Monday, July 14, 2008

Day Three

The Cowoby and I spent most of this day getting stuff together and hitting the airport to fly down to his hometown, just off the beaten path outside of Tulsa, OK. Now, I've been all over the world but haven't ever spent much time in Oklahoma, so I wasn't sure what to expect when we arrived. Things weren't as green as I had expected, due to the drought and fires that wipe out the state nearly every year, but it was pleasant and very small-town. The weather was warm and humid, and poor Rory, his little curls were frizzing like there was no tomorrow. I'd never tell his father this, but he looked like a male Shirley Temple.

It's very odd when you think that he arranged for his ex-wife Dana to pick us up at the airport instead of his mom or his sister. I guess that just tells you something about my relationship with his family. I get along better with his ex than I do with his parents or siblings. Go me. But then, Dana actually has a sense of humor. And she likes me. So there.

Dana and Blake were very covert about the whole operation, getting all five of us back to Blake's farm just outside the town limits of his small, secluded home town of Karma, OK. I think that if he'd still lived within the town, then we'd have been spotted a lot sooner than we were, but as it was, we were safe for most of the afternoon following the trip home. We were found at around dinner time.

Lucky us.

His sister caught us.

His brother interrupted us.

His mother screamed at us.

His father, well, we're not gonna go there because Blake refuses to tell me anything about that conversation.


Why can't our families just be accepting of who we are and who we love and just get over themselves? All three of my brothers took bitchy, snarky trophy wives that they don't even care about, yet they look good on paper (and in the newspapers together). But do I judge? No. I love my nephews despite the fact their parents are idiots. And I never, never tell them that to their faces. I am so angry any more that I almost wish that transfer to Dublin would come through for me. Yeah, I know, it'd piss Blake off, and we'd REALLY never get any time together, but at least I wouldn't be causing a rift between him and his family like I have been.

Oh, and don't mention that last part to Blake, please. He doesn't even know I put in for that transfer. I think he'd have a major moo-moo if I did. And I can't quite blame him. But I mean, especially after this trip, I'm at a loss. What do I do? Do I stay home alone for every holiday with Rayna since they accept RORY but not RAYNA nor ME? Or, do I turn bitch and make him stay home with US and not go home to be with his family? I'd really rather not do that because while his place IS with US, it's just not right. I may hate my family but they're the only one I have.

I dunno anymore.

*snicker* Wonder what Gaelic sounds like with a southern accent?

~Your Conflicted Cookie

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

Day Two

Our second day in Nashville started out innocently enough. I got up and hit the pavement for an early morning jog before the kids woke up. And well, I should have known better than to think Rory would sleep in after getting up at nearly 4 AM every morning for the last year of his life. So, while I was out getting my adrenaline rush on, Bucky was poking Daddy in the face until he was awake.


Sorry, I know its mean, but he IS the child's father, is he not? Shouldn't he get up and make breakfast once in awhile? Not according to Blake, at least not for the first fifteen minutes after I returned home. He did eventually get over himself, like I knew he would, but still. Grow a pair, man, and own up to your responsibilities! But, in his defense, I make it much too easy on him and don't ever make him get up with either of the kids, knowing how little rest he gets while he's on the road. Guess I've coddled them all a bit too much, huh?

So, in an attempt to make up for yelling so loudly so early in the morning, Blake treated us all to breakfast at a little café he enjoys when he's in town. Had some tasty stuffed French toast topped with crème anglaise and a side of mixed berries. Again, I should have known better there – Rory is a berry thief. Big time. While I was enjoying a hot breakfast for once, the little runt was sneaking all my blackberries. And Blake let him! Grrr… He'll get his soon, I know. How? Because he decided he wanted me by his side during his fan club shindig later that day.

In order for me to attend, the kids needed a keeper. We had only one option – so Blake harangued his pal Hunter (and how bizarre is THAT that Blake has a friend named Hunter?) into loaning us his sixteen-year-old daughter for the evening. Luckily, Janna loves kids and had no problems giving up her Thursday afternoon for us. And the sweet thing arrived an hour early so that she could get to know Rory a bit while we were still around. Nice!

Anyway, Blake and I split to have a quick lunch before the chaos ensued, as it always does, when he's let loose in public. The good news is, his fan club president knows his mother and she enjoys keeping him in line. The bad news is, well, he tends to get a bit out of control when he's on stage. But, did you expect anything less?

Things are going well at first. He comes out, plays a few songs, does some Q&A, and then does a few more songs, joking with the small audience of his biggest and best fans. Not long after he launches into the second half of his Q&A, everything goes to hell in a hand basket. Quickly. There's a group of about five young women, younger than me (quit laughing), but old enough to know better, who keep peppering him with personal questions. REALLY personal. Which wasn't that bad at first, asking him silly things like which side of the bed he preferred (left), whether he wore boxers or briefs (tighy whiteys, God help me), and so on and so forth. He got a bit embarrassed over a few of them, but mainly because they fell under the TMI category than for any other reason.

