You might be a narrow-minded racist redneck....

I present Exhibit A.

 

(which happens to be our van)

 

 

 

 

Exhibit B

 

(A bigot who resides in...oh, look!  Arizona!)

 

 

Question.

 

Which do you find more offensive?  Hmm?

 

 

Because today some beer-bellied, foul-mouthed, poor-excuse for a human being decided that MY van's bumper stickers were a tad bit offensive for his conservative tastes, and proceeded to shout out to his friend, sitting in his truck, that - and I quote - "Look what some fucking idiot pasted on their van!  Obama lovers... what a fucking joke!"

 

 

Well, the problem is, he said this as he was walking not ten feet away from my vehicle.  Which was occupied by myself and my four impressionable children at the time.  With the windows down.  Yes.  We heard every. last. word.

 

I think you would have had to use high-speed film in order to capture my exit from my vehicle.  I was on him before the chickenshit could jump in his truck, but the glee in that fat-fucker's face said it all - he knew what he said, he knew who he said it in front of, and he didn't care.  Not a whit.

 

This will be the third, maybe fourth nonprovoked run-in I've had with an asshat whose got a problem with my democratic ideals.  (But this was, by far, the most vitriolic exchange I have had the pleasure of partaking in.)  All of which were instigated by my bumper stickers.  My bumper stickers that mention a person's NAME and the YEAR of the election.  Oh, and that we like the Sooners.

 

I did not single any ethnic group out.

 

I did not insinuate anything about someone's moral character.

 

I did not make false accusations or judgements.

 

I did not use offensive language or symbols.

 

 

 

So which party has the true image problem here?  What THE HELL is wrong with these people?

 

 

 

Here is my personal wish for Mr. Arizona (proud owner of Exhibit B)

 

* you lose your job to an immigrant who is willing to do the work you think you are too good for.

* you lose your healthcare because you are so damned determined in your quest to ruin our country.

* you will have to depend on government assistance in order to get by.

* your son comes home one day and shares with you that he is, in fact, gay.

* your wife leaves you, and takes your dog with her.

 

 

Because you know what? 

 

You will always have your pick-up truck...and a narrow mind to go with it.

 

 



Field trip: Berry Patch Farms

We visited Berry Patch Farms, in Brighton, CO, on August 15th.  (So...yeah, this post is a little delayed...).  A lot was happening on the 15th - my nephew, Connor was turning sweet 16, our dog, Abby, was turning 8, and Jordan was arriving home on a flight from OKC.  There was also a preschool-aged event happening that morning at the Berry Patch Farms - a place I have wanted to visit ever since fellow homeschooling mom, Kristina, arranged a field trip there a couple of years ago.  (we didn't go - Colin was only 6 mo. old and I was not up for it).

So the scheduling stars aligned that day, and we went to the farm that morning and then hightailed it over to the airport to pick up Jordan by early afternoon.  The event ran from 9:30 - 11:30.  The website was a little lacking in it's description... it sounded more like 'a class' than an: 'arrive whenever you want to, do some stuff, and leave whenever'...  'And pay us $5 per kid that you bring.'... 'Thanks.'

So I was sweatin' buckets when I pulled in at 9:39am, thinking we were late for a class.  Parking was difficult but we managed to find a spot amongst the other 128 minivans.  I didn't think to grab a backpack for myself when we left the house because I am still in stroller-mentality - which is a method of transportation we rarely use anymore.  It sure would have been helpful that day, and I think I will have to go that route for any future events like this.  When you take into consideration the waterbottles, sunscreen, camera, phone, keys, money, snacks, blah, blah, blah... I can't really wing it anymore.  Fortunately we did have Colin's little backpack, which has morphed into the on-the-go diaperbag in recent days.  ('THE' diaperbag - the bag we have used everyday since Rylan was born six years ago, had run it's course a couple months ago.  It was also something we rarely used anymore.  I had this little backpack, and it was perfect to hold 2-3 diapers, small box of wipes, and a large baggie of kiddie first aid stuff - bandaids and antiseptic wipes, which is all we really need anymore)  So I put my phone, keys and money in there too (no pockets that day), and hoped that he didn't run off!

