Fall Days at the Corn Maize

Don’t be jealous of my mad poetry skills.

The opening of the Corn Maize (for all of you spelling and grammar police; I AM spelling that correctly. This particular “maze” is cut from a cornfield; hence the play on words) here in Lubbock marks the beginning of my favorite time of year. The crisp air, the spices, the warm food, the snuggly blankets and nights spent at home with family; it’s the mark of fall.

A couple of weekends ago we gathered the darlings for our annual trip to the maize and per usual, a good time was had by all.

As the “cow train” pulled off I noticed a hint of panic in Allen’s eyes. “You’re afraid Kenly’s going to jump ship and get lost in the cornfield, aren’t you?” I asked. And he didn’t have to answer; because the truth is we both know. If anyone is going to climb out of a moving barrel and take off to hide in the field; it will be that precious child. We’ve got a lot of sleepless nights in our future.

Ashlyn LOVES this trampoline bungee thingamajig; and I cannot blame her. If they made one that would support me and all this backside I carry around I’d be harnessed up and bouncing before you could say milkshake

While Ashlyn was bouncing Allen and Kenly took off to play hide and seek in the trees and Kenly found a field of dirt. Right up her alley.

Sidenote: My delightful husband and I took a giant step on our journey to forever at this little corn maize 7 years ago; as this is where he proposed. A little bit redneck, you say? Indeed it was; but that’s us – sweet with a pinch of country hick.

My love affair with colons. (those of the "semi" variety at least)

I’m a huge fan of the semi-colon. I adore this little mark of punctuation; so much so that I tend to throw one in my writing at times when one is most definitely not needed. I’m beginning to think that my brain has a “haven’t used a semi-colon in a while” trigger that goes off and forces the pressing of that precious key beside the L. Perhaps in an effort to re-train my brain I’ll throw in random slashes for a month.

And now; before I face the wrath of a pregnant woman, here are a couple of pictures from Sara'a fabulous "Baby Q" shower.

The gorgeous Mommy-to-be. I happen to think she has the most adorable baby bump I've ever seen.

Two Lovely Ladies:

Two lovely ladies and a decidedly unfortunate-looking one:

Cheers!

Highway driving or the Fountain of Youth?

My dear friend Sara moved to Austin last year and a few months later got herself knocked up. So when we got word that she was having a baby shower in Roswell (her hometown) Cheyanna and I jumped at the chance to make the short trip and surprise her.

As we set out on the 3 hour drive I noticed that there was something a little different about this road trip than those of my past.


When did we cross the line from “young and carefree” to “old and dependent on medication?”


I was very unsettled at the thought of having left my carefree youth behind and in an attempt to stir some adolescent mischief I announced that I was going to- wait for it - take pictures of all of the passing cars. Yes. That was my idea of gettin’ a little crazy; snapping pictures of oncoming highway traffic with a camera. Cheyanna; on the other hand, has a wilder side and as soon as the words “take pictures of passing cars” left my mouth she was ready to up the ante.

With a glance upward at her sunroof she offered “Why don’t you hang out of the top of the car to take the picture.”

I hesitated.

After all, this was a pretty precarious endeavor. Raising myself outside of a vehicle travelling 70 miles an hour? With a pricey electronic device in hand? What if the force of motion was too strong; plucking the camera out of my grasp and slamming it to its’ death on the pavement? What if, at the sight of a hefty mad-woman acting all “papparrazzi” from the top of a car, the driver of another vehicle crashes in a panic? What if a UFO descended upon us and beamed me into outerspace?

I decided to myself “well, that’s that. It’s simply too hazardous.” Just then I saw the medicine bottles from the corner of my eye; taunting me; reminding me that my formative years were long gone and I was a pair of bifocals away from middle aged. An impish grin slowly crept upon my face and a new resolution was made.

I threw caution to the wind, waited until I saw an 18 wheeler barreling down the pavement, grabbed my camera and hoisted myself out of the car. The wind blew my hair (and apparently my saliva) mercilessly as I snapped the picture; I then turned the camera on myself to document my brazen act of silliness. I collapsed, laughing hysterically into the passenger seat a new woman. A woman who had shown those medications who was boss and defeated old age

This is the victim:

Me at 70 mph = SCARY as hell:


Look closely and you'll see the slobber.. cute huh? (I apologize for the closeness of this picture; it's pretty gruesome..)

The wind had forced tears from my eyes and there wasn’t a tissue in sight; so I did what every resourceful woman would do:

Sara, darling – don’t send yourself into early labor. I will post the pics from the shower in a day or two; promise! Also in an effort to prevent the ever sweet Sara from delivering this child before he's done baking; let me clarify that Sara has been married for a few years - I use the term "knocked up" for dramatic effect only.