Yes, I did drop off the face of the Earth

New house, new furniture, new start... I spent damn near the entire the month of March going through all the crap that had piled up at the old house over the last eight years, all the crap M's dad didn't take when he moved out, all the crap my mother saved from my childhood (which I kid you not was every freakin' toy or paper I ever touched), and just some more misceallaneous crapola. As a mom, it is so difficult to throw stuff away. The picture M drew, the stuffed bunny we called "BunnyBears", the crafty stuff she brings home from school, the doll that just might be a collectable someday...but after going through 14 boxes of sentimental crap from my own childhood, I am forcing myself to be ruthless with M's stuff. I do not want her to ever have to sort through that much stuff from her childhood. I will admit that some of it was cool but 14 boxes is ridiculous.
With all of this packing, sorting, sending truckloads of stuff to Goodwill and to Dad & K's for their garage sale, and least of all moving and unpacking, I haven't had a lot of time to go out. That changed this past weekend...back to Bushwhackers. I am still hanging out with mr. redbull, almost to the point of considering him my boyfriend. I know he isn't seeing anyone else, and I'm not seeing anyone else but we have not had the "official we are dating exclusively" conversation. I happen to be OK with that because I really don't feel the need for any sort of commitment to anything right now. However, mr. redbull is so not a country music fan and drew the line at going with me.
Of note, there is no mechanical bull at Bushwhackers. The first absolut & cran went down so smooth, that a second one followed shortly, then a third, then a fourth, and I think possibly a fifth. Not 100% sure on that one.
As always, Bushwhackers provided a fabulous source of fashion faux pas. Cream colored camis are pretty, and have their place under your 9 to 5 suit jacket but not with your black skirt, black nylons, and Shoe Mill shoes at the country bar. Also, when you find your high school yearbooks and decide to reminisce, it is not appropriate to recreate the mall hair for any other night than Halloween. I know there were more, but my memories are a little fuzzy.
OK, the memories are a lot fuzzy.
Rock on my friends.