A Trip to Missouri and We Only Got Shot Once

You guys should be so proud of me. I went on a road trip and it only took me three weeks to write about it. That's got to be some kind of record. Here goes....

We packed the truck before the sun came up. Blankets, pillows, cooler, backpacks, and a million cds. We loaded the beast into the back, filled up with gas, and left the Rockies behind. The trip from my house to my parents' is about 13 hours. One time it took me 15 because I was moving a truck full of belongings. And one time it took me 9 hours because, well...I drove 110 miles an hour. This trip was moving right along schedule though. We hit our half way point near Salida, Kansas and then...the truck began to shake. Shawn was driving and said something about the strong Kansas winds. We pulled over for gas a few minutes later and I noticed that the strong Kansas winds had blown the air right out of our rear tire.

It was well over a hundred degrees without a cloud in sight. Shawn, my little mechanic in the making, changed the tire while Rosco and I talked about the meaning of life, the Broncos, and drooling. We have deep conversations like that.

After an hour of figuring out Nissan's super easy tire changing system (that if you are not aware of, becomes Nissan's super giant pain in my fuckin ass tire changing system) we were back on the road. I had stocked the cooler with cucumber and sea salt, peaches, salami, french bread, and cherries.

There were crackers and granola galore. This was the first road trip that did not involve fast food of any sort. Although there were still plenty of coffee and energy drink detours, but I mean, it is Kansas. That shit will put you to sleep in a heart beat if you aren't artificially causing that heart to beat a gazillion times per minute thanks to Monsters and espressos.

So we made it through the hell that is Kansas, left I70 in the dust, and headed into the oddness that is Missouri. Odd, you ask? Yes, odd. Now don't get mad. I'm not knocking Missouri for its incestual ways. Or even for its lack of dental hygiene. I'm not even bringing up the hillbilly southern accents (in a state that is no farther south than Colorado). They have their gun toting toothless rednecks who live in trailers cooking meth with their cousin/wives and that's just fine by me.

What strikes me as odd are the town names. Peculiar, Climax Springs, Success (I disagree), Competition, Pumpkin Center. Granted, most of these towns have less than 100 people living in them, but still..its just weird. I mean...

Who wants to be the Pumpkin Center sheriff? Or the Peculiar proctologist? Ok, you got me, there aren't proctologists in Peculiar. There are plenty of folks who will stick somethin up your ass for the simple price of a Bud Light, but none of them can spell proctologist so...

We made it through the endless Missouri towns, turned down a small street entering the woods, passed what my dad calls "Deliverance Road" and were soon at the rents' house. The next few days were spent relaxing. Lots of relaxing. It was so nice. My parents have an amazing house in the woods with an even more amazing deck. Their house is surrounded by trees that touch the sky and butterflies landing on your legs. There's a hammock in the yard that swings for days.
Mom has a feeder in the woods to feed corn and seeds to the deer. They come around every evening to eat while you sit on the deck watching.

If watching the deer eat isn't your cup of tea...the feeder has other entertainment values. It has a timer on it, and at the same time every day, it releases a ton of food onto the ground below. Squirrels eat the majority of the food, but they are greedy little bitches and they are determined to figure out how to get inside the feeder to the Mecca of corn. One squirrel was hanging upside down from the opening at the bottom of the feeder, trying to claw his way inside, when the timer went off, and about four pounds of corn came flying out into his face knocking his thieving ass into the ground. This sounds cruel, but don't worry, he got up and ran away just fine, but it was quite possibly the funniest thing I have ever seen happen to a squirrel.

Aside from watching squirrels get their asses kicked by Miss Karma, we also did a little Missouri site seeing. We went to the water park in Branson, checked out the lakes at the Ozarks, and saw fireworks with the soldiers. If you don't know me, fourth of July is my favorite holiday. I cry for the troops every year during the grand finale and sing dumb patriotic songs on the top of my shaky lungs. Its just my thing. My mom understands...

Shawn, maybe not so much...

One of the things we wanted to do while home was tour some caves. We went to the Meramec Caverns because they are notorious for being a crucial hideout for Jesse James and his gang.

If the signs outside were any indication, we were going to learn a lot about Jesse and his gang.

Ummm....perhaps if you go to this cave, and get a tour guide who has worked their longer than 6 days, you will indeed learn about Jesse James. Perhaps you will even learn about the cave. Stalagmites, mineral deposits...anything about the caves. Unfortunately for us, we got the new tour guide who chose to teach us absolutely nothing, but instead spent the better part of our hour and a half tour attempting to beat box. He was not good at this. He basically just spit a lot and repeatedly asked us if he was a great tour guide. Apparently he took my answer to be a joke. It was not.

Dad was not amused. If you do not know my dad, this face means "I am not currently amused".
I didn't learn a single thing about caves on the tour, but I did learn that Shawn and my Dad like to stand in similar positions.

I also learned that these cave thingies are called "hanging mushroom coral reefs".

Okay, I didn't really learn that. But if I were a tour guide who didn't know anything about the cave through which I was guiding people, I would make some shit up like that so I didn't look like a moron. I'm just sayin.

After leaving the shit-tastic caves, we went on an adventure to find our own caves. Shawn and Dad succeeded. Well sort of. It involved climbing and sweating and darkness. You'll have to ask them about that adventure though. I was too busy looking at turtles with Mom.

