hillbilly honeymoonin'

Sorry about the lull, sick babies and our anniversary. Our eighth anniversary was Tuesday, we dropped the kids off with the in-laws for the night to celebrate. As always we discussed that day eight years ago. If there was a way- we would have given each other back years ago. Unfortanetly, Honeybear paid an extra dollar for our marriage license since I was only seventeen. My dad tells him no refunds. And whenever I try to give him back, his mom says- it took twenty years to get rid of him I don't want him back.

As the night progressed, I thought back to our honeymoon. Or at least our version of a honeymoon. As we left mom and dad's we couldn't decide what to do first, we were just so excited. Then we get to our little trailer. We forgot that half the wedding party was next door at his grandmother's. And it was race night at the track, a whole half a block away. So much for romantic. We decided to make the best of it- right up until our best friends showed up to celebrate.

So what else could we do-we go to the races. Nothing says romantic like a bunch of rednecks drunk and screaming at drivers. After about two hours we decided to call it a night. When we got back Honeybear's great grandpa was waiting with a case of beer and a six pack of winecoolers. I guess no one informed him I didn't drink. While I might not drink- our best friends did. They were so drunk they fell out of the house! Finally we were alone. With our twin size matress. Oh the bliss.

The next day we did what anyone does on their honeymoon...we went to bass pro. On the way we got lost but no worries. Eddie and Christina (our best friends) were in the backseat helping us find the way. Well, we finally get there and they close in an hour. We used that hour to do something we really needed to do....go to the bathroom.

So since we were all the way down there, we went with a one of a kind experience. Lamberts,(a nice little restraunt outside of Sprinfeild, Mo. Home of the flying rolls) a two hour wait to have people throw rolls at you. I didn't catch mine, -of course I wasn't looking. The food was great, although the constant ducking can be dangerous. I almost got a face full of potatoes.

This year was its own adventure-it usually is. Somehow, as I sat sank to my knees in mud at the riverbank, all I could think was this isn't so bad. No ones drunk and we're alone.

If your wondering why I was sunk to my knees, we were catfishing. Hillbilly honeymooning at its best.