The one where I'm mistaken for a fugitive on my birthday...

So, as many of you know, Saturday was my birthday. I'd flown out to California on Monday to return my grandbaby to his parents and visit their new home. The baby was a good traveler, he seemed to like riding on the airplanes and it was a good experience. We had a lot of fun in California. We visited fisherman's wharf in San Francisco, Old Sac Town in Sacramento, toured the base, saw the home they'll be moving into on December 27th (so much nicer than any base house my family lived in and definitely nicer than the apartments Mike & I started out in), ate good food, hung out and generally had a great time.

It was hard to leave. It was hard to say goodbye to my baby and her baby. Dylan has lived with us since he was born and it was like leaving two pieces of my soul out there. Mo and Boo. So I cried. But then I bucked up and Sean and I made our way through TSA and to our gate. Where we found out our flight would be delayed an hour because of a storm in Ontario (where the flight was coming from). Ugh. No one likes flight delays. I approached the desk to let them know that I had a connecting flight in Las Vegas and would be cutting it short on time. They assured me I'd make my connecting flight, but I might not get to board with my "A" pass, meaning that Sean and I might not get to sit next to each other. Fab.

Sean, not being the experienced world traveller that I am, was not happy. So we decided to tour the airport gift shops, where we bought trashy magazines and sour patch kids. These helped pass the time and take care of his crankies. Finally, we boarded our aircraft. They'd oversold the flight, so every seat was taken. Including the one next to me in our row. And, has everyone forgotten airplane etiquette? Is it not rude to promptly put both of your elbows on the armrests so you can text on your phone? Excuse me, sir, I might have wanted to use that armrest. You could have at least asked.

Also, there's turbulence. A lot of it. This doesn't bother Sean and I at all, but it does slow the plane somewhat. And then we land. And sit on the airplane, on the tarmac, because they haven't got a free gate for us. The time before my connecting flight leaves is ticking away. I'm beginning to get annoyed.

So what should have been a lovely hour and a half lay over in Vegas (plenty of time to have a drink and drop some money on the slots) has turned into a mad dash to our connecting flight ten gates away. We bob and weave through the crush of other travelers to arrive at our gate, sweaty and out of breath, only to find that they are delaying the flight for twenty minutes. So I get us a place and Sean runs to the sandwich shop (we haven't eaten in 8 hours and no, I don't count airline peanuts). He returns in the nick of time with two turkey sandwiches, a coke, and a look of sheer surprise. Turns out he didn't realize that two sandwiches and a coke could cost $24. Haha.

So we're lining up to board, while a harassed and frazzled looking airline worker is helping those in wheelchairs on board. I notice one little old lady sitting neglected (and surrounded by other travelers) in a wheelchair some distance from the desk. I asked her if she'd like me to wheel her closer so the attendant wouldn't forget her. At her nod, I did. Turns out, when the attendant checked her ticket, she was on the next flight. Oops.

We get on board, and once again the plane is full. The guy who sits next to me this time also commandeers my arm rest. WTF? And his bony elbow happens to be digging into my side for most of the ride. Not cool. But we get there. And Mike is waiting for us and he has roses.

He seems really alert and chipper so he gets to drive and after a brief stop for sodas, we're finally on our way home from St. Louis. We talk about the trip and Boo. But after an hour and a half, I can tell he's getting sleepy. So I suggest he pull over and I'll drive. So on the outskirts of Hannibal, Mo, he pulls into a closed gas station and we play Chinese fire drill.

Back in the car, I drive through Hannibal and I'm nearly to the turn off for the bridge to Illinois, when a cop in the oncoming lane flashes his lights at me. Huh? Then he pulls a u-turn and turns on his lights. So, slightly bewildered, I pull over. He comes to the car and I hand him my license and registration.

Cop: What are you doing in town tonight?

Me: Travelling home from St. Louis.

Cop: So you're just passing through? You didn't stop anywhere?

Me: Um, well, we stopped at a gas station to change drivers because he was sleepy.