The last day of our trip was my birthday. I wanted to throw a kegger, but my mom said no...so instead, we went tubing. Dad stayed home because, well, floating down a river doesn't tickle his fancy. Mom, being the little adventure taker she is, was super excited to tube. She found a rafting company online that offers tubing trips for pretty cheap.

The place seemed....interesting. They had a nice little van to drive you to your drop off point in the river.
In case you can't read that....FDIC stands for Fun Down In the Country. And we were definately down in the country. The neighbors looked real nice.

I was afraid to inquire about the lonely school bus.
When we finally got all ready to go, we quickly realized that nice van and even that nice school bus, were not for us. No, we were put into the back of an old pick up truck and told to hold the floats down so they wouldn't blow away.

Mom's face pretty acurately describes the "what the fuck" going through my head.
He could have at least put the tailgate up.

At first it wasn't so bad, nice and slow, quite scenic.
Then he started going faster. Much, much faster. And the beautiful scenery turned into hillbilly tent town.

Luckily the drive was pretty short, and our driver even carried our tubes to the shore for us. For a hillbilly, he was pretty nice.
We got into our tubes and started heading down the river. Not two minutes into our trip, I happened to look over at Mom as something splashed in the water. A second later, pop, another splash. We all instantly knew. As I turned my tube around to look up the shore, I saw two kids sitting in rocking chairs.....shooting at us!
Shawn says they were pellet guns which is apparantly something like a bb gun. I don't know what the hell they were....they looked like rifles and two children were shooting us with them. Mom screamed something about calling the sheriff but they didn't stop. Pop, pop, pop....one shot after another until Shawn got off his tube and began chasing them. They weren't afraid of the sheriff but they were damn scared of Shawn.

Now, I know what you are thinking. A little pellet here and there won't kill anyone, but a pellet will definately pop a tube and we were two minutes into a four hour tubing trip in the middle of God knows where with no communication device and Fuck! We were getting shot at!! Trust me, it was scary!!!

It took a good twenty minutes for me to calm the hell down and stop looking frantically into the woods for the children of the corn to pop out and kill me. Once I finally got my breathing under control, I was actually able to sit back and enjoy the ride. I make fun of Missouri quite a bit, but one thing I can't argue with is its beauty. I mean, its no Rocky Mountains but damn its gorgeous.

We finished the four hour trip an hour early because Mom wouldn't stop paddling and we were afraid if we split up we'd get shot.We made it back safe and sound. Cleaned up, ordered pizza, and ate WAY too much of the most amazing birthday cake I have ever put in my mouth. Seriously rediculous. Oh and there were two of them. Oh yeah! If you are ever in central Missouri, call up Gretchen Barnes and have her make you a cake. She charges a fraction of what she should and they are just insane. So anyway...

The next morning, Shawn, Rosco, and I hopped back in the truck and headed home. I don't think I've ever been quite so sad to leave Missouri. The trip home was uneventful in terms of flat tires and hillbillies, but it was rich in terms of eye opening conversations. Thanks for going on a great trip with me babe. And thanks for not letting me get shot.


And if you don't know my mom already, you should go meet her. She's seriously one of the greatest people you will ever meet and she is always down for some fun. She will outlive us all, and have a blast doing it...guaranteed.
Love you Mom!! Umm...if somehow you have actually found this blog and are reading it right at this very moment....please disregard most of the other shit that I write. Because its all fake. I totally never smoked with Moses. I swear. Shit.

So I get some awesome tax breaks this year...

Yes, thats right, I am officially a home owner. Well, Shawn and I are home owners. After many battles, many contracts, and many sleepless nights, we stumbled upon a condo that we couldn't walk away from. We originally wanted an old house overflowing with character and squeeky hard wood floors, but finally realized we couldn't afford to make those homes liveable. Some day we will have our bungalow, but until then, we have an awesome new pad that fits us perfectly. Its only a few years old so it didn't require much more than some paint. Let me rephrase...it didn't require much more than lots and lots and lots of paint. I still have one room left, but considering that its the guest room and the only ones looking at the wall color are the turtles, I'm putting that job off to another day...or month. I still have some more unpacking to do, some more decorating to tackle, and a dining room table to purchase, but for the most part, it is coming together quite nicely. I took a bunch of beautiful pictures but cannot seem to find the cable to connect my camera to my computer...so until I do, I only have a few camera phone shots of our gorgeously bright bedroom, my wall of jewelry, and the blinds that I almost threw out the window while installing. Enjoy.

I've missed you

Damn, I completely suck at this whole blog business. I get all excited about it and then I forget it exists. I hope when I have children, I will be better than I am now. Because otherwise there is a chance those diapers will go months without changing and I will totally get hauled off by the bad parenting police. Eek. Ok, I suppose those diapers will smell really bad and that will be a reminder that I have children and then I won't forget them like I did about this blog. We can hope.

So, since we last talked, I've made some big moves. We put an offer in on a house last night. The house is adorable. Built in 1930 and full of 30's charm. Hardwood floors, giant base boards, shady electricity, beautiful mature landscaping and possibly no plumbing. We have so much to look forward to. Just for future reference, if this deal goes through, this blog will become a "what not to do when attempting to remodel a home" blog. I will most definately be posting pictures of holes in walls, failed attempts at drywalling, possible fires, and my cheeks drenched in tears. I mean, you, as a reader, have so much to look forward to. In the meantime, here is a picture to hold you over....

In case you were wondering, I too think the house may be leaning to the left. But I think its intentional. It does the Roc-a-way....lean back....lean back. Don't hate on my house. :(