Headin' Home

Country Road...Take me Home... West Virginieeeeeee...

So now I'm sitting in a hotel room in the lovely and scenic Beckley, WV waiting for the little Bree-Monster to fall asleep. It's hours past her bedtime and she's standing in her crib trying to lighten everyone's mood. Quite the clown she is. She's rocking back and forth making cute noises while snorting over her binky.

I guess that there is some truth to that saying about god making babies so cute, just so you don't drown them. For such a little person, she sure can make a big fuss.

Honestly, she was very good for the trip. I mean, how do you try to keep a 1-year-old sane while spending more than 24 hours in a car over a 4.5 day period? We've found that plastic cups and straws can amuse her more than any $30 FisherPrice concoction. What about her penchant for 2 straws, a plastic cup, a tic-tac pack, and a set of car keys that brings such a light to her eyes? Maybe she will end up being the newest MacGyver when they turn the show into a movie in the mid 2020's?


We've also found that a baby can hold probably 20 times it's own weight in poo before unleashing it in their diaper while in the middle of a torrential downpour that leaves you no chance of opening the windows for the next 30 minutes.

But she is definitely my little girl. She is quite smart, and has such a little attitude. It's also very difficult to try to contain your laughter while she is in the final throws of her daily energy alotment. Here's to you, cutie...

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I also have to mention the service for my granny Myrt. It was mixed with sadness and fun as we remembered her and laughed at her unique views on life. She was a strong woman who was very set in her ways. She was also a hoot and a half.

The preacher told us of his fear of telling her that she couldn't drive any more. As fun as her 10 mph trips swerving through town were, the fact that she was legally blind could not be ignored. So he had to kindly ask her to relinquish her keys.

We were also told(after the service, of course) of her love for freedom. Years after her first husband, my great-grandfather, passed away, she remarried a farmer who had been her high school beau. He was way too boring for her (and barely left town) so she promptly divorced his ass. I'm also told that the fact that he showered once a week got on her nerves as well. Frankly, I don't blame her.

She was also one to kick back, have a few Me-Tai's and paint the town red (as long as it wasn't her own town, of course...the church ladies could not hear of it).

She and her group of friends used to kick back after the Sunday service and gossip about all the goings on in the town. It was apparently their version of Steel Magnolias, and they had a blast. The preacher even commented that, thanks to Miss Myrtle, he knew enough incriminating stories to make most of those in the chapel that day "hang your heads in shame!" (he said this while laughing, of course). Most of the old ladies in attendance covered their mouths snickering with a quiet and knowing "mmmm hmmmm" passing amongst the crowd.

The service affected me more than I would have thought. In part, because I was a pall bearer, and as part of my duties, I had to help carry her to her final resting place. It's a somber moment to lift her fragile 90 lbs of flesh, with the weight of over a hundred pounds of steel and place it over her grave.

This morning, we each took a single pink rose from her grave to keep with us. She loved pink roses...for her, it HAD to be done beautifully, or else it wasn't worth doing.

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