Sunhats and sunscreen were next, and we finally left the car around 10 am.  No kidding.  Nobody exactly felt like being compliant that morning.  It didn't help that we were parked next to a goat pen, with an extremely friendly goat to distract the kids.  We wandered into the farm area and I got my bearings.  I figured out from some other moms that were milling around that we needed to go into a big barn/produce & product farm stand to pay.  That's where I found out that there wasn't really a schedule, and that we could wander around from activity to activity.

Here were the activities:

1. Each kid received a pint-sized container to take to the berry fields to fill with strawberries.
2. A craft project.  The craft project this day was rolling a beeswax candle.
3. Watch out for the resident bad-tempered farm pig.  Don't pet him. 
4. Chase the chickens.
5. Watch a video about bees.
6. Ride on a hayride out to the fields and back.
7. Climb on a wooden tractor and let your mom take a picture of you.

And that was about it for the agenda that morning...  slim pickin's IMHO, but I guess it was perfect for the preschool set.


So, first things first - try and drag the diaperbag-backpack laden two year old away from the nasty-tempered pig. (who didn't appear to be all that mean, but the resident farmer sure hustled over when he saw this mob scene...)

I steered the kids over to some picnic tables so that we could do our 'craft'.  It took about a minute and a half to roll up a sheet of beeswax around a long piece of sting.  Thirty seconds if you are an impatient six year old.  Twenty seconds if you are four, and your name is Owen.

So with that difficult task out of the way and the finished product safely stowed in the little backpack, we were off to the berry fields.  It was very hazy that day due to some smoke from wildfires in Idaho and Wyoming.  This view is looking west, and you can't even see the mountains!  Besides berries, there were long rows of flowers and herbs to pick from as well.  (if you paid for that)

The tractor dropped us off at the field and we tried to wander away from most of the people in the hopes of finding some strawberries.  The fields were already pretty well picked over, unfortunately.

We did manage to find a few.. Owen was eager to pick, and so was Rylan.  But it was hot and the kids were a little cranky.  Especially Colin.  He was all about the tractor, and was *really* pissed off at me that we had to leave the tractor behind as we walked into the fields.  And he let everyone know it too.  To the degree in which he wandered around, carrying our one lone waterbottle, bawling his eyes out and refusing to follow us.  Nice.

See?

 

So once we had picked a very measly collection of less-than-stellar looking strawberries, I made Colin happy by snagging a ride on the next tractor ride back to the main farm.  And then we had to get off.  I was once again the meanest mom in the world...

 

 

There wasn't much to do after that because the kids were hot, tired, cranky - and now hungry, so a little educational video/talk was out of the question, so we left.  We ambled towards the airport and hit a Sonic for lunch and good-mood inducing shakes.  I needed as much leverage as I could get because I was about to not only take the kids into the airport, but get concourse passes, go through security and meet Jordan at the gate when his plane arrived.

 

We were tight on time, and the only parking available was in one of the most remote spots in the outdoor short-term parking lots.  I did use the stroller this time (it's almost always in the car, still) and loaded Owen onto it too so that we could huff it through the lots and up to check-in.  The process actually went very smoothly.  We got our passes and then went through security.  Both Rylan and Owen have done this before, but never Colin, and never as a whole group.  In the past it was mostly Dean, taking only one designated child with him as I circled the main concourse waiting for him to come back.  We got ushered through a different area so that we didn't have to do the full-body scan thing.  The TSA were very polite and patient with us, I must say.  We went down to the trains and rode all the way out to concourse C to meet Jordan - which is nice because it means the longest train ride.  The kids loved it.  We arrived at the gate just as Jordan walked off the plane, so our timing couldn't be better.  We rode the train back, picked up his suitcase and then did the long walk back to the car.  Jordan was thrilled to be back in Colorado, after the awful heat he endured in OKC.

 

We drove home, had dinner, and then made a 'birthday cake' for Abby.  We do things fancy in these parts and spare no expense - so the cake consisted of a peanut butter sandwich with 8 dog biscuits set in additional globs of peanut butter.  I'm sure we shortened her life just a little bit...