Like Endless Rain Into a Paper Cup

Warning: There Are Some Bad Words In This Post, But They Are All Quotes From Other People. So That Makes It OK.

(Edited: I resurrected the Cow Tow Photo Album.  On right, under Daily Photo.)

Remember when I posted this a few weeks back?  Well apparently it has caused a bit of a stir.  My friend and ex-Clovakian survivor Pam alerted me to this controversy. 

Someone posted the video on YouTube (not me) and people are freaking out all over the place.  One side claims that the video only shows the nasty parts of Cow Town.  The other side claims that Cow Town isn't that bad and that get this, the smell of cow poo is the smell of money.  And that makes it OK to have a town that smells like a turd.  These pro-Cow Town-ites also are under the opinion that if you don't like it there you can leave.  Because you know, military folk can easily just say "Yeah, I don't like it here.  It stinks.  Let's just MOVE!"   

The controversy is deepening though.  Air Force Special Forces are moving there and let's just say, the families are NOT pleased.  Rumor has it that the makers of this video were people warning the newbies about the "joys" of Cow Town.

Besides the smell and obvious run down state of the place, people complain that the real estate is overpriced, gas is overpriced, and that there is a serious lack of activities for kids and families.  Having lived there for 2 years, I completely agree. 

Somehow the Mayor of Cow Town saw this video.  Incidentally, the Mayor is one of Cow Town's foremost realtors.  Hmmmmm.  And after reading this article from the local newspaper, and picking my laughing butt up off of the floor, I just seriously can't believe the absurdity of this town.  My favorite bits from the article:

Comments included those from Rube Render, who attributed the video to military men possibly frustrated by an assignment that pulled them away from a city with a heavier population; Gloria Wicker said the video’s creators were welcome to leave; and Mario Martinez said military personnel can always ask for a transfer and “Iraq’s always open.”

What, what, WHAT?!  W.H.A.T.!!!!!  Now come on, is that something Jesus would say?    

Gayla Brumfield felt the video’s creators gave a disproportionate view of Clovis and she “could go to Hurlburt (Air Force Base) ... (or) Santa Barbara, Calif. ... and make the same kind of video.”

Hi.  Let's talk.  Have you ever been outside city limits?  I know it's scary because of the hills and stuff, but if you've ever taken the 2 hour drive out of Cow Town to other parts of the civilized world you would learn that not everything smells of cow dookie.    

The final question of the night regarded another choice — whether to allow alcohol sales in restaurants on Sundays.  Render said he does not drink, but keeps alcohol on hand when he throws holiday parties. In that vein, he said the measure wouldn’t impact him, and he doubts it would impact restaurant sales either way.

Thanks for sharing Render.  Any reason why we needed to know that?

So I'm reading this article and just laughing myself into a Depend's moment.  But then I moved over to YouTube's site and read the comments from the actual video itself.  Oh My!  Hee hee!  Ha ha ha ha!  Here are some highlights:

It is amazing that if you ask someone in Clovis where to go to do something they tell you how many hours it takes to drive there.

You are gay and so is this town.

Gay?!  Good one user Clovisbites!

Don't believe the propaganda that the shifty 50 has, most of them are business owners in Clovis that stand to lose money if the base closes. Their self interests were the only thing backing their support to keep the base open. The old saying was that the world ended....it will take about 20 years to catch up to clovis since this town is so backassward. At least there are more auto parts stores here, so maybe some of the cars that are in people's yards will get moved now.

A little background:  The town is controlled overseen by a group called The Committee of Fifty.  Also known as the Nifty Fifty or the more popular name of Shifty Fifty.  They all live in a little subdivision of mini-mansions and are the ones that lobbied to keep the base open during BRAC.  And to be fair, NONE of their homes were featured in the Cow Town video.  But then again, they only represent .001% of the population.  I did the math.

Ok, back to the comments (and the blatant misuse of the word your instead of you're):

hey guess what i found out!! do you know what the hell they are building right next to pizza hut on prince??? a damn carpet store! thats what the dude told me! i hope he is lien truthfully but yeah were getting a carpet store! i cant wait to go shoppin there!!! o wait i live in the dorms i dont need any carpets... o well guess ill never spend any money there! WASTE OF SPACE! BUILD A DAMN BEST BUY!!!!!!!!! I NEED SOME DAMN TECHNOLOGY IN MY ROOM!

