Black Heels to Tractor Wheels: Lovely and full of sap

I like the Pioneer Woman, I always have.  Her blog is fraught with beautiful pictures, awesome recipes, and tales of a life that requires hard work and yet is simple.

I have her cookbook.  I have made her chicken spaghetti, her dump cake, and most recently her Cowboy Calzones (see Whrrl below).  And I started reading her love story with Marlboro Man when it was a weekly post on her blog.  

Even though I ate it up, every love soaked romantic morsel, I have to believe that a lot of it was edited for our Fabio-loving, Harlequin-romance-reading enjoyment.  I mean seriously, these people have to fight once in a while.  Everyone tiffs for God's sake!!!

So when I heard that her story was now a full fledged book- The Pioneer Woman: Black Heels to Tractor Wheels- A Love Story- I had to buy it!  For the love of Fabio (yeech!) and sweaty men in Wranglers, I had to have it! I ordered it from Walmart.com and had it shipped to the store.  I picked it up a week ago today and I read it every moment I had the chance.

In fact I couldn't stop reading it, as referenced here.  I loved the story, and I loved hearing more details than her blog allowed for from the beginning of their love affair.  But I realized why I was devouring this book.  I was trying to find- a fight!

In this novel... memoir... work of fiction... ummmm... biography? there is one fight.  ONE!  OK, not everyone fights but please.  This was a huge change of life for her, gimme the drama!  I want the shouting, the walking away, the grabbing of arms, the "don't walk away from me!", the look, the make up, not just the making out.

I know I am making it sound like I didn't like this book, and that isn't really the case.  I guess I was just looking for... well, more.  More dirt, more details, more hurdles hurdled and more crosses bared.  Maybe PW and MM had all that and she chose not to share.  I guess I can respect that.

I do like the Pioneer Woman, and I will still read her blog and make lame attempts at her recipes.  I admire her and how in a world of ranching, Wrangler-clad men Ree Drummond found something of her own.  She found creativity and a career that let her be with her children and in the sticks with her man.  She took herself a big ole' "What If" and I love that.  But, in  my own head, I still have to believe that once in awhile, maybe every 28 days, she stomps off in a huff and drives 60 miles alone to Starbucks with show tunes playing all the way.

 More check-ins at Walmart Supercenter #4584

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I was compensated by Collective Bias for this post and my review.  All opinions are mine and were not influenced at any time by anyone.