Fried Bubbles and Violet Visits

Dang ya'll. It's so humid in here, I'm gonna need a squeegee for the under boob sweat. The thermometer I brought in last year when the ac was broken has a humidity gauge which currently reads 95%.

Eck.

It may rain right here in the Cubicle Asylum.

Bubbles is back from her long weekend camping trip. I don't know if she ended up with that nasty case of poison oak I was wishin' on her hoo-ha, but she did get sunburned. It's hard to burn a Melungeon ya'll. And Bubbles? She looks like a lobster fresh from the pot.

But I'm not giggling, because that wouldn't be nice.

Little Miss Bubbilicicious seemed unpleasantly surprised to see me this morning. She's unaware of the deal I scored with Bossman. I'm sure she looks forward to her Mahala-free Mondays as much as I look forward to her days off. It gave me great pleasure to sashay over to her cubey and drop a load of paperwork in to her tray, with a big, shit-eatin' grin.

You could just hear those squeaky wheels a' churnin' up a storm behind those beady little eyes of hers.

Cracks me right up.

It's Decoration time here in the holler. Those of you of the Southern persuasion will probably know what that means. For those of you who aren't familiar with the way of the hillfolk, Decoration is when the remaining family members of all those buried in those little country cemeteries you see back behind the church house, gather to remember those who have passed. Flowers are placed on the kinfolks final resting places and all the youngins, grand youngins, greats and great-greats get together for a dinner, usually involving crap loads of fried chicken, tater salald and every cassarole and desert known to man.

Lulu and Festus were hanging out in my cubey for a bit this morning, talking about the Decoration that was held this past weekend, back up on the mountain, in the tiny community where both Festus and Lulu's Bubbahubby were raised. Everyone was all a'buzz up on the mountain when they found out that Lulu's sister-in-law had made a trip down from New Jersey for Decoration.

You see, Violet ran off to nursing school in New York City when she got out of high school and never moved back. Then she married a Chinese man. I've heard that little old ladies down at the Baptist church nearly fainted right there in the worship hall when they found out that sweet little Violet had not only married a "ferriner" but they were sure he must have participated in some sort of debbil worshiping, heathern religion, being Chinese and all, and Violet's soul would be destined to burn in eternal hell fire.

Then... she got DIVORCED!

The only thing worse than marrying one of them heathern ferriners was divorcing one.

When Violet got remarried to an Egyptian man and moved to New Jersey, a collective thud was heard as everyone on the mountain collapsed to their knees with folded hands, begging the Almighty to show Violet the error of her ways. The wailin' and prayin' could be heard clear over in Big City.

Anywho...

Violet is still married to the Egyptian. They have two beautiful kids and run a store somewhere in New Jersey. They drove down this weekend to surprise her mama, then turned around and drove back home after two days.

I love hearing the stories of their visits, Violet's hubby always insists on cooking at least one meal for all the kinfolk when they're here. I try to imagine the backwoods, mountain people sitting down to a table covered with strange Egyptian food, people who think olives are exotic fare.

It's probably like... Ma and Pa Kettle meet E.T.

Ah well. I hope I get to meet Violet and her hubby someday. Maybe next time.

It's a hot one here in the holler. I hope the weather's nice where you are. Ya'll enjoy it regardless.
Later Taters!