Just Put Your Seatbelt On and Downshift; It’s a Whole Lot of Words Tonight.

I know.  There was no blog post last night, and really?  The only one who probably even noticed was my own mama.  And I don’t even really have a good excuse for not posting anything.  We had dinner straight out of the crockpot, because HELLO, ROAST AND POTATOES!  And then Christy was here to pick up Gage, because he came home with the boy after church, and spent the entire day here with us, shooting squirt guns in the backyard and running in and out of my  house, leaving my backdoor wide open.

I may have said, “Were you born in a barn?” one hundred and nineteen times before the day was over.

And then Thing 2 had his bottle, and he went to bed, and the kitchen needed some attention, and then whew!  I really just wanted to go to bed myself, and I told Hubs to go on ahead and PULL THE PLUG on the computer.  Just shut ‘er down.  And Me Maw crawled into bed while the bedside digital clock shouted out SEVEN-FIFTY-EIGHT.


I have no words.

I laid in bed and played my turns on all fifteen of my Words With Friends games, until I realized that I was NEVER going to recover from the deficit created when the word JULEPS was played against me for 117 points.  Because one hundred and seventeen points?  Well, that is what you call a Word Victory in WWF, and it pretty much guarantees you’ll come out on the gold medal side of things, and sadly, I was on the opposing side.  Which means that I’m coming out on the SOMETIMES WE LOSE side of things right now, which is also known as my life where Words With Friends is concerned.  I always thought that YES!  I AM A DADGUM GOOD SPELLER, until I started playing games against people whose claim to fame is WE ARE BETTER DADGUM SPELLERS.

And then I plugged the iPhone in for a good recharging, and I went to sleep.

The end for the night, and I felt zero guilt about playing hookey from the blog.

But now, because two of you actually care, I’ll catch you up on our weekend.

It rained on Friday, because apparently the weatherman finally knew what he was talking about and decided that it was high time he quit lying to the people in Small Town by promising them RAIN! when there would be no rain.  It was a glorious day, because rainy days are my favorites.  Hands down.  There’s nothing so cozy as being inside while it’s raining outside.

Thing 2 and I drove out to my friend Peggy’s house on Friday morning for coffee and dump cake.  I know that everyone should be able to make a dump cake taste the same, because OH, MY WORD!  It’s a DUMP cake.  And you just dump all the ingredients in and bake at 350 until it’s golden brown and bubbly, but Peggy really does have the corner on the dump cake market.  Which is to say that dump cake and coffee at Peggy’s house on a rainy day is like holding a King and a Queen and a Jack in your hands during a lively game of poker.

(And seriously?  I just made that up.  Not the part about how Peggy makes a fantastic dump cake; the part about how it’s better than all those face cards in poker.  The honest truth is that I can’t play poker.  I don’t know the rules to poker.  And, even if I did, I tend to blurt things out which would probably be detrimental to my poker game, considering that I texted someone during a Words With Friends game yesterday and said, “Listen.  I have a Q and no U, and I have a Z and a C and three O’s.  I think this game is over, because those are some seriously ugly letter tiles.”  It’s things like that which will get me thrown out of a poker game on the first deal of cards.)

(Plus, while I was just dating Hubs — before he was Hubs… back when he was just Really Hot Guy With the Sweet Mullet — he and his brother tried to teach me the game of poker with nickels.  I think they both wanted to beat their own heads against metal poles before my poker lesson was over.)

(They only gave me the ONE poker lesson.  Neither one of them had the strength or stamina to attempt to explain it to me a second time.)

No matter.

After solving over half of the world’s problems and eating half of the dump cake, I decided that surely it must be working on 11:00 in the morning, and I was pretty convinced that Thing 2 and I should mosey on home from Peggy’s house and accomplish some laundry.  I looked at the clock, and SWEET HOLY MOTHER OF SCOOBY DOO!  It was already after 1:00 in the afternoon, because apparently Peggy and I are quite good at losing track of the time as we chat like a couple of hummingbirds on a sugar overdose.

So I came home, and I picked up the house.

And we collected the boy from school.

