Pollen, Glitter and Dirt

Taken On the Way to Wal-Mart Sunday

I know it's supposed to be Spring, but apparently no one bothered to give Mother Nature a calendar. It's already feckin' hot up in this holler. And the pollen.. good gawd.. the wind blows and it's like a yellowish green sandstorm.. straight up my nose and launching a full assault on my sinus'.

I had to go into full ninja mode at the Asylum this morning, crouching beneath the giant "DO NOT TOUCH" sign taped to the wall above the thermostat, while I gently eased the paperclip I've formed in to a lever movement tool inside the locked case that surrounds it.

The things a girl's gotta do to avoid under boob sweat is ridiculous.

Moving on...

Yesterday, I was feeling frustration over our failed garden plans. I told the Amazon that it shouldn't be that hard to find someone to till the yard and that I figured it must be the Universe's way of telling us it wasn't meant to be.

Then, I come home at lunch today and find this:

The guy who owns the vacant lot across the road had already paid someone to till our garden when they came to do his. There was joyous dancing and squeeing in the Mahala trailer this afternoon... because seriously... we don't get out much and little things tickle the chit out of us.

After we calmed down, I passed my keys to the Amazon, who was planning a trek out to Big City for body wash, which you can buy at the dollar store, a half a block from our yard, but not THE body wash which can only be obtained from the Big City mall.

*insert eyeroll here*

The combination of the newly tilled earth and the Amazon's voyage into civilization lead to the following exchange:

Me: "We'll need a hoe. Pick up a hoe, kay?"

Amazon: "I'm going to the mall."

Me: "We need a hoe. A wide one."

Amazon: "Well, I was thinking about stopping at Tarjay." (That would be Target.)

Me: "Oh good gawd. Don't be coming back here with some painted up, high fallootin French hoe. A plain hoe. A wide one. Got it?"

Amazon, as she backs out the door, rolling her eyes so far back in her head, I feared they'd fall out her armpits, she just doesn't appreciate good humor: "I'm leaving now."

I'm half afraid she'll show up with some pink handled monstrosity, complete with glitter and ribbons... just to get my goat.

Anywho... I hope ya'll are having a good week. We'll talk again soon!

Later Taters!