With the aftermath of the divorce, Mom still had a shit load of stuff down at the cabin. Because it was an amicable split, my stepdad was nice enough to keep her stuff stored until she could go and collect it. That time was today.
After working for 8 hours, I rode down to the lake for an additional 2 hours in the longest. Car ride. Evah! In a white minivan. I shudder just thinking of it.
When we got there, we began the task of loading up boxes. My stepdad and his new, and very insecure girlfriend, arrived a little later, and helped.
Just an aside...while no one faults Stepdad for having a girlfriend, his selection leaves people scratching their heads. She's insecure to the point that she routinely calls Mom at work to make sure she doesn't want to get back together with Stepdad. And the entire time we were at the cabin, she wouldn't let Stepdad out of her site. At one point, I thought she was going to drop trou and piss on his leg. You know, to mark her territory.
And one more thing...a 50-something year old woman with a big hickey on her neck just screams high class. I told Mom later that she probably demanded that Stepdad give it to her before today. So she can showcase the fact that they indeed have sex. And the fact that I just typed that makes me want to go bleach my brain.
But I digress...
I haven't talked to my stepdad in a year. I feel bad for not calling him. I just never knew what to say. Stepdad has been more a father to me than my actual dad. I'm a crappy stepdaughter. I'm sure his feelings were hurt, which makes me feel even more guilty. Not to mention it doesn't help that Indy likes to remind me that I haven't called him. Jackass.
Anyway, I thought we were doing fine with the loading of the boxes, until Stepdad points out the dozen or so plastic totes in the garage loft. Meaning, a second trip is in order at some point down the road, and probably with a moving truck.
A loaded van, we depart, taking a shortcut through the sticks back to the main highway.
This particular area, notorious for meth activity. You will drive through the country and find many different types of homesteads, the most popular being the mobile home. But just because you live in a trailer, doesn't mean you can't have pride in home ownership. Clean up your yard, for Godsakes!! One trailer, trash all over the yard, had the words "Stay Out!" and "Beware of Dog" spray painted on the side of their house. Spray painted. With black paint. Probably from Walmart.
I'll get a picture of it next time I go down there.
Mom and I stopped in Clinton for lunch, where we had a tenderloin sandwich so big, it needed it's own plate. As tasty as it was, it was simply too big.
After working for 8 hours, I rode down to the lake for an additional 2 hours in the longest. Car ride. Evah! In a white minivan. I shudder just thinking of it.
When we got there, we began the task of loading up boxes. My stepdad and his new, and very insecure girlfriend, arrived a little later, and helped.
Just an aside...while no one faults Stepdad for having a girlfriend, his selection leaves people scratching their heads. She's insecure to the point that she routinely calls Mom at work to make sure she doesn't want to get back together with Stepdad. And the entire time we were at the cabin, she wouldn't let Stepdad out of her site. At one point, I thought she was going to drop trou and piss on his leg. You know, to mark her territory.
And one more thing...a 50-something year old woman with a big hickey on her neck just screams high class. I told Mom later that she probably demanded that Stepdad give it to her before today. So she can showcase the fact that they indeed have sex. And the fact that I just typed that makes me want to go bleach my brain.
But I digress...
I haven't talked to my stepdad in a year. I feel bad for not calling him. I just never knew what to say. Stepdad has been more a father to me than my actual dad. I'm a crappy stepdaughter. I'm sure his feelings were hurt, which makes me feel even more guilty. Not to mention it doesn't help that Indy likes to remind me that I haven't called him. Jackass.
Anyway, I thought we were doing fine with the loading of the boxes, until Stepdad points out the dozen or so plastic totes in the garage loft. Meaning, a second trip is in order at some point down the road, and probably with a moving truck.
A loaded van, we depart, taking a shortcut through the sticks back to the main highway.
This particular area, notorious for meth activity. You will drive through the country and find many different types of homesteads, the most popular being the mobile home. But just because you live in a trailer, doesn't mean you can't have pride in home ownership. Clean up your yard, for Godsakes!! One trailer, trash all over the yard, had the words "Stay Out!" and "Beware of Dog" spray painted on the side of their house. Spray painted. With black paint. Probably from Walmart.
I'll get a picture of it next time I go down there.
Mom and I stopped in Clinton for lunch, where we had a tenderloin sandwich so big, it needed it's own plate. As tasty as it was, it was simply too big.
The bottom half of the bun is being smothered under the tenderloin.
On the way home, we spot a night club in the middle of nowhere, painted florescent orange. It used to be white, and used to be a farmers market. They also used to sell live bait.
So, if you are ever in the middle of nowhere, and have a hankering for classic rock. The Blazing Longhorn is there for all your drinking needs.
Patrick Swayze and Sam Elliot are standing by.
2 comments:
Mmmmm, looks like a good ole tenderloin. You need to yelp that place!
Tenderloin does look good.
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