I woke up this morning all groggy from 6 hours of semi-sleep, the result of a 3-year-old jabbing me in the ribs with his knee all night. Oh motherhood! As soon as I sprung from bed, blurted out my day's first "shit" as a toy tractor pierced through the skin of my left foot, I remembered that this is a holiday. Well, it's not an official holiday yet, Mayor Rudy didn't win the GOP nod.
I dropped my darling boy Ridge off at Rainbow Lane and then went straight to the Hog Trough for a day of barbecuing. My man Dan stopped by and I had to scare him with all my liberal ramblings. He is currently running on the GOP ticket for the Oklahoma legislature, so you know I'm a tall order for him to swallow. But he takes all my hethen jargan like a real trooper. My husband probably told him that disagreeing with me only makes me talk longer. He's a pretty good guy, as far as Republicans go. They win my heart every now and again. I married one, remember!
Just as I was finishing up all my greasy work, a table of true patriots came in. Foul-mouthed day drinkers. For my dime, there is nothing more American than eating meat by the saucy pound and downing it with cold beer in the middle of the afternoon. When they ordered their second round of brew, I was like, "Man, these dudes freakin' love America."
Now, I'm not being a wise ass. If everybody didn't get all Judgey McHolier-than-Thou, I would crack open a Bud Light and blast "God Bless the USA" as Ridge and I drove home. I think that is the most appropriate way to commemorate those lost. Way back in 2001 when the planes flew into the buildings, the entire world, myself included, watched awe-struck and sorrowful as we knew thousands of good people lost loved ones. After several hours of spellbound television watching, I decided to answer the call of patriotism. I went down the street to the Geritol Bar (also known as The New Oasis), frequented by the local senior citizens, and drank beer with a handful of lit-up World War II veterans. Of course, Bud Light is now made by some Belgium company, so it's only half as patriotic now as it was then. Either way, we shook our heads together, knowing the world was forever changed and that more blood would be shed. We prayed for those who died and those who had lost loved ones.
There are two ways I deal with tragedy: inappropriate humor and day drinking. Since I started having kids left and freakin' right, I can't booze it up at noon. And I can't do it at night because I will stay up too late. You know I turn into a bitchy pumpkin at 10. Screw that midnight bullshit. So, I need a volunteer to take my duty. After all, I am all about this Country First stuff. I know this is asking a lot, but I basically need one of you to enlist to the call of liberty and drink my share of beer. Several of the ornery gentleman I hung out with on 9/11 have also passed away, so you'll need to pick up at least part of their share, too. I know this is asking a lot, I do, but Momma Little and Uncle Sam WANT YOU!
On a serious note, I want to send my condolences to those who lost loved ones on that fateful day. Regardless of our differing politics in this great country, I think we can agree that we all felt a little more American on that day. I would also like to thank those who have been sent to war as a result of the events of 9/11. Just like our mourning for those lost, our various political beliefs still come together for our pride in our military members. You have a tough job and I commend you for it.