Howdy boys and girls.  Today is my 23rd b-day and I've decided that it's just about time to have a little hicktown storytime.  But before I tell stories, I better give a fast update:  I came home from Mexico on June 22 after a really great solo budget travelling time in southern Mexico, northern Guatemala, Belize and the Yucatan. Now, I'm in Henrietta chillin' with thuh padres.  I'll be here until Friday morning early, when I leave for Houston to get on the plane to go to live in Nagaoka, Japan.  I'll be there for at least a year teaching English to Japanese elementary school kids.  Yes, I am very excited.  No, I don't really speak Japanese. 

Now, before the stories, a bit of news I saw on TV yesterday:  For all of you guys who might be interested, I just saw an ad for a new degree offered at the college in Vernon, Texas... It sounded like a really innovative, cutting-edge degree, so I thought I should pass the info on for those who would be interested in working toward a Bachelor of Science in RODEO MANAGEMENT.  :)  [No joke guys.]

Now, the STORIES:
Momma Klein Story #1:
Time:  The 4th of July, the great day of American independence and Texan trips to thuh lake to catch the world on fire with fireworks...
Place:  Wichita Falls, Texas, USA, waiting in the Klein family suburban in the drive thru of the Pioneer Restaurant for cheese enchiladas, cole slaw, potato salad, beans, and rice. Texan health food for Dad's very strict diet.  (He says he has to preserve his shapely figure.)

Momma was in the back seat.  I was in the front with Daddy-O commenting on how stinkin' lazy we were that we couldn't get out of the car to go inside to buy our food (for goodness sakes) when Momma busts out from the back seat:  "Jen-fur!  Check out that GIT-UP!" [The word "Git-up", as all born 'n bred hicktown girls know, signifies a meaning similar to the idea that the rest of the English-speaking world associates with the word "outfit" when speaking of a well-coordinated, colorful, no-open-toed-shoes-after-Labor-Day, fashion-law abiding "outfit" of clothing.]

I turned to check out the "GIT UP":  A cowboy leaving his Ford F-250 extended-bed supercab pickup, walked like Naomi Campbell down the sidewalk runway sporting the following avant-garde outfit:  1. Boots (of course)  2. worn-out cowboy hat  3.  handlebar mustache  4. spurs and, to complete the ensemble:  5.  flourescent HII-WAH-YAN swim trunks. 

Momma Story #2:

So tonight I'm sittin' in thuh kitchen of the Klein 'mansion' on Klein hill chillin' with my glass of [beloved] iced tea when I hear a roaring/crackling/explosive mess 'a laughter commin' frum the bathroom.  Something dang funny was happin' to Momma in the bathroom... I wasn't really sure I wanted to know what, but when she emerged, she shared a great realization with me:

"Jen-fur," she says.  "Ya know, sum people have nice houses and take big vacations.  And Dad and I, wul, we don't take big vacations... our house is a trash dump... but ya know whut we do have?  [giggle, giggle...]  We've got [giggle, giggle...] ..... ... we've got His 'n Hers matchin' HAY BALE TRAILERS." (check out the picture on the top of this page!)

Comment on Henrietta existence #1:

Some of the police officers (or County Mounties, as my sister calls 'em) around here drive big white pickup trucks.  I suppose this in itself might be humorous to some for-ners to thuh area, but I was recently wondering what would happen if the County Mounties actually had to arrest someone?  What do they do with them?  Tie their hands and feet up with hay bailin' wire and toss 'em over the side of the pickup like a feed sack? One of the 7 wonders of the Henrietta world, I suppose.

Daddy-O Story #1: 

So when I was still in Mexico, I tried to call home on Father's Day.  No one answered any of my parents' 4 modes of telephone communication (hell had apparently frozen over), so I ended up calling Nanaw (my grandmother), who somehow knows everything that is going on within a 50-mile radius of her house even though she never leaves her house except to get her hair done at the beauty shop once a week.  Nanaw informed me that a "lolla-pull-ooh-sa uv uh wind storm cum thru and wiped out all thuh 'lectricity en hen-er-ett-er."    (Translation:  A big storm blew out all of the electricity in Henrietta.)

My parents went 3 and a half days without electricity and therefore air conditioning before Daddy-O decided to 'build uh fi-ahr under 'em' .  He called up the electric company and "red 'em thuh riot act"... he explained that he had just been down ta thuh courthouse and reviewed the electric contract 'tween him and the company.   "Thuh contract say-uhs tha-ut you have gotta give me 'lectricity and I gotta let you put your poles and lines on my land, so if you ain't gettin' us 'lectricity, then I gotta BULLDOZER in my barn that I'm gonna fire up in one hour and go ta work on your lines."

About 55 minutes later, a pickup from the electric company comes racing up to the circuit box.  He sprints out into the pasture to the box, watching a man on a bulldozer working away in the pasture beside him clearing out dead trees and such... he pushes one button to connect the circuit, smiles really big and furiously waves to the man on the bulldozer (who was not my dad), and drives off.  The west side of Henrietta got electricity and my Daddy-O got some pretty big braggin' rights off of that story.  And the moral of the story is:  When all else fails, BUST OUT WITH THE BULLDOZER.

Only in Texas.