Recently in Country life Category

Andi left this morning with a barrage of backpacks and carry-ons in tow. She's headed back to that wooded little crevice in the Ozark hills, the tiny little town that time forgot, with its one stop sign, small restaurant, and alcohol problem, back to where the majority of my family lives. Her school starts in a little over a week and she'll resume her varsity volleyball duties. In the meantime, her album will go into the hands of music executives. While I hate for her to return to that town where opportunities are few and so many become trapped by alcohol and drugs, it's still the hub of her adolescent life.
She'll finish her senior year in January and then she's moving back to St. Louis permanently.

I will miss having another girl in the house for completely selfish reasons; it's much easier to get your way against a man when you have another female on your side because generally, men are too terrified to take on more than one female at once. I'll miss the way that she noticed when I wore eyeliner on my upper lid, or how she appreciated the difference in the many heel heights. I will not miss how her dead car has been in our driveway for five weeks and her parents have not moved it and I'm going to scream. I will EMPHATICALLY NOT MISS the way the boys! THE BOYS called at all hours of the night to talk to her, nor will I miss how her brains seeped out of her ears anytime she was in close proximity of another 17-year-old male. I will not miss how she likes the hoosier-looking, mullet-esque bad boys instead of guys like Scott here (foreground). Seriously, who would not like Scott? Oh, that's right, ANDI WOULDN'T. Because she wants to kill me.

I will not miss the interesting dichotomy created by her virtually rule-free world and our parenting style. Uh, yeah, no you can't go to such-and-such party with this 23-year-old guy who has a girlfriend where I seriously doubt that you will not drink any beer, do I look stupid to you? Seriously. Do I? Do you think that I was NEVER 17 once? And 23-year-old guy: Hi! You don't know who my family is because if you did you'd be running for the hills, where they'd all most likely be waiting for you anyway, swinging ball bats that they keep in their cars. Those are just THE WOMEN. I've already told you to tread lightly because some of us own pig farms.

The town where she comes from, where my family is, is such an odd little country town. It's not sleepy; it just looks the other way. During her two-month stay here we tried to expose her to as much of the city as possible, to show her that cool things lay beyond the reach and shadow of those Ozark hills. I also laid it on thick about how she should not get knocked up and stay away from this fellow she's been talking to, a boy with a bowl haircut, who looks as though Moe from the "Stooges" cut his hair. Chinstrap, we call him, because Chris always makes himself laugh hysterically by asking if the fellow's hair came with one.

She'll be back in January. Lots of things will be happening by that time.

A couple of weeks ago I had my Big Fat Southern Family Reunion. I think we're losing our touch, because not only was there no beer, Hank Williams, or the few family members stumbling around the buffet in a state of perpetual semi-sobriety, there was no drama. NO DRAMA. I drove two hours for NOTHING.

The fire-starters in the family boycotted the gathering, except for my very tall aunt, who strolled up the sidewalk to watch the event from across the street on a neighbor's front porch. I did what any rational full-blood Scaggs would do, which was to take photos of her:

I seeeeee you.

The above, and one of my favorite aunts telling me how she kept a collection of baseball bats in the trunks of each of her cars for when she meets our crazy Cousin Meth, kept it interesting. To imagine my aunt angry is to imagine the reaction of an opossum which you've unsuccessfully tried to fricassee. Opossum's eyes glow like the devil, as do my aunt's.

So the younger cousins played,

a great uncle showed me how just a flick of his wrist gets his pin-up to shake it,

Audrey looked cute,

and Nana let Liam have more sweets than he was allowed.

[more family reunion shots.]

Race a cart stuffed with a screaming toddler and overflowing foodstuffs alongside a five-year-old with a death wish because he WON'T STOP RUNNING IN FRONT OF THE CARS to a minivan that looks exactly like your minivan EXACTLY LIKE IT, and repeatedly cram your key in the lock because the remote unlocker thingy isn't working and it's raining and the kids! They're still screaming! Then you find yourself yelling obscenities in your head because your van, YOU MUST'VE BROKE IT, and at that moment a middle-aged blond woman and her two daughters come strolling up to your van and are all "Um, what are you doing with OUR van?" And you're all, "No, I think this is my van," and then you look down and notice the "I miss my ex-husband, but my aim is improving" bumper sticker and realize that this isn't your van and that you're in Jefferson County. And then you want to die.

I've been without electric from 3p.m. yesterday to noon today. Ewan slept with his butt on my head. I am tired.

Last night a storm blew in with a frightening strength; tearing off part of the roof at the airport; toppling railway cars, semis, massive trees; and leaving much of the city without electricity - possibly the most massive blackout in St. Louis's history. Chris was leaving the studio when the storm caught him; he and the others hunkered down inside the building. He called and told me to take the boys and head to the basement.

Because I am psychotically paranoid with regards to storms, I already had my Storm Kit! ready. The Storm Kit! includes a flashlight, first aid kit, batteries, important papers, bottled water, portable radio, blankets, diapers, wipes, Liam's spare inhaler, and extra clothes for the boys. I quickly tied Ewan's little shoes and stepped outside on the porch to check the sky. It was a dark, heather gray. The trees were alive and waved frantically to and fro; the wind billowed through the woods with strength enough to shoot leaves and other debris into the air. It looked as though there was a party happening behind the clouds. Thick stalks of lightening flashed. I turned and darted back into the house.

I've been through one tornado as a child and enough bad storms that I can tell when one's coming before hearing it on the news - just by noticing how certain trees can detect the increased humidity and will turn their leaves towards the sky to soak up the maximum amount of water. One year a tree blew over and crushed our vegetable garden; I ran out into the rain and wrestled the tree off because nature was going have to FIGHT ME before it took my tomato plants. I'm not shell shocked though; I sometimes lose my crap during bad storms. Especially since we live in a sort of tornado alley, where every year a tornado tears through the country no more than a couple miles from our house.

We huddled in the corner of the basement for an hour and watched sticks fly up to hit the windows and sliding door. IT SUCKED. The lightening was so intense it looked like a strobe light. The thunder would sound and the earth shuddered in response. The house shook. Ewan being Ewan, tried to cram various objects into his mouth and repeatedly ran by the windows because what fun was it to be stuck in the basement if he couldn't at least GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK. Liam sat with his knees tucked under his chin, his hands over his ears. I told them stories, sang them songs, Liam kept his hands clamped over his ears. Because I am the world's biggest sci-fi dork, I found my box of Star Wars collectibles (goodbye, rare Mace Windu with specially-colored lightsaber) and tore them open to hand to Liam. He immediately forgot all about the storm raging outside and began reenacting "Revenge of the Sith."

The tornado warnings finally expired and the trees stopped waving. The thunder grew faint. I gathered the boys and trekked upstairs. Somehow, we missed the worst of it, especially considering how bad the storm hit elsewhere. I gave a silent thanks and put the Storm Kit! away for another time.