if there is any possible way to obtain a small piece of a dinosaur tooth for my future engagement ring, which I’m sure my future husband will appreciate.  I’m not sure if the kids would appreciate the Aztec museum or the dinosaur fossils but we’re going to see.  Makayla really wants to see Yogi Bear in 3D and we’re going to do that tomorrow.  Mom isn’t feeling very well so I’m going to spend today cleaning the house and getting things neat.  I’ve been hinting to mom that I’m itching to go on a hiking trail and she keeps hinting back that that’s a horrible idea right now.  It is just unfathomable that I am in a whole new part of America and am unable to explore it for myself, up close and personal.  I need to see what’s going on around here.  I’m highly annoyed that my phone doesn’t get service here.  Caleb is probably the cutest little person in the entire world.  He really loved opening Christmas presents.  He opened half of Makayla’s too and she didn’t mind at all.  During a Christmas party, while no one was paying attention, he tackled other people’s presents and brought me a Wii game.

“This is for me,” he said with a very serious look on his face.  I looked at it and said, “Caleb, did you open this?”

“Yes,” he said, “that is mine.”

Everyone thought it was hilarious.  I’m doing my best to get pictures of the kiddos but Caleb hates getting his picture taken and Makayla won’t hold still long enough to get a good one.  They’re both having an absolute blast together.  I love nighttime because I sleep in between them and they both cuddle me and wake me up giving me hugs and kisses.  I am having a great time hanging out with the kiddos but I SERIOUSLY miss home.  This is a dreadful part of America and I don’t appreciate it at all.  I’ve decided to attempt maturity and just focus on the fact that I’m with both of the kiddos and not focus on the fact that there are a lot of things about being here that I hate but can’t do anything about.  I hope everyone is having a super holiday and wish me luck not running over random appaloosas coming home.  J

A Story of Triumph and Success and a Few Morons

Let me tell y'all something about the yahoos in public around this time a year:  they're idiots.  I went to Toys R Us in my mad attempt to find the zhu zhu paraphernalia Makayla's pining over and some Iron Man stuff for Caleb.  Upon entering the store, I was immediately alarmed at the herd of cranky adults yelling and glaring at each other as they furiously stuffed crap into baskets for their children.  I braced myself for the possibility of being physically or sexually assaulted and started roaming around, looking for the stuff I needed.  The zhu zhu aisle was insane.  People were clamoring over each other and not respecting personal bubble space at all.  While the castle thing Makayla wanted for her zhu zhu's was totally out of stock, I still saw some zhu zhu stuff that I didn't think she had yet acquired.  I tried not to let the people around me get on my nerves but my personal bubble space was being seriously threatened and I considered feigning a horrifying illness.  I mock coughed a few times but no one noticed.  I hacked and no one cared.  Whatever.  I would just be looking at toys while practically having a parental orgy.  I picked up a zhu zhu pet that Kayla didn't have and while I was looking at it, some whore yanked it out of my hands and thundered off.  I considered hurling something at her but decided against it.  I walked up beside her, slapped her on the ass, and said, "I like that jiggle," before leaving the store completely.  I wasn't sorry at all.  I was sorry for the child of that horrifying weirdo. 
Even though I assumed Wal-Mart would be a cluster eff, I went anyway.  I really wanted to get the princess castle for Makayla that she wanted.  I wondered if I would be willing to do what the butt flap at the toy store had done over the princess castle.  I decided I would not.  There is no way in hell I'd act uncivilized over a material possession.  I had already told Makayla it was a very real possibility that she wouldn't be getting the princess castle until later after being told by a Toy's R Us associate "sorry ma'am, but there is no way you'll find one anytime soon here in Lubbock."  I went into Wal-Mart and was not at all surprised to see that there were herds of people here too.  Somehow the atmosphere wasn't as angry, which pleased me.  I decided to bring my level of being alarmed down to just being cautious.  I decided a sexual assault was probably unlikely here but was still prepared to defend myself against a possible physical attack.  I went to the toy aisle and saw that most of the zhu zhu stuff was sold out.  And then there was a glorious miracle because as I lurked away from the zhu zhu's, I saw a buttload of zhu zhu princess castles and castle accessories.  I literally ran to them and forgot about being civilized because I hurled them into my basket while squealing happily and glared at the people around me who were giving me strange looks just DARING them to attempt to jack my little girl's zhu zhu pets princess castle and princess castle accessories.  I considered growling for extra emphasis but decided it wasn't necessary because no one was interested in jacking my stuff.  They were just trying to look subtle as they scrambled away from me.  I decided to save my victory dance for when I got home and cheerfully went to look at Iron Man stuff.  The first thing I saw was an Iron Man action hero and I didn't think Caleb had that one yet.  I picked it up and was about to put it in my basket when a little squirt about Caleb's age said, "THERE IT IS MOMMY!"  I was slightly startled at the kiddo because he was pointing directly at me.  I turned around and didn't see anything out of the ordinary so I gave him a wink and started looking for more Iron Man stuff.  I heard the mom say, "I'm sorry, honey, that was the last one.  Maybe next time."  It hit me that the squirt wanted the Iron Man I had.  I looked at him and he looked like the entire world was going to end.  When you're three, your favorite action hero is the center of your world.  I remember.  My life used to revolve around the Ninja Turtles.  I gave it to him and was like, "oh I was just looking.  Here ya go."  The mommy looked relieved as hell and said, "THANK you.  Thank you SO much.  Tell the lady thank you."  The kiddo was too busy squealing and being a happy camper.  I was happy to have gotten my daily good deed out of the way so I wouldn't have to worry about it anymore and focused again on Iron Man stuff.  I found an Iron Man helmet that talked and did all sorts of cool stuff.  I immediately pondered getting two but decided it probably wouldn't fit over my very large melon head.  I went around, getting other things I needed and marveled at the inconsiderate freaks.  People just standing in the middle of the aisle with their baskets, yacking to one another as people waited to get by them.  People walking so slowly that they seriously hindered the adventures of myself and others.  People rudely racing past old ladies.  My grandparent's are pretty old and I love them very much so when people do shitty things to old people it pisses me off and makes me wonder if people ever do stuff like that to my own grandpeople.  I imagine if someone ever nearly made my grandma fall down because they were being a prick I'd probably lose my mind.  Anyway, the synopsis of the story is that being in public right now is utterly insane and I found that blasted castle.  Have a super day peeps!

