So if you haven’t noticed, I took a little hiatus.  Listen, if Glee can do it, so can I!  Anyway, I was outta town.  I wouldn’t say on vacation because I don’t think that 114 degrees and sitting in a cattle barn is considered a good time, but whatever.  Bottom line is that I spent some quality time in Missouri and Minnesota and I saw some pretty cool, yet overly unusual things. 

And I started to wonder:  do I miss the crazy, cool stuff that happens here because I’m not anticipating and looking for it, or does it just not happen here?  I know what you’re thinking – how could Nebraska be anything less than exciting?  Exactly!  It’s not 90210, but I’m obviously just oblivious once I get in the 6 8 double 00 five.

As for my week’s travels outside the 402, I have stories to tell of the following variety:

For one, as we were wreaking around through Minny traffic ala a genuine French man’s driving (who is an AMAZING driver I might add), we saw a dog hanging out of a Harley driver’s saddlebags.  I kid you not.  And if that wasn’t original enough, the lab puppy riding shotgun was sporting goggles.  Think Snoopy playing the Red Baron.  Purina would pay good money for that!  If only I had a pic to prove it.  Unfortunately, me and my inept Droid ways weren’t quite that quick.  However, the real point is:  how often do you see that shit?

But I did get better with my camera phone for the next piece of coolness.  Did you know that they have a Pedal Pub in Minneapolis?  Yeah, you rent it for a party.  In this case, it was some cute bachelor party boys making the old college route.  Guess they eat and drink heavily from a barrel keg that’s mounted on the wagonesque-type wood vehicle that you have to pedal to move like a bike.  No lie.  It’s perfect:  you get drunk but you work off all the calories and there’s no possibility of a DUI!  LOVE it!

Another fave pastime when roadtripping is checking out the high-quality car art.  My favorite bumper sticker of the week was a Missouri one, or as we call it, Mizz-ur-uh, because we were deep enough in the stix that it seems only appropriate to say it that way, and don’t be getting all high and mighty and telling me to quit being a snob, a lot of my family are from there.  I’ve got the breeding so if I want to make fun of their sweet-tea, long-syllable ways, I will!  My point really was that I found the highlight car décor for the week:  God bless our troops, especially the snipers!  Yeah, I don’t care who ya are, that’s funny crap right there!  See, that’s the great thing about the South, they tell it like it is!  Plus, I actually learned that one of the guys sitting in the bag chair next to me as my butt was leaving ass crack sweat on my jeans was a former sniper.  How crazy is that?  Guess I now know who not to piss off!  (Oh, so, that whole comment about Mizzuruh- let’s disregard that, shall we?)

But if you want total bizarreness, it would have to be my venture into the world of poetry slam.  Dark bars and fanatical fans.  Let’s just say I stood out like the devil in church!  People who do poetry slam have drama oozing out of them and off their skin in the form of 500 tattoos.  Do I respect their abilities and their craft?  Hell, yeah.  Am I thankful for my regular diligence to personal hygiene and lack of physical abuse and shitty life experiences?  Hell, yeah!  Will I be showing them how it’s done?  Hell, no!  I’m pretty sure I’d lose my lunch if spaghetti-strapped biker chick hunted me down in the hallway.

Basically, after all that, it makes me question if I just don’t pay attention to the crazy stuff that happens at home, or if it just doesn’t happen. But then I started pondering my life here and, ya know, it’s full of randomness.  I guess I just don’t frame it as the stuff that makes a great YouTube video. 

I mean:  who has a pet deer that visits their yard everyday that they name Roland because he Rolls on in AND makes himself at home.  He doesn’t even flinch when I open the door and ask him why his friend feels the need to eat my hostas.  And maybe it’s not normal to take pictures of cattle, especially when I insist they must be set up correctly with ears forward, back leg away from the camera having to be ahead of the camera side.  Maybe other people don’t talk about dressing dead bodies at the family holiday supper table. 

Guess it’s possible that we don’t always recognize what’s right in front of us. Maybe we don’t always stop to smell the roses or pick more daisies as the poets speak of, but lucky for me, what’s currently in front of me I don’t have to sniff or pluck, I just have to watch.  My TV and DVR boasts a record number of shows begging me to appreciate them in all their glory. 

But you can have the roses and daisies if you want…