Poor Airmen.  They suffer the most in Cow Town. 

CLOVISHOMOBOY YOUR SO GAY.

There you go being all witty again!

On April 29, 2005 a male student at Marshall Junior High School Clovis,NM touched off a massive police alert when he carried into school a wrapped object approximately 30 inches in length, which turned out, in fact, to be a burrito which he had made as an extra-credit project.

Are you laughing with me yet?  I'm NOT making these up. 

Dakota's Steak House is really not too bad, they give you salad and bread.

Your a dipshit.

what the hell wrong with yal school board! if you dont teach kids about what crazy disease there are and the effect of unprotected sex your going to have some serious problems! i was taught sex ed in the 5th grade and up(new jersey)! that save me i was shocked to see suck crazy shit can grow all over the body! if you dont know what im talkin bout look it up! its called STDS!

Hey wait, were YOU my labor and delivery roommate?  This conversation is sounding vaguely familiar.

I got an idea, why don't i build a house with a flat roof to match the scenery. You know there is a beutiful single woman behind every tree in Clovis....LOL Too bad there are not trees in Clovis.

The guy in charge of the sub par roads in Clovis is name Harry Wang.  I'm not even making this shit up!  HAHAHAHA!  Look it up on google if you don't believe me!

Well, you should look up Mr. Jablomey in the phonebook.  A certain Mr. Heywood Jablomey.  HAHAHAHAHA!

There was a women who got stabbed with an icepick in the rear end at Walmart about 2 months ago.

Allrighty then.

Here's a conversation that went back and forth in the comments section:

Be a part of the solution and not the problem. Volunteer in the local schools to help some of the local children learn to read and write. Be a role model. Boobs and beer can wait.

So let me get this as straight, you're saying you want us to volunteer at the local schools to help the local kids read and write?

I think what you're really saying is you want us to pick up your slack because your ability to teach our kids sucks. You want us to do for free what you get paid to do, and poorly if that.

No I think they wanted us to volunteer at the schools to help the local teachers read & write.

And finally:

I have a big tip for you... but it's out there with the cows!

But Wait! But Wait!  There's more!  If you're still reading this, bless you.  For those who have already rolled their eyes and decided I blather on too much about Cow Town, yes, I will admit that I do.  But you have to understand that the place has left an indelible hoofprint on my soul.  And the comedy that can be derived from such a place is GOLD!  GOLD I tell ya!

So in response to this video about Cow Town, someone (surprise, it's another realtor!) went around and filmed another side of Cow Town.  You can view the video here and read the comments.  I'll give you a little sampling though:

What does this video prove? There is a new housing development that only 2% of the population of clovis can even begin to afford?  We have a movie theatre that smells like old milk and has black mold growing on the ceiling...great.  This would be a nice town if the shifty fifty would quit worrying about if someone can drink a beer on sunday and start cleaning up the slums. I think the only real cleaning that was done was when volunteer Airman from the base cleaned up your town...

The only reason people come back to retire here is to get use to HELL before they die.

Clovis needs an enema to flush out the commitee of fifty. I was stationed there for 3 Years, 3 months and 9 days. The only good thing there was the pheasant hunting and the guys I served with. As for the changes you, can put frosting on a turd and it might look like cake, but it is still a turd! 

Mother Westwind Moving Stories

Did you ever read the Mother Westwind stories?  My grandpa used to read those to me.  We've been unpacking old books... can you tell?!

Well I may have never run a marathon, nor will I EVER... but I think I know what it feels like.  It HAS to be equivalent to unpacking a 3 story house, with 2 children, and a total of 424 boxes.  I am SORE.  And exhausted.

But I can't complain.  My parents have been here the past week and have honestly not sat down for more than 2 seconds.  My mom is the queen of organizing everything (and obsessing over things that I would never dream of caring about... like the sticker residue left on the new garbage can), my dad is the king of putting things together, and both of them combined are the masters of ruling Max's universe.  Keith and I have been the masters of spending money.  Did I say spending?  I meant hemorrhaging.

