Descent into hell

Tomorrow we leave for Texas to see Hubby’s mother.  Flights were outrageous so we have decided to drive.  Thirteen long hours with no reward at the end.  We haven’t seen her since Thanksgiving and we parted on horrible terms.  I’ve spoken to her twice since, very short to-the-point conversations.  Long story short – I, in a roundabout way, called her precious neighbors alcoholic white trash.

Sidebar:  They are, dammit.  Who drinks beer on weekdays starting at 10am and continues all day long into the night?  These are people who let their toddlers wander alone, in nothing but diapers, up and down the neighborhood street.  These pre-teens now run around with older boyfriends and eyeliner befitting the punk rock idols of the early eighties.  White. Trash. 

Anyway, mother-in-law pushed my buttons one too many times on that trip and I couldn’t *ahem* shut my mouth.  She hasn’t forgiven or forgotten apparently because when Hubby talked to her yesterday to let her know when we were coming, he mentioned taking her with us to our favorite restaturant (a nice, expensive steakhouse – our treat, of course) .  She replied to the tune of “Well, I don’t think that place is very good and it’s too expensive, but what do I know?  I’m just white trash.  Just ask [yours truly].”

Yeah, so we’re going to have a great time.  Hubby can only take her for about 72 hours so, thankfully, the trip will be a short one.  And when we get back, we have our beach to look forward to. 

Can’t wait.