Day Two of driving Hubby to work!!

Well, it’s Tuesday, which means I’m into the second day of driving my Darling husband to work. You might want to read yesterday’s blog post to catch up. I don’t want anyone lost here trying to figure out why this strange woman posts crap you don’t fully understand.

I got up before daybreak this morning to a freezing rain. Good thing too because I for sure don’t want another mishap like yesterday. I want to make sure I’m not in my PJ’s again, mussed up hair and no make-up should another crisis occur of Biblical proportion revealing my age spots.

I drive a Pony. Anyone in his or her right mind knows the middle name of a Ford Mustang is ‘Fishtail’ so I don’t like taking it out except on top down sunny days. Well that’s anyone but me. I bought it because it had a stick shift and I was going through menopause at the time.

My husband the bean counter so sorry, the accountant has an extended cab, four-wheel drive truck you need a ladder to get into. It sports a King’s Ranch & Company’s custom-made leather seats and dash interior. It has taken up residence in the big garage staying pristine. Oh it does come out for show and tell occasionally but I’m not driving it, never ask never will. It’s for sure I’d put the first and only scratch it would ever get and I love my husband and would not like seeing him turn into a werewolf.

Sooooooooo, getting back on point here after dropping him off and heading home I see that same damn RED NECK’s pick- up truck. He’s pulled over half in and half out of the lane of traffic. Bent over it appears he’s trying to reattach what’s left of that rusted through bumper that fell off Monday nearly causing me to piss my pants when I hit it, blew my brand new tire resulting in a sundry of additional problems.

Refer to yesterday’s blog for all the details please.

I drove ever so slowly by him. Holy Shit I’d recognized that crack in his ass anywhere. He’s a public figure so to speak. I saw him on that Hoarders show on TV the one and only time I ever watched it. I wanted to stop and give him the what for but I wasn’t packing and he was. All I had with me was my Bishon, Braveheart and he’d lick the shoes of an IRS auditor.

I’ve tracked down his home address and from the google satellite he’s back to hoarding big time again. A very clever thought crosses my mind. You know all those books in the trunk of my car from yesterday. Well I’m going to pay him a visit and tell him a story. Then I’m going to sell him all fifty boxes of twelve novels to the box of that well written novel of mine so he can call himself an intellectual hoarder of books. Naturally that’s acceptable.

Brilliant, I’ll solve the problem of paying off the credit card bill from the girly bar I found myself in next to the Firestone Store whilst waiting hours in my PJ’s for it to be repaired.

The RED NECK Crapper will have a new hobby and I can pay off the credit card before my sweet husband wants an explanation as to why I spent over half a day in a girly bar in my PJ’s.

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It’s all about timing

I drive my husband to work every morning and pick him up and bring him home every evening. The rest of the day is mine thank you very much!

I woke up late this morning and having no time to dress I decided since it’s a drop and go with the little Darling I drove him to work in my PJ’s. After all he was nice enough to warm up the car giving me time to pee and find my hat. My husband is familiar with the age spots on my face and since it’s a drop and go I simply hopped behind the wheel and off we went to his place of employment.

On the way back home to have MY Day I blew a tire. It wasn’t the tires fault they are all four six hundred and fifty dollars worth of NEW from the good ole Firestone Store. I accidentally ran over the rear bumper that fell off a RED NECK’s pick- up truck. The damn thing was tied on with baling wire which came loose causing said RED NECK’s rusted through bumper to land in my lane.

It took great skill mind you to avoid oncoming traffic. Composing myself hat now in hand I called for roadside service. Some alias of Triple Fucking A shows up. I pop my truck from inside where upon he sees all the boxes of my books that travel with me just in case a warm breathing body wants to buy one. Never leave home without your well-written novel is my motto.

He hooks me up and tows my tiny hinny to the very same Firestone Store from whence came those six hundred fifty dollar four new tires with less than three thousand miles use on them. Hat pulled way down in my PJ’s I give the Hottie behind the counter my warranty on said new tires. Now this is when I find out the warranty is for mileage coverage not for running over a rusted RED NECK’s bumper.

The Hottie at Firestone tells me in could be four hours or more. People are beginning to stare. I noticed coming in with the tow truck there was one of those 24-hour girly bars next door. Pulling my hat farther down in an effort to hide my face off I go, belly up to the bar in wait for the call on my cell phone my car is ready. I get the call all right. It needs a new tire, rim and the brake fluid or some shit like that needs flushing and there is a nick in my driver’s side windshield wiper. May as well replace them both he says.

