Russians Invade the Holler and Pedal Power

It's hazy and warm in Frog Pond Holler this morning. I noticed town was crawling with people as I drove in, I had to swerve to keep from hitting a herd of Russian tourists.

The concept of sidewalks is apparently foreign to them.

The Russians have been coming to the holler for the past couple of years. They travel to big city to see a back specialist through some kind of program, then stay here for a while to make use of the mysterious, healing baths down at the spa. The Amazon gets positively giddy when she finds out they're here. She minored in Russian studies in college and took three (maybe four.. I'm not sure now) years of Russian language while she was there.

Who knew that would come in handy here in the holler?

Here at the Asylum, Bossman is off this week. I know because I happened to over hear him telling someone on Friday. He never informed me. I reckon he didn't feel like I needed to know.

Yeah whatever. I'm about sick of his attitude.. and I've come dangerously close to telling him that lately. There ain't no sense in anyone walking around with something that far up their business end 24/7. Seriously. Dude needs to chill the eff out. Or quit if he's that unhappy.

Back at the trailer, the Ozzman is recovering nicely. He's still laying around oozing most of the time (we made him a spot to lay in with bed pads, covered with sheets) but he does get up and walk around occasionally. Oh and his appetite? It's back, with a vengeance. It's one thing to eat a cookie and ignore the chihuahuaranian staring up at you, but when a 90 pound mongrel looks at you and barks for a cookie.. he gets a cookie.

However, he's getting a little too accustomed to getting what he wants on demand. Now, he can't be bothered to get up to get his water, he'd prefer you slide it over to him so he can just rest his head on the side of the bowl, occasionally lapping up a drink.

He's not that weak. Believe me. He's just getting a little on the spoiled side.

I'm still sleeping on the couch with the big guy on the floor beside me. He gets up and wanders around in the middle of the night, but sometimes he makes it to the kitchen before I can catch him. Even when he was well, Ozzy had a hard time maneuvering on the linoleum and now he tends to fall, then just lays there and barks for someone to help him up.

I guess I'll be couching it until he either decides it's okay to sleep in my bedroom or gets well enough to stop teetering on the linoleum.

The Amazon, having spent all her car money on Ozzy, has a new quest. She's got it stuck in her pretty little head that she needs a bicycle. I'm not sure how I feel about this, I was less apprehensive about her nose piercing than I am about her wanting to pedal her way around Frog Pond Holler. One of the four times she broke her foot in a two year period was while riding her bike. She tends to wipe out, limping away looking like she's wrecked a Harley.

But she wants a bike. With a basket.

Would it look funny if I made my 23 year old wear a motorcycle helmet and goalie padding to ride her bike to the dollar store?

I'll leave ya'll with that mental image. Since I've gotta play the sales ninja today, I'd better get a move on.

Ya'll have a grand ol' Monday. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!