Little House On His Prairie

As I mentioned in my last post, we went to visit Matt's mom for a few days last week.

Now, when I say that M to the Izz-A grew up on a farm, I don't know if all of you are getting the correct visuals. And for that sole purpose, I took a few pics to show you just what I'm talking about. But before I do that, let's elaborate a bit on the hubby shall we?

I like to joke with him about how country (or red) he is. Besides the fact that when we first met, while he worked, he wore Wranglers tight enough to make me question his future ability to procreate, he also didn't like anything that involved technology. Not only was he not a big fan of computers, but he also refused to have an atm/debit card or bank online. And now my friends, I'm proud to say that he emails, surfs the web on occasion, owns and uses an atm/debit card, and banks online. He's come a long way (and even lets me dress him every now and then). Although I must say that I secretly love it when he pulls out a pair of his old Wranglers to work around the house in.

He gets it honest. And I love him for it. I love the country boy that he'll always be.

However, I didn't always love the visits to his mom's (the place he grew up).

On my first few visits I must admit that I was a little uncomfortable miserable. I remember asking him where they shopped, what they did around there for fun, and where was the nearest mall? (Although I grew up in a small town where the nearest mall was 40 minutes away, at least I knew where it was and how to get there.) He just laughed and said, "No one cares about stuff like that out here."

One of our initial conversations went something like this:

Me: "So I shouldn't bother asking your mom what she thought of US Weekly's latest cover story?"

Him: "US who?"

Me: "Nevermind, question answered."

As you can see, our conversations were very deep and long in length.

I, too, was born and raised in the South but never lived on a farm. I call it a farm, but really it's a 500 acre ranch.

It's absolutely beautiful and I've come to really enjoy my visits. I now know, and am comfortable with the fact, that they don't keep conditioner anywhere in the house, only shampoo, and to always remember to bring my own. But we all know that I'm not a fan of washing my hair everyday, so this hasn't really affected me as much as I thought it would.

In fact, I find the visits to mom-in-law-ville quite refreshing. I can just kick back and relax....and not worry about the fact that all that's left of my toenail polish is a few random chips of color.

So when I say that I went for a visit to Matt's mom's, I'm talking about this

and this

and this

and this.


Growing up on a ranch, everyone has to 'pull their own weight", or so I hear. So Kate thought it was time she started pitching in.

We even got to feed the goats.

On the last day of our stay, while Kate was napping, M to the Izz-A and I decided to go for a ride through the ranch.....on four-wheelers.

We were enjoying the scenery, while riding through the pastures in random zig-zag patterns as to avoid the piles of cow goodness, when we came up this:

Now, to the untrained eye (that would be me) it appeared to be just a hole of sand. But to Ol' Red (that would be Matt) he saw past the emptiness that was the hole and dreamed big dreams.

Well, have I mentioned my love for speed? If I haven't yet, now I have. And let me just say that it went very well with our new little find.

Why yes, yes I am getting all four tires off the ground. (in some grey yoga pants at that!)

Try that Laura Ingalls.