Thanksgiving Adventures!!!

So, for Thanksgiving I am having an epic adventure.  My plan was to wake up at seven, be on the road by eight, and be in Junction no later than one thirty.  Pshaw.  First of all, the night before my epic journey, mother called at one am saying that Makayla was sick.  I sat up in bed and tried to get my mind straight. 

“Fever?” I asked as I wiped gooop from my eyes.

“No,” mom said.

“Runny poo?”

“No,” mom said.

“For how long has it been going on?”  I was trying to figure out if it was possible she had food poisoning but mom was more concerned with telling me the emotional turmoil of having Makayla puke in the store.  She told me all about her shopping list, and about the people she encountered in the store.  She went on until I interrupted her and said, “Mother, it’s one in the morning.  Is Makayla OK?  Is she drinking Pedialight?”

“She seems to be fine,” mom said, “I gave her some medicine and she’s sleeping.  She threw up in her sleep earlier so I’m going to stay up with her in case she does it again.”

“Make sure she’s on her stomach and make sure she’s drinking plenty of pedialight,” I said, “she likes it if you turn the pedialight into a popsicle.  And call me if it gets any worse.”

Mom agreed she would do that then changed the subject to something else and I just said, “Mom, I have to be up at seven.  I’m exhausted.  Goodbye.”  I hung up before she could suck me into some other conversation.  Then I lied awake until four in the morning worried sick about Makayla.

