You Can Take A Girl Out of the Country.......

But.............  You can't take the country out of the girl. 

First day of school for all of The Native's.  It's NUTS!  I get up a half hour before The Native's so I can have some hot water to shower with.  Half hour is up and it is time to start to make the rounds getting them all up for family prayer and then the ragged/rugged race begins.

First Native out the door at 6:45 AM to catch his bus.  Second out the door at 7:30.  Levi catches his bus at 7:35ish.  Next two Native's leave with The SM at 7:40.  Last two I walk to school at 8:30 unless it is the first day of school and Levi's bus is a half hour late and we are sitting outside trying to placate a very  upset child who doesn't do well with A) change and B) late buses!  Since this happened, I ended up taking the little Native's to school quite, as one of their teachers put it, fashionably late!  Like a good ten minutes late!  Carrying Mr. J the last little way because his legs were hurting from having to run/walk so fast so far.

All of The Natives tucked into their schools, it is time for me to run to the high school and then the junior high because somehow, for some reason, I've still not paid for their lunches.  Not before however, I remember that the chickens don't have any water.  So I clean their water hangy thingy drinking thing-a-ma-bob and jump into the truck and whiz off to the schools to pay for lunches.

Lunches paid for, it is time for the 'Marts.  A few last minute school supplies and gifts for upcoming birthdays.  Guess what else the 'Marts has to offer?  Pedicures.  Yeah.  You heard me right.  After my freak-a-zoid morning, I plopped myself down into a chair and told the gal there to give me the works.  Then, and only then, would I think about shopping............. after my toes were all gussied up.

I sat there chatting with another lady about Vegas and culture and......... did I just say Vegas and culture in the same sentence?  She'd taken her grand kids to see "Phantom" in Vegas.  That's where the culture comes in..... don'cha know.

My toes all purdy and my feet feeling all sandpapered and chiseled off from a summer of going barefoot I was ready to put on my shoes and get some shopping done.  The gal doing my toes reached down and picked up one of my flip flops and...............  Yeah.  That would be chicken crap on the side of my shoe. She didn't even bat an eye. She acted like it was an everyday occurrence. People coming in with chicken poo on their shoes.

Turning all sorts of red shades of embarrassment I slapped my shoes on and giggling ran out of that part of the 'Marts dialing my baby sis on the phone......... yet again............  only me.............  No matter how hard I try, I'll always be the one with my skirt tucked up in my panty hose or toilet paper stuck to the bottom of my shoe....

There was a huge chunk of chicken poo on the side of my shoe.  When I got home, it had fallen off which means only one thing.  Somewhere in Wal-Mart there is a big chunk of dried chicken poo probably in the cookie aisle where I spent most of my time wandering up and down trying to decide what kind of cookies I wanted to buy, I mean, Henny Penny wanted for her birthday tomorrow.

The End!