Small Town Surreal

I walk around trying to be normal...most of the time.  I mean, I drive a mini-van, I drink Maxwell House, my "everyday" doesn't usually lead me places...like where I wound up last night.  You know how sometimes your best intentions can go wrong pretty fast?  Yeah, that was last night.

So my 11 year old had a "pool party" to attend at a hotel in a small town adjacent to our small town.  The coolsies mom of the birthday girl was awesome enough to pick my kiddo up, saving us the 35 minute drive out of town....but of course my daughter left her birthday gift for her little BFF behind... and I, ever the effervescent opportunist, thought to myself "Self, things in your life are about to be much more stressful and busy, what with starting college and all, so take this opportunity to go out with your hubs. Hubs and you could use a night out."

So we delivered said gift, and headed to a little hole in the wall bar we go to when we want to go somewhere  that isn't local to chill in a clandestine fashion.  I sort of skipped my youth, and I never hung out anywhere "cool" ever.  So I get this little thrill out of flirting with my hubs from a bar stool.  When we go out, I embrace my inner chick.  You know...wear my cool black leather, ankle-zip boots with the tall heels...some cute jeans and a black shirt, mated with actual jewelry.  Then of course I rock my hair with some semi-Farrah, hottie, waves.  To shellack the whole look, I wear actual lipstick touched with gloss.... instead of Carmex.   

Me and my hubs spent good portions of our younger years in sales.  We're people...people.  Striking up conversations with people is kind of our thing.  Within 20 minutes of being there, we met this guy wearing bib overalls who told us he was celebrating because his 16 year old son had "got hisself some p&*#y" then he bought us drinks.  

After sucking down my white russian, I wanted to dance.  Eventually an older chick with Clairol 12G blown out blond hair hit the dance area over by the pool table. 

My hubs was learning all about oil rigs, and how to work your way up the ladder in oil from our new friend.  Finally the DJ, a funny little white guy who spent the better part of an hour making MTV type hand gestures while adjusting his beanie, coke bottle glasses and crotch, decided to put on some hip hop.  

Blown Out didn't mind if I joined her, so I got my groove on.  "Where do you dance?" she asked.  "Oh, usually in (my town) at (the only bar where people dance)" I said.  "Yeah, but where do you daaance?" she asked again.  "Sometimes at weddings, or in my kitchen." I said, trying to use humor because she might be slow or addled from do-it-yourself hair color application.

It wasn't until the song was over and I made my way back to my stool that I realized...SHE THINKS I'M A STRIPPER!

I wish I could say the evening didn't get weirder.  

We got pulled over on the way home.  I ALWAYS tell my husband to use the speed saver buttons on the steering wheel. He always tells me I overuse it.  He could gift wrap a nice sized box of jewelry for me with all of his speeding tickets. But he can't buy me jewelry because we're broke from paying speeding tickets. I myself have never been ticketed for speeding. Just saying.

A Girl's Best Friend

As we sat in the mini, watching the blue and red cop car lights lite up the falling snow (the most romantic part of the night) I looked to my right and saw a graveyard.  In the graveyard was a BIG stone, with my husband's (unusual) last name etched on it.  Suddenly, out from behind the stone, I shit you not, ran a black cat, which crossed in front of our mini, and darted across the road at lightening speed.  That's kind of when I knew we were really in trouble.

Sometimes the strangest things happen when you're just out there, doing the most normal everyday things.  And sometimes you have to be really really careful when you pray to God for signs, because you actually get them.  I've been freaking out about my college plans, asking God to send me a sign telling me I'll be able to balance everything I have on my plate. "I can do it God, can't I? Oh just let me know I can do it all! Send me a sign!"  

Now I have to pray to God to send me a sign that this sign wasn't an actual sign. 

I suppose it could all boil down to bad luck. According to my new Facebook Ap, "check your Lucky or Unlucky" I'm just shit out of luck at the moment... (actual result follows;

Rebecca % 99 Unlucky

check your Lucky or Unlucky

...And luck can change at any time...right?

Best wishes,

Rebecca