And then the boy has a brand new friend, who is rather new in town, so he and his mama came over to our house, what with all the rain and all that prevented us from meeting at the park to play.  And thank goodness that this boy’s mama is an accomplished talker, too, because we sat in my living room and chatted up a storm for another two and a half hours while the boys played video games in the family room.

And there were meatballs in the crockpot for dinner on Friday night.

It’s like I don’t even know myself any more with all this at-home cooking.

On Saturday, the boy’s piano teacher had a little recital at a local nursing home for all of her students.  It was a precious time, as the kids dressed up and played for the residents there.

I think I have mentioned once or eighteen times before that the boy can play a mean piano, and Hubs and I always enjoy listening to him belt out a good Mozart piece.

The elderly woman in the background was so overjoyed with the kids’ piano playing, she tipped over and fell asleep through the entire concert.  I look forward to doing just that when I reach my octogenarian age.  When the boy brings out that dadgum school-issued recorder and starts in on a rousing rendition of Hot Cross Buns, I’ll just lean my head to the side and start snoring to block it all out.

Cousin L also played the piano at the recital, and she did a marvelous job herself.

Sister’s Husband stood on the far side of the nursing home’s dining room and tried to mind his manners and not get into too much trouble. This is one of the two pictures I possess of Sister’s Husband where he is not deliberately, and with forethought and premeditated intent, picking his nose for my camera.

He is also wearing a shirt that makes me want to throw up a little in my mouth.  He wears that shirt on purpose whenever he knows he’s going to see me.

Our good friend, McKinley played the piano on Saturday, too.  McKinley is a honey.

We also watched Kiley play…

…as well as our little friend, Pyper.

McKinley and Kiley’s little sister, Avery, does not take piano lessons, and she was far more interested in the glorious bit of technology known as the iPhone than in listening to the musical performance.

Of course, we took Thing 2 with us to the piano recital, because the Department of Family Services insists that he is entirely too short to leave at home.

He spent some time grinning at his daddy.

And then, just like that, the piano recital was over with.  The sleeping lady woke up, because someone mentioned the words POT ROAST and POTATOES AU GRATIN and JELL-O MOLD SALAD.  We waved good-bye and headed off to our next big event of the day, which was a 25th anniversary party.

Our friends, Andrew and Susan, have officially been married for twenty-five entire years.  Obviously, Susan was a child bride who was married when she was five, because really?  Can anyone close to our age even achieve twenty-five years of marriage yet?  We’re not THAT old.

I think every single friend that Hubs and I have in Small Town, USA was at the ENORMOUS outdoor party.  There was MUCH talking… and some eating… and some drinking… and some badminton… and oh, my word!  Fun, fun, fun!

Eventually, Hubs and I packed up our boys and headed to the next party, because Brother’s Wife had just graduated from college as an RN, after working as an LPN for a whole big gob of years.  Brother threw a surprise party for her, so we went out to help celebrate her accomplishment, too.

And then we came home.

Thing 2 went to bed, and Hubs and the boy and I discovered the show Duck Dynasty, via the wonderment of Hulu Plus.  I’m not sure that we’ve ever laughed out loud as much as we did at that show, as the rednecks bought a vineyard and made wine without following a recipe.

Y’all?  If you’re not watching Duck Dynasty, you need to remedy that situation.  It will not disappoint you in the entertainment factor.

On Sunday morning, we went to church, where Thing 2 successfully filled his diaper loudly and spent the rest of the service using his OUTDOOR voice to let everyone know how happy he was.  Hubs and I are beginning to think that Thing 2 doesn’t really HAVE an indoor voice.

We brought Gage home with us after church, and he and the boy and the three neighbor boys ran a marathon outside, as they engaged in an enormous squirt gun battle and jumped off the deck of the boy’s playhouse nine hundred and three times.

Hubs and I cleaned our own deck, because our neighbors insist on having cottonwood trees that fling enough filthy cotton around to knit T-shirts for every person on the globe.

(We didn’t jump off of our deck at all, because stunts like that will break an old person’s hip.)

And then we ate pot roast and potatoes (but no Jell-O mold salad, because we’re not THAT OLD yet!).

And we called it a weekend at 7:58 last night, because that was seriously a WHOLE LOT OF FUN AND COTTON PICKING that we crammed into one weekend.

Have a great Monday night, people.

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