Monday, June 6, 2011

Holly, like it sounds

One snake. One, maybe two mice later: we're here. Our boxes, bags, Wal Mart sacks, Rubbermaid tubs, empty trash cans used as stroage units, and cars are unloaded. I feel as though it's been a decent move, seeing that we are not able to find only my Chi straghtener, back up blow up dryer, and Aaron's clippers. For the record, my Chi (to the layman, nice brand of hair straightener) is my back up one. So, all is not lost.

Although Aaron's hair is getting a tad too long. And one thing you don't want to see if someone who is slowly going bald with a bit longer hair. It has the potential to look like me on my first visit down to Holly last year during harvest. I wanted so badly to impress my future in-laws to my farming skills, that I suffered through one day of contacts (as if looking prettier would allow me to drive a straighter combine). The end result? Total hell. Talk about hell on the eyes; within 20 minutes to arriving on the field, Aaron slugged the combine (basically, the ground was too high and the header rammed it) and we had to get out and pull wheat and dirt and everything else that was stuck in that shit out. In my contacts. Dear Lord, vanity went so fast out the window that I could give a shit less what people thought of me. Anyways, to sum up: Aaron's hair is getting long and we need to find those damn clippers.

I think half the fun of moving is finding the shit you thought you lost in the move. The thrill of opening a bathroom cabinet and, holy hell, there are your extra blades. Or forgetting you had stocked up on bodywash from Bath and Body Works before you moved out to god forsaken nowhere. Talk about enjoying the little things.

I can't begin to tell you of the adventures I have had already: lucky for us, water is all inclusive in our rent. And those of you who know my family (ahem, dumpster diving, endless buffets for a ridiculosu cheap price for the IBS that I suffer after), you know that we love to cash in on shit that's "free". I've been watering the shit out of this lawn: I'm destined to be the Suzie God Damn Homemaker of Prowers County. Last week while watering the east side of the house, I was moving water and lo and be-god-damn hold, a snake was hanging out by the hose. I can't blame the bastard, it's hot as hell here. I did not scream. I only took one deep old breath in and slowly backed up. The day I saw this snake, I had already had probably one of many emotional breakdowns that included the phrase "What the fuck am I doing here? What the fuck. Where are my sisters. I miss my Daddy." Because that will combat snakes, right? Fear. Ha.

When I told Daddy about my run in with the slithering creature, he remidned me that "you are in the country, girl. You're out of that shithole Manhattan." Daddy hardly curses (no, I do not get my cursing from my Mother. I probably got it from dealing with people too damn much), so when he does curse, you know he's serious. And he's right. I am in the country and yes, there will end up being a mouse or two in the house. That's a small price to pay for the view at sunrise and sundown with the expansive sky and the quiet twinkling of yardlights at the next homestead.

I could continue writting and updating, however I know that I may want to save my bits of Colorado wisdom for future posts. And I don't want to shock all my city slicker friends into a Starbucks coma.