Men I Like- The Reluctant Honkytonk Edition

Let me start off by saying that I have never been much of a fan of modern country music, or of most country music in general. I've been exposed to country music for most of my life though, and can remember my great-grandma listening to folks like Buck Owens, Loretta Lynn, etc., on the radio in her kitchen.

By the time I grew up (was 19), I was too cool for country music. I was in to L.A. hair bands, and the new wave and goth bands from the U.K. Country music simply was not on my radar. But then my friend Beth introduced me to this guy-



Yep, Dwight Yoakam. His music was not only a throwback to the country music that I remembered hearing in my grandma's kitchen, it was also firmly rooted in modern rockabilly, so it wasn't the cliched, easy listening type country music that was so popular in the late 80s. Beth and I went with her mom to see him in concert, and it was more like a rock concert than anything else. He has wonderful stage presence, and I'm still trying to figure out how he gets in to those jeans of his.

Dwight is a deceptive fellow, though. His album covers always tend to focus on his long, skinny legs with the painted on denim, or Dwight giving you some 'come hither' side eye from underneath his cowboy hat.



And about that cowboy hat of his...Now I don't have a problem with men who are bald, hell the Husband is follically challenged himself. But Dwight Yoakam seems to undergo some sort of transformation when his hat is removed. What was once brooding and mysteriously sexy is now this-


I loved Dwight's acting in 'Slingblade', I have to admit. He could not have played that role with his cowboy hat on. But I just don't know. I think I need for him to keep the hat on.

Irrational Fears Run Amuck

Time to tighten your tinfoil helmets, because today I'm going to discuss more of my irrational fears. These are things that statistically will probably never happen, but none the less keep me awake at night.

My biggest fear lately is that some big, scary disease will descend upon Chickenhead. I know that most moms always worry a little about their kids getting sick. No. This is different. I am terrified of the prospect of Chickenhead getting some sort of incurable cancer or some wasting disease or something. Whenever I see bruises on his legs (which is a lot since he's been playing football), a little voice in the back of my head pipes up- 'Oh noes! He's got the leukemia!' (yes, the little voice in my head speaks like a lolcat) Now the bigger(hopefully)more rational part of my brain knows that this is highly unlikely, but LolKel just won't shut up sometimes. So I desperately fight the urge to wrap him in bubblewrap before he leaves the house each day, and I pray nightly that he doesn't get anything incurable.

I also fear that when Chickenhead grows up, he will end up scruffy, dirty and homeless, panhandling on the streets of Downtown. Writing this and reading it back, I can fully see how ridiculous this sounds. Chickenhead is a bright boy, and I seriously doubt he will ever be homeless or panhandling. If you've ever seen his room, you would know that I can't make any promises about scruffy or dirty. I think I've been watching too much 'Intervention'. All those poor folks were semi-normal kids once, too.

A while back I read a story about a racoon hiding in a Coke machine. Whenever someone would buy a drink, the racoon would attack their hand as they reached in for their bottle. Obviously, this had to have been some soda machine that was outdoors somewhere, but do you think that stops me from hesitating just a little whenever I go to grab that bottle of Diet Coke? Even though our soda machine is safely indoors on the 4th floor of the building no less, I still always hesitate. Be careful when you buy a Coke from a machine is what I'm trying to tell you.


I noticed that I still have a fear of falling down an escalator. Would this be potentially worse than falling down a regular flight of stairs? What if I fell, and say, my pant leg got caught between the steps, and it just pulled me down and ripped my pants? Good Lord, the humanity! This terrifies me almost more than the thought of a snake under the kitchen sink, a bat in the basement, H1N1 or alien abduction. I will hold my breath as I take that first step on to a down elevator and breathe a slight sigh of relief about halfway down.

Hopefully now that I've written all this nonsense down, it will help to diminish the fear. Maybe if I can keep re-reading and realize how nuts I sound, I can overcome these irrational thoughts. Somehow I doubt it.

Random Ramblings

So, I was gone for a while. I hadn't really planned on being gone this long! I had a week of vacation, and I decided to take a break from blogging, too. I needed to recharge my batteries and clear my head and all that good stuff.