Every move is it's own unique experience... and this one was no exception.  The movers on the Cow Town end had a little problem that we quickly discovered.  The problem being that they had a TAKING EVERYTHING APART fetish.  A few examples:  They dissected my diaper pail into 12 parts.  It came new in the box put together!  They unscrewed all 24 screws of my shoe rack and flat packed that.  They took the music prop (that folds down ever so nicely) off my piano and put it in a box marked "garage."  They emptied ALL of my holiday tupperwares (remember my Tupperware-opia in the garage?) and dumped the stuff into random boxes not so lovingly.  They then lovingly packed the tupperware all wrapped in paper in it's own boxes.  They took apart the particle board computer desk so completely that it took my poor dad an entire afternoon to figure it out.  (And yes we KNOW particle board doesn't move well.)  What's that you say?  Why didn't we keep the instruction manuals?  We did.  Very nicely organized by room in a series of binders.  But when you have over 80 boxes marked "books and binders" it's KIND OF HARD TO FIND!  And the kicker?  They dissected Max's play house down to the last molecule.  The house the I put together because I'm a rock star mom.  Read this and you'll cry with me.

So a good chunk of our unpacking time has been spent putting stupid stuff that never should have been taken apart back together.  There has been a lot of cursing.

But all in all, the house is coming together beautifully.  Every time I find an empty cupboard or closet I rejoice.  "Hallelujah We Have Space!"  I get giddy over the storage room and the endless possibilities of ways in which to stack tupperware.  I love my neighborhood.  I love my back yard forest.  I love putting love into this house.  That's better than decorating.  And way better than cleaning the boogers off the wall.  Yes.  More boogers.  Hairless ones this time - thank the creator for small blessings.

Another Fini

Remember this from 2 years ago?

Well, it's come back around again and K had his Cow Town" fini-flight" yesterday.  I was so sad to miss it.  There is nothing I love more than watching my hottie fly.  And cute butts look even cuter in flight suits.  I missed watching him get sprayed down with water when he landed.  No British civilities this time though.

I got all sad today.  One of the things I liked about living in Cow Town (don't faint) is hearing the jets overhead every day.  And when I knew it was K, Max and I would run outside and yell HI.  I'll miss that.  (Oh yes, we'll hear jet noise in VA, but they'll be headed to Reagan National.)  And I'm sure K will miss flying the jet for the next few years too.  This will be the first non-flying assignment for him... in 10 years. 

Before we left Cow Town, Max, Clara, and I went up to watch K fly one last time.  Max felt all studly standing with the pilots during the desk brief and then got to walk out with him to the jet.  We watched him do the "walk around" and climb in.  Once the jet was about to be started up we then headed to the car which was on the flight line, seeing as the noise was a little painful for tiny ears.  We waited and waited for K to taxi but alas, the jet was broken.  I saw the maintenance guy kick it a few times... which doesn't really spark a lot of confidence does it... but it was still a no go.  By the time K got out and stepped to another jet, we had to get home for lunch and nap.  But for Max, the experience was golden.  He loved it.

Here are some pics that my fellow wives (whom I miss!) sent from yesterday's fini-flight.  From left... Korn, Sprout, Derby, and Limey (our favorite German).

Moving Phase One of One Thousand Complete

Everything is in boxes.  Boxes are on big truck.  Big truck is driving to Virginia.  K is on an air mattress.  The kids and I are enjoying SLC.  Oh... and the house is being painted.  And carpeted.  The wheels are in motion!

The accompanying pictures:

Waxing Lyrical

Every time we move, it seems like the last month is spent saying goodbye and going places for the "last time."  Although you are busy in the throws of moving, it is a very bittersweet time.

This move, however, has been quite different.  90% of my friends have already left Cow Town and the only place (besides the Squadron Bar) that I was all sad about leaving was Hobby Lobby.  I will miss my house too, in a special way.  It has been my little comfort zone for the past two years... and my little girl was born while living here.  It's been a good house.  With lots of good memories.

I thought I would be sad walking into WalMart for the last time.  I wasn't.  Instead I felt a sort of elation because.... holy moly this is exciting... there is a Target, Costco, and Ikea all within 15 minutes of my new house!  That kicks the crap plus some out of WalMart. 

What I was sad about was knowing that I am going to be a stranger at all these new places.  And that it will be a rare event when I actually see someone I know whilst out and about in Virginia.  Every time I hob knob around in Cow Town, every time, I see somebody I know.  And I do love that.  I'll often remark to K that "I need to socialize and catch up on the gossip... I'm going to WalMart."

