Random Tidbits

So my horoscope today says that I have a lot to say, but that the words will elude me. Apparently that should have been my horoscope for the last few months, given my ability to complete an entry. I do have a lot to say. Usually I say it. Most of the time, however, I'm talking to myself - it's impossible to actually have friends and say all of the things I feel compelled to say. Trust me on this, your friends do not need to hear that their need to color code their Tupperware qualifies them for disability. I speak from experience, and count myself down one friend with a terrible sense of humor.

The biggest thing that's happened around here is that we've moved. The job situation stabilized, and we've miraculously found ourselves in the house we've always wanted. It's a very old farmhouse, in a very small town, and came complete with wildlife, creaky pipes, and floors to make any sailor seasick. But the inspector assured us it will stand for another 100 years, so here were are, receiving baked goods from our new neighbors.

This move has been great for my husband, and for that I'm grateful, since he had overstayed his welcome in Worryville. I, on the other hand, am still adjusting. I went from a place where I had made a little nest to a place that feels like the first day of high school. You know you have a locker, and the friend or two from the summer, but it's just not your place yet. And as a mom, I hadn't quite realized that the bulk of my friends were what I've heard referred to as "school-gate" friends - people that I ran Girl Scout troops with, stood in the rain at the bus stop with, complained about selling one more roll of wrapping paper with. And with school out until August, there is no troop, no PTO meeting, no nothing. Needless to say, my kids aren't the only ones in need of a playdate.

But to counteract our moving blues, we headed to the beach for a long weekend. And, in no small miracle, I have, indeed, found the reason why people make fun of middle America. Two words, y'all - Dixie St@mpede. In a fit of rain-soaked desperation, I took my family to see the show. The horses in the show, to be more precise - anything else was a bonus viewing. My oldest saw the flyer, fell in love with the brown horse on the cover, and so I booked some tickets with my usual "how bad can it be?" attitude.

Well.

If Dante hadn't already labeled all of the circles of Hell, I would swear to you that this was one of them. (And I'm still convinced he missed one.) Picture Civil War rivalry, lighted costumes that flashed in the dark, buffalo, and pig racing. In the same place. At the same time. With no alcohol to numb the proceedings. Add in a meal of home cookin' delivered by my personal Confederate solider (to be eaten with no silverware) and you've got the entire hellish experience summed up in 3 short sentences. As I said to my husband, well, that's crossed off the list.

I did, however, have the pleasure of explaining to my children that Dolly was indeed more than Hann@h Montan@'s aunt. Because, well, she is so, so, much more. As evidenced by the gift store at the end of the show.

If I sound whiny, I'm not, really, just uninspired. Waiting, as they say, for the next big idea. And it will come, I'm sure - I just have to find my locker.