Pot Heads and Shopping Trips

It's a bright, sunny day here in the holler. The house is filled with the aroma of fresh brewed coffee and the sound of Ma yacking up a wad of mucus like she's on death's door.

The springtime fresh mountain air, it's a killer.

The Amazon and I headed out to Big City, on the day before a religious holiday... in the south.. Bible Belt Central no less.. because I'm a glutton for punishment and because the Amazon thought she was gonna die if she didn't get a Red Lobster fix. Somehow we managed to miss all the crowds and we didn't see much traffic. I was pleasantly surprised.

She was buying dinner, since it was her idea and my heart swelled with pride when I saw her slip our server a coupon. Proof positive that the Amazon is indeed the Fruit of My Womb.

After being sufficiently stuffed with sea creatures and cheddar biscuits (Holy garlic butter Batman, those biscuits should come with legal limits) we headed to the hair salon. Okay.. maybe "salon" isn't the right word for a chain with "clips" in the name, but I refuse to go back to that other chain salon. Everytime I go I end up with that flippen pot head... Moon Unit or Crab Grass or whatever the hell her name is. She looks like the hippie chick from the Muppet Show. When you see her and you just know she's got the Grateful Dead's last album cover tattooed on her left ass cheek. It doesn't matter how many stylists are working, how many customers are waiting, if I go to that shop I end up with the "Just Say No" poster child.

For the record, I don't have a problem with the occasional enjoyment of a little wacky weed. I'm just gonna need for you to be reasonably straight before you start wielding a pair of scissors around my face. Seriously.

Anywho...

So we went to this new place and although of the three stylists working, I ended up with the one who was working her first day, who told me her mother, father, father-in-law, husband and dog had all died with in the past year and who called her 26 year old college student daughter a bitch who always wanted money, I at least got a decent hair cut.

Bless her heart.

We also stopped at the shoe store, since the shoes I've been wearing to work have experienced some kind of blowout. Everytime I step down with my right foot, it squeaks like dog toy. I go flying down the hall towards the GM's office to get something signed and by the time I get there, he's snickering, "I can hear you coming... *thud squeak thud squeak*... you can't sneak up on nobody!"

So yeah.. I needed shoes and since I've been putting an extra 6 miles a week on them anyway, I figured I'd better get some decent ones. Fashion's not really an issue at the office anymore, there's hardly ever anyone there, so I've been wearing some old, black Reeboks. I ended up buying an almost identical, if slightly upgraded pair and they were having a "BOGO" half off sale, so the Amazon got some fancy new Sketcher sandals.

Somewhere in there we swung by the K-Mart so the Amazon could visit with the Gritlet, stopped at the new, ginormous Barnes and Noble and made the life altering decision to avoid the Wal-Mart all together.

On the way home, we stopped at the grocery store to pick up a ham and few other things, then we came home. Finally.

At like.. 10:30 last night I was in the bathroom putting the hi-lights in my hair. I've deemed the hair coloring experiment a success. Holly-freakin-loo-ya.

We're not really doing anything special for Easter. I'll sling the ham in the oven in a couple of hours, make some mashed potatoes and nuke some frozen peas. Ma has requested we make some coconut cream pie, so we got the fixin's for that last night. With the Amazon grown there's no need to dye eggs, although I'm pretty sure if I went out and hid them while she was at work this morning, she would so be out there skipping around with her little basket when she got off.

She's a dork that way. It must skip a generation.

I don't do church or religion in general. I have a strong spiritual faith which I've learned it's best to keep close to my heart. Having said that, I hope that after all sermons have been heard, all the chocolate bunnies devoured and sparkly, multi-colored eggs have been found that all ya'll get up tomorrow morning and find one thing you can do for someone else.

One thing.

Someone you know is hungry, scared or lonely. Call them up. Share a meal. Toss a can of corn in the food bank collection box.

Then Tuesday? Find one more. That's when you'll feel it.. what it's really all about.

Ya'll have a happy Easter.. and just love one another.

Later Taters!