Hobby Lobby is a different story.  I love that store with a deep deep passion.  It has been my sanity while living here in the land of boring.  I know the manager, I know the framing lady, and I really know the scrapbook shelf stocking gal.  They know Max.  They know that he likes the alphabet stickers.  They don't mind when he peels the price tags off everything.  They go googah over Clara.  And then I'm sure they gossip about that "compulsive shopping lady" every time I leave. 

While the movers were here, I needed a break.  So I headed to Hobby Lobby.  K gave me a look like "I'll kill you if you buy anything" so I promised to be good.  The house was practically packed up and nothing would tick the movers off more than me bringing home more stuff to wrap.  But guess what?!  Hobby Lobby had just put out NEW STUFF!  Honestly, they don't do it that often.  Or maybe I'm there so much it just doesn't seem like it.  Nevertheless, I had to get some scrapbooking stuff.  Had to.  Or else my world would have exploded.  Oh, and a frame too.  I said my goodbyes to everyone there and I'm sure when I left that time the manager actually lamented his future revenue loss.

Max had his last dance/gym class today.  I'll miss that.  He's grown so much and is so comfortable there.  The class is at The Master's Center... a Christian Bookstore/Coffee Shop.  And once again, I will always see someone I know there.  One time, within a 5 minute period, I saw my OBGYN, my neighbor who's a cop, and Max's school teacher.  Only in small town Cow Town.

See how I'm being all positive about this place?  I try!!

So, what else will I miss?

I'll miss the baby back ribs at Rib Crib. 

I'll miss being blinded by all of the crosses that light up at night.  And the one cross that has lights shining down on the Ten Commandments.  Because that is what I need while driving in the dark... to be distracted by reading about worshiping idols.  Ooops.  I'm being sarcastic.  I'll be nice now.

I'll miss the water feature in back of the McDonald's.

I'll miss that really weird old lady who drives around in her orange suburban.

I'll miss the Taqueria.

I'll miss Kelley's, even though I only ever went there once. 

I'll miss playing dodge the tumbleweed on Llano.

I'll miss the snooty old lady with painted eyebrows and fire red hair at the front desk of our landlords.  OK, I won't miss her.  But I'll miss doing my impersonation of her to K every month. 

I'll miss the big billboards advertising Cotton Seed Fertilizer.

I'll miss Bobby Duby.  Because he sold it to me.  Bobby Duby.

Bye Bye Blovis.  I mean Clovass.  I mean Cow Town.  Even though you smell like a behind that has never been wiped, you're not all that bad.

Moving Update 2

The bread was packed. 

And it's about to rain.  And the garage contents are on the lawn.

And Max recited Socks On Fox (inspired by the boxes) to the packers at least 24 times.

And we almost made it to the end of a Cow Town Chili's experience without something disgusting happening.  It was so close.

And K can't find his sunglasses.  The horror!

And don't let moving be your only excuse to clean your washing machine.  Go clean it now!  The horror times two!

Moving Update 1

The packers have arrived.  On. Choppers.

We're Not Packing Any Cows... but the smell is permanently imbedded in our olfactories.

Thank you everyone who posted and emailed about the previous post.  My solution for the fish is... let K deal with it.  My solution for the preschool is... afternoon (Lins is so right).  My neutral paint choice is 6127... and that decision about killed me (and I think I've been banned from our local Cow Town Sherwin Williams).  The painters are scheduled for this Wednesday.  Now... what are the odds of them getting all the rooms painted right without me there to micro-manage?  Hmmm.

And now we can move on to more important things.  Like moving.  Sighhhhhhh.

The house is a wreck.  K has been out in the garage doing some sort of purge.  Max is helping.  I'm running around putting sticky notes on things that aren't to be packed, things that need special care, and things we're getting rid of.  I have to say that we are a well oiled machine when it comes to packing.  And this is considered an "easy" move because it isn't overseas!  No cars to sell this time thank the good and gracious heavens above.

K and I were reminiscing last night about all of our moves.  This will be my 7th move since I graduated from college.  Seventh!  For K we figured it's his 10th move since graduating the Academy.  We should be good at it by now.  Although having 2 kids complicates it a bit.  As well as owning a home.  Thank goodness we're only renting this one.

This computer is about to be packed up.  As is my son if he doesn't simmer down.  The word hyper is an understatement.  He is so excited about his new "Ginnia" house that he's about to bust.  I'm excited just to be moving forward.  The Great Move of Aught Seven has begun.