Cop: Shining his light in and looking at Mike & Sean: Did you see anything at that gas station?

Me: No. They were closed.

He asks for Mike & Sean's IDs too. WTH? I can tell he's suspicious but can't figure out why.

Cop: Well, ma'am, you were speeding. You were doing 52 in a 35.

Me: Was I? I'm sorry. I should have been paying more attention. Shit. I haven't had a speeding ticket in 18 years!

Cop: Well, that's better than me. But the fact is you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. We got a call about a fight at the gas station you passed and everyone scattered when the police showed up. When I saw you speeding, I thought you might be one of the people fleeing the scene.

*Seriously? I have a suit jacket on. Do I look like the kind of person who flees the scene of a fight at a gas station?!*

He takes our IDs back to his car and I burst into tears. Mike and Sean kind of chuckle.

Me: Remember the birthday where we were driving home and the tire fell off the van?

Mike: Yeah, it hit a barn.

Sean: See? It's not the worst birthday ever!

Me: Not by a longshot. But I'm so tired and I just want to go home.

I mop up the tears and the cop comes back.

Cop: I'm so sorry about this. You were just speeding in the wrong place at the wrong time. You've got a great driving record, you've been very pleasant, and I noticed it was your birthday. I feel like a jerk giving you this ticket, but once I write it, it's set in stone. I'm really sorry.

Me: It's not your fault. But do you have to keep my driver's license? I'm going to Florida on Friday...

Cop: Oh, no, we don't do that in Missouri. Man, then I'd really feel bad, keeping your license when you were going on vacation.

And so he gave me my ticket and we drove off. $125 dollars poorer. And the end of my safe driver's discount. And as we drive off~

Mike: Just so you know, we do have a shotgun in the trunk.

Me: WTH??!! You mean I was riding dirty?

Mike: It's Porky's. We're going hunting in the morning and he forgot it. I stopped by and picked it up for him. It's not illegal to have an unloaded gun in the trunk.

Me: Oh. Well at least they didn't bring out the drug dogs.

Sean: That would have been funny as hell, sitting on the sidewalk while the drug dogs searched your car after the day we've had. At least you have a story to tell.

Me: Yeah. And you're welcome fugitives who really were fleeing the scene. F*ckers. They probably all got away while the cop was busy with me.

Sean: let's just pretend tomorrow is your birthday.

And so we did. I slept til 10 and then I talked to my Dad and to Molly. Then Sean and I watched four movies in a row. And a documentary on Doomsday Cults. And we ate take out. So it worked. We kind of figured out that I only have good birthdays every five years anyway. So I'm anticipating 45, that's when the next one is due.

Happy Travels, everyone. I'm off to Florida on Friday. Wonder what kind of trouble I'll get into along the way...

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Wedding of the Weekend?

So my sister-in-law got married this weekend. It's her second marriage and oddly enough...it's to my cousin. (NO! I do not live in Kentucky! Lol.) He's like a 2nd cousin, twice removed or something. I don't know, somewhere on my gma's side. All I know is we attend his family's funerals and they attend ours. Which should go under the heading "strange customs in small towns". And we've called ourselves "cousins" since they started dating like ten years ago and we realized we were semi-related. After attending the wedding...I'm definitely stressing the "semi".

So we arrive at the church, after picking up my son's girlfriend (brave lad that he is...introducing her to his dad's side of the family and all) and meet my daughter and her boyfriend in the parking lot. We file inside and do the meet and greet. They introduce their significant others to some family members and then my brother-in-law seats us. Well I'm way down the pew from my daughter, so I text her:

me: Did you notice how trailer park the groom's side is?
her: You're horrible! We're in a church.
me: Yeah, I'm gonna burn in hell. But did you notice?
her: Yes of course! Luke says stop discriminating.
me: I'm not discriminating! I'm poking fun. There's a big difference. I know I will totally be partying with these people later. But when did "greasy" become a hairstyle?
her:When Robert Pattison made it cool.
me: oh. damn. you're right. Btw, your father says he's pretty sure there must be a Motley Crue concert around here somewhere!

