Author's Note: I wrote this post last Monday with then intention to upload it Monday night. Obviously that event didn't occur, although to be fair there was more than a typical amount of things. There was a trip to urgent care for xrays on my boy's ankle because I had to pay the medical cartel tribute so that they could tell me what I already knew so that my kid could get a doctor's note so that he could stay off his ankle while it healed, my daughter had multiple volleyball games, a couple of our friends got the Rona and we made an emergency hay deliver, etc, the list goes on. And after the great Intestinal Kerfluffle last week, I just didn't have the energy to do much more than live I'm afraid. Anyway, that is probably more explanation than one requires regarding my absence, but I missed you all and stuff, hence the disclaimer.
It has been mentioned to me a time or two that I have an "interesting" life. Hmm. What do they (by they I mean friends, acquaintances, and people whom I don't even know) mean by "interesting?"
Well, let's consider an average day in my realm, we'll take a look at yesterday and examine what happened in detail.
To start, Sundays are podcast recording and episode dropping days. That means I have to have all my chores done before my cohost Brady arrives at 9AM. The previous day my baby gorilla of a son had his ankle assassinated by the opposing team in a football game, so my first order of business as I hopped out of bed was to check on that little ailing whelp.
Proceeding to the Bobo's bedroom, I dodged random food requisitioning cats and dogs with varying degrees of success. By varying I mean that Pickles tripped me while his brother Jager sunk his teeth into my Achilles and I smashed into the food storage buckets that were left stacked in my kitchen instead of being put where they belong after being refilled with flour and rice. Rubbing my newly acquired leg bruise I hobbled to my boy's bedroom door and opened the cave entrance.
A blast of arctic air blew my errant hair out of my face. The Bobo sleeps with his window open and the fan on every night of the year. By every I mean every. That makes for a bit of a shock when you open the door. He also doesn't sleep on his perfectly adequate bed, instead he takes his nightly repose on a six foot by eight foot bean bag that I refer to as the kidney.
Nestled in the kidney was not only my ankle busted son. but a couple of the neighbor heathens as well. Seeing that my boy was indeed alive, a status that I deduced from the grumbling emitting from The Kidney, I barked out that I would construct them some muffins for breakfast and strolled out the door to do my morning chores.
I'm sure I looked fabulous in my kelly green pajama shirt, fleece multicolor peace sign pajama pants my grandma sewed me at least a decade ago, and my pant legs tucked into mismatched orange and purple slipper socks. We are not even going to talk about the birds nest that was my hair. Or the fact that I was clutching two massive bottles of milk for my calves Rick and Mortica. Farm chic every day!
Rick and Morticia awaited my arrival like two blood starved leeches in a chemistry apparatus. They glommed onto their bottles with gusto and drained them in about 2.3 minutes. After haying, graining, and watering five bovines, three horses, a few chickens, cats, dogs, and plucking a few comfrey leaves for a poultice of ankle healing, I returned to the house and whipped up a batch of blueberry muffins.
Within ten minutes of the muffins emerging from the oven they were fully entrenched in a bunch of digestive tracts. It's amazing what a group of teenagers can do to available comestibles. Brady got to enjoy a couple muffins and then he and I boarded The Blueberry Brain Train. The BBT was what we titled our two-and-a-half-hour long podcast episode that covered all manner of super deep and thoughtful topics from linguistics to quantum theory to just what was on those muffins because we went way off the rails into a very thought-provoking discussion. It was fun.
My fun didn't stop there for a couple of early twenty-somethings showed up right when our middle age neighbor did as soon as we were done recording. The older one wanted a word with my husband, a cordial one, and the younger two wanted to target practice.
You see, word has got out that we have our own shooting range. So here lately friends have been showing up to plink a few rounds off. By a few I mean that the guys spent the next two and a half hours target practicing with all manner of firearms, there was a Ruger 6mm Creedmore, Beretta pistols, heck if I know at this point.
You see, I know the secret of getting people to stop target practicing. It's called constructing homemade macaroni and cheese and panko breaded, fried chicken and trying to sit down and eat the meal you worked hard on. You can be guaranteed that people will come invade as you sit down to take a bite, and sure enough they did.
So for the next couple of hours I got into a mental jousting match with not only my target practicing guys but also with one of my ex-beeflings who showed up to sight in his rifle too. All of the fried chicken was consumed as we mocked each other, shared memes, and spun yarns of exploits. Then my door swung open to reveal my daughter had finally returned along with a couple of other family members. My kitchen and dining room was full of mac and cheese munching humans at this point and the noise level reached a amiable company crescendo.
Me, as content as I was to be in the middle of the conversational fracas, truly just desired to crawl into my bed as I am still recovering from the great Intestinal Pyrotechnical Incident I really just wanted to go to bed.
And honestly, yesterday wasn't atypical. I mean today I have already dealt with and observed some amazing things. Things like spying a Toyota MPV van looking vehicle mounted on a tractor frame sitting in front of the police station in my town as I drove to pick up our library staff lunches today. And yes, I have thoroughly chastised myself for not getting a picture of that super minty fresh vehicle. Right now I am chuckling still because part of the Trump flag cavalry just road by the library window. There's this lady who rides from a town seven miles from here to our grocery store astride her noble steed, the banner of her leader fluttering in the wind across her mount's back.
So is my life really interesting or is it that I am just truly amused by all the possibilities and occurrences that happened to be observed by yours truly? Guess that is a thought for another day, one less full of magnificent happenings and chuckle inducing instances. Oh, wait, that's every day.
And as most of the time, all of the images in this post were taken on the author's amazed at how much young people like to Snapchat the author about random things here lately iPhone.
