Redneck Review

Thursday, June 23, 2005

Hillbilly Vacation

Redneck Diva has asked to hear about our trip to Branson (imagine
that!), so here it is. No, don't get up...I'm bringing out the slides later.

First of all, it was a 5 hour drive. With 2 kids. And 1 husband. Hubby
has a medical problem that inhibits his driving, which is called
gawking at everything but the road and you are going to kill us
and
then I will haunt you for the rest of your life and afterlife!!!
OK, now we have established what kind of rider I am. Now I don't
actually want to drive, myself. I just want to control his driving. Before
you go thinking: what an incredibly egotistical controlling battleaxe,
let me illustrate.

Near Branson, Hwy 65 kind of gets backed up. We know this. We
go every year. But Hubby was eyeballing some barn or tractor or
other such exotic item in a field, and had to slam on the brakes. We
almost rear-ended a line of traffic stopped on the highway. Just after
my heartrate returned to normal, I turned around from threatening the
kids with a trip to spankytown, and saw that we were now driving
down the right shoulder. Completely on the shoulder, no rubber on
the road itself. So of course I shouted to Hubby, "What are you
doing?" and he yanked the giant-SUV-that-should-have-its-own-zip-
code back onto the road. Then he said quite possibly the dumbest
thing I have heard in the last 16 years, which was, "I don't know if
it was me or the road." Duh! I'll be glad to figure it out for you!

We only stayed one night this year, so we didn't make it to Silver
Dollar City. Or as one of my friends used to call it: Steal-Your-
Dollar City. We did go to the Dixie Stampede. Front row seats. In
most places that is a good thing. At Dixie Stampede, it means that
during your dinner, horses throw dirt clods into you food. But I do
really like the show. One of the girl riders threw a carnation to #2
son, and he was very proud of it. Of course we had to find a
way to protect it and bring it home.

We usually stay down the strip by The Track so we are close to
go-carts, but this time we stayed at the Grand Country Inn. They
have everything there, including the World's Largest Fiddle sticking
out the front of the building. (Yes, Redneck Diva, we saw it.)
The kids liked the indoor water park, and we had lunch and
breakfast there too. Or I should say we paid $3.95 for #2 son to
take one bite out of an apple and take one sip of orange juice.

We could see the Dixie Stampede building from our parking lot.
Hubby wanted to walk. "It's only about a quarter-mile," he said.
I did not want to walk, because first of all I am a lazy slob, and
secondly, walking there means you also have to walk back, and
most importantly, I have to tow a 55-pound child like a
battleship anchor wherever I go. He can only hold Mom's
hand, not Dad's. And that was no quarter-mile. So we drove,
which took about 10 minutes, and that is good for Branson
Saturday night traffic. And guess what, the odometer said it
was 8/10 mile. I didn't run the mile for my high school track
team for nothin', baby. I can judge distances. And you know
what they say about men and measuring. Oh, you don't? Sorry,
I can't explain it here. Seems Hubby is backwards, though, under-
estimating instead of overestimating.

We also rode go-carts and bumper boats. #2 son spared me
some embarrassment this year, as he actually drove his bumper
boat to the side when his turn was up. Last year he kept going,
grinning from ear to ear. Of course, Hubby, brother, and I were
screaming at him, "Park it now!" Everyone was staring: the
others who had just parked, the ones waiting in line for their
turn, and all the families lined up around the fence to watch their
normal children who knew how to follow the rules. Somehow,
he just didn't hear us. He grinned even bigger. One of the girls
working the boats had to jump into the waist-deep water, chase
him for a lap around the water-spouting whale, and tow him back.
We made a little trip to the car after that, just me and my boy.
I think he remembered that this year.

We played miniature golf at the Pirate's Cove on Sunday morning,
where I soundly beat Hubby and boys. (Woo hoo! I'm going on
the Old Lady Miniature Golf Tour of Champions!) On the way home
we made a stop at Bass Pro Shop because we hadn't been there
for years, and wanted #2 son to see it. Of course, he just wanted
a Happy Meal from the McDonalds inside. We had to stop at the
Case Knife outlet and Russell Stover candy outlet in Lebanon.
Then
it was time to head home to the hillbilly mansion and cement
pond. A good time was had by all.

3 Comments:

  • At 2:54 PM, Blogger Rebecca said…

    Hi Hillbilly Mom,
    Sounds like you had a pretty boring time all round.
    Driving on the shoulder of the road isn't that bad, it is when you are making your own road that you have issues. Mind you, if I saw a car driving towards me on the right hand shoulder of the road, i would be worried, only because we drive on the left here, so I might have a head on collision.
    HooRoo
    Bec

     
  • At 4:37 PM, Blogger Hillbilly Mom said…

    My husband was sent to Wales for a week with work, and his boss told him not to rent a car, that it might be too confusing to drive on the left in a place where he didn't know where he was going. Yeah, right. I'm SURE that's the reason. His boss probably rode with him before, and didn't want him to have a wreck on the company dollar.

     
  • At 12:17 PM, Blogger Redneck Diva said…

    Sounds like a typical redneck American vacation to Branson to me! Boy 10 minutes WAS good for Satuday night Branson traffic!

    We saw Dixie Stampede back before we had kids. I'd love to take them because I know they'd love the show, but until they start serving pizza or chicken nuggets for dinner, we shan't be going. I'm not paying that much for my kids to sit there with their upper lips turned and snarling.

    We took the kids to play mini-golf back when Kady was a baby. We haven't gone since. It's hard to put when you're either holding the baby on your hip or you're listening to said baby scream bloody murder because you handed her off to her father. Plus Abby nearly knocked her brother out with her club. I'm thinking we're just not a mini-golf kinda family.

    And for the record, I don't think you're a battleaxe at all!!

     

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