My daughter and I at the wedding:


At which point...we stopped because the wedding was beginning. So...the best man is called "four eyed joe". Why? Because he has eyeballs tattooed on the back of his head. And yeah, his hair was short enough that you could see them staring at the congregation. That and the ZZ Top beard are quite the combination! Another groomsman had a really long braid hanging down his back. One had a bandanna on his head. Now, lest you think I'm a prude or a snobby bitch, I'm not looking down on these folks. I've been known to spend an afternoon in the tattoo parlor myself, I'm just saying it was something to see. I guess the funniest part was the fact that four eyed joe kept leaning during the ceremony...farther and farther back. I mean at one point my hubby and I were convinced he was going to fall over backwards and take down the others like a stack of dominoes. I thought maybe he made the mistake of locking his knees and was feeling faint. That is, until he nearly ran into me after the ceremony while hollering "Super Joe is here to save the day!" I'm not even gonna speculate on what combo of liquor and street drugs he'd ingested but it was obviously something. Oh, and I probably forgot the tiny detail that "four eyed joe" just happens to be married to my husband's ex girlfriend. Hehehe. It just gets better and better, doesn't it?!

My son and his girlfriend. I swear he's not drunk! The flash gets him every time!


So after the requisite family photos, we head to a local restaurant, because my daughter insists that she's starving. Probably, because she hasn't eaten all day. Huge surprise. We chow down on some chicken nachos and I have a glass of wine. Dealing with my in-laws often drives me to drink. Then we checked out the house my hubby and son and one foster son are working on for a friend of mine. Nice little old house. Needs tons of work! Then it's time to hit the reception. Let the games begin. Find out we missed the cake cutting!! But we're just in time for the Bride & Groom's first dance. We get a table and I head to the bar for my first beer. (Let me intercede here and stress that while I like to drink, due to health issues, drinking excessively is a pretty rare occurrence for me. However, this night my husband offers to be the sober driver!!! I cannot pass up this rare opportunity!) Well everything goes well. The Mother/Son dance is a little sad because the groom's mom passed away suddenly last year. But his sisters come up to fill in. Well, two of the three (the other one's in jail). My daughter points out that the sister who just got out of rehab's dress is actually a shirt. They sell it at the store where she used to work. Now she can't understand why I insisted she didn't dress like a "hootchie" when obviously it was allowed.

My beautiful daughter and her boyfriend. Note: not a "hootchie" dress!


So let's just say I had a lot of beer. They actually asked me at the bar if my glass had a hole in it. Of course, this is the same guy who totally convinced me that the keg was running out and we were on beer rationing so he could only give me a 1/4 glass. (Did I mention my middle name is gullible?). My husband started pointing out I was flirting with the bar guy (nuh-uh, he was totally flirting with me). Which meant he could flirt with that guy's girlfriend, who happened to be one of the bridesmaids. A girl who'd grown up with his sisters and had totally had a huge crush on him. I ixnayed that idea pretty quickly. Anyway, we danced alot. We laughed a whole lot and generally had a great time. My husbands family does know how to party...I will give them that. At the end of the reception, my brother-in-law informed us that everyone was going "late-nighting" and we should come to. "Late-nighting"?? I'm too old for that! But we sent the kids home and headed to the club. Now, honestly I can't even remember the last time I went to a dance club. But there we were. Me, pretty drunk, my husband, pretty amused. He got me a beer and we went to the room where the dance floor was. His ex comes flying off the floor and grabs my hand. "Come dance with us! We can be friends, right?" I assured her that we could and preceded to um, well I guess you could call it dancing to some song I'd never even heard before. I'm with the bride, a bridesmaid, the ex, and one of the groomsmen's wives. So the groomsmen comes up behind his wife and just pulls her dress completely up. So us, and everyone in the bar is treated to a view of his wife's naked boobs and her thong. Me, I'm shocked. The others just laugh. Apparently this is standard party behavior for them. The HEll??! I go running to my hubby. "Did you see that??!" Him: "Why yes, I did!" So we go out to the beer garden, so everyone can smoke. Then my brother-in-law, who's managed to pick up two blondes who are making out with him, and each other, drags me in for a shot. Me & the bride do a shot. Of what? Yeah, no clue. I go back out to the beer garden to find my hubby and the groomsman's wife is on her hands and knees crawling around. Me "You ok?" Her "No! I lost an earring!" Her Husband "It's a diamond. I bought it for her." Well I spy it on the ground and pick it up. At which point...she throws her arms around me, tells me she loves me and kisses me. Ack!!! I don't mean a quick peck. She lays one on me all "I kissed a girl and I liked it". Her husband then repeats the process. Leaving me shell shocked and my husband (damn his hide) laughing. So soon we all decide to head to the bride and grooms house. I make sure they have a sober driver and the bride asks us to drive the ex and four eyed joe to their house. My husband comes out of the bar, carrying the ex. Literally. Because she can't stand up. I warn them both, theres no puking in my car! And frankly, I gotta admit, four eyed joe scares me. He's got crazy eyes. Like Charles Manson eyes.