  Seven am came quickly and I jumped out of bed, still tired, but excited to go fetch my son.    I planned on leaving at eight.  As soon as I had my car loaded up and was only a little annoyed that I was seven minutes behind, I did a quick inspection of all the tires.  This is a trick my grandpa taught me so that I could avoid all sorts of messes.  I never did these inspections when I was younger.  I do them anytime I leave town now.  Naturally, since I was in a hurry, I actually had a semi flat tire.  I just kind of stared at it for a minute, hoping I was hallucinating.  I looked away and then looked back and it was still half flat.  I compared the half flat tire with all other four tires in hopes that the other three looked just like the half flat tire.  In retrospect, that would have been worse because then I would have had four screwed up tires.  I considered just putting air in the tire myself to avoid any severe delays.  Decided that would be an idiotic idea and the best thing to do was have it looked at just to be sure.  So I took my car to Discount Tire, where I have an account and get free repairs when crap like this happens anyway.  It took them an hour to let me know the tire had a nail in it and it took them another hour to take care of it.  I sat in the waiting room with John Luc, eyeballing him to make sure he didn’t poop on anything, and glared at the wall.  For two hours.  By ten thirty my car was ready and I had managed to calm down but was feeling like a hectic, messy lunatic.  Once I was actually on the road I calmed down a little.  Chuck Lewis, my super dependable GPS system kindly let me know I should be in Junction by 4:00.  I had downloaded a British accent because I think accents are super hot.  This probably explains my affinity for the past few months of dating guys from Israel, Peru, Ecuador, Russia, and naturally, Canada.  Anyway, even though Chuck Lewis and I have had some really great times together, and he has guided me in oh, so many ways, I’m thinking I’m ready to graduate to a real GPS accent:  French.  I would name him Chandler Duvall and he would be great.  After I praised John Luc for not barfing on anything and prayed I wouldn’t murder some innocent varmint with my truck, I started to get happy again.  I pulled over in between Snyder and Sweetwater to give John Luc some water.  He was looking at me with a “please help” look in his eye and because I’m a professional scientist, I knew EXACTLY what to do.  I pulled over and grabbed a bottle of water and his little doggy bowel.  In my hurry, I squeezed this full bottle                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            of water with my knees as I opened it and the next thing I knew there was a magnificent volcano of water coming from the bottle right up my nose and all over my face and chest.  I just kind of sat there for a second while my pup cheerfully licked water from my face and neck.  The front of my shirt and jeans were soaked.  Why not?  I was amused by this incident and not too irritated that it looked like I was lactating AND had just peed myself.  After John Luc had his fill from a second water bottle (this time I GENTLY handled the bottle with care) he barfed it up immediately.  I had lined the passenger seat with plastic and towels in case he vomited.  Naturally, he vomited on the floorboard, where my favorite poncho sweater and boots were laying.  Not a drop of dog puke got on the puke pallet I had so carefully constructed with my own bare hands.  I noticed there were leaves and bugs in his throw up.  I gagged and wondered if bugs could give my dog worms or breed more bugs or, a much better alternative:  superhero powers.  I was pretty sure John Luc would make a fantastic superhero because he was named after a guy who is basically a superhero.  As I fell into yet another one of my sordid sexual fantasies of the glorious John Luc Picard (the human version) I realized I was coming into Sweetwater and replaced my fantasy with Paul Walker, which is a much simpler fantasy because he’s easier to concentrate on in when I have to think about something else.  So as not to be rude, I’ll just say Mr. Walker is less…complicated than the brilliant John Luc Picard.  I love you Paul Walker, in case you read this.  Also, why aren’t you responding to my facebook posts on your wall professing my love?  Just playing hard to get, probably, you little rascal, you.  Yeah right.  As I went through the third stage of grief over being rejected by Paul Walker, I realized there was a huge traffic jam ahead of me.  I didn’t think it would be too bad.  I pulled up behind a car that was covered in bumper stickers and figured things would get going shortly.  While I waited, I studied the bumper stickers.  One said “Abortion KILLS!”  “KILLS” was all red and had blood droplets coming off of it.  “That’s a little dramatic,” I told John Luc.  I wanted to put my own bumper sticker next to it that said, “That’s the POINT!”  I figured that was a rude thing to joke about but I was still annoyed by this person.  Personal beliefs shouldn’t be shared on one’s car.  They also had all sorts of religious propaganda sorted everywhere.  One sticker said, “Believe so that you can LIVE!”  Another said, “Jesus is MY savior.”  Another said, “God watches over me.”  There were happy faces all over that one.  I imagined the car exploding in a fiery car crash and thought about the irony of that happening but then figured that was a real dick thing to imagine.  I told myself to stop judging these people, even though they appeared to be idiots, and focus on something that wouldn’t irritate me.  John Luc was dry heaving and that irritated me so I turned on the radio.  That Eminem/Rihanna song that romanticizes domestic violence was on so I turned it off.  I realized I had been sitting in the same spot for fifteen minutes.  I became slightly alarmed.  This isn’t normal in places like Sweetwater.  I got out my phone and started messing around on it.  Considered posting something about the idiot in front of me on facebook but decided it would offend a lot of people.  Considered posting about the traffic jam on facebook but decided that would be lame.  For an hour, traffic inched along, through detours and people honking and yelling at each other.  I thought it might be fun to throw a firecracker into the herd of people that were yelling at each other in one part of the traffic jam, jamming that side up even more.  Thankfully, that wasn’t my side.  Finally, after over an hour behind that kind person with such a godly soul who also just so happened to be one cursing, honking asshole, I was out of the jam but totally lost as to where I was because of the detour.  After driving around for a while and getting no closer to knowing where I was, I decided to pull over.  I saw a McDonald’s and a Wendy’s and even though my true passion is with McDonald’s, I decided to try something new.  Go adventure.  My plan was to let John Luc out to poop, clean him up, feed and water him, go grab a burger, and then figure things out.  I let John Luc out on his leash and noticed three other people with their tiny dogs.  All of the dogs were growling and barking at each other.  The owners were doing that “Bubbles, no!” thing while doing nothing about it.  Gay.  I took my pup around to the other side of the building and decided I should probably hydrate him soon since he loves puking in my truck.  After he was finished with his business, I took him to the car and gave him some water.  I tried to feed him but he wasn’t feeling it.  I put him in his kennel and hoped his belly would settle before we got back on the road.  I made a mental note to Google giving anti nausea medicine to puppies.  I went into Wendy’s and was immediately greeted by a madhouse full of angry, hungry people.  I literally said “Gosh,” the second I walked in.  These people startled me.  People were yelling over each other and the cashiers were impatiently taking orders and barking “What can I get you?” as people came to order.  I was a little intimidated by my own cashier.  She looked pissed to be there and glared at me as I came up to order.  I was attempting to order "a number two, no ketchup, no mustard, add mayo, no tomatoes,” but she wouldn’t really give me a chance.  When I said, “I’ll have a number two,” before I could clarify what I did and did not want on the burger she was like, “what size?  What drink?  Onion rings or fries?”  She was barking these things out to me in a way  that made me uncomfortable and when she said, “that’ll be seven fifty,” I told her, “what I’ve been trying to tell you is that I don’t want ketchup or mustard on it and no tomatoes.”  She rolled her eyes at me and said, “It doesn’t come with mustard.”  “Add mayo,” I smiled at her.  She rolled her eyes again, punched something into the screen and yelled, “next!” 