Enter the HB (that's head bitch to those uninitiated in my acro-slang). She wants to know when he and Leslie are getting hitched. EXCUSE me? Umm… he's been married to ME for a YEAR plus now… he announced that little tidbit back at the beginning of the year, much to the displeasure of his record label. However, he felt he needed a real explanation for all the time he was about to (attempt to) take off. Blake glances at me, standing along the back wall, quickly and then reminds the little chit that he and Leslie had gone their separate ways nearly two years ago and that he had married ME. He then points me out, hiding in the back amongst the cookies (and how funny is THAT?). She turns, looks me up and down, finds me wanting and dismisses me completely. Turning back to Blake, she wants to know if he'd ever consider dating another musician like Leslie. I clear my throat, loudly, and get a LOOK from Blake. He's playing her game, but I've had it at this point.

Hello, I know I'm not as hot as or as young as Leslie, and I never will be. And yeah, I've wondered more than once why he chose ME, ME of all people, over her, but he DID. That's good enough. I do not need some biotch coming in and trying to usurp my position. I know, I know, I shouldn't let it bother me, after all, he IS coming home where? Here. Yeah. But still.

He managed to deflect her questions by asking her one about her, personally. And, well, like all self-absorbed crackpots, she took the bait and let loose with her life story. Niiiice Blake. He managed to get past her and her little group and get to the fun stuff – the trivia game and some other things his fan club president and I had come up with. Everything was fine, fine, fine until it was time for the party to disperse. Everyone managed to behave while he signed autographs and took pictures, even if a few did get a bit touchy feely (but then, he's got such a sweet ass, how could they resist?)… bugged me, but since no one was TOO invasive (no jewel grabbing at least), I didn't let it upset me. The real trial came as everyone was leaving.

I'd taken up a post near Rachel, the club President, talking while Blake hung out backstage, when the HB from earlier came and thought it was high time to confront me. Oh yes she did. And let me say this much – cow ought to be DAMN thankful that I left my piece at home (my real home, that is) or she'd have air conditioning in her skull right now. She had the nerve, the total NERVE, to get in my face and say, "I don't know how he thinks you're worth it, but you so don't measure up. He needs a real woman."

Oh. Hell. No.

Rachel gripped my forearm, knowing me and my temper. Just that simple touch kept me from decking her, however, it gave my mouth free reign. "Ya know, bitch. I guess you're right. If you find one, be sure to let Blake know, kay?"

I turned then, crossed the theater, and vaulted onto the low stage before I could smack her silly.

I've since discovered that, at Blake's request, Rachel has booted the bitch. *evil laughter* And even better? Rache had the idea before Blake even suggested it.

~Vindicated at Last, Ali

Monday, July 7, 2008

While the Cowboy is Away…

His Cookie will play…

Since Blake has taken Rory and disappeared for the time being, I thought I'd sneak in and update you at least a little on the fiasco surrounding his birthday celebration and our resultant trip home. Le sigh.

My initial flight into Nashville was, believe it or not, relatively uneventful. My brother drug himself out of bed at the butt crack of dawn (even for the two of us) to help me dress and drag my two children to the airport to wait an unbelievable amount of time for the flight. Rayna crashed big time once we were in the air and Rory, well, he's a curious little thing. He had to see and touch everything while asking a million questions nonstop. But, hey, as annoying as that was, at least he wasn't crying or screaming or being his normally obnoxious little self. He entertained the stewardesses and passengers in our area with his stuffed fish and Rayna's stuffed deer. I'm sure they've never seen the likes of my child before.

Our flight arrived on time and Daddy was there to meet us. He was ragged and worn out, having just left a meeting with his label president. THAT so did not go well, but I'll let you all in on that a bit later. Comes into play during his actual birthday, poor guy. Anyway, poor baby Blake herded us all into his truck and took us back to the small apartment he keeps for times like this. And, despite the fact he kept telling me it 'wasn't much' and just a 'small bachelor pad', I swear to all that's holy, that freaking apartment is larger than our house! He really needs to use a tape measure. After settling the kids in, we let them nap and we watched a movie, ordering dinner in when the time came.

That was Wednesday, a week before his birthday. Thursday, he had his annual fan club party at a small theater-like club in the early afternoon. That was an experience to remember. GRRRRR… will have to wait on that one, and think about what I want to say because I so wanted to have it out with a chick or two that afternoon…

But, I digress. And I hear the rumble of Blake's truck in the drive. Now that we're back in MY home, I need to be nice. *evil laughter* But seriously, I think he's had enough stress this year, why add more to it?

~A Not Quite Done Ali

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

So, Where Do I Start?

With my arrogant, insensitive in-laws? With my husband's idiotic employers? Oh, I know it… I should start my rant with a handful of jealous, overzealous fans! Yeah, that's the ticket.

Damn, he's frowning at me. That's not any fun. He's sensitive and doesn't want me bashing his fans, even if they deserve it. But, let me say this, not ALL of his fans are jerks. Just these few and I am not happy.

And Blake knows it. He's been keeping me as far away from my computer as he can for the last two weeks. Maybe once I calm down some, I'll start with his birthday and go from there.

You DO know that I love you, right? Even if I hate your family? I thought so.

Kisses, Cowboy…

~Ali on a Rampage