Queenie Rolls Her Wagon!!




I came to a screeching halt in the front yard. I narrowly missed the mailbox, the planter full of ickies, and the fence. Bessie had done it again. Yep. She bucked me right off! I did what any Cowgirl worth her salt would. I cussed like a sailor, rubbed the part of my anatomy that hurt the worst(not my pride) and pouted that there was no man around to drive the beast for me.


I left Bessie cooling her heels among the ickies( eating them most likely) and lurched my sore butt into the house. I needed pain releiver, and the bottle of Beam was handiest. I had just gotten the ice where it was most needed(the glass) and sat my aching butt down when the damn phone rang!

The phone was ringing...but in a funny kind of way. Demanding. Barking almost. Wait a minute...Could that be? Dare I hope? GOD? Is that you? Nope. HE would already know about my sore butt, and would have pity.

It was Iraq Calling! I swerved into on-coming traffic, narrowly missed the dog, maimed the cat a bit, lunged across the ottoman, and said a breathless "HELL...O?"

It was the Hubby. Alive and well, and wearing clean undies, I think! I did what any Cowgirl would do....I turned the air puce with expletives. I am sure Ma Belle burst her girdle, and fell into the cow pasture after I got thru! That is what love is all about folks. Being able to hold guilt over the ones you love. I guilt-ed the hell outta him!

The next few minutes we chatted like to hillbillies drinking shine...it was fab!

Then the string between the tin cans snapped, and the line went dead. Rule #1: When communicating with technology from the age of Christ, please use only delicate lady-like language, or else they cut the string. Or is catches fire, not sure which...cant see thru the smoke....*LOL*

I managed to convey support, empathy, and sensitivity to my Man, and then you all realized I have none, so that is a load of crap! I got the message across...he will never wait a week to call again. :)

I took the phone, put it on life support, and into therapy for its trauma, and stumbled over to the chair, parked my SUV butt, and sighed relief. Bliss. Peace.


That was just seconds before the Goldie coughed up the cat, Mags puked on the floor, and the wind took Bessie away to Kansas. Anyone have a recipe for Jackass Stew?! I might need it.

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