No Longer the F'ing Ranch Virgin

Xtina called me (finally?! once I gave up and decided to start some real work) and declared we were going to the Ranch. As much fun as I was having reading the autobiographies of people who may someday teach my children and contemplating homeschooling, the ranch sounded like slightly more fun. On the ride over I was further informed that we would be having meatloaf. I nearly peed myself. We got there and I quickly learned there would be plenty of pre- and post- dinner entertainment by dogs and boys.

Dinner was EXCELLENT. I noticed Xtina took an exceptional amount of corn, but to be fair she didn't have any meatloaf (and I took seconds and thirds of everything. I hadn't eaten much in the last couple days. That would have required cooking). Near the end of dinner Xtina, in her oh-so-charming way, declared that she hated me. Thing 2 began to cry. With his head down I proceeded to mock Xtina. Dodge and her man jumped in quickly to let the Thing know that she was only joking, and that it wasn't a funny joke. I decided mock crying was a bad idea.

I showed Thing 1 how to do the Walls of Jericho and a sharpshooter (all wonderful things I learned as a result of the boy's need to watch Pro-wrestling). Thing 1 would not be my subject but Thing 2 quickly agreed. This was all it took. Soon Thing 2 was asking me to "play art" with him. That moved to kisses on the cheeks and marriage proposals. But I had to break it to him--I was already getting married. Then the six year old boy who kept calling me "Kelly" (and later "Biscuit"--another story) sat in his mother's lap and cried. Afterwards he went into his playroom and blared Miles Davis, and was singing. I broke his heart. I'm a terrible person. Smith--I shall never tease you again.

Girl talk, CSI: Miami, talk of bacon and sexual positions, vodka, Xtina's dog peeing on the floor. All in all a successful trip to the ranch.