“Excuse me,” I said to her.  She gave me a “go to hell look.”

“You know, I came here to get something to eat and to relax before I get back on the road and you’re being a dick and I don’t appreciate it.  You wouldn’t even let me give you my order.  I just want you to know I had a horrible Wendy’s experience.  Have a great day.”  I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard applause behind me.  I turned to look and people were grinning and saying stuff like, “I’ll never come back here,” and “couldn’t have said it better myself.”  I immediately was concerned for the feelings of the cashier and felt like a total jerk for making a scene like that where everyone was in turn being a dick to her but upon inspection, the angry mob at Wendy’s didn’t seem to faze her a bit.  I figured that because she was such an asshole she was used to people hating her but figured it was also likely she was abused as a child and was good at disassociation.  If the second one were true, fifteen people jeering at her would cause her severe emotional turmoil.  When I went to get my food she practically threw the bag at me while yelling “next!” to the next person in line.  My burger had ketchup and tomatoes on it.  They had forgotten to give me fries.  I decided I had just lost seven bucks because I wasn’t eating the nasty thing and I sure as shit wasn’t going back in to see that evil lady and all those people.  I looked at McDonald’s and figured there would be a mob and angry cashiers there too and decided to just get a bag of trail mix when I went to get gas.  The gas station was even worse.  I had to wait in line to get gas and then the gas tank wouldn’t take my card.  I went inside, grabbed some trail mix, a Gatorade, and paid for gas.  That attendant was distracted but at least polite.  I would have been distracted with all those people around too.  What a nightmare.  Once I was back on the road and on the right track, I realized I had put myself so far behind that I wouldn’t be getting into Junction until around six.  I decided this trip would probably age me at least three years.  I looked at Chuck Lewis, saw I had forty more miles to go, and turned his voice off.  Chuck is super hot and helpful and great to have around, but he is also capable of annoying the hell out of me just like any other typical man.  I let my thoughts wander.  I thought about homework and worried about the thesis paper for grad school that is at least a year and a half away.  I pondered how weird it was only seeing my kiddos on holidays and their birthdays and the summertime.  I wondered what John Luc’s offspring would look like.  I wondered how I was going to make my jobs work around my massive class load next semester and how on earth I was going to support my social life time-wise.  I figured I’d probably have to cut gym time in half and pondered clothing items once I became obese.  I wondered if I could develop an eating disorder and decided I wasn’t disciplined enough.   I wondered if this total nightmare of a trip would have instead been a total blast if I had someone super cool to join me on it which made me think about Matt and some of the last things he ever said to me.  I immediately switched my thoughts to all of the things I hated about him and then switched on the radio to distract myself.  Some song came on by Brad Paisley which brought up new memories of the ex.  “There is a song on here that TOTALLY reminds me of you!”  I had squealed, as I thrust at him the CD I decided he couldn’t live without.  Weird.  He really was just a guy.  I slammed the radio off with a little more force than necessary and said, “Stupid stupid.”  John Luc jumped and I patted him until he calmed down and saw a dead deer in a ditch.  Matt loved dead deer.  The idiot was everywhere.  I glanced down at Chuck Lewis and literally screamed.  I had forgotten about turning him off.  I had gone fifty miles past where I was supposed to turn.  I pulled over, making sure I didn’t run over any half decomposed venison. 

“Shit!” I screamed, “Shit, shit, shit!”

John Luc was freaking out.  I had TOTALLY lost track of time.  I re-entered my destination and calmed down as I realized while I had gone out of the way, realistically, it was only about a twenty minute detour from my destination.  Still, I was already behind and had it in my mind that I wouldn’t be acting like an idiot any more at all for the duration of my trip and made sure I paid extra close attention to everything.  I was doing great until I saw flashing lights behind me and realized I had paid close attention to everything except the speed limit.  I was going eighty miles an hour in a seventy.  Of course.  Yes, of course.  The cop did his whole thing and I didn’t even attempt to get out of a ticket.  I was exhausted.

“Look, I’m sorry,” I said, “I really wasn’t paying attention.”

The cop was cute.  Typically I find situations like this fun.  This time I couldn’t have cared less.

He gave me a warning and a big grin and said, “Have a safe trip.  Jessica.”  He handed my license back and walked back to his car.  I thought about Matt again.  He used to do that.  He would say a sentence, end the sentence, and then say my name as an entire different sentence.  I was so irritable at this point that I didn’t even feel sad; I just felt like kneeing him in the balls.  In the next town, I stopped for gas.  I was exhausted.  Caleb was about thirty minutes away and my heart pounded every time I thought about it.  I was super excited even though I was exhausted.  Mom’s insane phone call last night was taking its toll.  John Luc started puking again as I stopped the car next to pump one and I literally felt tears in my eyes.  This time, he puked all over his little pad but I was afraid he’d step or roll in it.  I snatched him up, snatched two twenties, and ran into the gas station.  There was one attendant there and no other customers.  I stood at the door and extended my hand with the two twenties in it.

