Missing in Action No More!

Posted on Updated on

Hello again, my fellow Jedi!

I am back and ready to rock. First, an explanation for why I was totally MIA for no reason whatsoever. I gave you a heads-up about my spring break, gave you updates on that, and then I just vanish. Maybe you don’t even care, but I do. My fingers were just itching to get back on the keyboard and fill you all in on the awesome things I’ve seen, done, said, learned, and experienced. Sort of makes me sound like I had a lesbian encounter a little bit, doesn’t it? (And just do you know…I did not, and it’s not even close to that comparison.)

Must...TYPE!

So…reason for sudden MIA status…after returning from my spring break destination, I took a few days to visit my home. Not my home where I currently live, eat, sleep, and dance around like a fool in my underwear totally aware my roommate (aka my sister) could walk in at any moment. No. Not that home. My home home. The place I grew up for 19 years of my life. Where I learned how to use my imagination to be my best friend, to cook, to clean, to run, to have discipline, to snatch cookies out of the cookie jar when no one was looking, or how to be super fast on the internet when I was only allowed an hour of surfing time, where I learned to groom and sculpt a cows’ hair into showing perfection…where I learned being raised a farm girl is the best damn way to grow up. With that said, its almost a given to tell you that I grew up on a farm. I spent my summers baling hay, milking cows, driving tractor, teaching animals how to walk/stand correctly/move with me like a well-oiled machine, building fences, making field picnics, feeding and helping birth newborn calves, and taking long long walks in the pasture. Yup…my childhood. *Sigh* Pure awesome.

Yes, we often do have this much fun down on the farm!

Anyways, this farm I now only occasional visit because I had to grow up and move out onto my own at some point, is located out in the boonies. Our internet connection? Still dial-up. You hear my correctly. My family’s computer still relies on dial-up for internet connection. Really, if you understand the situation from the right point of view, it does make sense for them. My parents are the only ones at home now. We originally got the internet for educational (and usually recreational) purposes. That was back when internet was still a relatively new concept. Nowadays, it’s high-speed and wi-fi, or get the fuck out. My parents did not grow up in the technology age. The fact that they both operate a cell phone with relative ease is a miracle in itself. My mom uses the internet more than anyone now, usually for shopping (she’s an addict…just like me!) My dad? It would amaze me if he knew where the ‘On’ button is. I love my dad with all my heart, but computers and him will never be a match made in heaven. In fact, it’s better if they stay away from each other. He can tell me what to look up…I can do it in less time than it would for him to get the computer up and running.

Add in at least a dozen curse words, and you'll have my father trying to operate a computer.

So, there you have it. I live in the boondocks, the internet sucks, and it’s more fun this way. It keeps you all (including myself!) in suspense.

In the meantime, please enjoy this music video ‘In the Boondocks’ performed by Little Big Town. It sums up my growing up on the farm perfectly.

PS – expect a lot of updates and postings in the next couple of days as I attempt to catch up!

“Today as always [females] make up about one half of humanity. And yet we are told that femininity is in danger. It would appear, then, that every female human being is not necessarily a woman; to be so considered she must share in that mysterious and threatened reality known as femininity.”

Those are the words of Simone de Beauvoir, the author of the book titled Second Sex.

The French always look so suave.

Not going to lie to you….I may not entirely understand her words myself. However, it is fun to think about what is considered femininity in the right terms these days? Does it mean being soft, plump, and nice around the edges? Or can it be interpreted as someone aware of her womanhood and who isn’t afraid to show it off to the world?

This is exactly what I had. De-lish-us.

Take, for instance, my third day on Spring Break. After an early and lovely walk to a nearby Breugger’s Bagels for breakfast, my friend and I enjoyed our food outdoors in the brilliant sunshine. I sipped my coffee while wearing my knee-length walking capri pants. Because I was wearing capri pants in public, does that mean I’m not feminine? Does it mean I’m embracing my masculinity far more than my femininity because I refuse to cover my entire leg, or even wear a skirt, like proper woman do?

Oh, I can't stand it. Their ankles!! Oh no, put them away. Pleeeeeeease, for the love of God! (ha!)

This extends into our afternoon. Because the sunshine was so brilliant, I went ahead and rolled up my T-shirt to show off my abdomen to the sunshine. Rolled up my pant legs to my knees and took off my shoes. At some point in our feminine history, this would have been highly forbidden. Good gracious….Her ankles are showing! Imagine if I had my swim suit on (which I highly contemplated putting on. It was THAT nice out.)

My friend’s fiance came home after a few hours of our lounging in the sunshine, taking it all in. I was still in my rolled-up state of being, and walked into the house to refill my wine glass. FYI…hot sunshine, barely any clothes on, and wine mix nicely for a buzz in the middle of the afternoon. I was on Spring Break, so sue me 🙂

Her fiance was quick to make a comment on my attire. His words came to the effect of “she’s barely clothed and walking around our apartment. She should do something about that.”

I should, huh?

Now, if only I had this suit...Summer Must List? I think so.

Sorry, but I’m proud of the body bestowed upon me by higher powers, and if I want to work to make improvements on it…I’m going to. I’m also going to let it enjoy the wine that tasted oh-so-delicious that day. I went through half a bottle before noticing how much I actually had. If I haven’t warned you before, I will now. I’m a terrible lightweight. Half a bottle of wine = buzzing. The sunshine didn’t help matters. Alcohol and sunshine dehydrate the skin, making getting drunk that much easier.

I couldn't help that it tasted so good.

Again, I was on Spring Break…sue me.

My state of condition made it all the more bearable when the two of them starting having pre-marital arguments. I just kept humming to myself and walking ahead of them in Hyde Park. I wasn’t  a apart of their conversation, even though they were arguing about how much time he was spending with me while I was in town, the bride-to-be’s best friend. Whatever…it could have been very uncomfrotable…but I was buzzing, so clearly the Force had a say in things on that one.

The day finished with our opening and polishing off a bottle of cider, me with the rest of the wine, and watching a few more episodes of Friends (which is even funnier when you’re drinking!) I was amazed how much I could pack away in my belly…we went to a nearby Mexican hot-spot for the area called Habanero and I ate 2 huge tacos. I had a food baby after that. Add the wine and cider to it…it was a fiiiiine evening 🙂

I'm telling you...these tacos were huge. How I ate two of them, I don't know. I'll chalk it up to drunken eating.

Since my absence, I do realize I skipped out on my Fabulous Friday for the week. Look for an upcoming post! I haven’t forgotten, I swear. SO much more to tell you all.

So, totally fabulous, Gerard Butler!

This is me welcoming myself back. And I couldn’t be happier!

Happy St. Patrick's Day!
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s