Hours pass the bar tender has my credit card and the drinks keep coming, the crowd gets bigger but I’m the only one buying. I have a completely new set of friends and it’s all so confusing. Finally, my cell phone rings but I can’t remember how to get back to Hottie for my car. Bar tenders do a great service to humanity  helpping me find my Mr. Hottie next door at the good ole Firestone Store.

Hottie and the bartender lean into one another and talk but at this point I could care less whatever it is they are discussing. Hottie had already tapped my credit card into his computer so I’m thinking I’m good to go. Not so Hottie decides so with the help of his best mechanic they pour what to everyone must look to them like a homeless rag- a- muffin into the passage side of my own car and drive me home followed by Firestone’s best mechanic.

I’m not real clear on what happened next but two pots of black coffee and a cold shower later wearing mixed matched pants and shirt I cobble a salad together and throw two pot pies in the oven. Putting on my warmest coat and my hat a top a wet head of hair I feel sober enough to pick up dear ole hard working hubby.

Not wanting to look un- kept just in case there are more RED NECK’s on the road with tied on bumpers I quickly spray paint my face with one of those fast acting aerosols’ Bahamas’ Mamma tan to cover up the age spots on my face.

Once home and off with my coat the sweet thing I’m married too tells me something smells wonderful and what’s for dinner?

What happened next would make any wife proud. He gives me the once over and says “have a long day writing Dear, let me get you a glass of wine and I’ll serve dinner this evening”.

I’m not talking until the credit card bill comes in. Perhaps then I’ll tell him about the Monday from hell. We’ll laugh and I’ll have to sell a truck load of books to make it all go away.

And that friends was my Monday.

Whiskey

Whiskey for my men and beer for my horses. On my way home this morning from an early errand I found myself fiddling around with the radio in my Pony looking for a radio station when a song with the lyrics Whiskey for my men and beer for my horses came on.  It tells the story of America’s  strength, courage and taking care of business when freedom is threatened anyplace anytime where ever it may be  in the world.

 

Those that follow me know me also know I don’t go around hawking an opinion on this or on that as if to say I’m the only opinion in the universe. However this is different. The news is full of reports on the burning of the pilot by ISIS.

 

I say give the King of Jordan what he needs, more than he needs and whats more no more talk of the evil ISIS. Strike hard without declaration of war, talks, committees, sub-committees and more crap that burns the ears of a people fighting for existence.

 

This could and may become one of your sons or daughters and don’t doubt it if this evil is not eliminated. I don’t mean stop them in their tracks to regroup  I mean destroy the bastards out of existences. Hit them hard, long and continuous  unrelenting until they are no more.

 

Saddle up America and when it’s all over there will be Whiskey for our men and Beer for their horses.

 

That’s my say and I’m sticking to it!!

Game Day

There’s a strange sound coming from the Den. It’s my husband napping, snoring and making sounds better left to the imagination all in preparation for the Super Bowl!!

 

What’s happening with your men folks  this day of all days they wait upon? I think I just heard him mumble Holy Grail!!

Funny for your Friday

Thought I would share a little ditty my daughter sent to her best friend. She has been spending some time with her and apparently there is a problem with the plumbing. Enjoy!!

 

My dearest Stinkerbell,
I’m at my wits end. I have tried talking, bargaining, reasoning, flattery, everything I can think of…but your shower hates me. This morning I took great pains to make sure shower knew I was there. I was not condescending in any way. I was just as friendly as I could be. I even took great pains to point out how gentle I was being with the knobs but to no avail. Perhaps when you get home tonight the three of us can have a chat and sort this all out.
Love ya Buddy

 

 

#Soul

I let my Soul out to play today. It soared above the treetops among the whispering pines, danced a ballet with the hummingbirds and kissed a butterfly.

 

“I had so much fun watching you play today”, I said upon it’s return.

 

“Listen as I tell you true, my soul said to me; God gave his only Son to teach us all and that means everyone how to get along, live and love as one so our Soul’s can all soar high and each day kiss a butterfly”.

 

Merry Christmas friends,

 

May our Lord and Savior bring Peace, Love, Prosperity and Joy upon this land that endures forever and ever.

 

Amen

 

 

Thoughts from the Forest