“Forty on one, please,” I said, “if you don’t mind, I’d rather not come in.  My pup is sick.”

This was a tiny gas station.  She was literally no more than three feet away from me.

“Yeah, I can’t do that,” she said with a smartass smirk on her face, “you can’t have that dog in here.”

  I just kind of stared at her because John Luc was on a leash, outside while I was inside.  He was still on his leash but the door had shut on the leash, leaving my pup totally outside.  What the hell was up with people today? 

“I just need forty on one really quick, please,” I said, “please.”

“Pump one is broken,” she said, “Everyone knows that that pump has been broken for a year.”

For some reason, this irritated me beyond belief. 

“How would I know that?” I asked as I opened the door and picked John Luc up and brought him in, “how?”

“How could you not know that?” she said, “It’s been that way forever.  Get that dog out of here.”

I felt my face get hot and was suddently fighting the overwhelming desire to physically assult this whore.  “Did it ever occur to you that many people are traveling today and might have never even been to this town?” I asked.

“Well, it’s still broke,” she said, “You need to get that dog out of here.  You can’t have that dog in the store.  And you should get to know your towns before you go to them.  Then you'd know that pump is broken.”  She snapped her fingers at me twice and pointed to the door while giving me a pissy look.

I pretty much lost my mind and my temper.

“You’re a nasty fat bitch and you can go fuck yourself,” I said, "enjoy your humiliating career.  And if you're allowed in here, there's no reason why a dog shouldn't be."  I turned to leave then faced her again and said, "The reason you're in your forties and working behind the counter of a tiny Allsup's is because you're a pathetic loser with no motivation, social skills, ambition, or goals.  Don't take your life failures out on me.  I'm not the one who's a fat, pathetic, lazy, freak excuse of a human being.  Loser.  You better watch you you pick your little hick town attitude with.  Fucking moron."

I felt like a huge dick when I saw her mouth open and nothing came out.  I turned and left and considered going back in to apologize.  Decided against it.  I was ashamed of myself but too tired to do anything about it.  I should have known better than to be mean to such a moron but she probably needed a good dose of something.  I still felt awful the entire rest of the drive to get Caleb and seriously considered calling that Allsup's to apologize.   By the time I finally met up with Clint, my eyes were already heavy and felt crusty and I couldn’t fathom driving three and a half hours back to Snyder.  But the second I saw Caleb, I forgot about the entire disaster of a day, my sudden onset of gayness over Matt, and my unusual evil outburst at the gas lady.  He ran to me with a huge grin and I hugged him tight and felt tears spill down over my cheeks.  His dad hooked up his booster and we talked for a minute.  “Have fun!” Clint said as he made a beeline for his car.  I imagined he was ready for a break from the little guy.  I was suddenly overwhelmed with the giant responsibility of keeping my three year old alive.  I imagined ghastly car wrecks, deer in the road, highway robbers, and black ice.  I dismissed black ice since it wasn’t cold at all and decided I was just being a freak since I hadn’t seen Caleb in two months.  I turned my phone off so I wouldn’t be tempted to mess with it on the road and double checked Caleb’s car seat.  I walked around my car to check the tires.  I kicked them all to make double sure none of them would explode or fall off or go flat.  I swore to myself the day I became rich I’d travel with a personal mechanic to ensure the safety of my kiddos while driving.  I checked the oil and other fluids (which I taught myself to do through Google the night before my epic trip, thank you.)  Finally, I was satisfied enough to entrust myself with the life of my squirt.  This is ridiculous really, because for the first year and ten months of his life, I was solely responsible for the wellbeing of the squirt and we used to travel everywhere.  While breastfeeding.  For a year and ten months.  While maintaining his big sister.  I poked his leg to remind myself that he wasn’t going to break and he said, “Mommy, you’re so funny.”  I remembered that I had gotten him an Ironman book and handed it to him.

"What the heck!" he screamed, "I LUB Ironman!  I AM Ironman Mommy!"  He was a maniac, going through the pages, gasping, and saying, "Look Mommy!  Look!"

He was quiet for a while and I used that opportunity to remember him when he was just a tiny squirt, screaming from his teeth coming in and screaming if I put him down and just screaming in general.  He was the most difficult baby I had ever encountered and sometimes I thought I would never make it through his babyhood.  I remembered his first steps and when he did all of his firsts but I was startled out of my memories by an incredibly lout ROAR.  I swerved slightly out of surprise, and looked back in shock at Caleb.  He roared as loud as he could again and said, "I am IRONman!  ROAR!"  He drooled a little as he roared.  I was impressed.  I tried to roar with him but he said no because girls can't be Ironman.  I let him know girls could be whatever they wanted to be, just like boys and made a mental note to keep an eye on his sexism.

