Making Gravy, Going Crazy and Taking Control

Happy Humpday ya'll! We've got lot's of catching up to do, so strap yourself in, grab a cuppa caffine and hang on...

'Round the Holler - The new visitor center is almost complete. When I went by the other day, I noticed a bunch of fellers in orange jumpsuits working away under the watchful eye of two law enforcement bubbas, toting shot guns.

If they're inmates, is it still "volunteer" labor?

Speaking of convicted criminals, I've not heard a peep out of our newspaper carrier since cancelling my subscription. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not. I half expect to find a 'possum head wrapped in the Sunday funnies and tied to my screen door as a warning.

I was telling Tiny about the whole newspaper deal yesterday. He told me I was brave, knowing how crazy the girl was. He then went on to tell me about the time she approached him when he was moonlighting at the meat counter down at the grocery store. She asked him if he had any scraps she could take to her dogs, stuff they were going to throw away anyway. Tiny was quick to oblige, he'll do just about anything for any female who bats an eye. He's sort of a Hillbilly Cassanova. He said he dug out a bunch of meat scraps from the barrel where they toss everything from fish guts to eyeballs, wrapped it up and handed it to Lizzy with a smile.

When she came in about a week later, Tiny asked her if the dogs enjoyed their treat. He probably didn't give a flip about the dogs, but Tiny never turns down the opportunity to get his flirt on. Lizzy told him they had, but that there was alot of lean mixed in with those scraps. She said she'd picked the good stuff out, frying it up.

"That sure made some good gravy," she said.

Tiny turned a little green just telling us about it.

Up at the Asylum - We're still working weird schedules with managers taking a week off every month, leaving three of us peeons to try to figure everything out on our own. One thing's for sure, it's never boring.

Business seems to be picking up, but not enough. In order for an increase in business to have any effect, our one major customer's orders will have to increase substantially and maintain that level for a while. So far, that's not happening.

But I have faith.

To be honest, I sort of look forward to the weeks when Bossman isn't here. I work like a dog, doing the work of two people, plus taking over part of his manager responsibilities, all for less than 20K a year, yet it seems worth it to not have him stomping around, whining and barking all day.

Meanwhile, Back at the Trailer - I finally got my state refund, so I'll be looking into getting a new washer soon. I've put that on the back burner for a week or so, I've got some other pressing issues to tend to first.

I've decided to make a doctor's appointment for next week, to see about getting something for... well.. whatever the hell is going on with me. I'm not even real sure how to approach it:

"Hi Doc.. I've been riding the crazy train for over a week now and I want to get off. Do they make a pill for that?"


"Nothing's really wrong... I have these episodes.. of fear.. for no reason... and I can breathe but I feel like I'm suffocating... In the movies they always sit in a daze doing arts and crafts in a quiet place but I don't have any sick leave or vacation time. Do you know a good exorcist?"


"Hi! Just call me Weepy McLooneybritches!!!"

I guess it doesn't really matter. I know when I show up for the appointment and the nurse asks me what the problem is, I'll just start bawling uncontrollably.

Yeah.. I can just see the men folk lining up to take me out after reading this. Nothing says sexy like a teary nutbar.

To be honest, I know what the problem is. I know what set it off, I know why childhood traumas keep working their way back to the surface, festering like a big, puss-filled boil, rekindling the fears that I've worked so hard to beat back down for the past 3o years.

Over the years, I've given up all my self-medicating vices, one by one. Alcohol, assorted drugs, cigarettes, one-nighters... the only one left is food. And every time I try to let go of the one thing I have left, I go through this.

I won't be outdone. That bastard isn't going to control my life anymore. It's time to deal with some shit.. get right up in the face of my fears and confront them, head on.

But I think I'm going to need a little help. Let's face it, my attempts to do it by myself haven't worked out so great in the past. I'm going to have to trust someone. So yeah.. I'm making an appointment. Wish me luck.

So anywho... I hope ya'll have a humpalicious Wednesday. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!


kenju said...

The gravy thing? EW. Make me queasy just thinking about it.

I hope you can get some help for your teary feelings. Been there, done that without help (which was stupid).

Anonymous said...

Maybe the doc will tell ya it's somthin' simple like menopause;)
there's a pill for that!

BetteJo said...

Sounds to me like you know whats going on and what to do about it. Unfortunately the intellectual side of us usually knows things it doesn't share with the emotional side. And visa-versa I suppose. But every step you take to addressing your 'stuff' is one step closer to kicking it's butt! You go girl!

tiff said...

Well, you're stronger than I am for giving up some things that make life worth living. ;) This food thing - it's not a vice, honey. You need it to live, and that's that.

Just keep thinking 'gravy story' and how you MIGHT one day turn whoever chaps your ass into 'lizzie's special sauce,' and I'll bet that sweet sweet anger will get you through yet another life phase.

Rachel said...

Yeah, I had lapband for that little food addiction problem. Now I'm addicted to online forums. ROFLMAO