We get to the house and I went inside with the bride to help get her outta that dress. And omigod there's like fifty knots in the string that undoes her laces!!! This takes my drunk ass quite awhile to undo!So we get her outta the dress and she throws on clothes. I walk into the kitchen and someone is rolling a joint. Well I'm really not into that (my daughter is the original "hugs not drugs" girl and she'd kill me) so I walk outside. Where my husband finds me and says they put the ex to bed and we need to go so that we can drop the bride and groom off at their hotel. Fine by me. I'm totally wearing down and ready to head home. I start saying goodbye to people when the groomsman and his wife come up to me, squish me between them and kiss me again. I'm pretty sure they were feeling me up too. What is with these people??? I politely disentangle myself and make it to the car. We drop them off at their hotel (and the funny thing here is neither the bride nor I realized she was barefoot. Nothing screams "class" like checking in drunk and barefoot.) At this point we headed home. On the half hour drive my husband confessed that as he was taking the ex out of our car and into the house she tried to hold his hand, hug him and otherwise shower him with affection. All the time asking why he picked me. Did he marry me just because I got pregnant? (Please note that we dated for a year, then were engaged for a year before I got pregnant. Obviously, this was not the only reason he married me). And why did I get the good guy. He says he assured her that he wasn't a good guy, mostly he was an asshole and she could check with me for confirmation. And that he married me because he loved me. He said he was worried the whole time that four eyed joe would overhear her and decide they needed to fight. Or that I would come around the corner, see her all over him, and get the wrong idea. I laughed. Like so hard I almost peed my pants. Normally, I'm a pretty jealous chick, but the look of absolute fear and revulsion on his face sent me in to hysterics instead. Poor guy. This is what you get for staying sober and taking care of people. I also couldn't possibly be jealous. I mean, I won, right? I'm not married to four eyed joe, who named their oldest child "Root". Yeah. For real!!

My hubby, who crazily enough, still only has eyes for me


All in all, it was an awesome night. It's the first time ever that we have gotten home after all of our teenagers, biological and foster. How outrageous. And thankfully we followed them by hours, because I seem to remember some drunken noisy sex too. The next day (after my hubby brought me Tylenol and juice) and after the room stopped spinning and my head stopped pounding, I crawled to the shower. When I emerged into the living room, my youngest commented that i was more plastered last night then the house their redoing for my friend. And that's a lot of plaster. Thanks kid. Love you too. He did add that at least I wasn't the kind of girl who got drunk and made an ass of herself. Thank goodness for small favors. My daughters boyfriend said I was hilarious. I was me, only more me. Definitely intense me. I think that was a compliment. All I know is...it takes longer and longer to recover from a night out then it used to. Which is why I only do this like once a year. But god help me...because we have another wedding (which promises more outrageousness) in November. I may not survive...

Hangovers & headaches,
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