After an hour of driving, I asked him if he was hungry.  “I want a cheeseburger,” he said.  He pronounces this "chis-booger."  We went to Dairy Queen.  I asked him what he wanted and he pointed at an advertisement for blizzards.

“Not in your dreams, squirt,” I said.  He laughed and said, “I know mommy.  I want a cheeseburger.”   While we were eating some dude came by and said, “What up little homie?”  I immediately tensed up and Caleb looked at the man like he had just sprouted horns.

“What up, homie?  You chill?”

I wasn’t really sure what this man was trying to get across but I was under the impression he was trying to communicate with us.  Upon further inspection of his body language, I figured he was trying to say hi to my kiddo.

“Say hi, Caleb,” I said.  Caleb grinned and waved really big.

“Lay it on my homie,” the guy said and offered him a high five.  I figured it would be rude to ask the guy to wash his hands first.  It would be ruder to spray him with Lysol. 

“His hands are dirty,” I said as I dived across the table for Caleb’s hands.  Bubba was eating finger food and our new friend was filthy.  He looked like he had just got off work.

“That’s a cute little man,” the friend said, “thank you,” I said, “I’m sure he’s tired.  He’s been in the car all day.”

The guy laughed, “Yeah those white boys get tired easy.  Tell him to work with me and then he’ll be tired.”  I don’t think he was trying to be offensive.  I said something lame like, “yeah, ok.  Deuces bro.”

Caleb ate, then had an ice cream cone, and then we went back out to the car.  I fed and watered my dog and let him go potty.  I felt a little guilty about John Luc.  Somehow, with Caleb there, his existence wasn’t NEAR as huge as it typically is.  I decided to look into the psychology of that later.  I assumed I was about to learn that I was using my pup as a coping mechanism for my kiddos living away from me during the school year.  I wasn’t sure how healthy that was.  Thankfully, the drive to grandma and grandpa’s was incredibly uneventful.  I was relieved.  When I stumbled into my grandparents’ house, exhausted and about to pass out, I handed my son over to grandpa, who was beaming at him.

“Howdy there boy!” grandpa exclaimed, “howdy there!  How ‘bout you come on over here to PawPaw’s lap and look at some pictures on this here computer your daddy sent to me.”  Caleb looked at me with a look of horror and I urged him over.  I wasn’t positive he remembered his PawPaw.   I was assuming his PawPaw’s larengectamy was freaking him out.  I had forgotten to warn him about it.

“Go, son,” I said, “let mommy bring all of our stuff in.”

Caleb sat on Grandpa’s lap and after I unloaded stuff, Grandpa looked at me and said, “Go on in there to the back room and fetch me that camera and take a picture of me and my boy.”  I was only a little butt hurt that he didn’t want a picture with me.  Of course a cranky twenty four year old who he sees all the time doesn’t at all compare with the adorable three year old he hasn’t seen in over a year.  I was happy to “fetch him that camera” and dutifully took pictures.  It wasn’t lost on me that grandpa was totally shirtless and about to upload these pics on facebook.  Whatever.  I quickly put my son to bed and showered.  I was actually happy to be home.  There’s something totally settling about coming home.  Even though Lubbock is only an hour and a half away, it feels like it’s further.  All of the homework and friends and boyfriends and other stuff seemed way more distant than it does when I’m home.  When I went to bed next to my munchkin, I looked out the window and saw the same sight I had grown up seeing when I went to bed.  I remembered my favorite dog and I remembered my sisters and I had run around this farm like feral animals, playing games, exploring, and getting filthy.  I remembered our gord ball wars, using tumbleweeds as shields.  I remember spooking each other out in all the old barns and tree jumping and playing softball.  Exploring the creek and all the games we would invent and messing around with grandpa’s cows.  I went to bed super happy and content, happy with memories that I haven’t remembered in a very long time.

            At seven thirty, I was awakened from a deep sleep by grandpa saying, “what are y’all gonna do, sleep all day?”  I was still really tired and their house was freezing in the morning and I didn’t at all feel like getting up.  But I did.  I was surprised at breakfast to see cereal on the table.  From the time grandma and grandpa were married, every Thanksgiving morning, grandma has made Pumpkin bread.  I wondered if I was sleepwalking.  I glanced at the calendar.  “It’s Thanksgiving today, right?” I asked.

“Yup,” grandpa said.  Weirdness.  Halfway through cheerios, grandma said, “my old arthritis is getting so bad, I just couldn’t make pumpkin bread for breakfast this year.” 

Have you ever had that feeling from worry/dread, like when it feels like your heart just dropped?  My eyes snapped up to her and a morbid thought entered my mind instantly:  ‘what if this is the last Thanksgiving I have with Grandma?”  I felt my cheeks flushing and tears spring to my eyes as I tried not to make a scene at the table.  Grandma and Grandpa were talking about something else.  I interrupted them, announcing I’d be doing the dishes immediately after breakfast.  I didn’t want grandma to tackle them if I went to do something else. 