This Child Is Trying to Send Me to Jail

Things are crazy right now.  Crazy busy.  Moving is such a royal pain and for someone as OCD as me, it is even more painful.  You see, I insist on cataloging our books, alphabetically by author.  Same with DVD's and CD's.  I keep a master list of every serial number from every appliance.  I archive every picture.  My motto is:  If the boat sinks (or in the case of a cross country move - if the truck explodes) I need to be prepared.  And if I've meticulously kept track of everything, our lives won't be lost.

With two children, a husband who works a bazillion hours a day, and a new house that needs a lot of prep work, I'm about spent.  As witnessed by two construction guys working on the house next door.

We (the kids and I) were on our way to Base.  Max had been walking around like Bubba Gump for a couple of weeks and it just dawned on me that he probably had an ear infection.  He's also had a very stuffy nose.  Not the runny kind, but the kind that collects at the bottom of the nostril and forms a huge booger plug.  As I was putting Max into the car, I noticed that his booger plug was about to take over his nose.  I was afraid the poor boy was going to lose the use of his nose... or at least subcontract it out as a cement mixer.  So I picked it.  Let me just say that the boy HATES it when I pick his nose.  But I have to do it because he refuses to.  How many 3 year olds refuse to pick their nose?  Last time it went unpicked the poor boy got a sinus infection. 

As the extraction started he on cue started to scream.  Screamed like a banshee.  A scream that would make you think I was sticking bamboo shoots under his fingernails.  He also started to squirm.  I was a bit hasty considering that he was deafening not only me but my poor little baby girl who was in the backseat with him.  Clara herself was screaming by this time.  In my hastiness I picked a little too hard and his nose started to bleed.  He inherited a very sensitive nose from me.  And guess what happened when he saw the blood?  He screamed LOUDER!  I swear the world starting spinning off orbit and careening out of control through the universe... guided by the screeches of my 3 year old.  Blood was going everywhere and all I could do was yell back.  "HOLD STILL!  STOP!  YOU ARE FINE!!!!!"  At this point I just had to stop.  And stepped out of the car and looked around.  Much to my horror there were two men standing dead still about 20 feet away just staring.  They had been previously cutting brick and were so horrified by what they were witnessing that they were motionless with their mouths open.  The fact that my son can drown out the sound of a brick cutter to the person actually cutting the brick is an indication of HOW LOUD HE WAS SCREAMING.  So here's a distraught mom with blood all over her hands and two screaming children in the back seat.  I can only imagine what they were thinking.  I started to yell "it's just a bloody nose... he inherited it from me!  My nose bleeds all the time!... I swear every thing's fine... you know kids!"  The fact that I'm pretty sure they didn't speak English didn't stop my endless explanation... lest they get their phones out and call social services.

When Max finally started to simmer, I got us cleaned up.  We were both in a full sweat and I was feeling hugely guilty at this point for causing this incident.  Poor Max.  Didn't ask to have his nose picked only to have it end up in a bloody debacle.  And lucky me got to explain the whole thing to the Doctor after he said "Has his nose been bleeding?"  Yes, I'm a horrible mom.

You would have thought the day couldn't get any worse.  But that afternoon two other construction guys, this time on the house behind us, witnessed yet another Call Social Services Moment.

I was on the phone with the Interior Decorator.  It was a phone appointment and part of her billing hours.  I thought Max was down for a nap and that I was free to concentrate 100% on this conversation.  I heard him yell from his room that he needed to use the bathroom.  "Mom I gotta go POOP NOW!" was the exact phrase.  I told him to go for it.  What I didn't realize was that he didn't get back in bed.  Instead, the boy apparently ran out back, sans pants and underwear.  On his dash outside, he must have picked up a pair of scissors that I had left out.  So, as I'm talking to the decorator I look outside and notice that the two guys that were laying shingles on the roof behind us were staring down into our yard.  Mouths agape.  For there was my 3 year old son, half naked, running around in circles with a pair of scissors.

BAD BAD MOM!!!!   

"...scores of cows are dead..."

...and so is Garduro's goat.  Poor Garduro's goat.  Poor little goat.

Here's a video of the damage.

Click here for the latest twister news.

My one statement is this:  In some other world, some other life, a mobile home must have seriously pissed off a tornado.