Hubby and I decided we needed some time alone this weekend before we moved, so we left E with the grandparents and went to a B&B about 90 minutes up the road in a really small town. We had a great time even though we had nothing to do since it was Sunday. That didn't matter, we were just happy to be together. We decided on our way home to just meander through the backwoods of our state. We wandered hither and yon and ended up in Pop 259. Our old house wasn't being kept up very well and that made me sad. But we passed a building that triggered a memory that I can't believe I haven't written about. I think I wrote about it on my former blog, but this is one you just won't believe.
Pop 259 is an old railroad town that actually had a small heyday. The downtown is now run-down and mostly empty, but the old high school is still used, albeit by a business and not as a school. The school is so old that it has one of those freestanding gyms with the big giant fans to circulate the air and bleachers that are built-ins and immovable. The building is about 90 years old and still used by the local kids.
One day while I was living there, a few people I knew wanted to get together and jam and see if we might form a band. I knew the mayor fairly well and she let us use the gym as a place to practice since no one's house could really sustain two guitarists, a drummer and singer. We hauled all of our gear into the old gym, prayed the electrical outlets could sustain the modern equipment and started playing. I was singing away, having a great time. I still remember what we were practicing, it was Under the Boardwalk. As I was singing, I just happened to look up into the rafters and noticed something dangling on a beam. It was quite long, about 4 1/2 feet. It looked like an old rope that had been left up there by high schoolers. I remember thinking to myself that those fans must be really powerful to make that rope wiggle so wildly that high up. Only it wasn't a rope.
As I watched in horror, the rope fell out of the rafters and dropped at my feet. Did I mention it wasn't a rope? There I stood, screaming into the microphone trying to get the band's attention, hoping they would rescue me from the giant snake that was now sharing too much of my personal body space. The snake and I looked at each other and then it slithered away. The band finally stopped playing and couldn't understand why I was making such a big deal out of a chicken snake. I'm not a country girl and for all I knew, it was a friggin' anaconda. But no one but me was freaked out that snakes were falling from the sky, so we continued. But to this day whenever I go into a really old building, I look up, just in case.
And as for the person who thinks I should rename my blog and that I do nothing but bitch and whine, you have the option to not read my blog. It's as simple as that. I don't put stuff in my blog so people will feel sorry for me. Most of the time I want people to laugh at all the crap with me. I have read other pastor's wives blogs and very few of us are actually saying it how it is. They are afraid of reprisal or being found out. But I have had enough comments from other wives to know they need this blog. For whatever reason, they have no outlet and need to know someone else is going through what they are going through. So I am not going to change. I am going to bitch and rant and tell you the terrible things that happen to me. You can laugh or cry or shake your head at me. You can even be pissed off at me and think I am the worst person in the world. That's your right, but it's my right to say what I want on my blog. Oh, and by the way, comment moderation will remain open for the time being. It seems idiots can hide behind AIM accounts so there's really no reason to close comments.
I am Living in Muddy Waters!