“Let me get Caleb ready and I’ll get those dishes,” I said, worried that my little shirtless guy was getting cold.  When I was done, she had already done the dishes and I was like, “grandma!  I said I’d do that!”

“No, no, no!” she said defensively, “the water makes my hands feel better.”  I snatched the dish she was drying and put it up.  I vowed to keep a better eye on her.  I made sure she hadn’t dripped any water so that she wouldn’t slip and fall. 

“Look lady,” I said as I put an arm around her hip, “let me do take over stuff while I’m here.”  I decided I needed to start coming down at least once a week to clean stuff up.  She used to keep her house super spotless and has always been anal about it.  Gradually, over the past year, things aren’t like they used to be.  She says she doesn’t care but I know she does.  People’s preferences in cleanliness don’t change just because their bodies do.  Grandpa demanded we leave, RIGHT THEN.  I was still in pajamas and hadn’t brushed my teeth, much less actually make myself presentable to the public.  That was an ordeal but I already texted that whole thing to you guys and am getting sick of writing.  When we got in the car, Caleb, my uncle, and I were all in the back.  I missed my truck.  My uncle helped me get Caleb situated and I opened my laptop and got started writing this here thing.  After nearly an entire minute of no one moving, I looked up to see what was going on.  I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary so I buried my nose into my computer and pounded on the keyboard.  We still didn’t move so I looked up at my grandpa and saw him staring at me through the review mirror.  I wondered if he was marveling at his super smart granddaughter who was intent on recording every last moment of her adventures.  Something told me that wasn’t the case.  I wasn’t sure what he wanted.  I looked away and then looked back up and he was still looking at me.  He tapped his forefinger on the steering wheel.  He clicked at me.  My grandpa has a series of clicks to communicate with people because he has a hole in his neck and it’s easier for him to give a certain click for whatever he wants.  This particular click was commanding me to do something, sternly.  Oh duh.  The seatbelt.  I put it on and he said, “don’t you take that off, now.”  Of course.   (I’ll post this now and try to find the time to type up the rest later.  Hope everyone has a happy Thanksgiving!)

Those Goddam Latte Chinos

While talking to my grandpa the other day, I discovered that apparently I should cancel the full coverage insurance on my ten year old Ford Explorer because I’m “throwing money down the goddam drain.”  According to this guy, one should never hold full coverage insurance on a car that’s over five years old.  I thought I was being uber responsible by having full coverage because I’m one of the most horrifying drivers on the face of the planet.  True story. 

“You’re getting poorer while those insurance companies are getting richer!” he proclaimed, “you need to put that car on liability and quit giving all your hard earned money to people!”

Before I could get a word in, he demanded to know how much money I had in savings.

“Enough, old man,” I said, “I’ve got things under control.”

“How much?” he demanded.

I gave him a dollar amount that was a total exaggeration and he nearly had a heart attack.

“You need more!” he screamed.  Or he tried to scream.  One can only scream so loud when one has a hole in one’s neck that is typically full of boogers.

“You need to be putting fifty dollars more a month in savings than you are now!  You need to quit buying those goddam latte chinos and take all the money you spend on those goddam things and put it in the bank!”

I am pretty much used to his bizarre outbursts that come out of the blue.  I am very aware that my grandparents think I am a total lunatic and completely incapable of a logical thought.  They base this belief on the fact that I am a “goddam liberal hippy” and have been “brain warshed by a bunch of goddam liberal professors.”  According to these people, I am a hippy tree lover and need to stop associating with sissies, liberals, and homosexuals.  Because I hang out with such bizarre people, my grandparents assume that my acquaintances alone are the reason for all my life’s problems.  If I call my grandpa and tell him I got a flat tire on my way to class, he says, “well, if you’d quit associating with those goddam liberals and homosexuals perhaps you wouldn’t have gotten a flat tire, dumbass.”  I don’t know what the crap this guy is talking about but whatever. 

     So after my grandpa’s verbal assault, I asked my friend and his bromantic roommate if I should drop my full coverage and switch to liability.  They both told me that doing that would be a horrible idea.  Perhaps in order to afford my full coverage insurance I need to cut out an unnecessary expense.  I didn’t tell my grandpa this earlier, but it isn’t my “goddam latte chinos” making me poor. The fact that I spend an incredible amount of money on slutty clothes and alcohol is a more appropriate reason as to why I’m consistently broke. The next time he starts harassing me about my horrifying “personality defects” I’m going to remind him that he’s the one who raised me.

Jessica the Homeless Chick

I actually wrote this in like, August but whatever.

