A few weeks ago, my husband, our youngest child, and I loaded the truck and made the trek to Eastern Kentucky to finally celebrate the holidays with my parents. The goals for the day were ease and peace.
The weather was perfect. The pale winter sun hung against the crisp blue sky as we sped across I-64. The air was slightly warm, melting what little frozen bits were left in the trees that flanked the interstate. The ride was a quiet but happy one. Although I wish our older two had joined us, it was nice that there were no "She's touching mes" or "Scoot overs" during our journey. The kid hung quietly in the back, watching Netflix on her iPad as Will and I chatted about nothing and everything all at once.
Given the small group that was set to meet, we opted to pick up some chicken from everybody's favorite Colonel. The closest restaurant location to our final destination was Morehead. I kind of like it there. It sits nestled between the rolling foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. It's cozy and quiet. It has a little bit of everything from arts to sportsmanship.
We pulled into the KFC at the end of 32 right off Old 60. I marveled at all the "newish" construction in the area. It had been an expanse of farmland or open space when I was a kid. I remember when we first moved to the area, I got into big trouble when my seven-year-old self gasped and said "Those hills look like boobies!" My older sister immediately tattled on me.
They still do.
We ambled into the lobby of the KFC while the little one stayed in the car. While we waited for our ridiculously large order, I noted the music that was piped in for our listening pleasure. "Locked Out Of Heaven" just so happens to be one of my favorite dance songs. It's sexy as can be! As I danced around the front of the lobby, my husband tried desperately to ignore me. He's a good guy like that. He accepts me as I am as I walk this earth just being myself.
Of course, I cleaned up how I danced on this particular occasion. That song is pretty naughty and tends to cause some naughty type of swaying. Ya know, the locals may not take too kindly to me being buck wild during a sedate Saturday lunch in the country.
As we carried our food to the car, I whispered to my husband what the song is about. He grinned and shook his head at me.
Once we got in the car, I just had to listen to the whole song. Does anyone else do that? Like, once the song starts, you have to finish it?
I connected my Bluetooth to the truck and cranked up the volume so I could gesticulate suggestively at my husband as I danced in my seat. I made sure to keep it innocuous enough so the eleven-year-old had no idea what I was really doing. I further emphasized certain beats to give him a visual representation because, like I said, it is one of my fave songs.
My daughter scoffed and asked me what I was doing.
"I'm dancing!" I laughed.
"It looks like you are having a seizure," she quipped.
He and I both cracked up at her response.
Oh, child.
It does look like that sometimes.
