We went to Bogalusa a couple of weeks ago (I know, I know, Johnathan told you and you saw the pictures. . . humor me. . . I’m pregnant). I hadn’t seen my dad in over a year. Plus I wanted him to get to see me all big and pregnant. On the way down, Kylie told me that I should have worn a snugger shirt to show off my belly. I said, “Oh, they’ll notice.” And of course, the first thing I heard when I got out of the car was, “SHE”S FAT!!” ;) I guess if my husband can call me “chubs”, I’ll have to let my dad call me “fat”.
We had a great visit. Kylie loved it (she got to drive a tractor. . . what girl wouldn’t love that?) And Johnathan got to use the gas powered plow (we’ll put up some pictures of that). They got to experience real south Louisiana. It was Kathy’s 50th birthday so Dad threw a party (but Kathy spent most of her time in the kitchen…how does that work?). We had crawfish, gumbo, crawfish pie, muffaletta, fried catfish, fried shrimp. . . tons of stuff. Johnathan had eaten crawfish before. But you’ve never really been to a crawfish boil until you have stood at a table covered with paper, twisting heads and pinching tails, until you just can’t eat anymore. And the table was an authentic crawfish boil table. It was a door lying across two saw horses. That’s livin’, folks. ;)
Then, there was the door-to-door-chicken-giver (dad should get a kick out of that). Apparently, in south Louisiana, when you hit a certain age, you earn the right to just stop at a person’s house if you see that they’re home (I’m not sure, but I think it’s somewhere just after retirement). There are at least two that stop by dad’s on a regular basis. Well, one morning, while we were having breakfast, one of them pulled into the driveway. Understanding the rules, Dad just waved him in (resistance is futile). After a little small talk, he said, “Hey, you want a couple of roosters? Now, these ain’t eatin’ roosters. These are just pet roosters. They’re waking my wife up too early in the mornin’ so she wants ‘em gone.” Dad and Kylie walked outside and, sure enough, he had two big ole roosters standing up in the front seat of the truck. Kylie got to pet one (of course), but Dad declined to keep them. They probably wouldn’t set well with the dog. So the man got back in his truck, after making one of the roosters get out of the driver’s seat, and went on to the next stop. The funniest part was, after he left, my grandmother said, “Yeah, I can imagine. His wife got up this morning and told him to squat and strain. . . so he did.” (okay, it’s much funnier coming from an 82 year old Baptist woman)
Last weekend, we allowed Kylie to go to the military ball for ROTC. She’s grounded. . . for grades. . . again (anybody know the trick to motivating a teenager…besides food?). But we figured that this was a special occasion, and we would hate for her to miss it only to be ungrounded a week later. She took her best friend as her date (yeah, we weren’t disappointed that she didn’t take a stinky boy, ha). They had a great time. Kylie was beautiful. She and I went shopping and she picked out a gorgeous blue dress. Then, we spent two hours on her hair. We put half of it up, and I sprayed, straightened and curled all her of her hair, piece by piece. She had these big ringlets all over her head. We have pictures of her that we need to put up. She cleans up nice for a girl that likes to dig holes and drive tractors. ;)