My Mother, the Criminal

Mom took Natalie and me to the Brad Paisley concert Friday night. It was awesome and spectacular and wonderful. The problem is, I found out JUST how much of a renegade my mother really is.

If you know her, this is going to shock you. The information I'm about to share will leave you reeling. Don't read further if you have been lulled into believing she's a quiet country girl, always doing the right thing.

I guess it started when we stopped at Hi Boy for a bite to eat. Mom told stories of walking there with my Dad when they were dating. She seemed so sweet. We got back in the car and asked, "Will this car ding at me if I don't buckle?" I told her it wouldn't and she said, "Good!" It was at this time that I realized she was spiraling out of control in her life of crime.

At the Sprint Center, they didn't look through her purse very closely. If so, I would have had to call Dad for bail. We sat down in our seats an hour in advance of the show and started chatting. She reaches into her purse and pulled out a pen. Proud of it, she says, "Look, it's a laser pointer!" or something to that effect.

Laser pointers are against the rules at concerts. I told her as much, and she acted innocent, like she didn't know. Whatever, Mom. I'm hip to your lifestyle now. She obediently put it away, though, so I thought we were OK.

I thought wrong.

As she put the pen-of-evil away, she pulled out something else. "I got this on Daily Steals, too!" she announced proudly...as she whipped out a knife. WTH, mother? I had to make her put the purse away, before the semi automatic weapon was pulled out. The weapon that I'm SURE she had in there somewhere.

Before we go back, I'll have to ask her to go to this page, and click on the very last question.

*sigh*

Happy Mother's Day

Dear Mom,

Thanks. Thanks for taking good care of us during our childhood. Thanks for putting up with us. Thanks for not killing us for our attitudes and nonsense. Look! We baked you a cake!

OK, maybe that was a long time ago. Still, we DID it, right? That was back in the days of getting off the bus in winter, opening the back door, and seeing a baby (calf, puppy, skunk) animal starting it's life. The days when you made hot chocolate for us to have at the bus stop, because it was cold. (PS, what's up with that halter top? I WORE that? Wow.)

Back when you let me have parties. When 6 or more of my friends would descend upon our house, and eat everything in sight while watching shows that you MUST have hated. Yet you allowed it, and baked special treats for us. I remember watching Purple Rain while eating homemade carmel corn with a dozen people in our little living room.

I love you. I think you were/are an AWESOME mom! Jim and I made you a grandma too soon, but that wasn't enough for me. I decided that you should be a GREAT grandma! (maybe that was Brett's decision, but whatever.)

Here's to you. Here's to the cow milking, horse riding, child raising, family feeding, animal lover that I call "Mom." Here's to you.

And here's to every pot of potato soup that you've ever made for me:

I've learned to love them all. Mmmmm, potato soup. My favorite.

Oh. Sorry. I got caught up in the moment.

The point is, I LOVE YOU, MOM!

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

Love,

Rachel

Hello?

Is this thing on?

Yeah, I've disappeared from here, and I'm sorry. Yeah, YOU'RE happy, but I'm sorry.

It's not my fault that I've been gone. It's the fault of Rube Goldberg (who IS that?) Monica's project is all-consuming. She's doing the bulk of it, but we're trying to help all we can, since her TEAM is her. The other girl is grounded, so she can't work on it. I know, WTH? It's what we have to deal with, so we're dealing.

Anyway, that's my excuse. I can't blog. I'm busy. (or tired, or whatever.) Here is a picture from Sunday's truck race:

Here it is, taken by a track employee. You're treated AWESOME at Kansas Speedway. It's Kevin, Natalie, Me, Collin (son of work friend) and Monica.

See, even my fabulous photography has suffered. Or it looks like it always did. Whatever.