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FML Part II


Let me fill you bitches in on my life. Yeah, Zen, and the Dali Lama can kiss my pale, white, Irish, Texas ass!!  FML!! F. M. L. – Seriously!!

So, it takes roughly 3 hours to make it from Galveston to San Antonio.  After 3 wrecks, one of which was a fatality (we close highways in Texas for fatality crashes out of respect for the dead), and road construction, we made it to have lunch in San Antonio by 4:30 (SEVEN HOURS LATER!!!). Yeah, I was never so glad I had over-packed snacks in my LIFE!!  We were starving!! I had thrown my Zen out the fucking window by the time we hit Harwood, and I was about to piss in my pants. Hubs took us off roads to get to a truck stop before I ruined my precious ventiliated car seats. The 48 hours on the beach had really helped to ease the last 4 years . . . but it all went to shit while stopped in traffic for 4 extra hours (hell, I could be halfway to Tennessee in 7 hours!). I did have another fellow traveler mention that at least our day wasn’t as bad as it could be, like the poor slobs in the wrecks . . . and you know what? He was absolutely right. (Makes sign of the cross)

However, my zen, and chill was gone. That totally sucked. It fucked up our day; it wrecked my bladder; and I had better things to do with 4 superfluous hours than sit in traffic – I’m so glad Hubs was driving . . . I’d be in jail or dead.

I’ve been home about a week, and the best part has been today – I took Diva to the pool (again), grilled out, and sucked back 6 margaritas. I’m tanned and loving life.  I wish I was chill. I wish God hadn’t forgotten to give me patience, or compassion, but He chose to, for whatever reason, and I’m sure, one day, it will fit His divine purpose. But for now, be grateful for all the bullshit you get to avoid, and be glad that the mild inconveniences pass, and love every last minute you’re breathing. Keep reaching for that big happy – it’s really within your grip, so long as you will it! Promise.

Now, I’m gonna go work on this 7th margarita in my Redneck gear *when you hear banjos, and the word ‘Luckenbach’ comes to mind*. Ya’ll be good, and get your happy!

Peace, bitches!

HotMess
About me

Ever wonder what it’s like to be a southern hot mess? Join me as I slam through life like a bull in a china shop. It’s better if you just go with it.

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