So what's been going on in my life? Well first, there's this-


Chickenhead is in the final week of football season. Believe me, it can't come a moment too soon! The team has a losing streak of epic proportions- they haven't won a single game. In fact, they've had to call three games in the third quarter because the point spread was too big. It's very hard to get a boy excited about football when most games end with a score of 44-0. It's hard for me to get excited about, too. On the plus side, he's learned a lot about the game, and about teamwork, and about how sometimes adults can put their own petty feelings and desires ahead of what's best for their child. I have witnessed parents in the stands and on the sidelines behaving in ways that are appalling. I'm glad it's almost over.

Let's see... I had a birthday in there, too. No big whoop. I'm at the age where birthdays are no longer dreaded or anticipated. It was a day. It was during the week that I was on vacation, so after I got Chickenhead up and off to school, I made myself breakfast, and extra large cup of latte and then headed back to bed. I was happy with that. I was able to spend my day with the Husband and Chickenhead and it was good.

Not so good- my momma. Her health is quickly declining, and boy do I feel helpless. While I was on vacation, she had an appointment with a neuro-psychologist to help determine if she has dementia. After a full day of tests, she declared the entire thing 'stupid' and 'a waste of time'. But there is definately something going on. She can barely walk, she's just mentally not with it, she's sick a lot. She came to me this past Friday and said she wanted to see what she had to do to get in to an assisted living facilty. So I've been working with her caseworker and social worker to get the ball rolling. I had to discuss life insurance with her; a conversation I didn't want to have. I don't want to face the fact that my mom is nearing the end of her life. I also don't want to face the fact that she has never made any kind of plans for any of this. When I asked her if she had insurance and she told me no, I asked her what will I do when she dies? She said, 'well, just do whatever other people do'. I patiently explained that we needed to get her at least a small policy to cover the most basic of expenses. So now I need to look in to that. And maybe contact a funeral home to see if I can work on pre-paying for services? I don't know. A part of me wants to take this on, but another part wants desperately to ignore it and hope it all goes away. But I know it doesn't work like that.

That's what I've been up to. Oh, and a little crafting, too. I made an altered paint can for Chickenhead's teacher for her birthday, had my girlfriends over for some scrapping, and am working on birthday cards for the office. I'm mentally gearing up for Thanksgiving, too. Can it really be time to be thinking about that already?!

Opportunity Wasn't Knocking, It Ding-Dong-Ditched Me

A couple of weeks ago, I got all happy and thought that come next summer, we would be moving to a new Casa.

Well, I was wrong. Horribly, terribly wrong. My brother in law called last night and long story short, he's having to move out of the house immediately because his now ex-wife pretty much hosed him on their divorce. I had a bad feeling when he told us that she hadn't signed the quit claim deed yet, so he hadn't gotten the re-finance on the house done. Princess Sneaky-pants decided to hold off until the eleventh hour before she would sign the papers, and then decided to slam my BIL with more demands.

The Husband and I weren't sure who to be mad at, and at first, we were mad. But having slept on it (I didn't really sleep, I'm taking some Tylenon PM tonight), I realize now that this happened for a reason. I truly believe that our lives unfold as they were meant to. That's not to say that we're powerless over our lives, not at all. But in this situation, I think the cosmic universe is making a hard left and taking us down a different path. And I'm ok with that.

We can live where we are now until next summer. In that time, we will have plenty of opportunity to find a house that's right for us. We'll have plenty of time to investigate schools and neighborhoods and all those good things. One neighborhood is already a possibility because it's where Chickenhead's Cub Scout pack is, and he could go to school with kids that he already knows.

It would be really easy to be mad at my ex-SIL for her selfish actions, becuase more than hurting us, she hurt my BIL and their kids, too. It would be easy to be mad at my BIL because he got our hopes up before he had everything signed by the Princess. But what would my anger with either of them solve? Nothing, really. All it would really do is stop me from living my life right now, and I can't do that. I won't do that.

So. We'll keep on believing that there's no place like home, and that home isn't just a location. 'Home' is where you are loved, where you laugh, where you share good times and bad. No matter where we live, as long as we're together, we're truly home.