I'm back and somewhat settled in from my little trip to Southwest Missouri. I'm weird about leaving and weird about coming home. I have to clean things, even if they don't need cleaning (which is RARE). It's like I have to 'nest' in order to feel at home. I can't stand leaving a mess. I never come home to a mess, cause Glenco is a pretty tidy guy. I still feel the need to 'nest' by moving things about, wiping things and putzing in general. Pity the fool that gets in my way of putzing.
There is such a large part of my heart in Missouri. I go there and I feel like I've gone home. I'm not from Missouri, neither are my parents. I guess there are just things I love down there, and how can your heart not feel at home where there is love.
My parents are buried at the Arnhart Cemetery in Purdy, Missouri. (A very very long story) So is my beloved Aunt Jean and her husband Johnny. I suppose it's true when I say I visit more dead family in Missouri than live. It's been seven years now since my parents passed and I can say with confidence that the cemetery brings me more peace and comfort than grief. My mom is from Tennessee, and Dad is from North Carolina. I remember childhood trips south, and the cemetery was always such a big part of our vacations. I can still hear the locusts screaming, and smell the hot vinyl in the old station wagon as we would meander up the red clay roads to the old cemeteries. The grass burnt from the summer heat, crunching under our feet as I looked at graves of people I'd never met. I understand it all now.
Can you really take a trip south and not eat Moon Pies? Maybe you can, but I can't. I just can't, I mean it's not American.
Here's a peek at some of the treasures I got while visiting the great state of Missouri.
A cute new apron from the Antique Mall in Monett, MO. A few new cooking sheets, a new whisk, pastry bag and silpat from a restaurant supply house in Springfield. A couple of new books "The Farm Chicks in the Kitchen" (I really needed to sit down after finding this book, I needed smelling salts), and a beautiful little book on blogging called "Blogging for Bliss". I can't wait til I can find the time to actually read them!
Had a little incident on the way home. It's a 600+ mile trip. I allow myself ONE stop on the way there and back. I don't know why, but I get really miffed if I have to stop twice. I don't drink much on the trip, and I can make it with one stop for gas. I pull over in Eureka, pop my debit card in the pump, get the gas flowing and go in for coffee and a bathroom break. I pay for my coffee, walk back to the car, get in the car, get adjusted, seat belt, and start driving. What in the HECK was THAT noise?? Ohmagosh, I forgot to take the gas nozzle out of the car. Ya, I'm one of those people! I get out...the car is fine, the nozzle is hanging there, still dangling out of my car, and the end of the hose is off of the pump. In a panic, I try to 'plug' it back in the gas pump, but I can't reach where it goes. It looked like there was a quick release mechanism, and it just pulled free. I'm sure I'm not the only one that has ever done anything like this, right? They probably manufacture the pumps now with people like me in mind.
I took off. I did. I left. I was mortified, scared, etc. About a half an hour away, I decided to turn back around and go and make it right. Then I changed my mind again. I asked God to forgive me. I truly feel horrible that I just left. It feels so wrong. If you don't hear from me again, you'll know the law caught up with me. :-/
A tornado chased me the rest of the way home, and I barely made it in the house without soiling my pants.