So, today I decided it would be beneficial to clean out my disgusting truck.  I’m utterly horrible about letting it get trashed out before I clean anything from it.  My friends and I have a little theory about this being the reason two out of five guys do not call me back after riding around in my car.  I maintain it’s because I don’t sleep around, which men tend to figure out around the third date, (other than that horrifying, gassy one night stand my friends won’t let me live down) but my friends say it’s because my car is disgusting and terrifies innocent “men.”  Whatever.  Show me an actual man in Lubbock, Texas and I’ll give you a thousand dollars.  I have yet to meet one of these “man” creatures and have had to settle with horny college boys who act obnoxious and annoy the hell out of me.  Anyway, so I decided to clean out my car while I was getting gas and proceeded to throw away all the coke bottles and waters and fast food bags and straw wrappers.  I found twenty bucks under the seat which was fun.  As I leaned far into the back to reach around under the seats in hopes of finding more cash, (human nature) I heard some guy say, “hey, need some help?”  I figured he was talking to someone else because only a moron would need help cleaning out their truck, so I didn’t pay any attention to him.  But then I felt a pat on my lower back and the guy said, “hey.”  I whipped around with a half full, moldy soda bottle in hand, ready to defend myself against a possible rape.

“What?” I said.  I instantly wasn’t as irritated as I noticed he was an utterly stunning piece of man meat.

“Do you need some help?” he asked.

“Well, I’m just cleaning out my truck,” I told him.  “If by help, you actually mean do it for me, then I’ll gladly accept.”

“Sure,” he said and grinned.  He had dimples in both cheeks.  I decided I must take this marvelous creature to Chimys.  Or even better, somewhere that didn’t require shirts.  I attempted to scope out his man body to determine if he had the abs of a god.  Judging by his bulging biceps and forearms, I decided he probably did.  I realized I was being a total slut and told him I was going in to get a soda.  I went inside, got a soda and came out to find him bent in the very back of my car, sorting through trash, putting it in a big pile.  As I sipped my coke zero and marveled at his butt, I mentally hooted that everyone always teases me about my car scaring guys away, yet I had the cutest one of the year cleaning out the disgusting thing.  I got bored watching him and decided to go ahead and help.  We chatted for a while.  He told me he was a civil engineer major and would be graduating in May.  He had a dog named Stanley and a twin sister.  He had a motorcycle and pointed to his hybrid he had parked at the front of the gas station.  Upon further questioning, I realized he was an uber liberal democrat like me, and decided I had probably just met my future husband. 

“I was watching you cleaning your car when I got here,” he said, “I thought it was funny that you were whistling to yourself.  You’re really cute, you know.”

I was very aware of my running shorts, a white-trash tank top, greasy hair, and sweaty armpits. 

“Ummm, it gets better,” I said like a moron, “I just got back from the gym.  I’m kind of…sweaty.”  Mental palm to forehead.  I am a dork.

He grinned at me and I noticed he had perfectly straight teeth and his eyes were super blue.  I’m the biggest sucker alive for extremely attractive guys especially buff ones with blue eyes.  I reminded myself not to drool and decided I would definitely be getting his number.

“So how’d you get your car this messy anyway?” he asked, “this is pretty bad.”  He grinned at me again and I had to resist leaping across my side of the car and ravishing his face.

“Well, I live in this thing so it gets messy pretty easily.”

He gave me a really weird look, one of nearly pity.  He stopped cleaning the floor and stood up.  Confused, I stood up and met him on the other side of the car.  He pulled out his walled and offered me a twenty.

“Ummm, shouldn’t I be paying you?” I asked, completely confused as to what this guy was doing.

“Seriously, it’s OK,” he said, “we all go through hard times.  I wish you the best of luck.”

I just kind of stood there, looking at him, not quite sure what was going on.  It figured the hottest man in Lubbock would turn out to be a raging psycho. 

He looked away awkwardly and sat his twenty dollar bill on the seat of my car.

“I’m pretty sure there are shelters around here you could stay in,” he said, “I admire you for staying in school through this.  I wish we could have met at a better time in your life.  You’re really funny and cute.”

With that, he turned abruptly and walked back to his hybrid.  What the hell?  I tried to remember if I had met him somewhere before and done something dumb.  I got back into my car, seriously confused, and tried to figure out what Mr. Hotty’s problem was.  Then it dawned on me.  I had told him, “I live in this thing.”  I began shrieking with laughter like a maniac.  He probably thought I meant I literally lived in my car!  I don’t live in the damn thing; I’m just in it so much because I’m so busy and have to go to ten different places a day.

“Oh my gosh!” I laughed to myself, “holy frick!”  My laughter quickly dissipated as I realized because of a simple misunderstanding I had just missed out on dating one of the hottest men on the planet.  My humor was quickly replaced with annoyance.  What an idiot.  What kind of homeless woman would have fake boobs and a huge collection of fast food trash in her car?  I had told him of my passion for Chimys.  Those damn margaritas are $5.50 a piece.  What kind of homeless person could afford that?  What kind of homeless person would have just put forty dollars into her truck?  Hell, if I was homeless I wouldn’t have cleaned the trash out of my truck; I would have left it there to cover up with during the chilly fall nights.  And what kind of homeless person throws out perfectly good week old potato chips?  Gosh.  And hello, I have a rather cheerful disposition and I have yet to find a homeless person with that kind of personality.  Naturally, just when I find a guy who doesn’t annoy me, is cute as hell, and is charmed by my stunning wit, he assumes I’m homeless just because I told him I live in my car.